Rabarberkaka

Jag jobbade med Emilia!

Rabarberkaka

Ingredienser
smör
ströbröd till formen

1 ägg
0,5 dl strösocker
1dl vetemjöl
150 g rabarber
40 g margarin
pärlsocker

satte ugnen på 225°, smöra och bröa formen
vispa lätt ihop socker och ägg och blanda ner mjölet till en "slät" smet och hällde den i formen.
skar rabarben i ca 1-2 cm och täckte smeten med dem, sedan täcktes allt med tunna skivor av smör. Strö över pärlsocker och gräddade den i mitten av ugnen i ungefär 30 min.


till kakan gjorde vi Vaniljsås

Ingredienser
1 ägg
1 msk socker
1 tsk potatismjöl
2 dl mjölk
1/2-1 msk vaniljsocker

Blanda ägg, socker, potatismjöl och mjölk.
Sjuda blandningen på svag värme tills såsen tjockat, den ska ej koka
häll upp såsen och vispa då och då tills den svalnat
smaksätt med vaniljsocker


Saker som gick fel: Jag missade att bröa formen men den fastnade som tur var inte i formen, såsen blev inte så bra den blev typ brun och fläckig för den började koka osv. Men själva kakan var riktigt god och jag tycker att arbetet gick suveränt.

Oliver Twist

SAVED!

Where am I? , I asked in a weak voice. Slowly I realised that I was laying in a soft bed in a quiet room with a warm fire. ”Am I dead?” I had never known anywhere as comfortable as this in my whole life. ”No no, my poor boy,” said a friendly voice beside him, ”you are in Mr Brownlow´s  house. I am Mrs Bedwin, his housekeeper. You have been very ill, we thought that you would die. But you are getting better. I´ll bring you some soup to build up your strength. When you are string enough, Mr Brownlow will visit you”. Later on, I fell into a warm and dreamless sleep.

”You fools!” screamd Fagin. He seized the Artful Dodger and Charley in his surprisingly powerful  hands, ”If oliver talks, we will all be hanged. We must get him back! Find him!”
”How? How? Mr Fagin” squeaked the boys, terrified of the old man´s anger.
Suddenly, Fagin’s anger faded. His eyes had a cold, cunning look.
”Nancy, my dear?”
Nancy looked up at Fagin, afraid.
”Nancy, my dear, you must go to the police station. Tell the police that your ‘poor little brother’ is lost and you have heard that he is at the station. Go on, Nancy, be a good girl.”
”No, cried Nancy, ”Me? go to a police station?”
”You’ll go, or you will feel this!” shouted Bill Sykes, jumping to his feet and waving his huge fist in front of Nancy’s terrified eyes.

Nancy’s tears softened the heart of the police sergeant, and he told her that Oliver was at the house of an elderly gentleman who lived in Pentonville, in north London.
”Ah!” said Fagin, when Nancy got back. ”Good news, my dears. Little Oliver has kept his mouth shut, but we still have to find him. Bill, you take Nancy with you, and take a good look around Pentonville. See what you can find. I don’t care if we have to keep serarching for a month. Until we have found him, we´re not safe!”