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Miranda Murfins: A Tale of Magical Cookery
In 1915 England, Miranda Murfins is a divorced mother of four, struggling to survive.
Worn down by endless hours in kitchens that never respect her, she is told again and again that she is not enough.
But when injustice crosses a line, her hidden magic erupts.
Desperate, Miranda finds work at a crumbling orphanage, her last refuge.
When the strict headmistress gives her an ultimatum, Improve your cooking or leave , Miranda believes she has reached the end of her strength.
Everything feels hopeless until one night, when a mischievous elf appears with recipes full of magic.
Suddenly, Miranda realizes the her magic was never a curse... it has always been her greatest ally.
To save the orphanage and herself, she must unleash it… before it’s too late.
Not another witch story.
A layered fantasy novel about motherhood, strength and choosing what your fate will become.
Perfect for readers who Comforting, low-stakes stories with warmth, hope, and emotional depthDomestic magic woven into everyday lifeFound family and emotionally rich relationshipsHistorical fantasy grounded in real social struggle
• First Prize, National Literary Writing Contest “Silver Page” (2015)
• Second Prize, Cyprus IBBY for Children’s and Young Adult Literature (2017)
Worn down by endless hours in kitchens that never respect her, she is told again and again that she is not enough.
But when injustice crosses a line, her hidden magic erupts.
Desperate, Miranda finds work at a crumbling orphanage, her last refuge.
When the strict headmistress gives her an ultimatum, Improve your cooking or leave , Miranda believes she has reached the end of her strength.
Everything feels hopeless until one night, when a mischievous elf appears with recipes full of magic.
Suddenly, Miranda realizes the her magic was never a curse... it has always been her greatest ally.
To save the orphanage and herself, she must unleash it… before it’s too late.
Not another witch story.
A layered fantasy novel about motherhood, strength and choosing what your fate will become.
Perfect for readers who Comforting, low-stakes stories with warmth, hope, and emotional depthDomestic magic woven into everyday lifeFound family and emotionally rich relationshipsHistorical fantasy grounded in real social struggle
• First Prize, National Literary Writing Contest “Silver Page” (2015)
• Second Prize, Cyprus IBBY for Children’s and Young Adult Literature (2017)
- GenresFiction
180 pages, Paperback
Published October 26, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 39 reviews
March 14, 2026
It is impossible to not fall in love with the characters from the start. They are all wonderfully depicted. I love the atmosphere and backdrop for the story. And, the author’s voice comes through so smoothly that every occurrence touches your heart and makes your imagination soar.
This author has built a world of characters I wish to hang out with over and over again. I sincerely did not want the story to end. That is how much I looked forward to reading it. Thoroughly enjoyed this wonderful story and will be looking for more by this author. The author hinted at bringing these lovable characters back. So, I will be keeping my eye open for that ;) a must-read for any and all ages!
This author has built a world of characters I wish to hang out with over and over again. I sincerely did not want the story to end. That is how much I looked forward to reading it. Thoroughly enjoyed this wonderful story and will be looking for more by this author. The author hinted at bringing these lovable characters back. So, I will be keeping my eye open for that ;) a must-read for any and all ages!
January 12, 2026
In this cozy-adjacent fantasy, Miranda Murfins is a divorced mother of four, barely scraping by, who takes a job at the Lavenshaw Orphanage. The book is most interesting in the first chapter, when Miranda herself is at the heart of the story: she’s a delightfully — and relatably — odd heroine, at once mundane and secretly magical. She also brings something unique to the genre of witchiness: the grounded-but-complicated perspective of a mother trying to put food in her children’s mouths while learning the scope of her own hitherto-untapped power. The orphans plague her with devilry and, finally, the stern and humorless headmistress adds more stress to Miranda’s life. Nelton’s writing evokes the feel of early 20th‑century England while interlacing normal life with magic in a way that feels neither clichéd nor stilted. But the book does drag in parts. Some of the relationships, in particular, could have been developed more, along with certain plot points. But that is a minor detail in what is, ultimately, a warm and gently magical novel.
April 6, 2026
I just finished Miranda Murfins: The Witch-Cook of the Orphanage by A.L Nelton. I read it after reading a facebook and Goodreads review. Miranda Murfins has been unable to find a job. She fancies herself, a cook, but everything she cooks has no taste. One day she hears of a position at Lavenshaw orphanage…as a cook. Miranda is sweet and only wanting to care for others and bring them joy. She encounters an Elf, Derths, and he helps her discover her magical abilities. The story also contains some nice life suggestions; “Perhaps magic is not only in ladles and cauldrons, she thought. Perhaps it lies in how you choose to see the world “ and “ Never throw all the ingredients in at once. Magic, like life, requires patience one thing at a time. “ I love these ways to look at life sprinkled throughout the book. Enjoy this quick read!
May 28, 2026
The Pedagogy of Burnt Toast: On Teaching When You Cannot Control the Outcome
The fantasy genre has long been comfortable with the figure of the master teacher. Dumbledore, Gandalf, McGonagall. They arrive fully formed, their wisdom a fixed quantity to be dispensed. A. L. Nelson's "Miranda Murfins: The Witch Cook of the Orphanage" offers a different model. It asks what it means to teach when you are still learning, to guide when you are lost, and to nurture when the results are invisible until long after you have stopped looking.
Miranda Murfins is a cook who cannot keep a job. Her food is routinely declared bland. Her children are fed on prayer and thin soup. When she arrives at Lavenshaw Orphanage, she is not a savior. She is a divorced mother of four who needs a paycheck and will tolerate almost anything to get it. The orphanage itself is a broken system: falsified records, a headmistress hiding an illegitimate child, an inspector who poisoned his predecessor. Into this space, Nelson introduces magical flour and a grumpy elf named Derths. But the magic is not the point. The pedagogy is.
What Nelson understands, and what makes this book unexpectedly sophisticated, is that teaching is not about transmitting knowledge. It is about creating conditions. Miranda does not arrive knowing how to cook for one hundred fifty children. She learns by burning things, by being mocked, by adding too much onion and watching her meat pies go uneaten. Derths does not give her recipes. He gives her a ladle and tells her the magic is in her hands. The flour "that rises as it bakes" is useless without belief. This is not a platitude. It is a precise observation about how learning actually happens. The student must decide the lesson matters before the lesson can land.
