Almanzo's Belly

She who dares... bakes Strudel

2009-05-27T11:40:00.006+01:00

My hair is in plaits, my pinafore is on and my cowbell is at the ready - yes, this month's challenge is Strudel. Just call me Heidi. Well, not quite. Courtney and Linda gave us plenty of room for creativity in this challenge so I decided to depart from traditional apple and make an eastern inspired pistachio, apricot and date strudel instead. Yum.

The main challenge was to make the super thin strudel pastry dough which is one of the only pastry doughs I've ever made which doesn't contain butter (practically diet food).

The trick is to stretch it out on a floured cloth and not to panic when you see holes appearing in the dough like a pair of old tights. Given the elasticity of the dough, it was actually easier to manipulate than I feared and I soon had my (somewhat laddered) sheet ready to fill.

The apple strudel recipe given looked delicious but in the spirit of adventure I decided to make a pistachio and rosewater frangipane to fill the pastry log. I started by soaking dried dates and apricots in a little rum and hot water to soften them. Once soft, I popped them in the blender to make a coarse puree.

To make the frangipane, I creamed butter, pistachios, egg, a little flour and a few drops of rosewater. Delicious.

I spread the fruit puree and the frangipane over the dough and used the cloth to make a rather uninspiring looking sausage:

Which I then shaped into an even less appetising looking horseshoe and baked for 30 minutes.

The strudel dough was crisp and flakey but it was definitely just a shell for the more flavoursome filling. I'm not sure whether the pastry turned out as it should have done - it was fine but it didn't really ring my cowbell! I was very happy with the filling though. The mixture of pistachios, dried fruit and rosewater was moist, fragrant and delicious. I would definitely try this filling in a tart, perhaps with figs as well...

As ever, it was a pleasure to learn how to make something new and I urge you to check out the original recipe here and see the other DBers' work here. If you are tempted to try the filling I made, the ingredients are as follows:

250g dried apricots/dried dates soaked in a little boiling water with rum if you please

150g shelled pistachios

1 large egg

100g caster sugar

1tsp rosewater

2 tbsp plain flour

70g softened butter

Grind the pistachios with half of the sugar in a food processor until they are in fine crumbs.

In a food mixer (or with a wooden spoon) beat the butter until it is soft. Add the remaining sugar and cream until fluffy.

Add the egg and mix it in well. Add the rosewater (you may want to add more to taste).

Stir in the pistachios and flour until you have a chunky paste.

Meanwhile puree your dried fruit.

Spread the dried fruit paste onto the pastry and top with the pistachio frangipane.

The May Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Linda of make life sweeter! and Courtney of Coco Cooks. They chose Apple Strudel from the recipe book Kaffeehaus: Exquisite Desserts from the Classic Cafés of Vienna, Budapest and Prague by Rick Rodgers.

PS. Klaus the Austrian goat was not impressed with the departure from the traditional!

First Asparagus

2009-05-07T18:53:00.002+01:00

On Sunday I cycled down to the farmers' market and bought my first bunch of 2009 asparagus - yay. There's something so heartening about those green spikes and the nearly summer sensation that they evoke.

Together with the beautiful speckled eggs I picked up:

(free range chickens are clearly more creative), some leftover poached salmon and a little melted butter, it was the perfect Spring lunch.

In case you were wondering, the beautiful green plate is part of a 1940's dinner service that I got for a bargainous £20 at a local auction house. I love bargains.

Cushy post

2009-04-30T20:16:00.004+01:00

When I started this blog I intended for it to be a celebration of all things homey and not just food. I have always thought I would love to be an interior designer but as my Mum told me in my youth, I can't draw, so perhaps its for the best that I chose soul-destroying corporate law instead. As a child, I spent many happy evenings dragging the furniture around my bedroom to create a new look and in my teens I painted, re-carpeted and accessorised my room while my Mum was on holiday. I'm not sure why I've never posted about the various homey projects I've undertaken, the paper crafts I've made and the things I have sewn (badly), but it's time to change.

I think the problem is that I hate tagging along with the "trendy" and what with all the recession and credit crunch malarkey it seems that every Tom, Dick and Harry is extolling the virtues of 'Make Do and Mend' and asking us all to make the most of our houses as homes rather than investment vehicles. I know that this makes sense, but am I the only one who gets a little piddled off when every newspaper supplement is preaching the things you have practised for years?!

I made these cushions a few weeks ago after having the cushion fillers languishing in my craft cupboard for the last few months. Embarrassingly after the rant above, I was finally inspired to make the covers after watching Kirsty Allsop's 'Homemade Home' but never mind. In true economy chic, all the fabric was leftover from various other projects and the ribbon on the two solid coloured cushions was cut off a blouse that I no longer wore. Gosh I am so on trend.

Check out some of my favourite creative blogs here, here and here.

She who dares bakes... Cheesecake

2009-04-27T10:41:00.005+01:00

The April 2009 challenge is hosted by Jenny from Jenny Bakes. She has chosen Abbey's Infamous Cheesecake as the challenge.

I do like a good cheesecake. The crunchy base, the creamy body and the the ability to carry a million and one flavours. Yum. That said, making 5 cheesecakes in the space of a week is still a little perverse. I blame a rare moment of disorganisation. Instead of checking the DB challenge at the start of the month, I only looked at it after I'd already made 3 citrus versions for a party earlier in the week. Ah well, one girl's disorganisation is the same girl's cheesecake overdose.

This month's challenge was particularly exciting as we were encouraged to get creative with the flavours. Having already eaten my body weight in digestive based cheesecake this week, I decided to use crushed amaretti biscuits for the base.

Miss AB, in the kitchen with a rolling pin...

I do like a nice amaretti biscuit, especially when covered in melted plain chocolate.

I often think that many a good cheesecake fails by having an insufficient crust to cheese ratio. Not for me this basic error:

I packed the chocolatey, almondy base into the tin and ended up with half the cheese mixture leftover (hello cheesecake number 5).

Rather than flavouring the cheese mixture with lemon, I used a couple of tablespoons of a liqueur that I'd bought on my trip to French Guyane.

Similar to Baileys, but richer, creamier and definitely more alcoholic, it added the perfect kick. I also swirled some left over melted chocolate through the mixture. Yum.

Using a water bath to cook cheesecake gives it the ideal 'cheesecake of your dreams' texture. Sadly I have often suffered from a soggy bottom when using this method. Jenny suggested using a disposable container rather than wrapping your loose bottomed tin in foil, but I decided to use a fixed bottom tin lined with cling film inside. The film doesn't melt, you can lift your cake easily and no wet bottoms. Yay!

This recipe was very successful. The filling was velvety, soft and rich and the almondy amaretti base changed the dynamic of the desert. It would be an ideal base for a coffee flavoured cheesecake. However, I think the recipe I'd used earlier in the week (based on a Nigel Slater recipe) produced a slightly better flavour and a lighter result so I think I'll keep it as my "go-to" recipe for now.

For the original cheesecake recipe go here. I replaced the Graham crackers with amaretti biscuits and added 150g melted plain chocolate to the base. I used my creamy liqueur instead of lemon juice and I swirled 50g melted chocolate through the cream mixture.

Check out the other dazzling daring bakers here.

PS A very, very big congratulations to everyone who took part in the London Marathon yesterday (including Mr AB). I hope everyone is replenishing their depleted energy stores with 5 cheesecakes today!

Going Green

2009-03-31T21:35:00.003+01:00

One of the best things about having a break from work is having the time to do fun little things like this:I love the design of the golden syrup cans. Unlike many brands, Tate and Lyle have kept their gorgeous green tins the same since their original design. Beautiful. I have been wan to through these in the recycling bin and they have been waiting for a new lease of life for some time. Bring in a couple of pots of supermarket herbs, bang a few drainage holes in the bottom and there you have it. Practical, pretty and beautifully green.

I think they make a lovely addition to the table - especially if flowers aren't in the budget at the moment...

On the subject of vintage branding, I'm looking forward to visiting here this weekend.

She who dares bakes...lasagne

2009-03-29T20:17:00.003+01:00

This month's challenge was to make lasagne using homemade spinach pasta. Yikes. This was my first foray into pasta making having always relied on the dried variety. In fact, one of the first things I unpacked at university was my 10kg sack of dried pasta which I didn't finish in the three years I studied there, much to the merriment of the porters. That said, Mr AB was recently given a pasta maker so this was the perfect opportunity to give it a whirl.

The recipe called for us to mix our flour and eggs straight on the worktop. I'm sorry to say that after the Danish Braid debacle I played it safe and prepared the dough in a bowl. Uninspiring at first, the mixture soon took on an emerald hue. So vivid and, as promised by the recipe, alive to the touch.

Unfortunately any such vitality vanished once the dough went through the pasta machine. Less pasta, more saggy, green stockings:

What do you mean it doesn't look like the lasagne sheets you get in a packet?

The brilliant thing about lasagne of course is that the layers hide a multitude of sins. The pasta "sheets" (more crazy paving) that I made might not have been pretty but once covered in bechamel sauce and ragu no one could know that they once resembled an unmade jigsaw.

For the meat and bechamel sauces I used two faithful recipes from an excellent cookbook come family history called Dear Francesca. Both recipes are beautifully simple and full of flavour. Layered with the green pasta and a combination of fresh mozzarella and parmesan they produced a particularly light and flavourful lasagne.

Making homemade pasta for a baked dish such as this did seem like a bit of a faff but the results proved worthy of the hassle and green dough still stuck under my fingernails. Homemade pasta seems so much lighter than its doughy shop-bought counterparts and is definitely worth a try. I think the spinach pasta would make a brilliant basis for a summer vegetable lasagne so I will definitely return to this recipe once more.

Please take a look at the work of the other daring bakers here and also check out the fantabulous new daring bakers website here.

The March 2009 challenge is hosted by Mary of Beans and Caviar, Melinda of Melbourne Larder and Enza of Io Da Grande. They have chosen Lasagne of Emilia-Romagna from The Splendid Table by Lynne Rossetto Kasper as the challenge.

Forever Better

2009-03-20T15:31:00.005Z

I'm finally back. I can't really justify my absence as I have been cooking, I even prepared the last Daring Baker challenge, but I just haven't felt like writing. There hasn't, however, been a shortage of things to write about. I have finally left my soul-destroying job (in the middle of a recession - I do time things well), have acquired a kitten (called Pudding) and have had plenty of time to put finger to keyboard; I just haven't felt inspired. Those doldrums have now passed. I want to spend more time on my blog, more time prettifying it and more time immersing myself in the creative world for which I quit my job. In fact, you could say that it is my intention to be "forever better" which leads me nicely into today's post about Miele.

In the world of blogging freebies I am but an amateur. I turned down the opportunity to receive some free GU puds because I thought it might compromise my "homemade is better" integrity and the only other thing I've been sent is some of Kellogg's new muesli to sample (generally tasty but a little dry). However, on Tuesday I got a whole day out at the Miele experience centre in Oxford with travel expenses paid (very important for someone not gainfully employed and with a kitten to support).

It was a brilliant day. I met some lovely fellow bloggers and we cooked a St Patrick's Day feast on the top of the range Miele appliances. Before I continue, I should stress that I am not going to do a puff piece on Miele in the hope of more fun days out (note the lack of advertising on this site) but I was very impressed by how well we were looked after by the team at Miele and the organisers at 1000 heads. The Miele appliances are, without a doubt, excellent quality. Never have I been a kitchen which felt so scientific and never have I suspected that I was less intelligent than an oven. Given the fact that most of these appliances retail for more than I'd get for selling all of my body parts, perhaps this is as it should be.

The famous Irish dish... kedgeree... well, maybe not, but it did show how versatile steam ovens are.

Walking around the experience centre I had an uneasy feeling that I was cheating on my beloved newly refurbished kitchen. We've barely been together 6 months and there I was coveting the steam infused ovens and dishwashers with cutlery trays not baskets. Fickle. Of course I'd have had to sell my flat to be able to afford everything I'd have wanted for my kitchen which would rather have defeated the purpose. Once I get my "forever home" then I'll consider it.

Look how fresh the rhubarb stays when cooked in a steam oven, not that I'm obsessed or anything.

One thing that I won't be saving up for is the kitchen counter BBQ. It's a lovely idea but surely the whole point of a BBQ is standing outside in the rain and cooking barely done sausages to give your family food poisoning, no?

To be fair, it did produce great results:

We left the experience centre full of food and full of loathing for our own technologically inadequate kitchens. It was a fantastic day and if anyone does want to try any of the Miele appliances I would heartily recommend a trip to the experience centre. I would also urge you to check out the work of my fellow bloggers, Sam, Alex, Alex and Joanna - a very talented bunch. They also all had beautiful cards advertising their blogs so I felt very amateur without any to share. Another thing to save up for, after I get the steam oven of course.

I added the shamrock but sadly I can't take credit for this delicious soda bread:

Yum!

PS May I just add that naughty blogger seems to be cropping all my photos and I haven't lost the ability to centralise my subjects since I last posted!

She who dares bakes...Tuiles

2009-01-29T19:24:00.003Z

In the midst of the doom and gloom there were tuiles.

Yes, when the weight of the world is on your shoulders, there's something satisfying about these light little biscuits. No multi-layer chocolate cakes this month, just simple vanillary goodness paired with something fruity (you know its January when a DBer recipe instructs you to use fruit.)The beauty of these biscuits is that you can bend them, shape them, any way you want them. Think hearts, butterflies, pipes and baskets. Beautiful. I decided to craft biscuit baskets to hold a slightly-less-healthy-than-a-fruit-salad banoffee filling. Yum.

The tuiles were flavoured with vanilla sugar. Lucky girl that I am, I was given a jar of sugar packed with Madagascan vanilla (thanks N!) and it scented my tuiles to perfection.

The batter was a doddle to make and even the shaping wasn't as tricky as I feared. The most difficult thing was to spread the batter thinly enough so the biscuits ended up crispy rather than spongy.

For the filling I took perfectly innocent bananas:

and combined them with cream and crumbled meringue:

and homemade toffee sauce (I promise the bananas are still in there):

and a sprinkle of toasted pecans:

I would definitely make the tuiles again. I'd like to make narrow tubes dipped in chocolate and served as a petit-four. There's definitely scope for a savoury cone filled with avocado and prawns too...

This month's challenge is brought to us by Karen of Bake My Day and Zorra of 1x umruehren bitte aka Kochtopf. They have chosen Tuiles from The Chocolate Book by Angélique Schmeink and Nougatine and Chocolate Tuiles from Michel Roux.

Happy New Year

2009-01-01T13:10:00.005Z

I love 1st January. The fresh start, the promise of reinvention, the sense that this will be the year that everything falls into place. The excitement normally wears off once February rolls in and everything is same old, same old but, at the moment, I'm enjoying the sense of optimism.

Given that this is time for a new start, I created the mosaic above. There were so many things I didn't have the time to share but that are worthy of a picture. The Christmas markets in Cologne, my friend's wedding in French Guyane, chickens at my sister's house in Scotland. All of them should have had their own post but I didn't have the chance to do them justice and, unfortunately, I can't carry them over into my fresh new year. They're simply too 2008!

I'll leave you with one of the cakes I made for my birthday tea in September. Well, we need a reminder of something rich and chocolatey amidst all the January austerity. Wishing you all a very happy, successful and peaceful 2009.

She who dares bakes...Chocolate Log

2008-12-31T15:20:00.003Z

In my first year at secondary school we made a Yule Chocolate Log in our home economics class. This involved a shop-bought Swiss roll, lots of chocolate buttercream and a fork to create a bark effect in the icing. Classy. This month's DB chocolate log challenge is in a different league. More mahogany than cheap knotted pine.

The log comprises of six different components. Well, nine really, once you add the blood, sweat and tears required to make it. Yes, it is a labour intensive little branch. By the time I got to the creme caramel (around 10:30pm last night) the kitchen was in chaos, I was covered in chocolate and Mr AB was suggesting that, once covered in icing, no one would know how many layers my log did or didn't contain. He's a sneaky one.

