Rainy Day Recipe: How To Make Perfect Play Dough

Homemade Play DoughCheap, safe and very, very easy to make play dough

This has been my pet project over the last couple of weeks. Anyone who has spent more than fifteen minutes stuck in the house with a toddler on a rainy day will know that play dough is the way forward. The stuff you buy in the shops is usually ages three and up, but homemade play dough is safe for littler ones and extremely cheap. It is very salty though, so try to stop them actually eating it.

I’ve test driven a bunch of recipes for this stuff online, and made some horrible mistakes, so you don’t have to (personal best: actually having to throw away a stainless steel saucepan). While my recipe is staggeringly simple, attention to detail is the key. That and not looking away for a second (easier said than done when your toddler is smooshing half chewed raisins into the living room carpet). Some really basic things seem to make a big difference to the finished play dough, so I’ve given some pretty specific recommendations. On your own head be it if you ignore them.

If you make some yourself, be sure to build a dinosaur with it and leave a picture in the comments section. And, er, don’t blame me if your saucepan ends up in the bin…

Rainy Day Rescue – How to Make Perfect Play Dough for Your Toddler

Ingredients

  • 2 cups plain white flour – must be plain, must be white
  • 1 cup table salt
  • 1 heaped tsp cream of tartar – don’t leave it out, it makes all the difference! Find it in the baking section of any largish supermarket
  • 1¾ cups tap water
  • 2½ tbsp vegetable oil – I have tried other oils and found plain vegetable oil to be by far the best for creating a smooth dough
  • Food colouring of your choice – I used red, orange, yellow, green, blue and pink. Baking section of a good supermarket, as before

Tools

  • A good, non-stick saucepan, frying pan or wok – the non-stick-er the better; uncoated metal pans really don’t work well and result in sticky dough
  • A wooden spoon or, better still, a wooden spatula or paddle
  • A largish bowl
  • Latex or rubber gloves – yes, really. My right hand is bright red up to the wrist, possibly permanently. Let this be a warning to you

Method

  1. Put the dry ingredients into the pan. Mix the water and oil together in a separate jug or bowl and then pour into the dry ingredients.
  2. Turn on the heat under the pan, to medium. Start stirring your mixture constantly, and scraping it away from the sides of the pan. Very quickly, it will thicken and turn doughy, incorporating the loose bits around the sides. It’ll become quite tough to stir with your spoon or paddle.
  3. Keep semi-kneading it in the pan with the spoon until it reaches a consistency a bit thicker than shop-bought Play-Doh. Your fire alarm will probably go off at this point. Try not to panic. When the dough is good and hot and fairly tough, turn off the heat and let it cool down.
  4. Once it’s cool enough to handle, divide it into three or four equal portions. Put a few drops of your first food colour into your clean bowl, put on your gloves and knead the dough in the bowl. Keep folding and pummelling it until it’s a nice smooth colour. You can add more food dye if you want a darker colour, or mix two to make colours like orange and purple. Remember to wash the bowl and your gloves between each colour, so you don’t contaminate the next batch.
  5. Voila! Your play dough is ready to be played with. This recipe makes enough for three or four different coloured pots – I made two lots to get the seven colours you see in the photo. By the way, if you’re wondering where I got those amazing pots, they’re here. Definitely on my list of Top Ten Useful Things For Surviving Motherhood (coming soon).
  6. Store your play dough in airtight containers or wrapped in clingfilm, preferably in the fridge. Remember that it’s essentially a foodstuff so it’ll spoil eventually, but it should last a good while. It also makes an ace present for a toddler friend’s birthday party (just remember to tell their parents what’s in it, just to cover your arse). My toddler played with the homemade play dough for two-and-a-half hours this rainy afternoon, beating her personal attention-span best by two hours and twenty minutes. That’s what I call a result.

Quick Baby Food Recipe – Bean & Sweet Potato Spread

Super fast to make and yummy for mummies, too.

If I had a quid for every time this week I’ve Googled “quick baby food recipes”, I wouldn’t be a penniless writer, that’s for sure. And it’s only Tuesday. This recipe is sponsored by whatever I could find in the cupboard while the baby was hitting me in the side of the head with a plastic donkey. It’s prolly got some protein and stuff in it, but most importantly, it’s quick and it goes on toast. My baby has been a pretty fussy eater, but toast is Always Acceptable.

Ingredients

  • 1 tin of butter beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 sweet potato, peeled, diced and steamed²
  • 1 heaped teaspoon of mixed herbs
  • Juice of half a lemon
  • 2 tablespoons of olive oil
  • 2 tablespoons of creme fraiche
  • 1 clove of garlic, peeled

Method

Er, I’m pretty sure you’re au fait with my food preparation methods by now, but for the uninitiated:

  1. Bung all the ingredients in your food processor or blender. Whiz. Serve. Try it on toast, rice cakes, pitta bread, vegetable sticks, crackers; all good.