The book's most radical pedagogical move is the Potion of Joy. To complete it, Miranda must laugh over the cauldron. Not performatively. Genuinely. She must find joy in the work before the work can produce joy for others. This is the opposite of instrumental teaching. It says the teacher's internal state is not separate from the outcome. It says you cannot pour from an empty pot.
The novel has structural problems. It is too long. Some subplots, particularly the inspector's poisoning and the children's secret letter campaign, are introduced with urgency and resolved with a wave. The pacing in the middle third sags under the weight of kitchen descriptions that, while lovely, begin to blur into one another. A more disciplined edit would have preserved the atmosphere while trimming the repetition.
But the excess is also the argument. Pedagogy is repetitive. Learning to cook means making the same mistakes until you stop. Miranda fails over and over. The children reject her food. The staff doubts her. The inspectors threaten closure. And still she shows up to the kitchen. Nelson is not writing a tightly plotted thriller. She is writing a slow study of persistence, and persistence does not happen in montage. It happens in the long hours between successes, when no one is watching and the soup is still bland.
The ending is not triumphant. The orphanage stays open. The children grow up and leave. Adam writes letters. Jake studies cookery. Miranda stays in the kitchen, peeling potatoes, watering a flowerpot that finally blooms. The magic, it turns out, was never in the ladle. It was in the daily, unglamorous, barely noticeable work of showing up. That is a hard lesson to make exciting. Nelson does not try. She makes it true instead.
For readers tired of chosen ones and inherited powers, this is a quiet counterargument. For educators, it is something rarer: a recognition that most teaching happens in the absence of visible results, and that the only professional development that matters is the willingness to keep cooking when the last dish failed. Miranda Murfins would be a terrible professor. She would be a wonderful colleague.
The fantasy genre has long been comfortable with the figure of the master teacher. Dumbledore, Gandalf, McGonagall. They arrive fully formed, their wisdom a fixed quantity to be dispensed. A. L. Nelson's "Miranda Murfins: The Witch Cook of the Orphanage" offers a different model. It asks what it means to teach when you are still learning, to guide when you are lost, and to nurture when the results are invisible until long after you have stopped looking.
Miranda Murfins is a cook who cannot keep a job. Her food is routinely declared bland. Her children are fed on prayer and thin soup. When she arrives at Lavenshaw Orphanage, she is not a savior. She is a divorced mother of four who needs a paycheck and will tolerate almost anything to get it. The orphanage itself is a broken system: falsified records, a headmistress hiding an illegitimate child, an inspector who poisoned his predecessor. Into this space, Nelson introduces magical flour and a grumpy elf named Derths. But the magic is not the point. The pedagogy is.
What Nelson understands, and what makes this book unexpectedly sophisticated, is that teaching is not about transmitting knowledge. It is about creating conditions. Miranda does not arrive knowing how to cook for one hundred fifty children. She learns by burning things, by being mocked, by adding too much onion and watching her meat pies go uneaten. Derths does not give her recipes. He gives her a ladle and tells her the magic is in her hands. The flour "that rises as it bakes" is useless without belief. This is not a platitude. It is a precise observation about how learning actually happens. The student must decide the lesson matters before the lesson can land.
The book's most radical pedagogical move is the Potion of Joy. To complete it, Miranda must laugh over the cauldron. Not performatively. Genuinely. She must find joy in the work before the work can produce joy for others. This is the opposite of instrumental teaching. It says the teacher's internal state is not separate from the outcome. It says you cannot pour from an empty pot.
The novel has structural problems. It is too long. Some subplots, particularly the inspector's poisoning and the children's secret letter campaign, are introduced with urgency and resolved with a wave. The pacing in the middle third sags under the weight of kitchen descriptions that, while lovely, begin to blur into one another. A more disciplined edit would have preserved the atmosphere while trimming the repetition.
But the excess is also the argument. Pedagogy is repetitive. Learning to cook means making the same mistakes until you stop. Miranda fails over and over. The children reject her food. The staff doubts her. The inspectors threaten closure. And still she shows up to the kitchen. Nelson is not writing a tightly plotted thriller. She is writing a slow study of persistence, and persistence does not happen in montage. It happens in the long hours between successes, when no one is watching and the soup is still bland.
The ending is not triumphant. The orphanage stays open. The children grow up and leave. Adam writes letters. Jake studies cookery. Miranda stays in the kitchen, peeling potatoes, watering a flowerpot that finally blooms. The magic, it turns out, was never in the ladle. It was in the daily, unglamorous, barely noticeable work of showing up. That is a hard lesson to make exciting. Nelson does not try. She makes it true instead.
For readers tired of chosen ones and inherited powers, this is a quiet counterargument. For educators, it is something rarer: a recognition that most teaching happens in the absence of visible results, and that the only professional development that matters is the willingness to keep cooking when the last dish failed. Miranda Murfins would be a terrible professor. She would be a wonderful colleague.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 14, 2026
This book came recommended from a post after I enjoyed a similar title, so I went in with high expectations. At just 170 pages, I anticipated a quick and easy read. While the overall plot was interesting and had potential, I found myself wanting more depth in each chapter. The story felt a bit rushed at times, and I wish certain moments had been more fully developed.
January 17, 2026
As a lover of historical fantasy, I found Miranda Murfins: The Witch-Cook of the Orphanage to be a deeply intriguing and wonderfully heartfelt journey. Set against the stark, soot-stained backdrop of 1915 England, A. L. Nelton weaves a story that feels remarkably grounded. This isn't a world of flashy spells; it is a world where magic serves as a quiet rebellion against the crushing weight of hardship. At the heart of the novel is Miranda, a divorced mother navigating a society that offers her very little grace. Her characterization is the book’s greatest strength. Her exhaustion is palpable, yet her resilience and fierce love for her children drive every action. Nelton portrays her struggle not as a melodrama, but with a weary realism that makes her eventual empowerment feel earned and deeply intimate.
The "witch-cook" concept is handled with a charming touch. By weaving magic into the act of cooking, the story turns the mundane labor of survival into something quietly miraculous. This domestic magic honors the overlooked labor in women’s lives, suggesting that there is power in the very things society takes for granted. The inclusion of an elf provides a necessary spark of whimsy, but the author wisely ensures it never overpowers the emotional core of the narrative.