In the end I ignored my inner cheat (and Mr AB) and managed to make all of the layers for the log:

1. First the almond sponge layer:

2. Then the chocolate mousse is piped onto the sponge (and into my mouth):

3. Next, the scrambled egg, I mean, creme caramel:

4. Scrambled egg? What scrambled egg?

5. Well, it was a bit light on the chocolate until I added the milk chocolate crunch layer:

6. More mousse (slightly thinner layer given how much went into my mouth at step 2), chocolate ganache and then the final sponge layer to hide the gluttony below:

7. Finally, the icing and a bit of New Year's Eve bling:

The end result is rich, Bill Gates rich. But nothing is going to incentivise you to start a new year's health regime more than a log-induced heart attack. The different layers are delicious. I especially enjoyed the crunchy texture* which breaks up the soft mousse and, although I was initially sceptical about including creme caramel in the middle of a cake, it does work. However, and maybe it's just my January austerity kicking in too soon, there is something slightly perverse about this cake. I mean, do you really need six layers in a chocolate log? Now that's a philosophical question to pnder before the clock strikes twelve...

A very happy 2009 to you all.

* I used amaretto biscuits to add the crunch. Delicious!

This month's challenge is brought to us by the adventurous Hilda from Saffron and Blueberry and Marion from Il en Faut Peu Pour Etre Heureux. They have chosen a French Yule Log by Flore from Florilege Gourmand. A special thank you to Tartlette for her helpful additions, although she did make me want to cry when I say how perfect her log looked. Booooo.

Christmas?

2008-12-22T23:11:00.004Z

I'm so sorry but I just don't feel festive. I really wish I did, but I don't. I have been trying, I promise. This weekend I made gingerbread, listened to carols (on loop) and watched Home Alone, Miracle on 34th Street (complete with lisping little girl) and It's a Wonderful Life. In a Church. With Candles. You know that when Jimmy Stewart can't make you feel Christmassy that you may as introduce yourself as Scrooge. Bah Humbug.

So, no pictures of mince pies, no pictures of the gingerbread (even though it looked lovely) and definitely no pictures of the mulled wine with its cloves, star anise and cinnamon sticks. I just feel a bit mneugh.

I'm going to stop before I ruin everyone's festive buzz. But, believe me, just because I can't make myself feel 'ho ho ho' doesn't mean I don't wish you all a very MERRY CHRISTMAS and a FANTASTIC, SUCCESSFUL and VERY HAPPY 2009.

Well, at least I decorated the tree...

She who dares bakes...Caramel Cake

2008-11-27T20:30:00.004Z

This month's challenge is caramel cake with caramel icing and, uh, caramel toffees to boot. Yes, after two savoury challenges, this month the daring bakers have decided to go big on the sugar. Hello Diabetes, welcome to my world.

The tip of the sugar mountain:

I decided to make cupcakes rather than one large cake, not just because they look cuter, but because I was going to serve the cake for Mr AB's birthday and I wanted to be able to eat some of it before I did. Unfortunately, no amount of candles will cover up a big chunk of missing cake. Believe me, I'm talking from experience.

The caramel flavour in the cake comes from the sticky syrup which is incorporated into the batter before baking. Unfortunately I don't think I allowed the syrup to develop sufficient depth before removing it from the heat. I blame this on the fact that I am fundamentally risk-adverse so when the liquid started to approach the edge of the saucepan I chose to turn off the heat rather than risk a caramel-encrusted cooker top and third degree burns. As it was, the sponge had a delicate toffee hint rather than the full-on caramel hit I was looking for.

The icing, however, was delicious. Making up for my nerves with the syrup, I took more of a chance with the butter and I was rewarded with a beautiful smoky flavour. Unfortunately my sieve wasn't equally rewarded:

I find some American frosting recipes to be a little too sweet and cloying but this one proved to be the exception. The burnt edge of the butter, together with the hint of the caramel made it very moreish.
And now the caramels. These really are an optional extra as the cake and icing are perfect on their own but if you fancy a bit of fun with a sugar thermometer then give them a go.

I pummelled mine with a rolling pin and added the toffee chunks to the the batter where they melted into little pockets of toffee goodness. Delicious. I also added then for a little crunch on top of the icing: My favourite toffee-tastic use was to pour the caramel over slices of apples. The toffee doesn't set as well but the soft caramel with the crunch of the apple is perfect. Yum.

Very Autumnal. I was a little wary of letting the cakes touch the leaves (there are a lot of dogs in the park) but I like the cake in the leafy jungle look.

The recipe is courtesy of Shauna Fish Lydon’s blog and this month's challenge is hosted by Dolores, Alex and Jenny. Thanks guys - delicious!

Big Bang

2008-11-05T20:36:00.008Z

It's no secret that I love Bonfire Night and given yesterday's big news, there seems to be even more sparkle and fire in the November air tonight.

We got our firework fix on Saturday night when a group of us went to the display at the beautiful Hampton Court Palace. I had intended to take some chunks of parkin to brace us against the cold but having returned from holiday the night before there was no time for the parkin to develop its necessary stickiness. Unable to go to any gathering empty handed (post-holiday chores and jet-lag are nothing against the fear of not feeding people) I decided to make toffee apples.

I'm not sure what the connection between bonfire night and toffee apples is, but I know that at most firework displays there will be a stall selling floury old apples with garish red 'toffee' covering them like a scab. Seriously, homemade apples are in a different league. Yes, there is always the risk of a hot toffee related injury (whether I'll ever feel the tip of my index finger again is debatable) but the contrast between a crisp cox apple and the thick, teeth chippingly good toffee shell is not to be missed.

Toffee Apples (makes 10)

10 small eating apples (choose your favourites)

450g soft brown sugar

50g butter (use real butter as substitutes may mean that the toffee doesn't set)

1 tablespoon golden syrup

2 teaspoons malt vinegar

150ml water

lolly sticks/wooden skewers

Wash and dry the apples and insert a skewer into each apple. Pop them in the fridge to stay cool.
Put all of the other ingredients into a heavy-bottomed pan and stir over a gentle heat until the sugar dissolves. Then boil rapidly for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Continue to boil the mixture until 'hard ball' stage is reached. This is 130 degrees if you have a sugar thermometer. If you don't have one you can tell when the mixture is at hard ball stage, not when it starts to answer you back and refuse to give way in negotiations (ha ha) but when it hardens on contact with ice cold water.

Once the hard ball stage is reached, remove the pan from the heat and dunk/swirl your apples until they are coated.

Put the toffee wrapped apples on a sheet of greaseproof paper until the toffee hardens.

Enjoy!

Ps Yes that is a well known tabloid paper wrapping my apple. I chose the cheapest one in the newsagent for wrapping, we are in the middle of a credit crunch afterall!

Check me out... I'm gorgeous!

2008-10-21T15:52:00.004+01:00

No, I haven't spent the past few weeks AWOL getting surgery, it's my new Kitchen Aid Mixer. Ta-dah!

This was my birthday present from Mr AB and isn't it beautiful. I'm sorry to say that I haven't been able to test it as much as I would have liked (evil work) but it did come in very handy for my birthday tea party:

It is sitting in pride of place in the new kitchen in all its boisenberry glory (no it's not maroon, it's boisenberry don't you know). I am desperate to show off pictures of the kitchen in full but I haven't had time to take any decent ones yet. Unfortunately they won't be coming for another week or so as I am off on another jaunt. Yes, in two hours I am leaving to travel to French Guyane for my friend's wedding. I know, I know, I am a gadabout, but I promise to bring back interesting food pictures.

Eeeek only two hours to go - I'd better pack...

She who dares bakes...Lavash Crackers

2008-09-27T23:08:00.004+01:00

Am I the only one hadn't heard of lavash crackers before this month's challenge? For those of you who are similarly unenlightened they are pita-style flatbreads which are ideal for scooping up a variety of dips, salsas and more. They are also vegan. Yes, this month Natalie from Gluten a Go Go and Shel from Musings from the Fish Bowl challenged us to make a completely vegan recipe together with a vegan dip to go with it. Hmmm. I must admit that it took me a little while to think of a suitable vegan topping to accompany the crackers. Did you know that all tasty things contain animal products?

In the end, I found inspiration on http://www.veganfamily.co.uk/ and decided to make a basil pesto with Brazil nuts, almonds and pine nuts but no Parmesan (boo hoo). I also made a black olive tapeanade but cheated a little by adding some anchovy paste (sorry little anchovies).

To go with these Mediterranean style toppings I added sun dried tomatoes to the dough, sprinkled pine nuts on top and enjoyed my crackers Roman style.

As much as I enjoyed the taste, sadly there wasn't much of a crack to these crackers. I tried to roll the dough out thinly, I really did. But despite using my meagre muscles to the full I just couldn't get the dough as thin as they needed to be.

When it came to 'snap' the bread into shards for serving, all I got was a dull bend. Oh well, they still tasted good.

Even if you don't get round to making these breads, I do thing it's worth trying to think about your recipes from a different perspective. I would never have thought to make anything specifically vegan. However, this nut pesto is a winner and I'll be stirring the leftover into a bowl of pasta sometime soon.

For the lavash crackers, you can find the recipe here. Instead of the vegetable oil, I used the oil from the sun dried tomatoes and I added five or so tomatoes finely chopped and some dried oregano. To make the pesto, follow the recipe below.

Basil and Nut Pesto

Half a cup of olive oil

Bunch of basil

3 cloves of garlic

1/2 cup of almonds

1/2 cup of pine-nuts

1/2 cup of Brazil nuts

salt and pepper to taste

Blend the oil, garlic and basil in a food processor. Add the nuts and process until you have a chunky puree. Season to taste.

See, easy!

Check out the rest of the bakers here.

And the seasons they go round and round...

2008-09-10T20:48:00.008+01:00

I cannot believe that a) I started my blog just over a year ago and b) I turn 27 tomorrow. Eek - how did that happen? Sometimes I start freaking out about how quickly time passes and end up humming Joni Mitchell's Circle Game in a maudlin fashion wondering what I've done with my life. I end up having to remind myself that it's better to get old than die, which sounds morbid but is actually a very helpful thought when you're in the depths of birthday depression.

Unfortunately I can't bake either my blog or myself a celebratory cake as I'm in the middle of having my kitchen re-fitted. This is very exciting and I will definitely be show casing photos if it all goes to the plan. At the moment it's all very chaotic and we're eating cereal for dinner a lot. Roll on finished kitchen. However, I do have a birthday cake that I can share with you. In fact I gave you a sneak peek here, and now I can reveal the cake that I made for my big sister's 30th in June (phew at least I'm not 30 yet!).

When we were little my sister would always demand a birthday cheesecake with an especially high crust to cheese ratio. Yum. Given that this year was a special birthday, I decided to revert to the birthday cheesecake formula but with a particularly gluttonous replacement for the crust. You may remember that when I went to New York last year I developed a little thing for Junior's cheesecake baked within a chocolate fudge-cake. I told myself that no good could come of obtaining the recipe and tried to forget about it. However, knowing how much my sister likes cheesecake and, indeed, chocolate cake, I decided to be selfless and find the recipe. Which I did. Here. And indeed, no good came of it.

I think if anyone ever challenges you to make something truly perverse, don't bake biscuits shaped like handcuffs or breadsticks shapes like whips. Make this. Seriously, there is something strange and disturbing about making a three layer chocolate cake and then sandwidging a whole cheesecake in the middle. It just seems so wrong, so OTT, so decadent and at the same time, so very right. It is definitely a celebration cake and, because it's so rich it would feed a whole room of party guests. You could also use it for entertainment. I expect if you made everyone guess its hidden ingredient, they'd say a dancing girl rather than think you were mad enough to put a second desert within.

I would say that the chocolate sponge was a little too dry. If I ever made this again (my arteries are furring at the thought) I would just use a standard chocolate sponge recipe as I didn't think the extra steps added anything here. That said, as a birthday treat for your only sister you can't really go wrong.

Poor innocent cheesecake. So simple, so pure - yet to know it's chocolaty fate:

Hmmm this is a little odd - a cake rather than crumb base...

Ok, and a cake topping as well? Most unorthodox.

Another layer? Is it really necessary? This is surely the end of polite cake-eating society as we know it. Be warned, this is a level of decadence not seen since the fall of Rome...

Ta-dah! I've created a monster:

Well, wouldn't you look lumpy around the middle if you'd just eaten a whole cheesecake?

I would like to say a very, very big thanks to everyone who ever reads this blog - it really is a pleasure to read your comments and know you are there. Yay!

She who dares bakes...Chocolate Eclairs

2008-08-31T19:14:00.002+01:00

Well, better late than never. I actually made these yummy eclairs last weekend, but in a moment of ditziness I forgot to post this before leaving for a weekend in Norfolk with Mr AB's parents. Ah well.

I was really excited when I saw Meeta and Tony had challenged us to make chocolate eclairs. I'd been having cream-cake cravings in the days before the recipe was released and no amount of filthy supermarket eclairs or cream-filled doughnuts (you know the ones with the zig-zag of jam) were going to hit the spot.

I know that choux pastry has a tricky reputation, but it's actually one of the recipes that I mastered early. Before you dismiss me as a precocious pastry making child, wielding my wooden spoon with an authority beyond my years, let me explain. My mum is very hard to please and it's rare to present her with anything without receiving a little 'constructive' criticism first (sorry mum, it's true). I don't know why, but profiteroles are one of the only things I have ever made which have been accepted without comment. Realising the power of pastries, I learnt how to perfect them. In fact, at the height of my profiterole making prowess I even supplied them to our local pub. I think I stopped when I realised I was making about 5p profit per bag. Alan Sugar I am not.

I have never, however, made chocolate eclairs. Knowing that my profiteroles were a sure thing, there was no need to take the risk of a change in shape. Not to mention that the additional washing up created by piping-bag usage would surely have resulted in the dreaded comments. There's also the fact that it only seems socially acceptable to eat one eclair per sitting whereas you can usually polish off a fair few profiteroles in a bowl without being judged.

This month's recipe departs from the usual cream filling and uses a chocolate ganache instead. Perfection. Topped with a chocolate glaze, the choux fingers become the vehicle for an indulgent chocoholic fix. The pastry recipe is slightly different to the one I usually use, but I was still pleased with the result. A crisp shell with a softer, slightly doughier inside, if only I wasn't so cack-handed with the piping bag.

I had thought of filling the eclairs with a toffee flavoured cream or keeping the chocolate filling but adding a caramel glaze, inspired by Cadbury's version of this French classic. Unfortunately I didn't have time to experiment so I kept it simple with half chocolate filled and half cream filled. The only problem was the glaze. I don't know where I went wrong, but I ended up with an oily mess. Seriously, if Barack Obama wants to stop American dependence on Middle Eastern oil, he might want to come and visit me. I'm sure you could run a few cars on this:

In the end, I kept the chocolate filled eclairs without a glaze and we ate the cream filled puffs with a simple hot chocolate sauce. Delicious. I'm only sorry there weren't any left to post up to mum.Check out the beautiful creations from the other Daring Bakers here and if you fancy a try yourself, the recipe is available here.

We're jammin, jammin and I hope you like jammin, too

2008-08-17T16:54:00.004+01:00

I'm sure all those fruit pickers who spend their summer slaving away in fruit fields must wonder why right minded people choose to do it for fun. It makes sense. On the occasions when I've had to go back into the office at the weekend I haven't been my usual sunny self. But maybe that's because I can only help myself to pencils and post-it notes rather than free berries.

No, nothing says summer to me like going to Spilman's farm in Sessay and eating, I mean collecting, a few punnets of fruit. This year I gathered enough to make jam. I carried the fruit back to London on the train (getting a few raised eyebrows at the sight of the giant tupperware container bulging with berries) and spent a happy afternoon producing homemade strawberry jam.

There's a wealth of posh jams on the market at the moment but if you are a jam fan, nothing beats homemade. True, you're denied the excitement of finding the lone berry in the whole jar of gloop (berry to gloop ratio being much, much higher when you make it yourself) but this is a small price to pay.

The recipe below is very, very simple and can be used with all sorts of soft fruit whether strawberries, raspberries or the blackberries I've noticed starting to appear on the sides of the road. Grab your tupperware and go collecting...

The original recipe calls for 1kg of sugar but I found this to be too sweet, so went down to as low as 750g. Feel free to play around to suit your tastes.

Sessay Strawberry Jam

1kg fresh strawberries, washed, drained and hulled
1kg jam sugar (the jam sugar has added pectin to help it set)

Juice and zest of 1 lemon

Knob of butter

Heat the strawberries and the lemon juice/zest in a large pan to soften the fruit and let all the juices leak out.

Stir the sugar into the fruit until it dissolves and bring the mixture to a rapid boil until setting point is reached. You can use a sugar thermometer to test this (105 degrees Celsius). Alternatively you can use the 'cold saucer' test.

If the mixture looks like it will over boil before setting point has been reached, you can add a knob of butter to calm it down.

