Lessons in slow living from home made crumpets

Don’t worry, I’m not going mad and talking to crumpets (not quite yet). The title of this post refers to a recent decision I made to make home made crumpets. We were doing online shopping in our final days working away in London:

Boyfriend: Shall we get crumpets?

Me: No, I want to make them.

It wasn’t totally out of the blue, I’d been wanting to get back into cooking and baking more and making my own crumpets had been lingering as in idea for a while. I think somewhere I’d read it wasn’t too hard, and was taken by the imagined satisfaction of biting into a freshly home made crumpet.

Perhaps it was also a rebellion against the way we’d been living our lives in London. No time for home made crumpets there, an intense few weeks of work for sure. So I wanted to carve back some time for myself, to slow right down and make things from scratch. And not just anything, things I could eat and be nourished by.

I went to the local wholefoods co-operative for flour, and then realised they don’t sell sugar (because it’s evil…). So wholesome flour and capitalist supermarket chain sugar it was.

Lesson number 1. Slow living is more about balance than absolute idealism.

Sieving out the flour into my beautiful old fashioned mixing bowl (apparently I’d eschewed the Kitchen Aid for this one) I realised the Canadian flour I’d bought for its strength was more wholemeal than white. So much for fluffy white crumpets, mine would be a little off white.

Lesson number 2. Perfectionism has no place with slow.

The making of the mix went surprisingly well, I always expect bready things to go wrong on the first try. Then it came to cooking the crumpets. I heated my griddle pan and assured boyfriend that no, the plastic cookie cutter moulds I was using in place of a crumpet mould would definitely not melt.

Spoiler alert: they did.

A brief flirtation with heart-shaped pie tins lead me to the conclusion that free-form crumpets were the way forward. And so my not-quite-crumpet shaped-crumpets were cooked.

Lesson number 3. Slow living is about working with what you’ve got, or not got. It doesn’t, and shouldn’t, require buying an expensive range of gadgets/equipment.

They didn’t bubble up on the top to make the oh-so-crumpety holes, but they did rise and they were edible. Without the holes perhaps you can’t call them crumpets, but that’s okay. They also taste a little odd – a bit too bready – I think due to the flour I used, but that’s okay too. In the past I might have been annoyed at their lack of crumpet-ness, and that I’d wasted my time making something so imperfect. This time I just enjoyed them warm with butter and jam.

Lesson number 4. Slow living is about being present in the moment, and enjoying what you have.

I will, however, be continuing to work on my home made crumpets. I’ve even bought the ‘correct’ flour now. I’ll let you know how it goes.

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