What stands out most is the balance between historical hardship and speculative hope. The looming threats—draconian inspectors and the potential closure of the orphanage—create genuine, high-stakes tension. However, the magic never feels like a convenient "deus ex machina" to solve these problems. Instead, it acts as a catalyst for human strength.
Final Verdict
Miranda Murfins: The Witch-Cook of the Orphanage is a touching, imaginative historical fantasy. It blends warmth and struggle in a way that lingers long after the final page. For those who enjoy stories where magic is found in unexpected places and characters who fight for their dignity with nothing but their wits and a wooden spoon, this is a deeply satisfying read.
The "witch-cook" concept is handled with a charming touch. By weaving magic into the act of cooking, the story turns the mundane labor of survival into something quietly miraculous. This domestic magic honors the overlooked labor in women’s lives, suggesting that there is power in the very things society takes for granted. The inclusion of an elf provides a necessary spark of whimsy, but the author wisely ensures it never overpowers the emotional core of the narrative.
What stands out most is the balance between historical hardship and speculative hope. The looming threats—draconian inspectors and the potential closure of the orphanage—create genuine, high-stakes tension. However, the magic never feels like a convenient "deus ex machina" to solve these problems. Instead, it acts as a catalyst for human strength.
Final Verdict
Miranda Murfins: The Witch-Cook of the Orphanage is a touching, imaginative historical fantasy. It blends warmth and struggle in a way that lingers long after the final page. For those who enjoy stories where magic is found in unexpected places and characters who fight for their dignity with nothing but their wits and a wooden spoon, this is a deeply satisfying read.
December 25, 2025
Miranda Murfins: The Witch-Cook of the Orphanage is one of those rare books where the premise alone makes you smile—and the execution actually delivers.
My wife and I watch a lot of cooking shows, and I’m a longtime fantasy reader, so the idea of a desperate cook fighting for her livelihood with the help of magic immediately hooked me-- I even told my wife about the story!
The story feels like a high-stakes cooking competition, with Miranda Murfins battling pressure, judgment, and self-doubt as if she were one bad dish away from elimination.
Set in 1920s England, Miranda is a divorced mother of four trying to keep her job in an orphanage kitchen under a headmistress who offers no patience and only one ultimatum: improve or be gone. The early chapters are intentionally rough for Miranda, and without spoiling anything, it’s clear that failure looms very close. That tension works beautifully.
The turning point—Miranda’s encounter with the elf which did make me think of Ratatouille but only just slightly because this story went in its own direction. I especially loved the introduction of the Culinary Kingdom, which felt like a fantasy twist on a cooking challenge show. Those chapters were pure joy, and I found myself smiling the whole way through.
What impressed me most, though, was how unpredictable the story became near the end. Despite the cozy setup and comforting themes, the final chapters deliver genuine twists and surprises. For a story about a witch-cook—an idea I honestly can’t recall seeing before—the author manages to keep things fresh and unexpected right to the finish. And having to win by cooking-- was like a high-stakes version of "Beat Bobby Flay!" in all the best ways.
This is a cozy fantasy with heart, creativity, and more depth than you might expect, blending motherhood, resilience, and magic in a wonderfully ordinary place: the kitchen.
My wife and I watch a lot of cooking shows, and I’m a longtime fantasy reader, so the idea of a desperate cook fighting for her livelihood with the help of magic immediately hooked me-- I even told my wife about the story!
The story feels like a high-stakes cooking competition, with Miranda Murfins battling pressure, judgment, and self-doubt as if she were one bad dish away from elimination.
Set in 1920s England, Miranda is a divorced mother of four trying to keep her job in an orphanage kitchen under a headmistress who offers no patience and only one ultimatum: improve or be gone. The early chapters are intentionally rough for Miranda, and without spoiling anything, it’s clear that failure looms very close. That tension works beautifully.
The turning point—Miranda’s encounter with the elf which did make me think of Ratatouille but only just slightly because this story went in its own direction. I especially loved the introduction of the Culinary Kingdom, which felt like a fantasy twist on a cooking challenge show. Those chapters were pure joy, and I found myself smiling the whole way through.
What impressed me most, though, was how unpredictable the story became near the end. Despite the cozy setup and comforting themes, the final chapters deliver genuine twists and surprises. For a story about a witch-cook—an idea I honestly can’t recall seeing before—the author manages to keep things fresh and unexpected right to the finish. And having to win by cooking-- was like a high-stakes version of "Beat Bobby Flay!" in all the best ways.
This is a cozy fantasy with heart, creativity, and more depth than you might expect, blending motherhood, resilience, and magic in a wonderfully ordinary place: the kitchen.
June 27, 2026
I Am Grateful
This charming story has gifted me with an old fashioned feeling of remembrance and peacefulness. I look forward to more Miranda! Thank you Mr. Nelton.
This charming story has gifted me with an old fashioned feeling of remembrance and peacefulness. I look forward to more Miranda! Thank you Mr. Nelton.
February 27, 2026
Miranda Murfins: The Witch-Cook of the Orphanage is an absolute delight. It's a cozy, gentle fantasy perfect for middle-grade readers (and honestly, parents too). The characters feel wonderfully relatable, especially Miranda, whose everyday struggles as she cares for the orphanage children are portrayed with such natural warmth and authenticity. The plot unfolds smoothly and organically, never feeling forced, just like a quiet afternoon story shared by the fire.
As a parent, I particularly connected with Miranda’s quiet challenges—balancing magic, meals, mischief, and the thousand little responsibilities of looking after kids. It’s rare to find a cozy fantasy that captures the real heart of parenthood so touchingly without losing any of its whimsical charm. This is a sweet, quick read that’s ideal for a rainy day at home, curling up with a blanket and a cup of tea. (But I would recommend avoiding Miranda's tea)
As a parent, I particularly connected with Miranda’s quiet challenges—balancing magic, meals, mischief, and the thousand little responsibilities of looking after kids. It’s rare to find a cozy fantasy that captures the real heart of parenthood so touchingly without losing any of its whimsical charm. This is a sweet, quick read that’s ideal for a rainy day at home, curling up with a blanket and a cup of tea. (But I would recommend avoiding Miranda's tea)
April 12, 2026
A Gentle, Magical, and Unique Witch story ~
Set during hard times in London in 1915, Miranda Murfins is abandoned by her husband; has herself, four children, and her mother to feed; and has no job to support her family. However, she knows how to cook, albeit badly, and hires herself out as a cook. Jobs in local restaurants don’t work out and she is forced to take a cook’s position at the run-down Lavenshaw Orphanage.