Once the jam is ready, pour it into sterilized jars and cover with waxed circles. Make sure you leave a jar or two open to enjoy on toast.

Barcelona

2008-08-10T17:16:00.005+01:00

Every time I think of Barcelona I can't help but sing that song by Freddie Mercury from the 1992 Olympics: "Barcelonnnnnna! It was the first time that we met..." You've got to love a rousing Olympic song, I haven't heard one for this year yet though. Anyway, since my long weekend to Spain with my friend H, when I think of Barcelona I now think of Freddie and food.

One of the things that I love about H is that she is someone who enjoys food as much as me. Breakfast is spent discussing where to go for lunch, lunch is spent discussing where to go for dinner and dinner is spent discussing all of the food enjoyed that day. Perfect. Bless her, she didn't even judge me when, despite being full from dinner, I ordered a 'four-baller' from the ice-cream stand, confessing that the only reason she wasn't joining me was because she has a wedding dress to fit into in three months. I'd say go empire-line and scoops away, but maybe that's just me.

Anyway, this was my first time in Spain and I wasn't disappointed. To be honest, how could you be disappointed in a country where, instead of serving dodgy peanuts on the bar (together with the 52 types of urine), they serve tapas, or should I say, tapath. Tapas is, however, as dangerous as the urine soaked peanuts in its own way. Laid out on the counter in all its glory, you would have to have a will of steel not to keep asking for more. Especially when it's as good looking as this:

We also enjoyed black pans full of paella which, according to the locals, should be eaten on a Thursday evening. My favourite bit of this meal was scraping up the nutty toasted grains of rice which had charred in the juices in the bottom of the pan. Yum.

Our guidebook led us to believe that breakfast isn't a big deal in Spain, but after finding a cafe full of baked goods I beg to differ:

Perfect. Especially when dunked in the spectacularly good Spanish hot chocolate. Seriously, this stuff was like chocolate custard.

Like other European cities I've visited, there seemed to be a great importance placed on the quality of the ingredients. The markets were full of people (not just tourists like me taking photos) and full of ingredients that just made you wish your hotel room had a kitchen.

I don't know whether it's just because I'm in holiday mode and out of the hamster wheel of my everyday life, but I always feel a bit cheated when I come back to London after visiting Europe. The food, the attitude to life, the free jazz in the park - how do other cities manage to get it so much more right?

Unfortunately I missed July's Daring Bakers' challenge while I was away, but I have had a peek at August's challenge and I will not be missing this one.

Remember me?

2008-07-23T14:09:00.003+01:00

I have been rather neglectful of my little blog recently. Even flickr pretended not to recognise me when I tried to sign in today. The past few weeks have been verrrry hectic. There's been a wedding (not mine), two christenings (one of which was mine) and a variety of birthdays, visitors and, of course, the evil work.

Even this is a flying visit. I leave for Barcelona in three hours and there is still a very empty suitcase to fill. I just wanted to pop in and post a few pictures to show that in between the wedding dress shopping (again, not mine) and new kitchen ordering (more of which to come) I have been doing some cooking. Recipes and tantalising tapas pictures to follow.

Mum's Elderflower Cordial

2008-07-01T21:28:00.003+01:00

On the last bank holiday weekend I headed home with the hope of walking in the country, gathering elderflowers in the sunshine (perhaps into a wicker basket) and returning home to make fresh elderflower cordial. Unfortunately every time I called my mum to ask whether the elderflowers were out, she told me no. Rubbish. There's something so appealing about making things from ingredients that you can gather free from the hedge, especially when such things retail at a ridiculous prices in the shop. Damn the elderflowers not coinciding with my weekend off.

In the end, mum came to the rescue. She gathered the elderflowers from the hedgerows after work and made the cordial herself. I went home for my sister's birthday last weekend and returned with a litre of the golden nectar. Yum. I would have asked mum to do a guest spot on here and explain how she made it, but unfortunately she's a little computer illiterate. So in the interest of encouraging you to go out for a stroll and grab the last of the flowers, I'll share the recipe she used. By the way, once you've found a good spot for the flowers, draw yourself a map. The elderberries will be coming soon and there's plenty of recipes to use them in.

We've been drinking the cordial after work with soda water and my heart-shaped ice-cubes with lime zest in them (check us!). Served in a wine glass, there's something of the child being given faux wine about the sparkling cordial which makes it seem all the more fun. If you fancy being a bit more grown-up, I think the cordial would be lovely in a vodka cocktail. It can also be used in jam and is often combined with gooseberries as in Antonia's crumble.

Elderflower Cordial

1.5 litres of boiling water
1 kilo white granulated sugar
20 large elderflower heads
4 unwaxed lemons (zested and sliced)
55g citric acid*

First, go for a frolic in the sunshine and collect your elderflower heads. You should do this on a dry day.

Shake the elderflower heads to remove any creepy crawlies etc.

In a large bowl/pan pour the boiling water onto the sugar and stir until it dissolves. Allow the mixture to cool.

Add the citric acid and the lemon zest/slices and the elderflower heads.

Leave the liquid to steep for 48 hours in a cool place.

Strain twice through sterilised muslin and pour into sterilised bottles or jars**. You can keep the cordial in the fridge or freeze some so you can be reminded of summer in the depths of winter.

* Citric acid is available from chemists although you may only be able to buy one packet at a time. Apparently it's used by heroin addicts (for what I have no clue) so you may want to avoid going to buy it in your grotty tracksuit and looking unkempt lest people get the wrong idea!

** To sterilize muslin pour boiling water over it. You could also use a fine sieve. To sterilise glass jars/bottles wash and rinse them and put them in an oven at 160 degrees for 15-20 minutes.

*** Despite being administered homemade elderflower cordial, my stepdad is having a tough time of it health-wise at the moment so if any of you have any spare good thoughts to send in the Yorkshire direction, I am sure that would really help!

She who dares makes...Danish Braid

2008-06-28T22:23:00.006+01:00

Hamlet may well have said "something is rotten in the state of Denmark" but perhaps if he'd spent less time worrying about his Mum's sex-life and more time eating Danish pastries he might not have been so morose.

This month Kelly of Sass & Veracity and Ben of What’s Cookin’? challenged us to make a Danish Braid using the proper laminated Danish pastry dough. As Kelly and Ben explained to us, Danish pastry dough is a yeast-leavened dough from the same family as puff pastry which basically means it contains lots and lots of butter.

I was very excited about this month's challenge. Although Danish pastries aren't my bakery treat of choice (bring on the iced fingers) learning to make them would be a chance to acquire a real skill. I had visions of making traditional swirls full of juicy raisins and topped with a light glace icing, but our challengers told us we had to make a plait. Kelly and Ben suggested using an apple filling but I decided to stuff my plait with frangipane and poached pears. Yum.

As with many yeast recipes, making the pastry dough was time consuming but not labour intensive. Once you've completed the first dough stage you complete four 'turns' of the pastry sandwiching a big block of butter in between the folds of the dough. Yes, the big block of butter - that's why Danish pastries aren't Weight Watchers friendly. That said, the dough is flavoured with orange and cardamon so there must be some useful vitamins in there somewhere.

I had a rare evening with the house to myself so I was able to make the dough in peace with only the Wicked soundtrack (turned up loud) to accompany me (I have the music tastes of a camp old man). Unfortunately I don't have a stand mixer yet (one day darling pistachio KitchenAid you will be mine) so I had to follow Ben's instructions for making the dough by hand.

Ben suggested putting the flour on the surface and tipping the eggy, yeasty, milky liquid into a well in the middle. Hmmmm. All I can say is that bloody Ben must have a bloody degree in engineering because when I tipped my liquid into the centre of my (high-sided and artfully constructed) well all I got was this (believe me, this was only the start):

Yes at 10:00pm on a Saturday night to the sounds of Defying Gravity I found myself leaning across the counter trying to stem the eggy flow with my chest. Fingers webbed with dough, I cursed Ben and all the lucky people with mixers. Most of all I cursed myself. I knew this would happen. I should have trusted my instincts and just used a bowl. Ah well, I'm sure for some people, dough encrusted breasts are a turn-on.

While my dough chilled I made a simple almond cream and poached some pears. By this time it was nearly midnight so I left everything in the fridge and took my sticky self to bed. The next day I started the assembly process. I was a bit nervous about the plaiting, but a mis-spent youth preparing ponies' tails for gymkhanas stood me in good stead.

I left the plait to prove while I faffed around doing Sunday morning chores. Unfortunately I faffed for a little too long and the dough was perhaps a little too puffy. If I was being mean i would say it resembled Mr AB's cheeks after his wisdom teeth removal, but I'm a supportive girlfriend so wouldn't be so cruel (tee hee).

The finished result was excellent. I'm not sure the pastry was as flaky as it should have been, but filled with the frangipane and pears it was particularly moreish. In the end I put half of it in the freezer just to stop myself from slivering it every time I walked past. I would definitely recommend trying the pastry as it isn't as daunting as you might expect and there's something very satisfying about presenting homemade pastries to your loved ones.

Be sure to look at the other plaits here and if you fancy trying the dough yourself you can get the recipe here.

Summer Lovin'?

2008-06-22T13:32:00.005+01:00

True to the national stereotype, there is a lot of weather chat going on in the office at the moment. Everyone is wondering whether we will get any sun this year or whether the weather warning (issued on the longest day no less) is a sign of bad things to come. To be honest, I wouldn't mind if we did just fast forward into autumn. Am I the only one who celebrates the fact that the days are now getting shorter and keeps her fingers crossed not to get an Indian summer? Maybe if I tanned and had the kind of legs you'd be happy to show off in shorts it would be different. But no. I am definitely an Autumnal kinda gal (with cankles).

Regardless of how much I wish for rainy days so I can legitimately spend hours watching dvds on the sofa, I am still excited by the array of summer produce at the local farmers' market. The first raspberries, the heady strawberries, tender asparagus, tiny broad beans and more:*When everything looks so good it's hard not to fill your basket.

(don't you wish you were a broad bean - look at that downy blanket they're nestled against!)

I made a quick bruschetta with the Isle of Wight tomatoes. Grating a clove of garlic against some linseed bread and piling up the tomatoes with a little balsamic vinegar, basil and olive oil. Yum.

I'll cook the potatoes with a handful of mint and some melted butter and the asparagus with some soft scrambled eggs. Maybe summer isn't so bad after all.

* Excuse the raggedy cuticles. You wouldn't believe that I had just treated myself to my first ever manicure would you?!

Vive La Revolution!

2008-06-08T12:44:00.004+01:00

As I landed in Havana it seemed like the whole airport was heady with the smell of cigars. Passing the various 'Socialisme ou Meurt' billboards on the way into the city and watching people working the land with ox and plough I really felt that I had arrived somewhere different. Ostensibly Havana is the same as any beautiful old capital city. The buildings, even those crumbling around the edges, are photogenic, the museums are enlightening and we tourists are able to wander happily with plenty to see and do. However, Havana is the only place I have ever visited which doesn't have a MacDonalds. There are no plate glass windows full of shoes and handbags, you can walk for a whole day without seeing an advert and when you go to the bakery the choice is between white bread rolls and, er, white bread rolls.
Since I've been back people have been curious to know what Cuba is like. My standard phrase is that it is a place "full of contradictions". It seems that the hackneyed stories are true: a waiter can earn more than a doctor and while people had just been permitted to buy mobile phones, few would be able to afford them. More than one Cuban I spoke to derided America and Britain as imperialist hell-holes, yet others (mostly the younger ones) cursed the government and paraded around in t-shirts emblazoned with the Stars and Stripes.

I don't know enough to be able to discuss the Cuban political system properly, but I can say that no matter how many individual wants people are willing to sacrifice for the collective; personal enterprise still thrives. Generally speaking, private business is not permitted but people are allowed to make money from their house. This gives rise to various Casas Paticulares (similar to b&bs and much better than the state hotels) and Palandars (restaurants run out of people's own kitchens). The palandars are particularly interesting. In some you literally walk pass the family sitting in their lounge to go to a table in their kitchen whereas in others, particularly the more famous ones in Havana, you are greeted by servers with palm pilots and a reservation is vital.

It is said that Cuba is not a place famed for its food. Wherever you go the menu is invariably the same: pork and rice and beans, chicken and rice and beans or fish and rice and beans. Choice is limited. Our large supermarkets or even our local corner shops are orgies of excess in comparison to the shops and restaurants in Cuba. Compare this bakery to your local:

That said, the quality of the fresh ingredients was excellent:

but I would like to have jazzed them up a bit.

When I think of all the pain and suffering that has been caused in the name of protecting the capitalist world from the evils of socialism, I feel truly sad. Despite it's beauty: and the flower sellers who take their blooms from door to door:I could never live somewhere like Cuba (imagine trying to do a Daring Bakers challenge with the limited ingredients?!). However, it was so refreshing to escape the constant demands to buy buy buy or to see children playing happily without an X-box in sight.

Returning from my two week stay I have started to resent the manipulation of the big corporates and the advertising from which we cannot escape. It seems I need to find a country with a happy medium - if anyone has any suggestions let me know! I have returned with a slightly altered perspective on how I think life should be lived and a fair few bottles of rum to turn into cocktails while I decide. Mojito anyone?

On a completely different note, Antonia at Food Glorious Food has nominated me for a blogging award - Yipeeeeeeeee! The 'Arte e Pico' award is awarded for creativity, design, interesting material and contribution to the food blogging community. It was a real surprise to be nominated for an award and given that I am less than loving my job at the moment, it makes me thankful that I do have something creative in my life. Antonia, a fellow Londoner, produces beautiful recipes, is honest when things don't work out as planned and her writing is chatty, funny and very readable. Go visit her if you haven't already. So, rather than start sobbing and list all the people I'd like to thank, here are my five nominees for other fabulous blogs. Drum-roll please...

1. Tantalising and terrific, it's Tartelette.

2. Food and so, so much more, Pink of Perfection.

3. Inventive recipes and striking photos, Mike's Table.

4. A witty and beautiful blog, Confessions of a Cardamon Addict

5. Another witty lady and a giver of great recipes too, at You say Tomahto...

Go and visit them all. For the rules of the award see here.

She who dares bakes... Opera Cake

2008-05-27T21:21:00.005+01:00

Since coming back from my trip everything has been a bit too manic. Grotty real life has taken the place of daily yoga, sun ripened fruit and time just to think. I've found it really hard to get back into the swing of 12* hour days at work and, as such, I nearly forgot about the impending Daring Bakers' challenge. I realised late last Thursday that there was an opera cake to bake and I hadn't reserved any time to do it. Would it be curtains for the challenge? (sorry sorry). I was heading back to Yorkshire for the bank holiday weekend so I decided that I would pack my sugar thermometer, Swiss roll tin and take the challenge on location.

I must admit that I was a little apprehensive about tackling this recipe. When it comes to crafting beautiful French patisserie my versions are generally more Dover than gay Paris. What's more I had the added fear of cooking in someone else's kitchen. My Dad's wife is absolutely lovely but she is a real neat freak. I, when I cook, am not. Yes I tidy up at the end of the process, but while I'm sifting, stirring and sweating there can be a little chaos. Fellow Daring Bakers warned that this task was all about calm organisation and with none of my own equipment around me and my step-mum's ever ready sponge looming I felt the pressure. Luckily my Dad was on hand to help me clear up which he did in his own special way (licking the bowl when he thought I wasn't looking).

An opera cake is an elegant desert comprising of light sponge layers (made with whipped egg whites), moistened with syrup, sandwiched with flavoured buttercream and topped with a light glaze. Our task, set by founders Lisa and Ivonne together with newcomers Fran and Shea, stipulated that we could add our own flavours as long as they were light in colour. Given that I brought back so much rum from Cuba, I decided to go with a rum and raisin combination. This classic flavour combination worked perfectly. The sponge absorbed the sweetened rum syrup and the alcohol soaked raisins nestled sweetly in the buttercream.

Out of the whole recipe, I found the buttercream the most hassle to make. The sugar syrup was heated to 225 degrees and then added to the egg mixture. As the hot syrup met the eggs I ended up with quite a few crystallised pieces of toffee. Clearly this was not supposed to happen, but the butterscotchy pieces actually added to the flavour of the icing. When it came to assembling the cake I don't think I took the necessary care. It was slightly on the wonk. In fact, if Disney started dabbling in opera, my cake would be 'Beauty and the Beast. Like the hairy monster my cake was a little scary to look at but inside it was good and oh so sweet.I would like to try the light sponge cake as a standard Swiss roll filled with fruit and cream as its delicate flavour and reasonably hip-friendly ingredients make it a real find. I think I would tackle the opera cake again but I would allow myself a less stressful setting in which to craft it. It would make a fabulously special birthday cake and it was very popular with my tasters (kitchen use paid for in cake seems fair!). I would definitely recommend trying it with the rum and raisin theme (rum in my tum = yum). If you fancy conducting your own Opera Cake experiment, the recipe is available here.

