BANANA & BLUEBERRY CAKE

SERVES 8. PREP 15 MINS. COOK 55 MINS

INGREDIENTS

• 80g solidified coconut oil

• 40g (¼ cup) coconut sugar

• 1 small lemon, rind finely grated, juiced

• 1 tsp vanilla extract

• 3 eggs

• 35g (¼ cup) coconut flour

• 85g (¾ cup) almond meal

• 2 small bananas

• 2 ½ tbsp arrowroot (tapioca flour)

• 2 tsp gluten-free baking powder

• 125ml (½ cup) light coconut milk

• 75g (½ cup) frozen blueberries, thawed on paper towel

• Rice malt syrup, to drizzle (optional)

METHOD

1 Preheat the oven to 180C/160C fanforced. Grease base and side of a 19.5cm (base measurement) springform cake pan and line with baking paper.

2 Use electric beaters to beat the coconut oil, sugar, lemon rind and vanilla in a bowl until pale and creamy. Beat in 1 egg and 1 tbsp of the coconut flour. Repeat with the remaining eggs and coconut flour until combined (mixture may curdle slightly).

3 Thinly slice half a banana. Drizzle with a little lemon juice to prevent discolouration. Set aside. Use a fork to mash the remaining banana.

4 Add the almond meal, arrowroot, baking powder, coconut milk, mashed banana and 1 tbsp lemon juice to coconut oil mixture. Stir until combined. Spoon into prepared pan and smooth the surface.

5 Sprinkle with blueberries. Top with sliced banana. Bake for 50-55 minutes or until a skewer inserted in the centre comes out clean. Cool in pan for 10 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. 6 Drizzle with rice malt syrup, if using.

I write this column from the hive of activity that is my home office (my bed) as Premier Dan Andrews announces that lockdown shall be lifted for Victoria at 11.59pm this coming Thursday.

My partner and I have been double vaxxed for months and chomping at the bit to eat and drink ourselves into a stupor. Or “stimulate the economy”, which sounds both more appropriate and a tad sexier. My laptop is verging on explosion, with restaurant tabs, hairdressers, beauty therapists and the like open on my browser. Given the announcement came as quite a surprise (few expected indoor dining on the cards) we have no idea which restaurants will be ready to open. So I’m hedging my bets sliding into DMs Shane Warne-style of every restaurant and bar I’ve been ogling on Instagram these past four months. I’m now not sure if reservations I had for original reopening dates stand or if they get dragged forward by two weeks. Either way I’m raring to go. I feel like a serial killer, with restaurant names glued to the wall of my attic, red string between each noting which I’ve already spoken to, which I’ve bribed and which I intend to phone repeatedly. My first message was to my gorgeous hairdresser, Stavros, whose other clients I threatened to fight off, Squid Game-style, to score the first spot in his chair. In good news, I won the battle and my partner scored the appointment after me. We intend to arrive with flowers, champagne, party poppers and Kylie Minogue blaring from a portable speaker.

In the time since I began writing this column (about four hours ago!) I’ve just confirmed a restaurant for Friday evening. Our favourite Italian spot, where they serve bowls of pasta the size of your head and have an incredible wine list. We took the earlier reservation as we’re slightly concerned about sensory overload after a good part of this year has been spent with just the two of us indoors picking arguments with each other.

I am one of those people who is very excited about gyms reopening. Unfortunately we have to wait a little longer for that but by the sounds of it I’m going to be utterly exhausted anyhow. Although I’m a 30-year-old man (OK fine, 31), I enjoy spin classes mid-morning. Essentially a mums and bubs class but these mothers are fierce and I have to work hard to keep up with them! And I’m going to need it after the next few weekends of eating, drinking and seeing friends. All Covid responsibly, of course. Because I can’t do a seventh lockdown. I just can’t.