¹ I have a particularly awesome method for steaming my sweet potatoes (a recipe which I stole from Jamie Oliver’s 30-minute-meal TV thingy). It’s rather more complicated in the show, but I just cube the sweet potato, sling it in a glass bowl with one half of a lemon and a couple of unpeeled cloves of garlic, cover the whole thing with clingfilm and microwave it for 5-10 mins. (Bish-bash-bosh, yeah?)


If you’re looking for some other quick baby food recipes, check out my little cooking section.

Baby Food Ideas: Sweet Lentil & Tomato Stew

Green Lentils (photo by johnmoews)

Like most of the parenting that happens at Chez Bump, we looked at both methods of weaning a baby – purées and baby led weaning – and pitched ourselves somewhere in the middle. I’d heard horror stories of baby led weaning, desperate mothers who couldn’t get their kids to eat anything off a spoon for three years. Likewise, puréeing everything in a blender for the next year or more didn’t sound like any fun. Ha! I thought, My baby will do baby led AND purées and eat everything! I’m so clever!

Yeah. My baby doesn’t eat anything. At all. Well alright, she eats rice pudding, quiche and carrot flavoured maize snacks that look for all the world like I’m feeding my ten-month-old Wotsits. But I digress. The point is, I spend most of my waking day trying to get the baby to just.bloody.eat.something. I ran short on baby food ideas at about two weeks in, so multi-tasking baby food is a big win. If she won’t eat it one way, I can try it another, and so on until she’s full or I’ve lost the will to live, whichever happens first.

I discovered this one quite by accident. They say necessity is the mother of invention; this is what happens when you badly need to do some food shopping but just can’t face the supermarket. She loves it, by the way, and best of all: so do I…and food in Mama’s belly means she lives to fight another day.

Sweet Lentil & Tomato Stew for Babies (and Mamas and Papas)

Makes enough food for a baby and two grown-ups (well, adults…) plus some extra to sling in the freezer, and takes about twenty minutes, all in, to cook.

Ingredients

  • 2 tins of green lentils, drained and rinsed
  • 2 tins of chopped tomatoes
  • ½ tin of apricot halves in syrup, drained and finely chopped
  • 1 tbsp of tomato purée
  • 1 tbsp (or to taste) of dried rosemary
  • 2 tbsp (or to taste) of dried basil
  • A good grind of black pepper (if your baby doesn’t mind it)
  • 1 super-low-salt (or baby type) stock cube – feel free to leave this out if you want to keep it 100% salt free

How to Make the Stew

  1. Bung everything in a pan. Simmer until the liquid has reduced by about half.
  2. Er, that’s it.

(At Least) Four Different Ways to Serve It

  1. As is, for hungry parents and older babies. Chunky. Awesome.
  2. Blended to within an inch of its life, to make soup. Mix it with a splash of milk or yoghurt to thin it out a bit and make it more palatable for fussy babies.
  3. Blended a bit to leave a little texture, to make a yummy dip. I served it to TS with slices of wholemeal pitta bread, and after thoroughly coating the kitchen with it, she ate it. Which is no small miracle.
  4. Blended (or not) and poured over pasta shapes with a bit of grated cheese.

Congratulations. You’ve got some wholesome baby food into your spawn of Beelzebub little darling. Now redress the balance of yin and yang by stuffing cake in your face.

Mum Craft: How to Make a Teething Necklace

Homemade Teething Necklace

I’m a right hippie. You probably know that by now. Pre baby, I used to wear a lot of the sort of jewellery that gets caught on door handles and pulls pints off tables when you’re trying to be nonchalant. I never was any good at nonchalant. Anyway, the point is, I had to stop wearing big necklaces after TS arrived, partly because they got in the way, but mostly because she tried to eat them and, being a Worrisome First Timer, I thought she’d choke / break all her teeth / get some sort of face-melting disease from the plastic beads.
I’ve been looking around at those funky teething necklaces all the yummy mummies are wearing, but they all seem a bit mass-produced-boho to me. I was after something a bit, well, weirder. Then I stumbled across this wonderful little tutorial on how to make a teething necklace at Rebekah Gough’s blog, and I just had to have a go!

I’m pretty pleased with my homemade teething necklace – not bad for a couple hours’ work while we were watching some animated Star Wars rubbish on the telly. I used a bunch of old wooden and plastic beads I had in my craft box (and pulled apart a couple of the strings of hippie beads I can’t wear anymore), and the fabric was from a cute floral sundress that hasn’t fitted me right since before I was pregnant. Upcycling win! The best bit, though, is knowing that nobody else has a teething necklace quite the same as mine.