To see the other creations go and look at the delicious results here. Many of these dazzling cakes have been made in honour of Lance Armstrong's Livestrong Foundation. Well done everybody.

* Make that 18 hours. It's 2am and I've only just got home from the office. Booooooo.

Aribba Aribba!*

2008-05-18T19:50:00.015+01:00

So, I've been back home for over a week but I've been terribly neglectful of my little blog. Posting my Daring Bakers' challenge results from Cuba was clearly the peak of my diligence and now I need to get back on track. After having been away for nearly a month it was a real pleasure to return to the lovely Mr AB, my friends and clothes that hadn't spent 4 weeks crumpled inside a rucksack. It was also a delight to be back in my kitchen - lasagne making, banana bread baking and generally catching up on lost cooking time.

I'm conscious that there's nothing worse than a holiday bore and it would be only too easy for me to drone on and on about what a fabulous time I had. However, unlike those people who are subjected to their neighbours' trip to DisneyWorld with a slide show complete with script, you're only a click away from freedom. Surely that gives me a mandate for a little droning?

The first part of my trip was a solo stint to Tulum and Isle Mujeres in Mexico. I should admit now that I am a rubbish traveller. I always book flights away on my own full of bravado and notions of 'finding myself'. In reality I end up leaving messy mascara tracks on Mr AB's jumper at the airport and ringing my parents from the flight gate wailing "don't make me gooooooooooo." Not good for a grown 26 year old I know. Once I arrived at the eco-resort in Tulum I did, of course, cheer up. Well, after miserable old London you would wouldn't you.

Travelling on your own is hard work. There's never anyone to watch your bag while you nip to the loo and there's the constant fear that as a solo female traveller you'll be spirited away by some dubious sex pest. Or is that only me? You can, however, eat guacamole three times a day and no one will be any the wiser. Yes the guacamole was as good as you would hope and the other food was delicious too.

I really enjoy Mexican food but unfortunately it is one cuisine which is not very well represented in London (if anyone disagrees, please send me tips). So it was a real pleasure to taste so much beautiful food on holiday. There wasn't as much fish as you would expect for a spot on the Caribbean Sea but there was plenty more. One of my favourite snacks was a bowl of pickled vegetables which had a pungent, spicy kick. These feisty vegetables are put on the table as soon as you sit down and despite causing a few spice induced tears, they are dangerously addictive.

Then there were the fish tacos. Oh yes. My favourite were served at a roadside stall which fried the fresh white fish in an airy tempura-style batter and allowed you to help yourself to salsas and sweet coconut sauces galore. Oh god I've got cravings right now.

In the name of research I did buy a couple of cakes from the local bakery but they weren't that great. I should have known that this chocolate one would disappoint, but I was seduced. It was ok but a little bit too much like the bottom of a cheap chocolate muffin. I should have stuck with the mangos. Yes the mangos. If I had the necessary skill I would craft an ode to the Mexican mango. They are ambrosial. These yellow skinned beauties were as sweet as honey and as smooth as silk. I know that sounds like a bad description from a Mills and Boon novel but they were that good. When I got back I stupidly bought a mango from Sainsbury's in the hope that it would quell my cravings. Hah! It was like eating something on mute.

My overwhelming impression of the food in Mexico was the strength of flavour. Not just from the chilli heat but from the the fresh, sun-ripened quality of the produce. It all tasted vivid.

Leaving Mexico was a wrench. Not least because I had to leave behind breakfasts like these: ...in favour of a country which "you don't visit for the food." Cuba. More of which to come.

* No I don't know what it means!

If we took a holiday, took some time to celebrate...

2008-04-12T21:54:00.003+01:00

No, it's not a celebration of Madonna's Immaculate Collection album, great though it is. Rather, I'm going on holiday. I'll be away for three and a half weeks (I know, very jammy) visiting Mexico and Cuba (apologies to any American readers). So, it's going to be a little quiet around here. Dodgy internet cafes permitting, I'll be able to post this month's Daring Bakers challenge but other than that, I'll be busy garnering fresh ideas from Central America.

In the meantime, enjoy the wealth of brilliant blogs out there, perhaps starting here, here, or here.

Happy, happy cooking.

She who dares... bakes cheesecake pops

2008-04-12T18:23:00.004+01:00

If you're reading this on the designated Daring Bakers' challenge day it means that I have managed to drag myself away from the beach, find an internet cafe and negotiate the trickeries of blogger formatting to post this. Yes, although I am currently on my sofa in chilly London, when you read this I should be in Cuba. God willing. I don't want to tempt fate before getting on the plane!

This month the Daring Bakers have grown a forest of cheesecake lollipop trees and, in between packing and trying to learn Spanish (I've got as far as 'Hola'), I've managed to make some too. I have to admit that initially I was sceptical about cheesecake on a stick. What's wrong with cheesecake in a big fat wedge with a chunky layer of crust on the bottom? However, I can see that these little fellas are very cute and would be perfect for a party or something a little bit different. Thank you to Elle and Deborah for the innovative challenge.

The pops are based on a basic vanilla cheesecake recipe which is baked in a water bath to ensure a rich and creamy result. I have used the water bath technique before and it definitely gives the cheesecake a real 'New York' consistency. It's also really easy. You just pop the cheesecake tin into a roasting pan and fill this outer pan with boiling water. Scented candles and bubble bath are optional. In the past I've used a loose bottom pan and even after wrapping it with layers of cling film I've ended up with a soggy crust. This time we were sensibly advised to avoid loose bottoms and it is definitely better to do so.

Once the cheesecake is baked you allow it to chill for a few hours (I left mine over night). When it is firm, you make your little balls (or other shapes - I used a heart cutter for variation). I was quite excited about this stage as I have a melon baller which I've used precisely once since pestering my mum to buy it for me about 6 years ago. With the help of the melon baller I was sure that delightful cheesecake orbs were well within my grasp. No. As I turned out less than perfect balls I decided to relgate this worthless piece of kitchen aparatus to the drawer once more. It's probably easier just to shape them with your hands.

Once you have prepared your shapes you can insert a lollipop stick. I decided to jazz the pops up by using edible sticks. I was searching for orange flavoured Matchmakers, but unfortunately I couldn't find any. In the end I used After Eight Mint Straws and Cadbury's Chocolate Fingers. I also think that those 'Mikado' biscuits that you get in France would be good as well. Once you have impaled your cheesecake balls they go into the freezer to harden.

When your pops are firm you can melt the chocolate in preparation for dipping. We added shortening to the chocolate in order to improve its consistency and I think it does make a difference as it was very easy to work with. I was, however, a little peeved when I greedily grabbed a stray piece of cheesecake from the counter, only to find out that it was a lump of lard. Yuk. The chocolate and shortening are melted in a bowl over a pan of simmering water until the mixture is rich and glossy. You then dunk your cheesecake and hope that it doesn't fall off the stick and into the molten mixture.

I finely chopped some of the leftover mint straws so that I could roll the minty pops in the crums to add texture and extra flavour. For the pops on the chocolate fingers I used digestive crumbs to give a nod to the typical cheesecake base.

I think that the minty pops would work well with coffee at the end of a meal: whereas the biscuity ones are good straight into your mouth:On reflection, I'm not sure whether I would make the pops again. Cute though they are, they are a bit fiddly and I did feel a little sad as I demolished my lovely cheesecake in the name of a challenge.
If you want to try these cheesecake pops you can get the recipe here. Be sure to go and see what the other Daring Bakers have done too.

Ps. Yipeee I made it across the Atlantic! I am now in Cuba and posting from the slowest computer ever with the sounds of salsa and the smell of mangos in the background. Unfortunately I have now given myself a craving for cheesecake! I will stop and look at all the other pop posts as soon as I am back.

Paris in the Spring

2008-04-08T18:55:00.005+01:00

I know that it's old hat to say it, but isn't Paris fantastic? I was lucky enough to spend last weekend in this feast of a city and I didn't want to come back. This was my fourth jaunt across the Channel and it was all thanks to Mr AB and the Housemate both of whom were tackling the Paris Marathon. You may remember that I got a trip to New York thanks to Mr AB's last marathon effort, so I'm doing pretty well on the back of his speedy legs* (fingers crossed for the Barbados marathon 2009).

One of my favourite things about this honey-hued city is that on almost every street there is a bakery and a florist. There something so right about a place where people don't want to be further than a few metres from flowers and cakes. Of course, when I wasn't trying desperately to spot J and C in the crowds of runners I was trying desperately to fit more bread/pastries/steak into my ever-expanding tummy.

I started on Saturday morning with a visit to the market Saxe-Breteuil which lies at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. Perfection!

As you'd expect, the quality of the food was outstanding and as I wandered the stalls I silently cursed not being able to take it all home. English markets now seem un petit peu merde in comparison:In the end I settled for a pastry: and one of these delicious mini cakes (note that they are mini - that's why French women don't get fat!). Moist frangipane sponge - mmmm.

As well as the market, I also wandered the fabulous food hall at Le Bon Marche. This is a living museum for all the beautifully packaged and beautifully prepared foodstuffs that you could long to buy. The main department store also has a fantastic haberdashery department; it's truly wonderful. In the end, I was seduced by these pink packages:

I'm thinking mini scones topped with the rosewater jam and delicate rose-scented sables along side.

There are so many recommendations for Parisian restaurants that it is difficult to know what to add. I will, however, mention one delicious place that we stumbled across on a walk from our hotel to the river. Located next to a garage it looks pretty unassuming but, L'A.O.C. is a delight. Its speciality is rotisserie meat served with potatoes roasted in the juice dripping from the spit. Who could ask for more? Together with a vibrant salad (of course, given the location, impeccably dressed) and fresh sourdough bread, the meal was everything you hope for from a French bread. We even had tarte tatin:

A bientot my foodtastic Paris.

* 3.5hours (I was very proud).

She who dares bakes... Dorie's Party Cake

2008-03-30T13:40:00.003+01:00

I just love it when the fates align and for once, in an often higgledy piggledy life, things work out. This month's challenge, hosted by Morven, is Dorie Greenspan's perfect white party cake. Initially I was fazed. A whole party cake and no potential birthdays to take it to, I feared that I would end up eating the whole thing myself. Fortunately my thighs were spared the baking onslaught as I remembered that we would soon be celebrating Mr AB's parents' 30th wedding anniversary. Yes, that's 30 years of happy marriage. What an achievement!

This cake is perfect for a pearl anniversary because of the bright, white icing and the light white crumb. Rules for this challenge were flexible meaning we could tinker with the fillings. In order to balance the richness of the icing, I chose to sandwich the layers with tart lemon curd and fresh raspberries. I liked the idea of the iridescent shell (helped by edible cake glitter) hiding layers of fruit inside.

I was a little concerned about the sponge after hearing reports of 'pancakes' from other Daring Bakers. The recipe uses whisked egg whites and baking powder to produce the rise and as I mixed the batter I did have a few doubts. Luckily, my great friend M has years of experience in calming my tizzes and told me to stop panicking and just put the damn things in the oven. They weren't the highest cakes I've ever seen, but I was able to complete the (very stressful) task of splitting each layer without major causalities.

As the cakes were cooling I made a simple lemon curd to spread between the layers. I did have a bit of a curdtastrophe (haha) as it refused to set to a spreadable consistency but, calmed by M, I added some cornflour and disaster was averted. The meringue-based butter cream was easier to make than I had feared.

Fantastically rich, I think it could have been a bit too much in between the layers and I'm glad I replaced it with the fruit.
I had a few Pisaesque moments as I assembled the cake,

but generally it came together well and the end result was sufficiently pearl-like. I even had time to shower before leaving for the meal so, all in all it was a success. As the cake came out of Marco Pierre White's Criterion kitchen (check me out, serving food in top London restaurants) topped with a sparkler, and delivered to the happy couple I definitely felt that this party cake lived up to its name.

I'm not sure I would use this as my go-to fancy cake recipe as making the batter was a bit of a faff and a standard victoria sponge recipe would probably work as well. That said, it does look very special so, if the occasion warrants it, give it a try.

You can get the full recipe for the cake here. I used whole milk soured with lemon rather than buttermilk. Given that England hasn't woken up to the wonders of cake flour I followed Tartlette's helpful advice of removing 2 tablespoons of plain flour per cup needed and replacing it with 2 tablespoons of cornflour. I also omitted the coconut and sandwiched the cakes with lemon curd and raspberries as discussed.

View all the other marvellous creations here.

One a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns

2008-03-20T22:24:00.011Z

I think the reason that I enjoy making festive treats so much is that it marks the occasion. In our grown-up lives of work and responsibilities it's easy to forget the simple joy of a home-made advent calendar, a Valentine's Day post box or an Easter bonnet. When I make something so seasonal I feel that I'm not just letting the year pass by in a blur but I'm actually stopping to participate in it.

When I was at primary school Easter was a big deal. We made bonnets (crumpled tissue paper glued to a head band) and paraded around the assembly hall like show ponies. We decorated eggs with glitter and sequins and the day ended with the eggstavaganza (sorry) of egg rolling. Yes, every year we would hard boil eggs (usually adding vinegar to the water for its fabled strengthening properties), take them to the top of the hill in the playground and roll them down. After the eggs had been rolled we would tear across the grass, dodging the debris and laughing at those who had forgotten to boil their weapon. The aim was to throw your egg the furthest without it exploding in a flurry of yolk and shell. Ah, those were the days.

Unfortunately, there's no egg rolling for me this year but I have made Hot Cross Buns. At the moment these sweet little buns are available everywhere but I'm never normally tempted. The ones in the shops always look so dry. The other day I poked one in Sainsbury's and it didn't yield a millimetre. Firm and taut is all well and good for a Supermodel's thigh, but when it comes to buns you want soft and giving.

These treats are really simple to make and since most of the preparation time is leaving the yeast to do its thing you're not tied to cooker. Full of fruit and scented with spice they are delicious fresh from the oven or toasted and spread with butter over the next few days.

Hot Cross Buns

(makes 12 large buns)

25g fresh yeast or 15g dried yeast

50g caster sugar

150ml tepid water (1 part boiling and 2 parts cold)

450g strong white bread making flour

1 tsp salt

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

1 heaped tsp mixed spice

1/2 grated nutmeg (optional)

50g butter

200g mixed sultanas, currants and mixed peel

grated rind of an orange

warm milk and 1 beaten egg to make up 140ml

4 tablespoons of milk boiled with 2 tablespoons of sugar to glaze.

110g plain flour, 25g caster sugar and water to make a paste for the crosses.

Cream the fresh yeast with 1 teaspoon of the sugar and dissolve in the water. If using dried yeast follow the instructions given on the packet.

Sift into a large bowl the flour, salt and spices.

Rub the butter into the flour as if you were making pastry.

Mix in the rest of the sugar and the dried fruit. Make sure you break up any clumps of fruit before adding.

Make a well in the centre of the dry ingredients and add the yeast and the egg/milk mixture.

Combine the mixture into a dough with a wooden spoon and then your hands. The dough should be pliable but not overly sticky. Add a little more warm milk or flour as appropriate.

Knead the dough for around 6 minutes until it is smooth and elastic in texture. Some of the fruit may want to pop out as you do this. Simply push it back in to the dough again.

Leave the dough to rest as you wash the bowl and lightly grease it. Put the ball of dough back into the bowl, cover with cling film and a clean tea towel and leave to rise somewhere warm. Because this is an enriched dough it rises more slowly than normal bread, therefore somewhere warm like an airing cupboard or in a warmed oven with the light on will help the dough rise. Leave it until it has doubled in size (about 1 hour).

Once the dough has risen, turn the it onto a floured board and knead it smooth again. Pinch out any large air bubbles.

Shape the dough into buns (remember that it will spread so don't go too big like my monster buns). You can do this by rolling the dough in your hand and tucking the edges under like a cushion. Mark a cross on top of the buns using a knife. Put them on a greased baking tray.

Loosely cover the buns with cling film and a tea towel and then leave them in your warm place until they have spread and become puffy (about 40 minutes).

In the meantime mix the flour, water and caster sugar together to make a smooth paste. It needs to be a pipeable consistency. Fill a piping bag with a small nozzle or use a freezer bag with the corner cut out.