Things take a turn for the better when she finds a magical ladle lost by a friendly elf who is trying to redeem himself with his king for losing his ladle by doing Miranda a good deed of teaching her to cook in magical and inspirational ways.
This is an enchanting story in a style reminiscent of a Harry Potter plot. The talented author A. L. Nelton weaves a most entertaining story that has enchanting moments to delight readers. I found this cozy tale a joy to read and I’m sure you will too. I highly recommend it as an interesting and fast read at under two hundred pages.
Set during hard times in London in 1915, Miranda Murfins is abandoned by her husband; has herself, four children, and her mother to feed; and has no job to support her family. However, she knows how to cook, albeit badly, and hires herself out as a cook. Jobs in local restaurants don’t work out and she is forced to take a cook’s position at the run-down Lavenshaw Orphanage.
Things take a turn for the better when she finds a magical ladle lost by a friendly elf who is trying to redeem himself with his king for losing his ladle by doing Miranda a good deed of teaching her to cook in magical and inspirational ways.
This is an enchanting story in a style reminiscent of a Harry Potter plot. The talented author A. L. Nelton weaves a most entertaining story that has enchanting moments to delight readers. I found this cozy tale a joy to read and I’m sure you will too. I highly recommend it as an interesting and fast read at under two hundred pages.
December 3, 2025
A delightful tale, seemingly touched by magic.
We meet the titular character as she's raising young children on her own. Miranda Murfins is desperate for a job and loves to cook. Might a job as a chef at the nearby Lavenshaw orphanage do? She overlooks the overgrown exterior and short manner of its headmistress to accept a role.
Except her cooking isn't always well-received. Her anger flares into magical acts. And the orphanage she begins to care for is financially distressed.
Miranda's ensuing adventures unite her with a king, elves, and mysterious potions. Her warmth towards her charges and journey of self-discovery will fill readers with the joy.
This sweet book is written for young readers. It's gentle nature will charm all ages.
We meet the titular character as she's raising young children on her own. Miranda Murfins is desperate for a job and loves to cook. Might a job as a chef at the nearby Lavenshaw orphanage do? She overlooks the overgrown exterior and short manner of its headmistress to accept a role.
Except her cooking isn't always well-received. Her anger flares into magical acts. And the orphanage she begins to care for is financially distressed.
Miranda's ensuing adventures unite her with a king, elves, and mysterious potions. Her warmth towards her charges and journey of self-discovery will fill readers with the joy.
This sweet book is written for young readers. It's gentle nature will charm all ages.
February 23, 2026
This was a sweet and heartwarming book for all ages!
It’s set in old England and follows Miranda Murfins, a mother of four, who finds a job at Lavenshaw orphanage. The orphanage kitchen becomes a special place full of care, small secrets, and a quiet kind of magic.
I liked how easy it was to read and how it mixed emotion with a little humor. The story is about kindness, staying strong, and hope, and it left me feeling warm inside.
If you enjoy gentle magic and a story with a big heart, I recommend this book. I’m glad I picked it up, and I’d like to read more from A.L. Nelson.
It’s set in old England and follows Miranda Murfins, a mother of four, who finds a job at Lavenshaw orphanage. The orphanage kitchen becomes a special place full of care, small secrets, and a quiet kind of magic.
I liked how easy it was to read and how it mixed emotion with a little humor. The story is about kindness, staying strong, and hope, and it left me feeling warm inside.
If you enjoy gentle magic and a story with a big heart, I recommend this book. I’m glad I picked it up, and I’d like to read more from A.L. Nelson.
February 24, 2026
A cosy story!
Miranda Murfin, The Witch Cook of the Orphanage by A.L. Nelton is a delightful story set in London in 1915.
Abandoned by her husband to raise her four children, Miranda is desperate to find a job and keep it. When she comes across a ladle and is offered work at the orphanage, a place full of secrets and under closer, she must up her game in the cooking department. There’s witchery afoot, an elf that wants his ladle back, and a mountain home that just might help Miranda and the orphanage.
This was a lovely, well written story that I thoroughly enjoyed.
Miranda Murfin, The Witch Cook of the Orphanage by A.L. Nelton is a delightful story set in London in 1915.
Abandoned by her husband to raise her four children, Miranda is desperate to find a job and keep it. When she comes across a ladle and is offered work at the orphanage, a place full of secrets and under closer, she must up her game in the cooking department. There’s witchery afoot, an elf that wants his ladle back, and a mountain home that just might help Miranda and the orphanage.
This was a lovely, well written story that I thoroughly enjoyed.
February 10, 2026
a great read by Nelton
I really enjoyed this. Miranda may be abandoned, but she’s far from defeated. I completely fell into her world — a story woven through time that drew me in again and again. It kept me entertained throughout, and I genuinely didn’t want to put it down. It’s a short read, but in the best way — the kind of book you’ll happily finish in a single day.
I really enjoyed this. Miranda may be abandoned, but she’s far from defeated. I completely fell into her world — a story woven through time that drew me in again and again. It kept me entertained throughout, and I genuinely didn’t want to put it down. It’s a short read, but in the best way — the kind of book you’ll happily finish in a single day.
December 1, 2025
A sweet fantasy read with the perfect blend of bittersweet emotions, magic, fun, and interesting characters. It is the sort of book that leaves a smile on your face once you finish it since the sweetness of the story still lingers.
January 14, 2026
Are you freaking kidding me? I loved this. Fantasy is one of my favorite genres and this one did NOT disappoint. Then, the author added in that special touch on the last page? The recipe for The Witch-Cook’s Magical Tarts... okay.... ingenious.
April 9, 2026
I found this book really hard to read. The plot idea is good but the writing is jilted and doesn’t flow. It’s almost like each chapter is a taster of something a lot bigger. It’s a shame as I was looking forward to reading this book, it was a huge disappointment.
