Eat cake

Stop what you are doing.

Gather your children. Go and make these.

Ginger pudding cakes*

If you have a Shark-type child, you can confidently help them measure out the ingredients then set them going with the following instructions, reasonably confident they will neither set themselves on fire, nor burn down the house.

Heat in a large pan to a simmer:
300g golden syrup
180g black treacle
240g butter
360g caster sugar

In a bowl, mix together:
360g plain flour
2tsp ground ginger
1tsp mixed spice
1tsp bicarb of soda

Look for a different child to do the next bit because if there isn't something for everyone to do, there'll be a fight. Child number 2 is passing. She can help make a satisfying gloopy brown slop by adding the flour mix to the liquid mix and stirring well.

Make sure, if there's a Squirrel-type child making the gloop, that you remove the mix from the heat. You probably did that anyway. Squirrel will set herself on fire stirring anything at the hob because she is dressed as a fairy, and they are flammable.

Now add two beaten eggs and 170ml boiling water to the brown gloop and beat. The mix, not the child.

Obviously don't let Squirrel pour the boiling water. You pour that in. Honestly, that child's a hazard.

Now the good bit because they get to spoon the gloop into deep muffin tins and they are quite excited about that. If you have a Squirrel-type child, they will ensure the mixture is evenly spread over the kitchen table. When you are done with tutting, scoop it up and slop it back in the muffin tins. No-one will notice. Bake in oven about 175C/gas mark 4, 20 mins, or until all smellynice.

Grab child number 3 who is sulking because they weren't invited to do anything interesting like watch treacle melt and make the brown slop.

Instruct child number 3 to make the icing. They will demand you get the food colouring out. Argue. You know that one lick of that berry red colour is the mental equivalent of injecting crack cocaine straight into their brain.

After twenty minutes, give in and find the food colouring muck. Quite frankly, all we want to do is eat the ruddy cakes, not have a pitched battle over an E number. Slam the bottle on the table and silently resolve to throw the effing berry red food colouring away by accident on purpose.

Don't watch what happens next. There's white icing all over the place and with that berry red stuff it looks like a bloodbath.

Thank goodness! Cakes! Feed to children. Tell them they can only have three each. Better still, remove all remaining cakes and tip over them a large mug of brandy or rum. That'll stop the little critters noshing them. This, by the way, is a very good strategy for all types of foodstuffs. Except cornflakes.

* I ripped this recipe from the Independent magazine Mark Hix cookery slot, and it's from a woman who markets herself under the name cookie girl.

Cookie girl does not supply small children to help in the kitchen, even though she seems to dress herself like a four year old. She bares her bosoms a lot. I suppose that is Nigella style. In fact next time I cook these I might take my top off first.