Preheat the oven to 220 degrees and pipe a cross on your buns. Put them in the oven for 15 minutes or until golden.

While the buns are in the oven, boil the milk and sugar together until it becomes syrupy.

Remove the buns from the oven and put them on a cooling rack. Before they become cool, paint the syrup on top until they gleam.

If you prefer, you can make a hot cross bun loaf with this dough. Instead of dividing the mixture you just put it into a loaf tin and leave out the crosses. Cook the loaf for 10-15 minutes at 200 degrees then lower the temperature to 180 degrees for a further 25-30 minutes or until firm.

Apologies for the less than inspiring photos. I made these this evening and the light in my kitchen is a yukky yukky yellow. Booooo

Easter Biscuits

2008-03-16T17:00:00.005Z

I love that festivities and food are so intertwined. With birthdays come cake, with Christmas comes cake and with Easter comes, err, biscuits. I know many of you will be enjoying Simnel cake, hot cross buns and countless chocolate eggs (and, after my sugar-free stint, I will definitely be joining you) but ever since I can remember we've had Easter Biscuits at this time of the year.

Apparently Easter Biscuits were developed as a lighter, simpler alternative to Hot Cross Buns or Hot Cross Bums as I mistakenly typed to Mr AB the other day (now that would be an interesting recipe). These buttery little biscuits are warm with spices and packed with currants. What makes them really special is the egg white and sugar crust which tops them. Delicious.

I've seen variations of this recipe using different types of dried fruits but I like to keep things traditional. These biscuits are always made with the same recipe from my Mum's 1970s Readers Digest cook book. You can tell that these are one of Mum's favourite recipes because they're one of the few that have the calorie count worked out alongside clearly from her diligent Weight-Watchers days. That said, I've increased the amount of currants slightly and added a little grating of fresh nutmeg.

If you fancy making an Easter treat for someone or , indeed, yourself you can whip these up in 15 or so minutes and have them fresh out of the oven to enjoy. Unfortunately I didn't get to try this batch (only one week to go until I escape my sugar free prison). Instead, I wrapped them up and took them to a friend's birthday lunch. It took discipline to hand them over.

Easter Biscuits

Makes 24 biscuits

4oz butter

5oz caster sugar

2 large eggs (one separated)

3oz currants

6oz plain flour

2oz rice flour

2 teaspoons mixed spice

half a grated nutmeg (optional)

1-2 tablespoons milk

Grease a couple of baking trays or line them with non-stick paper. Preheat the oven to 180 degrees.
Cream the butter with a wooden spoon until soft and add 4oz of the sugar. Beat the sugar and butter until it is light, soft and fluffy.

Add the whole egg and the egg yolk of the second one to the butter mixture. Beat the eggs into the sugar. Add the currants.

Sift the flours together with the spices and mix them into the the creamed ingredients a little at a time. Stir to combine and add a little milk if necessary. You want a soft, pliable dough.

Knead the dough lightly on a floured surface and then roll it out until it is about half a centimetre thick. Cut your biscuits with a fluted cutter and bake in the oven for 15-20 minutes.

After 10 minutes brush the biscuits with the egg white and dredge with the remaining sugar. Return to the oven until the biscuits are golden and the tops are blistered.

If you're going to the bookshop...

2008-03-07T22:02:00.005Z

You know you've read an excellent book when you become a bit of a bore about it. If you're anything like me you can't shut up. Interrupting those that you live with to read out particularly interesting passages when they'd rather be watching TV, reading their own books or, perhaps, sticking their heads in ovens. I must admit that I only really do this with non-fiction, when I'm reading a great novel you can't get a peep out of me.

A really good book can turn you into an evangelical and like a true evangelical I'm going to spread the word. Michael Pollan's In Defence of Food is a must if you're interested in food, health and the relationship between the two. When I went to Waterstones to buy it I was disappointed to find it in the diet section, because if there's one thing that this book is not, it's a diet.

As you can tell from the recipes I make, I'm not someone who could be described as a health nut. I love baking and I love eating what I bake. What I don't like is the artificial pap which is marketed as food and which is pushed into the baskets of so many shoppers across the Western world. This is where my new best friend, Michael, and I converge. In Defence of Food wants people to think about what they are eating rather than handing over responsibility for a decent diet to politicians, journalists and the big corporates. As he points out, something as fundamental as feeding ourselves has become fraught with difficulty,tension and commercialisation. Rather than trusting the instincts which have been years in the evolutionary making, we now look to anyone who says they're in the know to tell us what to do. In reality this leaves us susceptible to advantage taking by anyone with a big enough budget.

The book ends with a set of guidelines that I can't help but remember every time I go shopping. Little things like not eating anything that your grandparents wouldn't recognise as food or avoiding anything that has ingredients you can't pronounce. It just makes sense.

Ok, ok rant over. Polemic aside, I can't recommend Michael's book highly enough. Not only is it refreshingly sensible it's actually very entertaining as well. Enjoy!

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice-cream

2008-03-04T22:31:00.004Z

I've given up chocolate, cake/puddings and biscuits for Lent. This hasn't been going too badly on a day to day basis (well, it's not exactly a joy but I suppose that's the point). The real difficulty (apart from wanting to snatch Dairy Milk out of the hands of small children) is when people come over to eat.

The problem with being a baking enthusiast is that people expect a pudding or a sweet treat when they come to see you. Caught out by your rich and decadent deserts in the past, they come to your house having been 'good all day' and ready to indulge. The thought of serving people fruit salad, however exotic or lovingly prepared, makes me feel a little tense. It brings back bad memories of the black days when school dinners ended with a yoghurt or a piece of fruit rather than something + custard. I felt disappointed and despondent for the rest of the day. I know this may well just be me, but what kind of hostess would want to take the risk of upsetting her guests in a similar fashion?

Anyway, last Saturday K and Y came round for dinner. After a spicy lentil soup and a succulent lamb tagine (more of which to come) I decided to make a very healthy baked banana for pudding. Of course, in light of the above, I had to pair it with a scoop of creamy brown bread ice-cream. I did have a few wrangles with myself about whether this would go against the spirit of the "no cakes, no biscuits, no chocolate" ruling but I managed to convince myself that ice-cream is clearly none of these things and, besides, I was serving it with fruit which would give me copious brownie (mmmmmm brownie) points. Jesus would be proud.

Brown bread ice-cream dates back to the Victorian times and is basically a beautifully creamy vanilla custard with chunks of caramelised brown bread stirred through. I first tried it when I was at university. I don't know if I had many intellectual awakenings in my first year, but this ice-cream certainly gave my taste buds a buzz. Our college used to make the most beautiful homemade ice-creams. Legend has it that they were all stored in a big cellar and, anytime they so desired, the dons could go and help themselves. I'm not sure if this is true, but had I been privy to the location of the brown bread variety I would have been there nightly, spoon and wafer in hand.

This recipe is from Nordijus' beautiful blog and it is a real winner. I decided to make a toffee sauce which I had visions of snaking through the ice-cream. In the end, it just blended into the vanilla base which, although not what I was expecting, gave a delicious toffee background for the caramelised crumbs. I saved the extra sauce to spoon over the finished article (and a little to spoon straight into my mouth).

This was my first attempt at homemade ice-cream and I am, without a doubt, a convert. I do love my premium ice-cream (B&Js especially) but home churned ice-cream is in a completely different iced-desert league. I used the Bedmate's simple ice-cream maker but if you don't have one, Nordijus also gives instructions for making the ice-cream without.

The toffee sauce recipe is a brilliant go-to sauce for any pudding (especially a toffee sponge) and the ice-cream would be an excellent accompaniment to most things. I can imagine it inside a brandy snap basket or a toffee meringue nest or alternatively just licked off your fingers standing next to the freezer (don't judge, as I said, I decided it didn't break Lent!).

Nordijus' Brown Bread Ice-cream with my Toffee Sauce

Serves 4-6

4 egg yolks (I used large eggs)

75g caster sugar

1 teaspoon cornflour

1/2 vanilla pod

250ml milk (I used whole milk)

40g butter

80g crustless wholemeal bread (I doubled the quantity of the breadcrumbs for extra crunch. If you want to do the same you should also double the quantity of butter and brown sugar)

50g soft light brown sugar

250ml double cream

Toffee Sauce

115g butter

115g light muscovado sugar

140ml double cream

Pop the bread in the food processor to make fine crumbs. Mix the brown sugar with the melted butter. Add the crumbs, stir well and then spread the mixture on a baking sheet.

Bake the crumbs in a pre-heated oven at 180 centigrade for 15-20 minutes, turning from time to time until they are toasted and crisp. Be careful to keep an eye on them at this stage as they burn quite easily. Allow to cool and try to resist eating them all.

Cut the vanilla pod open and scrape out the seeds with a knife or your fingernail.Pour the milk into a heavy-based saucepan, add the vanilla pod and seeds and bring to the boil. Remove from the heat and leave for 15 minutes to allow the flavours to infuse.
Whisk the egg yolks, sugar and cornflour in a bowl until thick and pale. Gradually pour on the hot milk, whisking constantly. Return the mixture to the pan and cook over a gentle heat, stirring all the time. Do not allow the custard to catch on the base of the pan. When the custard thickens and coats the back of the spoon it is ready. Strain out the pod (the pod can be washed and dried and used to scent sugar).
While the custard cools you can make your toffee sauce. Put the butter, sugar and cream into a saucepan and heat gently until the sauce has thickened and darkened in colour (dangerously easy).

When you are ready to churn the ice-cream add your crumbs to the custard (you may need to break any big clumps with your fingers) and add as much or as little toffee sauce as you want.

Churn the mixture in your machine (or make by hand) until it is thick (about 10-15 minutes). Store it in the freezer but allow it to soften before serving.

She who dares bakes...French Bread

2008-02-24T12:10:00.010Z

One of my favourite things about baking is the fact that you start with a collection of ingredients that, by themselves, aren't particularly appetising (spoonful of flour anybody?) but when combined they result in something marvelous. This is particularly true of bread. It continues to amaze me that flour, water and yeast produce something so ridiculously tasty.

I love bread. If bread were a person it would have been the recipient of my Valentine's card last Thursday. I was, therefore, very excited when I saw that this month's Daring Bakers' challenge was Julia Child's French Bread (thank you Mary and Sara). I've made basic bread recipes before but I have never tackled baguettes. My early memory of the long French sticks is getting them at the supermarket with my mum, seeking out the warmest and then pulling the end (nub) off and eating it as mum did the rest of the shopping. Yum.

Despite having so few ingredients this recipe was surprisingly long and a little daunting. All in all, it took about eight hours to make which does seem a bit overwhelming. That said, you're not chained to the dough for all that time so you can get on with your non-bread related life in between stages. As much as I would love, love, love a Kitchen Aid (they're a bit too expensive in the UK) I was glad that I had to make the bread dough by hand. For me, one of the best things about making homemade bread is how tactile the process is and there's nothing better for a bad mood than kneading dough. In fact, instead of giving aggressive teenagers ASBOs maybe they should get them all to make bread. And then, they could distribute the bread to the homeless. Now how's that for sensible domestic policy?!

I must admit that I find cooking with yeast a little stressful. As I fussed over the correct temperature and every little bubble of gas that my dried yeast produced, I felt like an over-anxious new parent clucking over her little darling. Maybe cooking with something that you have the power to kill does that to you. Following Julia's instructions (very helpfully annotated by Mary and Sara) I was struck by how much the dough looked like my thighs:

First Mixing - pre exercise:

Second mixing - post exercise:

Although the recipe seems complicated, it is actually quite simple if you are methodical. My big fear was not having a warm enough area in which to let the dough rise. Luckily, my clucky anxious parent thing kicked in and I tucked in the bowl next to a radiator with a hot water bottle and a thick blanket. It's all about treading your dough how you'd like to be treated yourself.

In the end, the hardest thing for me was shaping the dough. Trying to shape the sticky elastic dough into a smooth, even batten proved problematic.

In the end, the results were well worth the effort. I have to admit that I didn't wait for the bread to cool down entirely (okay, at all) before I sampled it, but surely the main perk of bread baking is getting to enjoy it while it's hot? I think it's in the film Amelie where she says that one of her mum's favourite things is the sound of fresh bread breaking and, as I snapped a piece off my wonky baguette and heard the 'shattering' sound, I had to agree. So satisfying. I thought the texture of the bread was similar to ciabatta as there were quite a few open holes, however this is probably down to my technique as opposed to the actual recipe.

In keeping with the rules I followed the recipe exactly but I did add some grated cheddar cheese to the top of one of the loaves. However, in order to stop myself devouring the three baguettes that evening I put two in the freezer to enjoy later on and I shared the other, smothered with butter, with the housemates. So good.

Be sure to check out the dazzling array of, no doubt more perfectly formed, bread from the other Daring Bakers here and if you're tempted to have a try at the bread yourself you can get the recipe here.

Nothing says I love you like a tart

2008-02-18T21:09:00.014Z

A few months ago my friend Y made me a delicious starter of a baked fig stuffed with goats' cheese. Ever since then I've wanted to make a savoury little tart based on the same principal. A crisp polenta pastry shell filled with a goats' cheese custard and topped with a honey-glazed fig. Yum. After buying some fig-infused balsamic vinegar last week I even had the basis for a complimentary salad dressing. I was all set until, that is, Valentine's Day got in the way.

Firstly, when I came to buy the cheese I was seduced by the heart-shaped coeur Neufchatel rather than the non-seasonally shaped goat's cheese. Knowing that it would still pair with the figs I decided to forge ahead. However, my plan to make the tarts for Mr Almanzo's Belly on Thursday evening was scuppered when I was informed that I was going to have dinner cooked for me and of course I didn't refuse the offer. So, planning to make the little fellas on Saturday I went to buy my figs on Friday. Well, the people of North London are a romantic bunch. I can only imagine how many plump little figs sacrificed themselves as aphrodisiacs for the big night, and as a result there weren't any to be found for my little tarts.

Being the adaptable person that I am, I decided not to let the lovers of North London beat me and found some little golden apricots. Apricots are a great match with camembert and given that Neufchatel is quite similar I thought it would work well. In the end I was very pleased with the result. Given the time of year, the apricots didn't have their full plump summer flavour but topped with a little honey to bring out their sweetness they were still a good match for the flavoursome cheese. I decided to use a polenta pastry because I really enjoy the texture that the polenta creates. It makes a grainy and crispy crust which offers a satisfying contrast to the smoothness of the filling.

Once everyone has returned to being grumpy with each other and the the thought of performing seductive St. Valentine's rituals with figs has been long forgotten, I will definitely try a fig based tart. Until then, these are a great idea for a light lunch or starter.

Coeur Neufchatel and Apricot Tarts

Pastry

200g plain flour

50g polenta

125g cold butter, cubed

1 egg

pinch of salt

Filling

4 eggs

1/4pt milk

1 tbsp fresh rosemary finely chopped

1 coeur Neufchatel cheese crumbled/chopped into small pieces*

4 fresh apricots

honey

salt and pepper

I made the pastry by blitzing the flour, polenta and salt with the butter in a food processor until fine crumbs formed. I then added the egg and processed the pastry until it started to clump together. You can, of course, do it by hand. If you find the pastry is not binding you can add more beaten egg or even a little ice cold water/milk.

Finish bringing the pastry together with your hands (don't over handle it though). Wrap it in cling film and chill for a couple of hours. You can do this further in advance if it makes life easier.

Once the pastry has chilled, roll it out between two sheets of cling film. There will be enough for one 8 inch tin or about 6 mini tins.

Line your tin(s) and chill for another hour or so.

Prick the base of the tarts and pop baking beads or weights in the centre. Bake in a preheated oven (200 degrees) for 10 minutes. Remove the baking beads and bake for a further 10 minutes at 180 degrees.

Meanwhile make the filling. Beat your eggs with a fork and mix in the milk and cheese.

Add the rosemary and mix gently. Season with the salt and pepper.

Pour the cheesy mixture into the shell and top with your apricot halves/slices and add a dot of honey. Bake in the 180 degree oven for about 30 minutes or until the cheese is golden.

* Stupidly I didn't weigh the cheese, but it was a standard whole coeur Neufchatel. To be honest you can probably be quite flexible with the amount you use, much like an omlette.

