Chocolate Krantzcakes and Work Life Balance

Such is the power of Yotam Ottolenghi that when I find a recipe in one of his books that turns on my baking lightbulb, I skim the ingredients and reach for my apron. I don't even picture the end product, I just absolutely know that if I follow it through, something fabulous will emerge from my oven. In this case, I have never heard of the term Krantzcake, but I do know what he is describing. It 's kind of like a Jewish version of a brioche, with lines of chocolate running through it, in the form of a plaited loaf. No problem. Except that as I get tucked into the instructions, I see a line that says, this is very complicated and takes a long time to make. Oh dear. Given that all of Ottolenghi's recipes are very complicated and take a long time to make, if he actually goes to the trouble of articulating this in a recipe, you are officially in trouble. But it's too late. The dough hook is on my Kitchen Aid and I am already half way through the dough. You have to leave the dough to prove for at least half a day. Preferably overnight. This is a cake you do not want to make unless you are housebound. Luckily, today I am. I am Working From Home. Make no mistake, people who work from home, do so because they have other things to do than work. I have no truck at all with this. I work at home myself on average one day a fortnight, and mostly I do it not because it is more efficient, or even quieter - most days my house is bedlam even when the kids are at school - but because the combination of very early mornings, commuting, races up and down Whitehall to get to meetings in time, streams of people asking me questions, beating a path through bewildered tourists to get to, well, wherever is within a 5 mile radius of the office, is just bloody overwhelming. I need a working day off. I need one where I do my work away from the hubbub. But if I sat at my laptop or poring over documents for an entire day, a sore bum  and a curved back would be the result, not to mention severe ennui and a serious case of cabin fever. And I am not alone in this. People who work from home combine home deliveries, the weekly wash, some cleaning, a lunch with a mate, a walk with the dog, a longer session at the gym, a long and luxurious personal phone call, etc etc. I like to intersperse my work with baking. It's the perfect balance. Baking requires me to get up, pound things, dance around the kitchen, focus a different part of my brain, and breathe in. A lot. So. I pore over a document about women building peace in conflict affected societies. After an hour I get up and observe my krantzcake dough, which does not appear to be doing a whole lot. So I make a milk tart, sit back down again, and another 2 hours sunk in another document about conflict diamonds. The dough is rising nicely so I jump on my bike, head to the gym which is 5 mins away and hit a class called Shabam. Or maybe, Shazam. It's a dance class for Mums who can't dance but love to move. It is perfect for me. I cycle back again without any feeling left in my lower limbs. I have lunch. Answer a shed of emails. Return to my documents. At about 5, my dough is ready. I divide it in two. Prepare a paste of dark melted chocolate, icing sugar, cocoa powder and melted butter. Roll out my two doughs. Spread my paste over each with a spatula. Roll each one up in the shape of a cigar. Cut them each very carefully lengthways with a sharp, serrated knife. What follows is a GLORIOUS sticky chocolately attempt to plait the two halves over each other. This is more or less successful. It's not Masterchef but would grace any rustic looking cafe table. I leave them to rise in baking tins under wet towels, while I make dinner and take some work calls. By the time dinner is ready, the plaited cake loaves are ready for the oven. I pop them in and the aroma that wafts immediately from within is so distracting we can hardly eat our main course. I take them out. Family tears into them. They are gone in 15 minutes. I take a few last calls. Mop up my emails. Shut down my laptop. Pour myself a glass of wine. And that, my friends, is a successful Work Life Balance.