More mummy stuff to make and do: Naughty but nice Bitter Chocolate Brownies for your nice-cup-of-tea-and-a-sit-down moments.

Indulgence

I’m a big fan of chocolate. Actually, it would be fairer to say that I’m a big fan of cocoa. Whilst I’ll admit that any passing chocolate – any at all – will end up in my belly, I certainly prefer my sweet treats to be somewhat grown up and, dare I say, a little bitter. There’s probably some sort of analogy in there somewhere, but let’s move on.

To that end, I have been – in between wiping little noses and changing nappies (yes, I washed my hands) – working on the perfect grown up brownie recipe. It’s still, and probably always will be, a work in progress, but I’m ready to share it with you. Be warned: they’re no good for losing baby weight, won’t help your caffeine addiction and I really wouldn’t feed them to your diabetic friends. Enjoy!

Mayan Spiced Chocolate Brownies

  • 150g cocoa powder (or, much more decadent, Montezuma’s No. 1 Blend Drinking Chocolate)
  • 75g rich dark chocolate (preferably 70%+ cocoa solids)
  • 225g butter
  • Generous splash brandy
  • 2 tsp vanilla essence
  • 2 drops red food colouring (optional)
  • 200g demerera sugar
  • 2 tsp hot chilli powder
  • 2 tsp ground cinnamon
  • 3 eggs, beaten
  • 150g wholemeal flour
  1. Preheat the oven to 170C (not fan assisted) and line a 24cm square baking tin with baking paper.
  2. Melt the chocolate, drinking chocolate (or cocoa) and butter in a saucepan over a very low heat.
  3. Stir in the brandy, chilli and cinnamon, then turn off the heat. Add the sugar, vanilla and colouring, and stir gently. Add the beaten eggs and the flour and combine well, trying not to incorporate too much air. Leave to stand until any large bubbles have worked their way out.
  4. Pour the mixture into the baking tin and bake in the middle of the oven for 25 to 30 minutes (I find 27 minutes produces the best fudgy texture!) until firm on the outside but still gooey in the centre.
  5. Allow to cool slightly in the tray then cut into four horizontally and vertically. Lift out of the pan by the edges of the baking paper and stack on a wire rack to cool completely.
  6. For a truly naughty finish, melt a bar of posh dark chocolate in a largish bowl in the microwave and mix in a quarter
    teaspoon of chilli powder; dip the top of each brownie in the liquid chocolate and then sprinkle with edible glitter or metallic powder (I’m currently using this gold lustre but I’m in the market for something even more bling), before chilling until the chocolate sets hard.
  7. Oh, and if you like ‘em extra bitter, try slinging half a cup of strong tea in the mix, then ice the brownies (rather than dipping) to offset with some sweetness. Nom!

Mayan Spiced Chocolate Brownies

Clearing the Decks

Hubby and I have a dream. It’s a simple dream, but if you’ve ever watched Grand Designs, one you’ll be familiar with. In a nutshell: modernism meets The Good Life. A big, white box somewhere in the countryside with a grass roof, chooks in the garden and the sort of glossy kitchen that never has out-of-date yoghurt hanging around in the fridge.

You might think the hardest thing about making this kind of dream a reality is that it requires bucketloads of wonga. This is true. Even if you’re doing it on the proverbial shoe string and buying your land – god forbid – north of the Watford Gap, you could easily blow £600k before you’ve bought your first Barcelona chair.

Money, though, is at least something you can save up. Or borrow, if it comes to that (and it will). No, the really hard thing about making our dream happen is that it requires a total and utter mind shift. It means living like this and not like this; something we’re only just now beginning to get our heads around. Modernism isn’t just a design concept; it’s a way of life.

For the last six months, and at an accelerating rate, we’ve started clearing the decks; preparing for the life we want to live. During the process – and it’s very much an ongoing one – I’ve had two major realisations.

Firstly, that perfection is something to strive for, not something to be attained. The joy is in making something the very best it can be, and really, truly accepting that it will never be perfect. When those people on Grand Designs sit back at the end and tell Kevin what they like best about their “finished” home, they are still secretly hoping the cameras won’t show the new garage, which is still full of the same shit everyone hides in their garage. Perfection is an illusion.

Secondly, when you realise that stuff can’t make you contented, no matter how much of it you surround yourself with, you suddenly take on an enormous emotional responibility for your own happiness. If your happiness stops being reliant on some future state of being – building your “perfect” Grand Design, resolving that long-standing family issue, sorting out that shit in the garage –  then you’re left with the realisation that you have to find a way to be truly happy with your Here and Now. That’s pretty heavy, but also liberating and empowering.

And that’s all I have to say about that.