Country Bumpkin

2008-02-13T21:21:00.012Z

What a beautiful weekend we just had. The skies were blue, the sun was bright and I was donning my wellies for a weekend with my friend J in the Cotswolds. Yay. Last autumn J treated me to a trip in the Peak District for my birthday and our jaunt to the West Country was my chance to return the favour for hers. I set off from London on Saturday morning and after the rage, disappointment and tears that accompany any journey with First Great Western (grr) I arrived in Moreton-in-Marsh only an hour or so late.

Moreton-in-Marsh is a small market town in Gloucestershire filled with honey coloured buildings and caramel coloured cottages. Aside from being a beautiful and historical town, Moreton-in-Marsh has a certain mythological status for me. Back in the day when a cottage could be purchased for £6,000 and children were a long way off, my mum and dad used to live and work in the town before they decided that they couldn't live in any sort of cottage together without losing the will to live.

We stayed a short walk across the fields outside of Moreton-in-Marsh in a fabulous B&B. Old Farm is a working farm producing top quality food. Sarah runs a farm shop which stocks meat from the farm as well as other (very) local produce. It was the thought of the hand reared bacon and sausages for breakfast which pushed me to book a room and had me humming "Old MacDonald" all week in anticipation.

As much as I love pulses, I don't think I could ever be a vegetarian. I do, however, want to know that the meat I am enjoying has had a respectful and stressful existence before arriving on my plate. Well, as stressful as life can be while spending your days wondering what exactly "going to market" means and why your furry friends never seem to come back. I did have a slight pang when I saw these little piggies (I'm not made of stone) but this subsided when I smelled the mouth-watering Sunday joint that Sarah was basting.Most of the weekend was spent scraping mud off our impractical footwear (sorry mum) with sticks and, of course, eating. We had hoped to have Afternoon Tea in the town but unfortunately we left it too late. We did, however, manage to explore the local deli - The Cotswold Cheese Company. This gem of a shop stocks a wide variety of produce. After a moment fantasising about having shelves as tidy at this:I invested in some goose fat (for roasties), some balsamic vinegar and some seasonally shaped Coeur de Neufchatel. I've got an idea for a recipe involving the cheese which I'm going to try out this weekend. Yum.

For dinner we went to the Horse and Groom at Bourton on the Hill. Bliss. It was everything you want to a country pub to be. For me, one of the saddest sights in the countryside is stepping into a seemingly beautiful country pub only to be faced with a printed (not chalked) blackboard menu which screams 'boil in the bag chain pub grub'. Ooooh it makes me angry. Simple British pub food is not rocket science. Who wants to spend a day tramping up hill and down dale only to return to the same sad food that is available in every chain pub across the country?

Rant over. The Horse and Groom is in a completely different league. All of the ingredients are sourced locally (some even coming from the B&B) and everything we ate was tender, flavoursome and wholesome. I had a butternut squash risotto to start and a moist chicken breast served with a rich, deep red wine and onion sauce. J had a lightly curried parsnip soup and a tender, flavour-packed steak. Pudding was the infamous Mrs G's toffee meringue. A slice of chewy, caramel meringue filled with rich toffee cream and named after the owners' mum who makes it for the restaurant. Not only was the food great and the atmosphere cosy, the owners even arranged for a member of staff to give us a lift home when our taxi let us down. What service!

As ever, the weekend was over too soon. I took the train back to London filled with fresh air and laden down with food from the farm. If you fancy a post Valentine's break with a friend or loved one I hope that Moreton-in-Marsh has whetted your appetite.

Flipping heck it's pancake day tomorrow!

2008-02-03T20:28:00.001Z

Just in case you hadn't noticed all the frying pan/lemon juicer displays in the shops at the moment, it's Shrove Tuesday tomorrow. Yay! I love pancake day.

Shrove Tuesday is the day when we're supposed to purge our cupboards of eggs, milk etc in preparation for 40 days of denial. I love that Easter is early this year, it means that I can make the seamless transition from self-improvement New Year's Resolution style to self-improvement Lent style. There's no chance for wallowing in failed-resolution induced misery in between. I always try and give something up for Lent. When I was about ten I ambitiously attempted to give up sugar (thinking cake, chocolate etc). I was doing pretty well until my evil older sister pointed out that as nearly everything contained sugar my 40 days without biscuits, but with fruit, were a big, fat waste of time. Oh I how I loved my sister.

I haven't decided what I'm giving up yet. I normally tell people that I'm forgoing alcohol as I'm not that in to big drinking* so it's a good way to shut people up when they ask why you're not having anything stronger than Diet Coke. Is it just me or is encouraging other people to drink one of the last socially acceptable peer pressures? It drives me mad.

In the past, I've organised pancake parties. I'd make a big batch of batter and then ask everyone to bring their favourite fillings. It's always a fun evening, although everyone has to take turns to socialise with you by the cooker as you end up chained to the frying pan unless you can convince someone to takeover so you can rest your tossing arm. The great thing about pancakes is that they're a vehicle for so many delicious fillings. I favour the simplicity of fresh lemon juice and caster sugar or savoury cheese and ham. However, there's a lot of fun to be had with chocolate buttons, smarties, cream, bananas, ice-cream, caramel sauce etc etc (well Shrove Tuesday is about getting rid of all your fattening foods after all).

British pancakes are much thinner than their fluffy American counterparts but they're not quite as light as Gallic crepes. I find that the trick to good pancakes is to discard the first one that you make. This one tends to be a bit leathery and difficult to handle, but once the pan has been christened the rest should be fine. Wipe your pan with a little melted butter or oil in between each pancake and slide the batter evenly around the pan. Once the batter has started to brown at the edges you can flip (or toss) it to cook the other side. Roll your light little circle around your chosen filing and you're good to go.

Basic Pancake Batter

Makes 8-10 pancakes

4oz plain flour

Pinch of salt

1 large egg

1/2 pint milk

Sift the flour and salt into a large bowl.

Using a wooden spoon make a well in the centre of the flour and drop in the lightly beaten egg.

Slowly pour half the milk into the flour, gradually working the flour into the milk with a fork.

When all the flour is incorporated use a whisk to make a smooth batter.

Allow the mixture to stand for a few minutes and then add the remainder of the milk. The consistency should be that of single cream.

Heat enough oil or butter to gloss the bottom of your frying pan and pour a thin layer of batter onto the base. The butter/oil should be bubbling hot but not smoking. Once the edges of the pancake have browned, flip it over and cook the other side.

I'll be having mine with sugar and lemon. Enjoy!

Tart with an onion heart

2008-01-31T18:01:00.000Z

A little while ago I promised that I would post the recipe for a tasty onion tart. Well, today's the day. This delicious tart is a brilliant addition to your recipe file as it is perfect for an easy meal or, served in slightly smaller slices, a dinner party starter. The original recipe comes from Nigella's How to Be a Domestic Goddess. This is one of my favourite books by Nigella and it was given to me by a friend from university. We're no longer in touch, but every time I use the book, which is frequently, I smile as I remember her. That's the thing with books, they really are the gift that keeps on giving.

On Saturday I took advantage of having the house to myself (the Bedmate and the Housemate both skiing, not together, that would be a bit mean, but away nonetheless) and decided to have my Yorkshire friends around for dinner. There are seven of us lads and lasses who went to school together and are now navigating the big city in the south. In keeping with our White Rose roots, I tried to cook northern-esque dishes. I decided on beef and ale stew with Yorkshire puddings for the main course and I thought that this onion tart would be a suitably hearty first course.

Nigella's recipe recommends strong cheddar or gruyere cheese in the scone base however, in a bid to increase the Yorkshireness, I used Wensleydale cheese. Wensleydale is a mild, crumbly, creamy cheese which is traditionally produced in Hawes in the Yorkshire Dales. We tend to eat it with Christmas cake instead of icing and marzipan and I particularly like it in sandwiches with slices of crisp, sharp apple. To be honest, the stronger cheeses have more of a presence in this little tart, but I did enjoy the milder Wensleydale. I paired the tart with a baby leaf salad with shards of cheese and braeburn apples tossed in. Yum.

This dish is good to make in advance if you're trying to reduce stress at dinner parties. I tend to cook the onions in advance and leave them until I'm ready for the dough. Do be careful when you're cooking the onions; you want them to be soft and mellow. Don't get distracted by helping your best friend write an online dating profile and let them burn. Oops. Sometimes the onions can be a bit bitter so I add a teaspoon of brown sugar and a splash of balsamic vinegar to calm them down.

I made individual tarts this time because I wanted to use my new mini tart tins (50p each from Heals and so cute). You can use a large dish if you prefer. I recommend a loose bottomed tin so that it's easier to turn out. The scone dough can be made ahead of time as well, but I would put some greaseproof paper over the tarts so that the dough doesn't dry out. These are also delicious cold.

I apologise for the lack of photos of the final result. As usual, I'm madly busy when it comes to serving food so I always miss the chance to take photos. How does everyone else deal with this? Of course, I still haven't told people about this blog so photo taking is always a bit conspicous even if I do have time. Even though they won't be reading this, I do love my home friends. We had such fun reminiscing and talking up the old country it really made my weekend.

Onion Upside Down Tarts

4 medium red onions (about 750g)

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 heaped tablespoon of butter (about 25g)

3-4 sprigs of thyme, destalked (or 1/2tsp dried thyme)

1 tsp brown sugar

Splash of Balsamic vinegar

200g Wennslydale Cheese or strong Cheddar or Gruyere grated

200g plain flour

1 scant teaspoon of baking powder

1 tsp salt

100ml milk

40g butter, melted

1 scant teaspoon of English mustard

1 large egg, beaten

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees celsius.

Peel the onions and cut them in half and cut each half into four segments.

Heat the oil and butter in a pan and then add the onions. Cook over a medium heat for 30 minutes, stirring regularly. The onions should be soft and tinged with colour.

Season with salt and pepper and add the brown sugar and Balsamic vinegar to taste.

Put the onions in the bottom of your tin and sprinkle the thyme over the top. Then sprinkle about 50g of the cheese across the onions.

Leave the onions while you make the scone dough. Put the flour, baking powder and salt into a bowl with the remaining cheese.

In a measuring jug thoroughly mix the milk, mustard, egg and the melted butter. Pour into a well in the centre of the dry ingredients and mix with a fork or your hands. The dough should be quite sticky so add a splash more milk if it feels overly dry.

Turn the dough onto a lightly floured board and shape into one large round or enough for your little tins (5-6 tins) and then press the dough onto the onions. Be sure to seal the edges.

Put the tarts into the oven for 15 minutes and then turn the oven down to 180 degrees for a further 10 minutes or until the dough is crisp and golden.

Let the tarts rest for 5 minutes and then invert the dish onto your serving plate so the onions are on the top. Yum.

She Who Dares Bakes

2008-01-27T14:29:00.000Z

One of the reasons I started this blog was to be part of a community. I saw people sharing their lives as they shared their recipes and I wanted to be involved. Normally I'm reluctant to try and be part of something that's already so established - I fear being derided as a pretender or a mere follower. As soon as something is declared to be the 'in thing', I declare that it's not for me. Back in the day when Brad Pitt was first outed as being the man to fancy I decided that I couldn't see it. A decision that I'm sure still causes Brad to silently sob every night.

Of course, this stupid mentality can mean missing out. I'm thankful that I was able to set aside my stubborn ways and not only start this blog but ask to be a member of the Daring Bakers (asking to be part of something is also a big deal for me; I fear I have rejection issues).

As I'm sure you all know, the Daring Bakers are people who live to bake. Each month one member picks a recipe to push everyone out of the baking comfort zone and then write about it. I love the idea of a cooking club. When I was in the first year of secondary school my friend and I started one with the help of one of the Home Economics teachers. We were allowed to choose a recipe and the teacher would help us make it after school. I remember choosing Black Forest Gateaux, something my Mum would never have sanctioned me making at home (too showy).

It was with great excitement that I tackled my first challenge as a Daring Baker: Lemon Meringue Pie. A recipe picked by Jen at The Canadian Baker. This was a great recipe for me to ease into the group as it's something that I've made a few times before (not always without tears). As my recent collection of citrus recipes shows, the zing of these fruits is a perfect way to make you feel alive in January.

When making LMP I tend to use Delia's version. The curd is sharp and yielding and the meringue manages to be light yet substantive. Bliss. I feel for people who only know LMP from the lemon washing up liquid tasting versions that are churned out in canteens and supermarkets. They're missing out.

I took the pie to my friend's house for dinner in my fantastic cake carrier which caused quite a few looks on the tube (don't people know that Tupperware is the new Louis Vuitton daaaaarling?). Everyone enjoyed the pudding, as did I, but I couldn't help feeling that I actually prefer the Delia version. It's really hard for me to admit that as isn't it terribly rude to join the Daring Bakers and then whinge about the recipe in the first post? I thought that the pie looked spectacular. The pile of meringue, the thick layer of curd and the golden crust were everything a LMP should be. However, I prefer my crust to be a bit more crumbly; I thought the addition of so much water made it too hard and crisp. I also felt that the curd had too much cornflour. The texture was a bit too gelatinous and the flavour wasn't as vibrant as I would have liked. Of course, this could all be down to how I made the pie so I am very interested to hear what other people think.

I managed to make one whole pie and a collection of mini pie bites which I served with Greek yoghurt mixed with a little honey and grated ginger. Yum.

Lemon Meringue Pie

Makes one 10 inch pie

Crust

180g cold butter cubed

475g plain flour

60g granulated sugar

80ml iced water

1/4tsp salt

Filling

475ml water

240g granulated sugar

120g cornflour

5 egg yolks, beaten

60g butter

180ml fresh lemon juice

1tbsp lemon zest

1tsp vanilla extract

Meringue

5 egg whites at room temperature

1/2tsp cream of tartar

1/4tsp salt

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

180g sugar

For the Crust:

Make sure all ingredients are as cold as possible. Using a food processor or pastry cutter and a large bowl, combine the butter, flour, sugar and salt. Process or cut in until the mixture resembles coarse meal and begins to clump together.

Sprinkle with water, let rest 30 seconds and then either process very briefly or cut in with about 15 strokes of the pastry cutter, just until the dough begins to stick together and come away from the sides of the bowl.

Turn onto a lightly floured work surface and press together to form a disk. Wrap in plastic and chill for at least 20 minutes.

Allow the dough to warm slightly to room temperature if it is too hard to roll. On a lightly floured board (or worktop) roll the disk to a thickness of ⅛ inch.

Cut a circle about 2 inches larger than the pie plate and transfer the pastry into the plate by folding it in half or by rolling it onto the rolling pin.

Turn the pastry under, leaving an edge that hangs over the plate about ½ inch (1.2 cm). Flute decoratively. Chill for 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 180ºC. Line the crust with foil and fill with metal pie weights or dried beans.

Bake for 20 to 25 minutes. Carefully remove the foil and continue baking for 10 to 15 minutes, until golden.
Cool completely before filling.

For the Filling:

Bring the water to a boil in a large, heavy saucepan. Remove from the heat and let rest for 5 minutes.

Whisk the sugar and cornstarch together. Add the mixture gradually to the hot water, whisking until completely incorporated.

Return to the heat and cook over medium heat, whisking constantly until the mixture comes to a boil. The mixture will be very thick.

Add about 240 ml of the hot mixture to the beaten egg yolks, whisking until smooth.

Whisking vigorously, add the warmed yolks to the pot and continue cooking, stirring constantly, until mixture comes to a boil.

Remove from the heat and stir in butter until incorporated. Add the lemon juice, zest and vanilla, stirring until combined.

Pour into the prepared crust. Cover with plastic wrap to prevent a skin from forming on the surface, and cool to room temperature.

For the Meringue:

Preheat the oven to 190ºC.

Using an electric mixer beat the egg whites with the cream of tartar, salt and vanilla extract until soft peaks form.

Add the sugar gradually, beating until it forms stiff, glossy peaks.

Pile onto the cooled pie, bringing the meringue all the way over to the edge of the crust to seal it completely. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, or until golden. Cool on a rack. Enjoy!

Tip from Joy: In order for the egg whites to whisk properly the bowl needs to be scrupulously clean. Run a lemon wedge around your bowl before adding the egg whites as this gets rid of any grease.

Gather ye Seville Oranges while ye may

2008-01-22T19:37:00.000Z

Like many people I try and eat seasonally. Of course I miss summer fruits at this grey time of year, but I find the sight of swollen strawberries coupled with those limp little raspberries really perverse. As in other areas of life, being overly available is not always a good thing. So, it's with real excitement that we usher in the short and definitely not sweet Seville orange season.

