Rhubarb Crumble Oat Bar

This is one for transporting the comfort of rhubarb crumble, without gooping up the inside of your transportation device, be it handbag, rucksack or humble pocket. I plan to make some adjustments with the change of season to make it a more storecupboard, chewy-bits muesli bar, but in the meantime, I can't say I'm too disappointed with eating a firm rhubarb crumble bar.

Preheat the oven at 175 degrees.

Stew your fruit for 5 minutes:

• 450g rhubarb, chopped into 1cm pieces
• 400g strawberries, halved (this is a great way of using up ones that are too ripe to enjoy on their own)
• 1/2 cup honey
• 1/2 cup water

Drain the fruit from the juices (reserving the latter to use as cordial in some delicious impromptu cocktail). Set aside.

Mix together the dry ingredients:

• 1/2 cup chopped nuts (walnuts were very tasty)
• 1 1/2 cup oats
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 1 1/2 cup flour (spelt worked well)

Then mix in the wet:

• 1/2 cup vegetable oil (I like an olivey flavours, but use rapeseed if you don't)
• 1/4 cup honey
• few drops of vanilla essence

Compact half of this crumby mixture into the bottom of an oblong pan and bake for 20 minutes.

Add a good layer of stewed fruit, then sprinkle remaining mixture evenly over the top. Once distributed fairly, press down a little with the back of a spoon, then bake for a further 20 minutes, or until golden on top.

Have a little patience, and allow the crumble to cool in the pan for at least 10 minutes. Turn it out and cut into bar- shapes. I found a pizza cutter did the trick perfectly. Good eating!

Zingy Lime and Plum Loaf

Another squishy sweet, though this one you can slice like bread. This makes it a handbag handy that can easily be transported to work, consumed at your desk, and not fall between the keys if you're typing or surfing. It's also zingy, so a welcome awakening to a perhaps otherwise work-dulled body. Thank heavens for tastebuds to remind us that we are sensory creatures, not office androids.

This is adapted from Lucy's Kitchen by Lucy Waverman (2006). It doesn't make any great leaps of faith and adventure from the original, but these are tried and tested quantities of alternative ingredients that work nicely (margarine becomes rapeseed oil, sugar becomes honey and wheat flour becomes spelt). It still springs up and is moist without being greasy, so pretty good really.

Preheat oven to 200 degrees

Whisk up:

• 1/3 cup rapeseed oil
• 1/2 cup honey
• zest of 1 lime

Beat in:

• 2 eggs
• 1/4 cup soya yoghurt

Then beat in:

• 1 1/2 cup spelt flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp salt

Gently stir in:

• 4 plums, stoned and chopped
• 50g walnuts, chopped (perhaps retaining some to sprinkle on top)

Pour into a loaf tin (greased and floured). Bake for a total of 35 minutes maximum. I recommend at least checking from Minute 20 onwards. If a skewer comes out clean, remove it. If not but you have a desired colour on top, cover with tin foil. And whatever you do, keep a close eye and mind your nasal intuitions. You have those senses for a reason. Speaking from experience, it does somewhat lessen the effect of flourishing newly baked goods, if you've needed to saw off any great chunks of severely burned tops and sides (A-hem, hmm, yes, hmmm).

I'd rather the highlight of some days isn't the inside of a burnt cake. But it ain't all that bad, if the very centre of said burnt cake is unquestionably tasty.

Rhubarb, Apple and Strawberry Tray Bake

You definitely need a fork to ensure it gets to your mouth in one piece. It's just too packed with soft, squishy fruit to be guaranteed to reach it otherwise. Pretty decadent in feel, but not too bad for you at all. The real decadence is using the stewing juices for cocktails... more on that in another post. In the meantime, here's a recipe to comfort and joy.

This one goes out to my Mum and in honour of her family favourite, apple tray bake. I've adjusted it to suit, adding some tart rhubarb, sweet strawbs and a smattering of cheeky nuts. Dad gave this an almighty thumbs up and while I think a little modesty is in order... stuff it, here you go.

Stew the following for 5 minutes:

• 450g rhubarb, cut into inch pieces
• 2 apples, peeled, cored, and cubed
• any left over strawberries, halved
• 115g sugar/or equivalent honey

Strain the fruit and set aside (Keep the juices for cocktails!)

In a medium bowl, mix:

• 85g brown rice flour
• 100g ground almonds
• 1 1/2 tsp baking powder

In another small bowl, whisk:

• 1 egg
• 1tsp vanilla essence
• 1 tsp almond extract

Then pour the wet ingredients into the dry and mix together, finally stirring in the stewed fruit. Pour into a 6.5"x10"x1.5" baking tray and top with 50g chopped walnuts. Bake at 200 degrees for 25 minutes, allowing the walnuts to toast. Try twisting the pan around in the oven. Mine got a little overcooked at one end, so I'll turn mine next time. Set to cool, then chop into 6 generous squares. Serve with tea or coffee (it's not one of those which really goes best with one or tuther).

NB: One square slice holds 25g of nuts, or 1/3 of your daily requirement for protein (see blog on 'Diet for 21st Century' if you want more info). I like to think this means it's definitely a healthy thing to settle into a slice.

Fight for the right to the sweets course

Imagine you've just had a wonderful meal with friends, good company and relaxed atmosphere. As a result, you're feeling gorgeous, interesting, and possibly slightly more open to persuasion than usual as a result from being filled with terrific food. The main course is over and you're considering whether you'll be asked if you'd like a dessert. You figure you're worth it. You take a moment to imagine what delights will be listed.

That's when the dreaming stops and I remember who I am. The truth is that I am someone who adores something sweet but often feels hopelessly ill when I indulge: I feel awful shortly after, lose the entire contents of my meal (if I'm lucky) and am left with a bitter taste in my mouth, both literally and metaphorically.

More often than not, I decide I will eat at least some dessert. I tell myself this is more about wanting to believe I'm normal, rather than the result of being a glutton. Admittedly, the jury's out. One thing is certain, it makes me a fool. I remind myself once more that dessert is not worth the suffering and prepare myself to desist at the next offer of afters.

The problem is that it is the omnipresent assassins, Wheat and Dairy, are ensconced in almost every dessert (just as they infiltrate so many foods). And I don't want to skulk on the margins of society trying to avoid them. Doing so costs me my sense of freedom (and epicurean enjoyment). I'm more likely to run into the line of fire than avoid it. Principles, I tell you! What can I do but fight: fight for the right to the sweets course.

My gut tells me I must involve European Court of Human Rights: The taste-buds of the dairy- and wheat- intolerant should be no less equal than those of fully-fledged omnivores.

My reasoning cries louder. Start small. Start in the kitchen. Just start doing something. To that end, I solemly declare my commitment to this cause and promise to divulge any relevant intel, both promptly and in full, that may assist in:

• dispelling the myth that you must consign yourself to a life devoid of odd sweet indulgencies
• overturning false expectations that all people are not created equal in their enjoyment of the sweets course
• providing the masses with bespoke sweets that will bring their special meals to a confident and sated close

(cue applause)