May 1, 2026
a really lovely cottage core story
I really enjoyed this tale. It was whimsical and sweet with a touch of sadness. It was a perfect palate cleanser from my deep romantasy readings I’ve been doing. I really couldn’t put it down
I really enjoyed this tale. It was whimsical and sweet with a touch of sadness. It was a perfect palate cleanser from my deep romantasy readings I’ve been doing. I really couldn’t put it down
July 19, 2026
3 ⭐️ Not exactly sure what I just read lol
May 16, 2026
I really enjoyed this book. Loved the characters and the cosy vibes.
Highly recommend if your looking for a quick cosy read.
Highly recommend if your looking for a quick cosy read.
May 15, 2026
A Magical and Enjoyable Read
The Witch Cook of the Orphanage is a gentle and imaginative fantasy that follows Miranda Murfins, a woman whose life blends hardship, hidden magic, and a deep desire to protect the children in her care. The story begins with her childhood in the English countryside, where she shows an unusual connection to nature and unseen creatures. This early sense of wonder sets the tone for a narrative in which magic is woven into daily life rather than presented as spectacle.
As Miranda grows older, she faces poverty, skepticism, and constant pressure to conform. Her attempts to find work in London kitchens are met with criticism and doubt, and her magical mishaps often make her situation worse. Dough rolls itself, ladles stir without her touch, and cauldrons boil without fire. These incidents are humorous and chaotic, but they also reflect her inner conflict and her struggle to control her abilities.
Lavenshaw Orphanage becomes the center of the story’s mystery. Strange footprints, secret rooms, and whispered conversations hint at hidden dangers. Miranda uncovers falsified reports, political schemes, and the threat of closure that would endanger the children. Inspectors arrive with harsh intentions, and the staff’s dishonesty places the orphanage at risk. The tension between the institution’s fragile stability and the inspectors’ scrutiny creates a steady sense of urgency.
The book expands further when Miranda encounters Derths, a goblin-like elf who reveals a hidden magical world beneath her hearth. She learns that ladles are ancient magical bonds passed through generations, and she receives one as a symbol of her potential. Scenes in the underground village are filled with charm, flying dishes, and a sense of belonging that Miranda has long been denied.
The story reaches its height during the inspection, when Miranda’s potions and spells cause laughter, vanishings, illusions, and ghostly voices. A flawed Potion of Joy, invisibility mishaps, and a spectral courtroom scene create a blend of humor and tension. These magical events expose lies, reveal hidden truths, and challenge the inspectors’ assumptions. The chaos also forces Miranda to confront her fears and accept her identity as a magical cook.
The emotional core of the story lies in the characters’ personal journeys. Adam and Jake mature through hardship and express longing for their families. Dorothy and Wilkins reflect on their past mistakes. Miranda’s quiet resilience, her care for the children, and her determination to act with dignity give the story its heart. The final scenes, with Miranda tending her garden and her children, offer a peaceful sense of renewal.
I found the book hopeful and uplifting. It offers a gentle escape from the reality we are presented with, and it reminds the reader that kindness, perseverance, and small acts of courage still carry real magic.
Readers who enjoy gentle fantasy, hidden magic, and stories about perseverance will find this book warm and engaging. It blends mystery, whimsy, and personal growth with a protagonist who is easy to root for. The narrative celebrates kindness, courage, and the quiet magic found in everyday acts of care.
The Witch Cook of the Orphanage is a gentle and imaginative fantasy that follows Miranda Murfins, a woman whose life blends hardship, hidden magic, and a deep desire to protect the children in her care. The story begins with her childhood in the English countryside, where she shows an unusual connection to nature and unseen creatures. This early sense of wonder sets the tone for a narrative in which magic is woven into daily life rather than presented as spectacle.
As Miranda grows older, she faces poverty, skepticism, and constant pressure to conform. Her attempts to find work in London kitchens are met with criticism and doubt, and her magical mishaps often make her situation worse. Dough rolls itself, ladles stir without her touch, and cauldrons boil without fire. These incidents are humorous and chaotic, but they also reflect her inner conflict and her struggle to control her abilities.
Lavenshaw Orphanage becomes the center of the story’s mystery. Strange footprints, secret rooms, and whispered conversations hint at hidden dangers. Miranda uncovers falsified reports, political schemes, and the threat of closure that would endanger the children. Inspectors arrive with harsh intentions, and the staff’s dishonesty places the orphanage at risk. The tension between the institution’s fragile stability and the inspectors’ scrutiny creates a steady sense of urgency.
The book expands further when Miranda encounters Derths, a goblin-like elf who reveals a hidden magical world beneath her hearth. She learns that ladles are ancient magical bonds passed through generations, and she receives one as a symbol of her potential. Scenes in the underground village are filled with charm, flying dishes, and a sense of belonging that Miranda has long been denied.
The story reaches its height during the inspection, when Miranda’s potions and spells cause laughter, vanishings, illusions, and ghostly voices. A flawed Potion of Joy, invisibility mishaps, and a spectral courtroom scene create a blend of humor and tension. These magical events expose lies, reveal hidden truths, and challenge the inspectors’ assumptions. The chaos also forces Miranda to confront her fears and accept her identity as a magical cook.
The emotional core of the story lies in the characters’ personal journeys. Adam and Jake mature through hardship and express longing for their families. Dorothy and Wilkins reflect on their past mistakes. Miranda’s quiet resilience, her care for the children, and her determination to act with dignity give the story its heart. The final scenes, with Miranda tending her garden and her children, offer a peaceful sense of renewal.
I found the book hopeful and uplifting. It offers a gentle escape from the reality we are presented with, and it reminds the reader that kindness, perseverance, and small acts of courage still carry real magic.
Readers who enjoy gentle fantasy, hidden magic, and stories about perseverance will find this book warm and engaging. It blends mystery, whimsy, and personal growth with a protagonist who is easy to root for. The narrative celebrates kindness, courage, and the quiet magic found in everyday acts of care.
December 3, 2025
I’m not ashamed to admit I love fantasy novels. Hooked at a very early age by the late English author Enid Blyton and her wonderful novel ‘The Magic Faraway Tree’ and in recent years the groundbreaking Harry Potter series by acclaimed author JK Rowling, ‘Miranda Murfins’ is rather more whimsical than the Harry Potter series, but no less charming. Just look at the magic ingredients in this story. An orphanage with a secret world hidden behind an old hearth where ladies cook mysteriously without fire. Cauldrons bubble with recipes that hold the power to change destinies.
