Like a bowlful of jelly

Now I'm not getting my quivers from my many dates I have to seek out nervous satisfaction in the production of other delicate scenarios. Wibbly wobbly jelly seems to emulate the feeling in my long, perfectly calved, suggestive long sock clad legs, on a first meeting.

Dave and I have discussed at length this concept of 'exquisite torture.' I won't go into details as you're either highly strung enough to feel it or you're not. The latter should go off and eat some cucumber or cold cuts of meat. Emos, please pull up a chair and learn how to make mulled wine jelly with vanilla cream.

Firstly imagine me sitting in a bath of anxiety (quite like the one I have to soak the 12 leaves of gelatin in for four minutes) getting abuse from all directions about how I won't be able to do it. But someone will want to go out with me eventually! Oh sorry, that's dating. I mean, of course I can handle gelatin this year without it seeming like there's chunks of meat in the white choc cheesecake.

Anyway, after wetting the gelatin you soak it in a pan of hot red wine, orange juice, cinnamon, cloves, and lemon peel. Strain, pour into your vessels, set for four hours. When you're ready whip up some cream with vanilla essence and caster sugar, and top.

MMMm. My guests were a little nervous given my past pudding history (broccoli mince pies? Chocolate batter scraped off mine and Roast's chests? Anyone?) but after swallowing their trepidation they gobbled up the jellies.

Verdict: They were a little booozy but slunk down everyone's throats a treat. Unlike the mince pies I'd accidentally made with salty bread flour. Can't have it all.