Seville oranges are only available from mid January until February and no number of Tesco polytunnels will change this.* These bitter little oranges are the foundation of one of my favourite foods: Marmalade. As I've already confessed, I have a bit of a thing for toasted cheap white bread. I know it's got the nutritional value of cotton wool, but hey-ho, at least I'm honest. I spent many a happy afternoon at university eating Sunblest bread coated in butter and marmalade. Yum.

My first memory of marmalade is my mum's homemade chunky Dundee version. Mum doesn't have a sweet tooth and so this dark treacley spread didn't really appeal to my young palate. In fact, it was only once I was introduced to the delights of the light, sugary Robinson's version that I realised how much I liked it. Sorry mum.

On Sunday I attempted my first homemade Seville orange marmalade using the same book that my Mum took her Dundee recipe from, reassuringly spotted with past successes.

The process of peeling and chopping the fruit is very therapeutic. There is also something so appealing about filling freshly cleaned jam jars with the amber mixture, knowing that even if the worst happens you will always have a store of something you have made yourself.

Unfortunately I was denied the pleasure of merrily labelling my treasure and decorating the lids with little circles of fabric. Yes, I went wrong. Despite buying a new sugar thermometer for the marmalade-making I refused to trust it. Call me a Luddite, call me stupid, but when the thermometer told me that setting point had been reached after only five minutes, I decided that it couldn't be possible. So, a little later and a few degrees higher, I ended up with marmalade toffee rather than the unctuous jelly for my toast. Oh dear.

I promise that before the marma-rock solidified the flavour was perfect. So, please do try this recipe but don't think that you are above your thermometer!

Classic Seville Marmalade

Yields 10lb - you can scale the recipe down but remember that cooking times may need to be reduced slightly to compensate.

3lb Seville oranges

Juice of 2 lemons

6 pints of water

6lb preserving sugar

Remove any stalk ends from the oranges, give them a good scrub and dry thoroughly.

Using a potato peeler or a sharp knife peel the rind from the oranges in thin downward strips. You just want to take the coloured rind and leave the white pith on the orange.

Cut the rind into thin strips using scissors. I prefer thin strips but you can leave them chunkier if you prefer. Set this peel aside.

Cut the oranges in half and and squeeze all the juice. Be sure to save the pips as these will be used later.

Once you have extracted all the juice and the pulp from the oranges you can slice the white pith from the inside of the orange skins. The pith is the white material that you normally spend ages fastidiously picking off segments when you eat them. I found that the easiest way of doing this is to turn the empty skins inside out and use scissors to cut it out.

Chop the pith roughly and gather it together with the pips. Place together in a square of muslin and tie tightly. Unfortunately I didn't have any muslin so I did some Blue Peter style improvisation and used the toe of some clean tights!

In a large pan put the orange juice, pulp, shredded peel and your little bag of pith. Add the lemon juice and the water.

Bring the fruit mixture to the boil over a low heat and simmer, uncovered, for about 2 hours or until the peel is soft and the mixture has reduced by about half. Please note that this will take less time if you have reduced the recipe.

Remove the bag of pith and add your sugar. Stir constantly until the sugar has dissolved. Turn up the heat and boil the mixture rapidly until setting point has been reached. Setting point is 220 degrees Fahrenheit using a sugar thermometer. Note to self: remember this.**

Leave the marmalade to cool for about 10 minutes and then remove any scum from the surface.

Pour your delicious citrus mixture into your sterilised jars and enjoy. Cheap white bread is optional.

* If, however, you want to buy Seville oranges now but don't have time to make marmalade you can freeze them whole.

** If you don't have a thermometer you can also check whether setting point has been reached by chilling a saucer in the fridge and then pour a little marmalade on to it. If a wrinkled skin forms within a few minutes then it is good to go.

Putting Some Zest Into January

2008-01-13T09:45:00.000Z

January is a bi-polar month. As much as I love the brand-spanking new feeling of anything being possible and the next 366 days being a chance to be the best person I possibly can, it's also rather bleak. There are all the standard reasons: no money, stringent resolutions, being back at work (is it only me that hopes to be bumped into by a car on the way to the office to get a few weeks off work with a broken leg?), but there's also that heavy weight of self-analysis at this time of year: am I living life or is life living me?

I'm sure that many people have these grey feelings at this time of year and the malaise is not helped by the miserable old weather. It's hard to walk around with a spring in your step when you feel that if you were able to spring, you'd bash your head on the blanket of cloud seemingly only a few feet above you. Nature, however, is not all bad. It may be monochrome outside, but inside there are citrus fruits. Not only is the vibrant peel of a lemon a reminder that colour will, one day return, the flavours give life to your taste buds and can help give a renewed sense of vigour.

A little while back I was feeling a little 'timesick'. Do you ever get that feeling when you are thinking about a time in the past and you can remember it so vividly that the longing for it is almost tangible? I was missing being little. Coming home from school, mum being in the kitchen and nothing to worry about but tomorrow's spelling test, little. One thing I remember my Mum making at this stage was lemon curd and, in my timesick state, I decided to make a couple of jars. Once I'd made the curd and smeared it on a thick slice of toast (as in the old days) I felt like a little of the little me had returned.

I've had a spare jar of the curd in my fridge for a month and since, for January, I am trying not to eat as much toast (does anyone else think a group of toast-eaters anonymous would be very useful?) I was trying to think of other ways to use it.* I've had it stirred into Greek yoghurt, directly from the jar, a-top apple sauce and had considered a lemon curd roulard, but thought this would be better in the summer with some fresh raspberries. In the end, I decided to make my own lemon version of a bread and butter pudding. The perfect combination of winter comfort with a citrus, January's not that bad, kick.

The end result was delicious. The lemon really lifted the standard bread and butter pudding and although the ginger scented custard wasn't as powerful as I would have liked, a hint of the flavour was there. I was hoping to make a caramelised crust using my new Christmas blow-torch but unfortunately it hadn't come with any gas and as the grill was refusing to work, the crust wasn't to be. I made a mini-version of the pudding in my super cute dishes, but I have scaled it up to serve four below. Not only is this a great winter pud, I also think that it could be a great brunch dish.

Basic Lemon Curd

(makes approximately 1lb)

Grated rind and juice of 2 large lemons

3 eggs

4oz butter

8oz sugar (I used light brown sugar, but I think caster would be better)

Beat the eggs lightly and mix in the lemon rind and juice, butter and sugar.

Place in the top of a double boiler or in a bowl over simmering water.
Heat gently, stirring occasionally until the sugar has dissolved and the curd thickens.

Pour into clean, dry jars and cover with a circle of waxed paper.

The curd should be kept in the fridge and used within a month.

Lemon Bread and Butter Pudding
8 slices of white bread (stale is best - I used the last few slices of my pre-2008 cheap white loaf**)
3oz sultanas or raisins (I also think that dried cranberries would work well)
2 large eggs
2 level tablespoons of light brown sugar and a little more for the top
1 pint of milk (use semi-skimmed or whole milk)
8 tablespoons or so of lemon curd
Extra butter for the bread (optional)
1.5cm fresh ginger root grated
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Remove the crusts from the bread. If you are making individual puddings you will want to cut the bread into the same shape as your little dish. Otherwise you can cut the bread into triangles.

Heat the milk slowly with the grated ginger root and allow it to cool down so that the milk takes on the flavour. The flavour was very subtle when I did it, so if you want it to be stronger you could grate a little extra ginger to layer between the bread.

Lightly beat the eggs with the sugar and add the cooled milk. Beat together.

Spread your shapes of bread with a thin layer of butter (this is optional) on both sides. Then smear your lemon curd on both sides. I spread reasonably thickly.

In a lightly buttered dish lay the first layer of curded bread. Sprinkle half of the dried fruit (and ginger if you want extra) onto the bread and then half of your egg/milk layer. I held down the bread with a wooden spoon to make sure it was soaking up all of the eggy mixture.

Add the second layer of bread and top with the remainder of the dried fruit and the egg mixture. Sprinkle the cinnamon across the top.

Bake the pudding in a preheated oven (180 degrees) for approximately 30 minutes or until the egg has set and the top is golden.

Once the pudding is cooked sprinkle the remaining sugar on the top and place under a hot grill to get a nice crust.

* Fruit curds should be eaten within one month or so.

** I know it's not very foodie, but I love toasted cheap white bread like roses love the rain.

*** Just a quick note to say that Savina Tessitore was the winner of my Menu for Hope prize. Thank you so much for bidding Savina (and the others who also purchased a ticket). I am very grateful and proud that Menu for Hope raised over $90,000. Wow! Please get in touch Savina, I'm in the middle of making your prize...

Puritanical Soup

2008-01-06T16:54:00.000Z

So, 2008 is all about detoxing mind, body and soul. I'm trying to avoid trashy TV shows and gossip magazines (well, apart from in the hairdressers) as well as trying to spend less time with those toxic people that don't do anything but make you feel rubbish about yourself. Foodwise, I'm trying to cut out anything processed and just enjoy my own cooking. Whenever I 'treat' myself to cakes and biscuits on the run, I'm always disappointed. Not only do they taste sub-standard but they're full of wonky ingredients. Well, anyway, that's the plan.

Yesterday I met up with my lovely friend Y (she of the heart-patterned oven gloves) at the wonderful Books for Cooks in Notting Hill. I first heard about this bookshop a couple of years ago but I was reminded of it on Oswego Tea's blog. The shop is a must if you are in London. It has the most marvelous range of cookbooks and there's even a sofa so you can look at them properly. I was very excited to see the Junior's Cheesecake recipe book that I resisted in New York, but I resisted once more for the sake of the New Year health kick. However, if I see it again it will clearly be fate and I'll have to get it, cheesecake calories and all.

Books for Cooks has a little cafe at the back of the shop where they make homemade dishes from their numerous recipe books. Yesterday when Y and I arrived for a late lunch they only had cakes left. Clearly the God of healthy-eating plans couldn't punish me when I ordered the prune and custard sponge, given that there was no alternative. Besides, the fact that the cake was homemade it fit right in with my no processed foods rule. A real treat.

After our cake and tea we went looking for the spice stall on Portobello Road market, alas it wasn't there. I had planned to toast and grind my own spice blend for tandoori chicken but in the end I had to buy a ready prepared mix from the local Indian store. It was good, but I felt cheated out of doing it myself. What I did make this weekend was a soup inspired by Y. She told me about a very simple lentil soup she'd made and it sounded like a perfect New Year dish.

I'm not going to lie to you; this is not a jazzy recipe. It's a frugal dish but it's also a wholesome one. I wanted to keep it very simple, but I've included additions which may be more to your tastes.

Puritanical Lentil Soup

This makes a large pan full of soup - perfect for taking into work if you're also on a post-Christmas money saving stint as well.

500g red split lentils

4 large carrots peeled and diced

2 onions peeled and diced (I used one red and one white)

2 cloves of garlic crushed

1 heaped teaspoon cumin seeds

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 litres chicken stick

Juice of half a lemon

Salt and Pepper

2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary*

Put the lentils in a bowl of water to allow any grit to float to the surface. Discard the water.

Heat the oil in a large saucepan and gently fry the onions and garlic. Add the cumin and the rosemary and fry over a gentle heat until the onions are soft and the scent of the cumin is released.

Add the carrots, lentils and stock to the pan and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for around 40 minutes or until the lentils have broken down and the carrots are soft.

Add salt and pepper to taste. Blend the soup.

Add the lemon juice.

I served mine with the equally no frills oat-cakes.

Variations:

Add a heaped teaspoon of ground ginger or some fresh ginger root along with the cumin. You could also add other spices such as coriander seeds or even curry spices to produce a dahl type soup.

Fry some bacon or pancetta along with the onions and then keep it to the side and sprinkle on the soup at the end.

Serve the soup with caramelised onions or toasted seeds sprinkled on top of the soup.

* I couldn't resist the rosemary from Portobello Market - it smelled so good. I might put a bunch of it in my laundry cupboard to scent the sheets. The green smell will help me get over the loss of the Christmas tree which we took down today - booooo.

Hammy New Year

2008-01-01T18:43:00.000Z

A very happy new year to all of you. I hope you've enjoyed the holiday period and are feeling well rested and ready for 2008.

The start of a new year is full of such promise. There's something so exciting about a blank diary and the opportunity for a fresh start. As usual I have a host of resolutions* and the desire for reinvention. One of these years I'll realise that, as the Housemate so wisely says, "those that are truly happy desire what they already have" but maybe next year.

As much as I love the start of a new year, I'm not a big fan of New Year's Eve. The frivolity is all a little forced. It's so hard to actually organise what you're doing because people are so wary of committing to anything lest they miss out on a fuure invite to the 'party of the year'. Inevitably you end up paying £25 to get into a bar you would never normally consider and spend the whole night wondering how you're going to get a taxi home. My favourite New Year's Eve since reaching the age where it was no longer socially acceptable to stay at home with parents was the one I had tonsillitis. How I rejoiced when I realised I had a legitimate excuse to stay in bed and watch the rubbich TV counting down to Big Ben's bongs.

This year we rejected the hustle and bustle in favour of a dinner at home. Because of my self-imposed lock down on all calorific foods post January 2nd (you've got to allow New Year's Day to ease into it) we decided to go a little nuts with the treats. Not only did we have all the Christmas chocolate to finish, I also made a chocolate loaf cake and the housemate made his mum's chocolate mint mousse. There may also have been some ice-cream and additional cookies...

In order to line our stomachs before the assault of the sweets, I wanted to make a balanced main course. I decided to go for a baked ham which I made a couple of years ago. This recipe comes from Martha Stewart's Living magazine which I discovered when travelling in America. The ham is baked with cider, honey and pears. Towards the end of cooking, cranberries are added to provide a tangtastic contrast. I added to the recipe by boiling the ham in cider before roasting and using less sugar, preferring to add parsnips to the mix for their sweetness. If you want to use a pre-cooked ham, just start from step three.

This is a delicious recipe which I'm sure would be a welcome addition to the roast dinner circuit. Thanks Martha.

Baked Ham with Pears and Cranberries

Serves 8

2.5kg smoked gammon joint (choose unsmoked if you prefer)

Whole cloves (you will need about 30)

2 litres of cider (you don't need anything too fancy but I didn't want to chance White Lightening!)

1 1/2 cups of honey

1 cinnamon stick

5 pears, quartered and cored (I used Conference pears)

3 cups of cranberries (fresh or frozen)

4 parsnips, peeled, quartered and parboiled.

1/2 cup of soft brown sugar (I ended up using about half of this)

1/2 tsp ground ginger

1 onion peeled and cut in half

Put the gammon joint into a pan of cold water and bring it to the boil. This is to remove any excess salt. Discard the water and rinse the pan of any froth and scum.

Put the onion halves in the pan and put the de-salted joint on top of them. Pour 1.5 litres of cider into the pan and bring it to the boil. Once the liquid has boiled, reduce the heat to a simmer and put the lid on the pan (not too tightly). Simmer for 2.5 hours (adapt the cooking times according to the weight of the joint). You can do this in advance if you prefer.

Preheat the oven to 170 degrees. Remove the ham from the cider and slice the tough rind off the joint leaving the white fat exposed. I'm sure someone clever could think of something to do with the cooking liquid, perhaps a soup base, but I'm afraid I got rid of it.

Score the fat in a diamond pattern and add a clove to each diamond. Place the ham in a roasting dish. Mix the remaining 0.5 litre of fresh cider with 1 cup of the honey and pour the unctuous mixture over the ham. Roast in the oven for an hour (you may need to cover the meat with foil to stop it getting too dark). Baste the meat half way through.

Add the cinnamon, pears and parsnips to the pan and cook for a further 45 minutes (basting twice). Add the cranberries and cook until the pears are soft and the cranberries are about to burst (about 30 minutes). Remove the fruit from the pan with a slotted spoon and keep them in a separate dish covered with foil. Leave the meat out of the oven, covered with foil.

Pour the cooking juices into a small pan and add the remaining half cup of honey, the sugar and the ginger. Bring the mixture to a boil over a medium heat and cook until the mixture becomes syrupy and has reduced by half. Pour the glaze over the ham and cook for 15 minutes.

Remove the ham from the oven, cover with foil and leave it to rest for 15 minutes or until you are ready to eat. Pour any remaining pan juices over the fruit and parsnips. I served the ham with a simple baked potatoes (you want something quite plain to showcase the sweet flavours of the meat and fruits) and green vegetables. Delicious.

* My cooking resolution is to grind my own spices, does anyone else have any good ones?