In this age of mass-produced literary offerings, with over 20 million novels available on Amazon alone, the competition is fierce and every box needs to be ticked. The cover, the blurb and the all-important opening chapter need to engage the reader instantly. The cover of ‘Miranda Murfins’ is a winner. An imposing lady stirs a cauldron with expectant children gathered at her feet. One can imagine the magic that’s about to begin.
The opening chapter, as with the rest of the novel, is beautifully written. An English Garden setting when four-year-old Miranda sees something, not an animal, a creature, small, enigmatic, moving slowly, almost invisible. Miranda simply stood and watched. As a child, she had that absolute certainty that anything is possible. The creature stares at her for a brief moment, then disappears. It’s a great opening chapter because it subtly draws the reader to irresistibly keep turning the pages.
I enjoyed the way I was drawn into a different time. It reminded me so much of life in the 1950’s; slower and more genteel.
The central character, Miranda Murfins, has enough charisma and charm to launch a series similar to the Harry Potter phenomenon.
What truly sets this book apart is the poetic writing. It’s not fast paced by any means, and as the story slowly unfolds. It’s the curveballs the author inserts that keep the story engaging.
Character-driven fiction is a difficult art form but author A.L. Nelton achieves it with panache and style. I have no hesitation in awarding this outstanding novel 5 stars.
In this age of mass-produced literary offerings, with over 20 million novels available on Amazon alone, the competition is fierce and every box needs to be ticked. The cover, the blurb and the all-important opening chapter need to engage the reader instantly. The cover of ‘Miranda Murfins’ is a winner. An imposing lady stirs a cauldron with expectant children gathered at her feet. One can imagine the magic that’s about to begin.
The opening chapter, as with the rest of the novel, is beautifully written. An English Garden setting when four-year-old Miranda sees something, not an animal, a creature, small, enigmatic, moving slowly, almost invisible. Miranda simply stood and watched. As a child, she had that absolute certainty that anything is possible. The creature stares at her for a brief moment, then disappears. It’s a great opening chapter because it subtly draws the reader to irresistibly keep turning the pages.
I enjoyed the way I was drawn into a different time. It reminded me so much of life in the 1950’s; slower and more genteel.
The central character, Miranda Murfins, has enough charisma and charm to launch a series similar to the Harry Potter phenomenon.
What truly sets this book apart is the poetic writing. It’s not fast paced by any means, and as the story slowly unfolds. It’s the curveballs the author inserts that keep the story engaging.
Character-driven fiction is a difficult art form but author A.L. Nelton achieves it with panache and style. I have no hesitation in awarding this outstanding novel 5 stars.
January 31, 2026
A. L. Nelton's “Miranda Murfins: The Witch-Cook of the Orphanage” is a quirky, engaging story. Set in 1915 London, Miranda has been abandoned by her husband leaving her to fend for herself and four children as well as her mother and grandmother. She loves to cook but struggles to find, and hold, a job.
At one of these, we first see that things are not quite right. The Dickensian Morgan Stregglossom, "head cook and guardian of tradition," is in charge, issuing orders "with the air of a general presenting a battlefield." Miranda does her best to comply but, under stress, strange things begin to happen: a pot simmers without a fire; a door opens and in floats a piece of dough which stretches and thins itself to perfection. Miranda's magical powers have emerged unbidden. Ms. Stregglossom points to the door and Miranda is unemployed once again.
Eventually, Miranda is hired at the foreboding Lavenshaw Orphanage whose unmanageable children don't like what she serves. Miranda is warned that if her cooking doesn't improve, she will be gone. The orphanage has problems of its own and faces closure. Much depends on a gathering of well-heeled people who will decide Lavenshaw's fate. The meals Miranda must serve will be critical.
Along the way, we encounter potions, a magic ladle, elves, and even a king (not of England). Nelton weaves them all together with well-drawn characters, likeable and not, above all the warm and loving cook, Miranda.
Take a break, put on a pot of tea and enjoy a tasty tale. Serve with muffins, I mean, Murfins.
At one of these, we first see that things are not quite right. The Dickensian Morgan Stregglossom, "head cook and guardian of tradition," is in charge, issuing orders "with the air of a general presenting a battlefield." Miranda does her best to comply but, under stress, strange things begin to happen: a pot simmers without a fire; a door opens and in floats a piece of dough which stretches and thins itself to perfection. Miranda's magical powers have emerged unbidden. Ms. Stregglossom points to the door and Miranda is unemployed once again.
Eventually, Miranda is hired at the foreboding Lavenshaw Orphanage whose unmanageable children don't like what she serves. Miranda is warned that if her cooking doesn't improve, she will be gone. The orphanage has problems of its own and faces closure. Much depends on a gathering of well-heeled people who will decide Lavenshaw's fate. The meals Miranda must serve will be critical.
Along the way, we encounter potions, a magic ladle, elves, and even a king (not of England). Nelton weaves them all together with well-drawn characters, likeable and not, above all the warm and loving cook, Miranda.
Take a break, put on a pot of tea and enjoy a tasty tale. Serve with muffins, I mean, Murfins.
May 15, 2026
Set in 1915 London, The Witch Cook of the Orphanage by A.L. Nelton blends whimsy, chaos, and heart into a charming fantasy adventure best suited for pre-teen and early teen readers.
Although the central character, Miranda Murfin, is a mother of four young children, the true spirit of the story lives within the bustling orphanage and the children who fill its halls. Miranda is utterly convinced she is a marvelous cook—unfortunately, no one else agrees. Her cooking is magically tied to her emotions, and when she becomes anxious or angry, the kitchen erupts into delightful mayhem. Pots boil over, bread develops a mind of its own, and soup occasionally slaps unsuspecting victims.
The story becomes even more entertaining when Miranda accidentally steals an elf’s enchanted ladle. A bargain is struck: the elf will help her if she returns it, and together they may even be able to save the orphanage from closing.
