Nigella Eats Everything

Hummingbird cupcakes have been my answer to a long cold winter. When I moved to the south of France, I expected skies in the exact shade of blue of a Swedish hunk’s eyes, sun-drenched river banks, warm terracotta soaking up the sun, and me, lounging in my garden leisurely sipping a cocktail.

Now, a year later, I can only testify to the heavy shelf of cloud blocking me from that brilliant blue, the violently aggressive wind, and my frigid flat. The sofa is lined with blankets under which we huddle every night, and my slippers may have added 30 years to my age but my feet have been incredibly grateful for it. Doesn’t scream the south of France does it?

There was one day last summer when Gaylord and I explored the city. It was scorchingly hot, which wasn’t helped by the fact that we had to wear masks as we traipsed through the deserted city centre, my sandals gathering dust and offering little protection from the baked pavements. There was a moment, though, as we passed the river, and I gazed up at the overhanging balconies, at the vines of leaves creeping up the buildings, and was bewitched by that delicious contrast of orange on blue, terracotta on sky; the vivid colours of the south. In that moment it hit me – here I was in the south of France.

Not gonna lie, haven’t really noticed since. This picture captured that rare occurrence called sun. What’s a girl gotta do to get some vitamin D?

However, this week has helped. Finally the weather is behaving as it should. My much worn jumper and thick woollen cardigan saw a lot of action during the last few months, and now, today, I sit here writing this in shorts! And a sleeveless top! Slippers and blanket are safely tucked away in the cupboard, and I can almost taste the summer which is the flavour of strawberries, cherries, peaches and apricots.

Toulouse, in refusing to deliver the weather that it promised simply by its general location, is rather like a grouchy teenager and at long last is being dragged along by its busy parents, the rest of the south.

Under that bowl of blue, yesterday Gaylord and I drove two hours to the beach. We stretched out our towels on the soft sand facing the waves, alone apart from a few couples and families, and ate chicken paprika sandwiches. I slathered myself in sun cream, adorned a floppy hat with only the slightest self-consciousness, and we dozed and read, and I swam (Gaylord was a baby). Everyone seemed so happy and the beach was alive with the colour of bikinis and parasols, frisbees and sunhats, along with numerous bare breasts hanging heavily like bunches of ripe grapes over leathery brown skin. It’s France after all.

Hummingbird cupcakes

While I wait a few more weeks for those strawberries, cherries and peaches, I have a little longer with the fruits of spring. Just like in the UK, there are a hella lot of apples and pears here – for about six months mind – so I branched out to the tropical flavours of summer. Pineapple, banana, coconut and passion fruit. This pina colada-like concoction happens to make one of my ultimate favourite cakes called Hummingbird cake, the recipe of which I have in fact already baked and shared, so this has a twist. Say hello to Hummingbird cupcakes.

Adding the tropical notes of coconut and passion fruit to my Hummingbird cupcakes not only gave the squidgy soft texture a delectable lightness, but oh boy the scent of the passion fruit was enough to transport me on a summery cloud to my own island. This recipe can be plopped into a loaf tin and thickly coated in a cream cheese frosting, much like me with the sun cream yesterday, or you can try these Hummingbird cupcakes, a simple and addictive morsel of pineapple and banana cake with the flavours of summer singing through.

Now, I can finally sit in the sunny garden. But probably with a plate of Hummingbird cupcakes instead of a cocktail. Summer is finally within my grasp.