I haven't had too many cravings in my almost 6 months of pregnancy. No random desire for pickles and ice cream or anchovies and pineapple or laundry starch or chalk (I can't possibly think why). I can't even blame my incessant ingestion of blueberry muffins or hot salty chips on the hormones. No, I've pretty much just become a pig. Oink oink. A pig eating for two at every meal. Doing a damn fine job of following that whole 'eating for two' RULE which actually, when you look into it, is just a very convincing, very easy-to-obey, very "yes my time has finally come" myth. The extra calories you're supposed to ingest actually equate to about one extra roast potato at dinner. Snore. I didn't need to be pregnant to have an excuse for that extra potato. There are kids dying from starvation in Africa for god's sake. It'd just be plain selfish not to eat that last potato.
So as I said, no cravings. That was until........last Friday. When for the first time in, what, 15 years, I wrapped my whopping pregnant mouth around one of these bad boys. You all know what it is. The humble Australian icon.....the Lamington. Casually picked up by yours truly to take to a friends place for a hit of sweetness after lunch, not really thinking anything of it. That was until, little Lammy jumped into my gob and changed my life forever.
I've never really thought much of lamingtons. I've always perceived them as a bit dry, a bit old school, just a bit of an anti-climax really. But oh boy, I was SO wrong! Even though it pains me to say it (favourite word and all), it was moist, oh so moist. And just the sweetest thing I've eaten in I don't know how long.
As a result, I'm now chomping on a lamington as we speak. Typing, chewing and drooling simultaneously. It's bloody fantastic. And luckily I bought three, you know, just in case. Right now I'm trying to come up with a strategy to manage what I can only foresee to be nothing short of an addiction. The shop is literally across the road.....oh dear. Suggestions welcome.