What makes this novel especially enjoyable is its playful imagination. The magical mishaps create humor without losing the warmth underneath, and the orphanage setting gives the story a cozy, found-family atmosphere. Younger readers will likely enjoy the unpredictable kitchen magic and quirky characters, while older readers may appreciate the underlying themes of belonging, perseverance, and learning to manage one’s emotions.
Although the central character, Miranda Murfin, is a mother of four young children, the true spirit of the story lives within the bustling orphanage and the children who fill its halls. Miranda is utterly convinced she is a marvelous cook—unfortunately, no one else agrees. Her cooking is magically tied to her emotions, and when she becomes anxious or angry, the kitchen erupts into delightful mayhem. Pots boil over, bread develops a mind of its own, and soup occasionally slaps unsuspecting victims.
The story becomes even more entertaining when Miranda accidentally steals an elf’s enchanted ladle. A bargain is struck: the elf will help her if she returns it, and together they may even be able to save the orphanage from closing.
What makes this novel especially enjoyable is its playful imagination. The magical mishaps create humor without losing the warmth underneath, and the orphanage setting gives the story a cozy, found-family atmosphere. Younger readers will likely enjoy the unpredictable kitchen magic and quirky characters, while older readers may appreciate the underlying themes of belonging, perseverance, and learning to manage one’s emotions.
June 29, 2026
Miranda Murfins is a sweet, whimsical cozy fantasy with a lovely fairy-tale heart. The premise immediately pulled me in: a struggling single mother whose magic comes alive through cooking, emotion, scent, and memory. Cauldrons bubble without fire, dough seems to know what it is meant to become, and kindness is treated as something almost magical in itself.
What I enjoyed most was the warmth of the story. Miranda’s journey to Lavenshaw Orphanage has that old-world, slightly mysterious storybook feeling, and her friendship with Derths the forest elf adds a gentle charm. The book’s strongest idea is that care itself can be transformative, and that theme pays off beautifully through the image of the dry flowerpot Miranda keeps tending. The final bloom feels earned and quietly moving.
The food imagery is also one of the book’s biggest pleasures. The descriptions of sauces, herbs, sweets, and imagined meals give Miranda so much personality and make the magic feel cozy and inviting. I especially liked the way food becomes tied to memory, comfort, and healing.
This is a gentle, heartfelt read for anyone who enjoys cozy fantasy, magical kitchens, orphanage mysteries, forest elves, and stories where kindness matters more than power. It has the feel of a translated fairy tale, with plenty of warmth, whimsy, and old-fashioned charm.
What I enjoyed most was the warmth of the story. Miranda’s journey to Lavenshaw Orphanage has that old-world, slightly mysterious storybook feeling, and her friendship with Derths the forest elf adds a gentle charm. The book’s strongest idea is that care itself can be transformative, and that theme pays off beautifully through the image of the dry flowerpot Miranda keeps tending. The final bloom feels earned and quietly moving.
The food imagery is also one of the book’s biggest pleasures. The descriptions of sauces, herbs, sweets, and imagined meals give Miranda so much personality and make the magic feel cozy and inviting. I especially liked the way food becomes tied to memory, comfort, and healing.
This is a gentle, heartfelt read for anyone who enjoys cozy fantasy, magical kitchens, orphanage mysteries, forest elves, and stories where kindness matters more than power. It has the feel of a translated fairy tale, with plenty of warmth, whimsy, and old-fashioned charm.
August 11, 2026
A Ladle is no mere stick, it’s a bond!
In my view this is a warm, emotionally rich historical fantasy touching on domestic magic and the gritty realities of survival in old England.
In this novel, a single mother of four Miranda Murfins, has spent years working in kitchens that grind her down and insist she is “not enough. She is exhausted and unthanked - long hours, disrespect, the sense of being trapped in a life that demands everything and gives nothing back. She reaches breaking point and when injustice crosses a line and her hidden magic erupts, the result is cathartic.
Miranda takes a job at a crumbling orphanage but here too, she was met with demands which undermined her skills.
Everything shifts when a mischievous elf appears one night with magical recipes. Miranda’s realization that her magic was never a curse but her greatest ally becomes the engine of the story – very interesting indeed. To save the orphanage, protect her children, and rebuild her life, she must unleash the very power she was taught to fear. The story is surprisingly different; it is not another witch story, it’s a novel about motherhood, family, real-life struggles, connections and of course, magic.
I wish the book were professionally formatted but if, like me you enjoy historical fantasies, you can grab this one.
In my view this is a warm, emotionally rich historical fantasy touching on domestic magic and the gritty realities of survival in old England.
In this novel, a single mother of four Miranda Murfins, has spent years working in kitchens that grind her down and insist she is “not enough. She is exhausted and unthanked - long hours, disrespect, the sense of being trapped in a life that demands everything and gives nothing back. She reaches breaking point and when injustice crosses a line and her hidden magic erupts, the result is cathartic.
Miranda takes a job at a crumbling orphanage but here too, she was met with demands which undermined her skills.
Everything shifts when a mischievous elf appears one night with magical recipes. Miranda’s realization that her magic was never a curse but her greatest ally becomes the engine of the story – very interesting indeed. To save the orphanage, protect her children, and rebuild her life, she must unleash the very power she was taught to fear. The story is surprisingly different; it is not another witch story, it’s a novel about motherhood, family, real-life struggles, connections and of course, magic.
I wish the book were professionally formatted but if, like me you enjoy historical fantasies, you can grab this one.
January 6, 2026
This book has elves, orphanages in peril, a wise grandmother no one listens to, and a cook who must work to feed her kids despite being objectively bad at cooking. Already, we’re off to a strong and slightly unhinged start.
Our heroine, Miranda, is all grit and no seasoning—working hard, trying her best, and producing food that is technically edible if one squints. Enter a mischievous elf (as one does), who proceeds to meddle just enough to unlock her self-confidence, her instincts, and—most critically—her ability to salt things properly. There is also an orphanage facing closure, an enigmatic headmistress, a selectively mute cleaner who clearly knows more than she’s saying, a grumpy gardener, and boys whose parentage raises more questions than the book always answers.
Did I follow every strand of magical tomcookery? No. Did it matter? Also no. What matters is that the food gets better, the orphanage is saved, and Miranda finds her footing—in the kitchen and in herself. The story has a warm, whimsical heart and just enough magical chaos to keep things lively.
