Christmas mince pies are an institution in my family and something which we have all enjoyed eating together for years. My beloved Gramps, Roy, used to call them his “tranquilizers”, which we continue to laugh about years after he sadly left us. Admittedly I wasn’t always a fan, but much like Christmas cake, I’ve grown to appreciate these delicious little fruit-filled shortbread pies.
Every time I post a photo of myself celebrating my pregnancy I brace for the comments that follow. The ones which sting either elude to the wild notion of some mystery partner who I surely must be having my baby with or appear in the form of tactless questions like “so who’s the baby daddy?”
Well, I made it to Bali and it’s been almost two months. Crazy, right? Time flies when you’re making bold moves and changing your life, while at the same time wondering WTF you’re doing.
Please don’t for one second think that the fact that I’m publishing a recipe with the word “death” in its title is a coincidence. There’s death and chocolate cake, and then there’s Death by Chocolate Cake. This is about both.
This was by far the hardest thing I have ever written. Harder than what it’s like living in a foreign country, harder than my divorce, harder than navigating life alone after 9 years with the same person, and harder than the breakup which I was convinced would kill me because it hurt so much.