If you enjoy cozy fantasy with charm, heart, and a willingness to be a little odd around the edges, this book delivers. It knows exactly what it is—and does it with confidence.
Our heroine, Miranda, is all grit and no seasoning—working hard, trying her best, and producing food that is technically edible if one squints. Enter a mischievous elf (as one does), who proceeds to meddle just enough to unlock her self-confidence, her instincts, and—most critically—her ability to salt things properly. There is also an orphanage facing closure, an enigmatic headmistress, a selectively mute cleaner who clearly knows more than she’s saying, a grumpy gardener, and boys whose parentage raises more questions than the book always answers.
Did I follow every strand of magical tomcookery? No. Did it matter? Also no. What matters is that the food gets better, the orphanage is saved, and Miranda finds her footing—in the kitchen and in herself. The story has a warm, whimsical heart and just enough magical chaos to keep things lively.
If you enjoy cozy fantasy with charm, heart, and a willingness to be a little odd around the edges, this book delivers. It knows exactly what it is—and does it with confidence.
May 5, 2026
In a fog-wrapped Victorian London, Miranda Murfins – single mother, instinctive cook, and reluctant witch – takes a position at Lavenshaw Orphanage, a grand and peculiar institution governed by false ledgers, fractious children, and secrets that have outlasted several cooks before her. When an emerald-handled ladle and a mischievous elf named Derths draw her into the orphanage's enchanted underbelly, Miranda must use magic she barely controls to protect the institution from an inspector with a poisoner's past.
A. L. Nelton's middle-grade debut draws its warmth from the everyday – bread-making, thin soups, a cupboard that multiplies two sandwiches into four. Miranda wields the magic of small, cozy moments, heartwarming at its best, reminiscent of a temperamental sous-chef at its worst. What the novel trades in spectacle and scope, it largely recovers in character. Miranda's dry inner monologue and her complicated relationship with work, dignity, and self-doubt give the story relatable texture. The pacing loses a step mid-book, and the climax leans heavily on convenient chaos, but the closing chapters hit all the right emotional notes. Nelton's Lavenshaw is a world where care, persistence, and a properly seasoned dish carry more weight than any spell.
A. L. Nelton's middle-grade debut draws its warmth from the everyday – bread-making, thin soups, a cupboard that multiplies two sandwiches into four. Miranda wields the magic of small, cozy moments, heartwarming at its best, reminiscent of a temperamental sous-chef at its worst. What the novel trades in spectacle and scope, it largely recovers in character. Miranda's dry inner monologue and her complicated relationship with work, dignity, and self-doubt give the story relatable texture. The pacing loses a step mid-book, and the climax leans heavily on convenient chaos, but the closing chapters hit all the right emotional notes. Nelton's Lavenshaw is a world where care, persistence, and a properly seasoned dish carry more weight than any spell.
May 21, 2026
A Warm, Whimsical Tale Stirred With Quiet Longing
Miranda Murfins: The Witch Cook of the Orphanage carries a gentle, lingering weight—part melancholy, part enchantment. It’s the kind of story that feels soft at first touch, yet leaves a faint ache beneath the ribs. Miranda herself is a wonderfully flawed center of gravity: searching, stubbornly hopeful, and quietly bruised by a world that doesn’t quite know what to do with her unusual gifts. Her internal tug‑of‑war—between wanting to belong and fearing her own strangeness—gives the book its emotional pulse.
A. L. Nelton’s prose is atmospheric and deliberate, often leaning into sensory detail: the hiss of rain on windows, the warmth of bread, the hush of snow. The pacing is a slow burn, more interested in mood and character than in racing through plot points. Even the magical moments unfold with a kind of soft restraint, like the dough that “began to roll itself out with a grace that bordered on the theatrical,” a line that captures the book’s charm.
I’d recommend this if you prefer character depth over spectacle, or if you enjoy quiet magic more than high‑stakes fantasy.
Miranda Murfins: The Witch Cook of the Orphanage carries a gentle, lingering weight—part melancholy, part enchantment. It’s the kind of story that feels soft at first touch, yet leaves a faint ache beneath the ribs. Miranda herself is a wonderfully flawed center of gravity: searching, stubbornly hopeful, and quietly bruised by a world that doesn’t quite know what to do with her unusual gifts. Her internal tug‑of‑war—between wanting to belong and fearing her own strangeness—gives the book its emotional pulse.
A. L. Nelton’s prose is atmospheric and deliberate, often leaning into sensory detail: the hiss of rain on windows, the warmth of bread, the hush of snow. The pacing is a slow burn, more interested in mood and character than in racing through plot points. Even the magical moments unfold with a kind of soft restraint, like the dough that “began to roll itself out with a grace that bordered on the theatrical,” a line that captures the book’s charm.
I’d recommend this if you prefer character depth over spectacle, or if you enjoy quiet magic more than high‑stakes fantasy.
December 2, 2025
Miranda is a deeply affecting character whose determination is as tangible as her moments of desperation. The air of mystery surrounding her keeps the reader on edge; you constantly want to understand what is happening to her and why strange obstacles seem to follow her at every turn. As the plot progresses, the intrigue only grows—extending even to the orphanage itself—and this sustained sense of uncertainty makes the book a compelling page-turner.
The ending is particularly striking. It is unexpected in the best way, and as a reader who enjoys being surprised, I found it very well executed. The setting is also vividly described, allowing the reader to picture scenes with ease.
The book’s weakness lies mainly about the secondary characters which feel underdeveloped; a bit more depth or background would have strengthened the emotional impact and enriched the story.
Overall, The Witch-Cook of the Orphanage is an engaging and enjoyable read. Despite a few minor flaws, Miranda stands out as a unique heroine—one many readers might wish they had in their own lives.
The ending is particularly striking. It is unexpected in the best way, and as a reader who enjoys being surprised, I found it very well executed. The setting is also vividly described, allowing the reader to picture scenes with ease.
The book’s weakness lies mainly about the secondary characters which feel underdeveloped; a bit more depth or background would have strengthened the emotional impact and enriched the story.
Overall, The Witch-Cook of the Orphanage is an engaging and enjoyable read. Despite a few minor flaws, Miranda stands out as a unique heroine—one many readers might wish they had in their own lives.
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