Driving Home For Christmas With A Thousand Memories

2007-12-24T18:34:00.000Z

I actually got the train home for Christmas, but this Chris Rea classic is one of my favourite Christmas songs so there you go. Yes, I've arrived home in my native Yorkshire, bags laden with Christmas Puds and slightly squashed mince-pies.

The Christmas season doesn't start for me until I have seen the pantomime at York Theatre Royal. I've attended this panto for the past twenty-three years and it's the same cast each time (mercifully no ex-soap stars or other d-list celebrities allowed). The show culminates in the flinging of wagon wheels into the audience. Unfortunately I narrowly missed catching one this year because of my sister's superior reach.

Here at home I am without my own kitchen and I can't really upload any photos, but I'm not going to go without a Christmas post (well the Queen doesn't miss a message does she?). For many, the Christmas lunch is probably one of the most stressful meals of the year. With the constant tips and menu planners in magazines and on TV it's all too easy to get overwhelmed. I think it's important to remember that it's just a roast. Yes, there are many variations on the theme, but if you're feeling harassed remember that it's as simple as you want to make it.

Rather than giving you a recipe, I thought I would include a few roast dinner tips that have helped me in the past. Whatever you're doing tomorrow I hope you have a fantastic day and that if you're the one cooking, your efforts are truly appreciated. Merry Christmas!

Roast Potatoes
For perfect roast potatoes make sure that they have been fully drained once parboiled. Put the lid back on the pan and give the potatoes a vigorous shake; really bash them around. These rough edges will give lots of tasty crispy bits once they are cooked. Make sure that the oil is piping hot before you put the potatoes in; they should sizzle on contact. This will give you a lovely crisp shell and a fluffy centre.

Turkey
If you are worried about the turkey drying out, but you don't want to cook it breast down, layer the top with streaky bacon. Towards the end of the cooking time remove the bacon so that the skin can brown. The bacon can then be crumbled into the gravy.

Be sure to allow the turkey plenty of time to rest before serving. If you cover the bird with a tent of foil it will stay hot and the juices will have chance to settle. You can use this time to turn the oven temperature right up to finish your roast potatoes.

Gravy
Don't waste the juices from your turkey. Once you have skimmed off any fat, scrape the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon to loosen the sticky flavoursome patches. You can add a splash of wine at this stage to help. In a small bowl or mug mix a tablespoon of flour with a little water to make a roux, then add this to the juices. Over a low heat stir the flour mixture and then gradually add the water from your cooked vegetables. Once the gravy has thickened you can add more water or wine to get the desired consistency.

If you are serving your gravy in a boat, fill it with boiling water to heat up before you put your gravy into it. This will help it stay warm for longer.

Washing Up
No way. You've just cooked a delicious meal so go and sit down on the sofa with your drink of choice and make sure you have a portion of the day to rest and reflect.

Buttering Up Father Christmas...

2007-12-21T21:06:00.000Z

Last week I promised you a recipe for Brandy Butter to enjoy with your Christmas Pudding or, indeed, mince pies. Not wanting to incur the wrath of Father Christmas (I'm still holding out for the "nice" list) I will of course oblige.

You've got to love recipes like this. I mean, someone was sat at home with a pastry cup full of candied fruit and thought this really isn't rich enough, hmmm, perhaps some more butter would help. Hmmm not butter on it's own, that's a bid odd. I know! Butter with sugar and alcohol. Great. Anyway, regardless of its non-health-giving properties, brandy butter is a Christmas staple and you've got to "tox" before you can detox, right?

The butter hardens in the fridge so that when you dollop it on top of your warm Christmas Pudding it provides a cool (and slightly boozy) contrast. Traditionally the butter is made with icing sugar, but I like to use light brown sugar to give it a slight caramel flavour, although it's not quite as smooth. Don't feel constrained by brandy if it's not your thing. Rum and whisky work really well and this year I have also made amaretto butter.

If you get a chance, I think this butter would be very good in different guises. Perhaps sandwiched in biscuits or as the buttercream icing on a fairy cake.

Unfortunately this post is somewhat lacking in photos. As the nights draw in I'm finding it harder and harder to get decent light for pictures so you'll just have to make the recipe to get a proper look.

Brandy Butter

3oz unsalted butter

3oz of soft brown sugar (or icing sugar if you prefer a smoother finish)

Grated rind of 1 small orange

2-3 tablespoons of brandy or your favourite spirit
Cream the butter until it is soft and pale.

Beat in the sugar and the orange rind until smooth.
Gradually add the alcohol and beat into the butter until it is well incorporated.
Put the butter in the fridge for a couple of hours or until it hardens.
The butter will melt on top of your warm pud.

PS Blogger keeps losing the formatting on this post - boooo - apologies!

Don't Make Me Write Another Poem...

2007-12-20T21:33:00.000Z

This is just a quick reminder to buy a raffle ticket for your favourite Menu for Hope prize by TONIGHT! I am positive you'll be able to find something that takes your fancy and if it's my Afternoon Tea prize, that's even better.

Check out Cook Sister to see the list of sad and lonely prizes with only a few takers. I'm sorry to say my package is on there too, saved only from total rejection by nepotism (thanks Mr Bedmate). Once you have made your choice, take your $10 (come on guys, that's only £5) to the donation site and get bidding. Don't be a lemon!

Christmas Time, Mincepies and Mulled Wine...

2007-12-16T09:59:00.000Z

If you were to gather your friends in a mock Family Fortunes style event and ask them to name the foods they most associate with Christmas, mince pies would definitely be up there. Christmas just wouldn't be Christmas without Santa Claus's favourite post-chimney snack.

Apparently mince pies have been around since the days of yore and yes they did used to contain real meat. Nowadays the pie filling is made up of spiced fruits with a little alcohol although some tricksters do like to try and make unwitting foreigners believe otherwise (namely the naughty Housemate with her Greek friend).

Last Christmas we had a big Mince Pie Party at our flat, complete with mulled wine and gingerbread. For me, it was an opportunity to have all our friends drop in for a pie and a glass of festive cheer in a glamorous 50s house-wife cocktail party type style. Unfortunately the Housemate and the Bedmate saw it more as an opportunity to get drunk on mulled wine (they thought I didn't see them sucking the alcohol out of the orange segment dregs) so it wasn't quite as sophisticated as I had hoped. Drunken helpers aside, it was a great party.

This year we were getting ready to launch MPPII, but unfortunately we just couldn't find a suitable date. Well, that's the official line, truth is that the thought of spending the whole weekend making, serving and cleaning up pies for 50 was too much for some people (no names, Mr Bedmate) to cope with. Instead, I made a few trays of pies for us and a couple of friends to enjoy.

I love the fact that mince pies are something that people who don't typically bake will make at Christmas. I just wish that more people would take the logical step of making their own mincemeat to go in the little things. If you're going to go through the rigmarole of making your own pastry (surely the hardest step in the process?) it seems such a shame to waste that effort with sub-standard mincemeat. So many beautiful pies are ruined by acidic, preservative-filled fillings. Is it just me or does your average jar of supermarket mincemeat look like paste?

Making your own mincemeat is ridiculously easy. I mean, it's just stirring. In fact, if you are looking for homemade gifts but you can't face the prospect of getting your rolling pin out, a jar of mincemeat would be an excellent idea. This mincemeat recipe does come with one warning though. I finally convinced my Dad to make his own filing for his lovely mince pies last year. The day after making (and eating most of) the mixture he had a doctor's appointment where he was diagnosed with diabetes. Poor Dad. He still blames this news on the mincemeat. I have to say that the preceding 56 years of sweet treats are more likely to be the culprit.

If you're struggling to feel festive, gather the ingredients for these little pies, put your favourite Christmas CD on in the kitchen and get pie-making. These are excellent gifts (they freeze really well) and even if you don't want to give them away, they are perfect for an afternoon on the sofa watching a Christmas film with your favourite people. I should also say that these little fellas are also perfect specimens for Karyn's and Ann's Mini Pie Revolution.

Homemade Mincemeat

You can make this in advance and store in clean jars until you are ready to use it (or give it as a gift). Alternatively, you can make it the night before you need it and leave it covered in the fridge.This recipe yields 2kg so you will have plenty of filling left. The pastry should make about 24 pies.

450g apples (I used braeburns) grated or chopped finely
225g currants
225g raisins
225g sultanas
125g candied peel
125g glace cherries
125g dates chopped small
225g soft brown sugar
175g grated suet
Grated rind and juice of one lemon
Chopped stem ginger to taste - I also use about 1 tbsp of the syrup from the ginger.
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp grated nutmeg
5 tbsp rum or any other alcohol you have in the house. I used a mixture of rum and port.

You can add nuts if you fancy them - sometimes I use flaked almonds. You could also use your other favourite dried fruits but you may need to add a little extra liquid; it's not an exact science.

500g plain flour
125g butter
125g lard/shortening
pinch of salt

1 egg to make an egg wash (optional)

Put all the ingredients together in a bowl and stir thoroughly.

Cover the mixture and leave it to mature for at least 24 hours. I kept mine in the fridge for a couple of days before I got round to making the pies. If you are saving some of the mincemeat for gifts or for next year, transfer into sterilized jars and top with a wax circle/lid. Store in a cool, dark place.

When your mincemeat has matured you can make the pastry.

Rub the fats into the flour and salt by hand or by using a food processor.

Add a couple of tablespoons of very cold water and bring the pastry together into a ball.

Chill for an hour or so in the fridge.

Once the pastry is ready to use, roll it out and cut discs for the base of your pies.

Fill the pies with a heaped teaspoon of mincemeat and top with another disk (I used hearts and stars for prettiness sake).

Add a little slit for steam to escape and brush with the beaten egg. I added some cinnamon to the egg wash for extra spice.

Put into a preheated oven (220 degrees) for 20 minutes or until the pies are browned.

Sift with icing-sugar.

Enjoy with mulled wine.*

* The best recipe I've found for mulled wine is from Nigella Lawson's How to be a Domestic Goddess.

Remember to vote for one of the Menu for Hope Prizes!

Menu For Hope

2007-12-12T20:58:00.000Z

Homemade Spiced Parkin and Loose Tea From Fortnums

Shortbread and Fruitcake from my Home to Your Tums

Beautifully Wrapped-up and Tied Tight With String

I Hope that You will Like my Tea-time Things

I know, I know, the legacy of Rodgers and Hammerstein is still safe. Please excuse my poetic outburst, I'm trying to whet your appetite for my Menu for Hope prize. As I'm sure you are all aware this year's Menu for Hope started on 10th December and I have decided to get involved.

Menu for Hope was created five years ago by Chez Pim; you can get a history of the fund-raising project here. This year Menu for Hope is raising money for the UN Food Programme and more specifically a school lunch programme in Lesotho, Africa. Not only do the children get a nutritious lunch, they are also encouraged to stay in their classes and learn.

We all love to write and read about food; cooking is our hobby. However, I don't expect that many of us truly understand the relationship between food and survival. I know that I have never been truly hungry.

Ok, I'm not going to bang on using words like worthwhile and Christmas Spirit; you know what's right. Not only will you get a warm fuzzy feeling in the depths of your soul, you will also get a big box of treats. Yes, in January, when all that arrives is credit card bills and, if you're lucky, a late-posted Christmas card, you will get a parcel full of fun. Yes, you will get a box of homemade tea-time delights:

The Famous Royal Blend Tea from Fortnum and Mason
Yorkshire Parkin
Moist Fruitcake
Wennsleydale Cheese (to eat with the Fruit Cake - in the Yorkshire style)
Butter Shortbread

I've chosen these treats because, not only are they delicious representatives of my Yorkshire roots, they will travel and keep well. So, (law of the land permitting) I'll send this anywhere in the world. I promise that I will wrap everything up with lots of bows and tissue paper and I'll probably add some other little bits and bobs: it will be a care package sent with love.

Hopefully you will now be inspired to by a raffle ticket and bid for item UK38. Here are the full details of how to do it:

1. Choose the prize or prizes of your choice from the main Menu for Hope site. (This is the global list of all prizes donated this year. Alternatively, you can see only the UK prizes on Cooksister.) You must make sure to check the terms and conditions for the individual prizes BEFORE you bid, as some will come with restrictions regarding where they ship to or how long the prize is valid for.

2. Go to the donation site and make a donation. The hosts do not handle the cash at all - it goes directly to Justgiving to be passed on to the World Food Programme.

3. Please specify the prize code of the prize you'd like in the 'Personal Message' section in the donation form when confirming your donation. Each $10 you donate will give you one raffle ticket toward a prize of your choice. If you are buying more than one ticket, please indicate how you would like the tickets to be allocated. For example, a donation of $50 can be 2 tickets for EU01 and 3 tickets for EU02. Please write 2xEU01, 3xEU02.

4. If your company matches your charity donation, please check the box and fill in the information so we could claim the corporate match.

5. Please check the box to allow us to see your email address so that we could contact you in case you win. Your email address will not be shared with anyone. Remember to check back on Chez Pim on Wednesday January 9 for the results of the raffle.

Now Bring Us Some Figgy Pudding

2007-12-09T21:08:00.000Z

One of my favourite things about the Christmas season is Advent Calendars. There is something so special about counting down, door by door, to the much anticipated Christmas Day. In this world of instant gratification, where the pleasure of saving up is lost and instead we have the drugery of paying back the credit card long after the excitement of the purchase has worn off, there is something beautiful about the anticipation of 24 little doors made of card.

In the middle of last week my little advent calendar reminded me that I hadn't yet made my Christmas puddings. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to do them until yesterday, eight doors late. Officially, Christmas puddings should be made on "Stir-up Sunday" (the final Sunday before Advent begins. By making your puds this early in the month it gives the flavours chance to mature and deepen (much like a good fruit cake) but I like to think a homemade pudding, made even a week or so late, is still preferable to a the shop bought one. Seriously, if you look at your average supermarket pudding they look like canon balls. Heavy, un-naturally black and always in those red-plastic pots - what's that about? Making one yourself is really simple and if you are looking for home-made gift ideas who wouldn't be happy to receive a little muslin-wrapped bundle of fruity delight?

This recipe makes enough for two 2 litre puddings. I was trying to make lots of little ones to give as presents but after my newly-purchased set of molds met an unfortunate end (note to self: stop swinging your shopping bags when walking on tarmac) I made four 0.5 litre puds instead. I was going to use my slow cooker to steam them, but with a stereotyped lack of spacial awareness, I underestimated how much room the puddings would need so I ended up doing them in batches in my largest saucepan.

One of the traditions of pudding cooking is making a wish when you stir the mixture (anti-clockwise). So, if you don't make a pudding yourself then you miss out on your chance for a wish. What could be better than having a homemade pudding and winning the lottery/meeting your dream partner/world peace?

Traditonal Christmas Pudding

175g plain flour

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp mixed spice

1/2 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp grated nutmeg

125g fresh wholemeal or white breadcrumbs

125g shredded suet

75g demerara sugar

125g raisins

225g currants

225g sultanas

50g chopped candied peel

50g glace cherries

100g chopped dates

25g stem ginger (optional)

1 medium sized apple (grated)

1 medium carrot (grated)

Juice and grated rind of 1 orange and 1 lemon

1 level tablespoon of treacle

2 beaten eggs

200ml stout (I used Guinness)

You will have to leave the mixture to mature overnight so bear this in mind!

Seive the flour, salt and spices into a large bowl.
Add breadcrumbs, suet, sugar and fruit - mix well.
Add grated apple, carrot, rind and juice of the lemon and orange , treacle, eggs and spout. Mix very well together.
Make a wish!
Leave for several hours or overnight.
When you are ready to make the puds, stir the mixture again and put it in your greased basins. Cover the top with two layers of greased proof paper. Make a pleat in the paper so that there is room for the pudding to expand. Add a layer of foil and secure tightly.
Stand the pudding on an upturned saucer, I used a cookie cutter, in a pan and pour boiling water into the pan so it is half way up the side of the pudding basin.
Steam as follows: 1l basin - 8 hours, 600ml - 6 hours, 300ml - 4 hours.
Do not let the puddings boil dry - top up the water as necessary. The puddings are done when a knife inserted into the centre comes out clean.
Remove the grease proof paper and the foil and leave them to cool. Once they are cool add a circle of grease proof paper and re-wrap with foil. Store the puds in a cool place until you are ready to eat them.
When it comes to Christmas day, re-steam the puddings. 3 hours for the large puds, 2 hours for the smaller puds and 1.5 hours for the micro puddings.
Set aflame (vodka produces the best flame) and serve with brandy butter (recipe will follow).

The Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave

2007-12-03T13:23:00.000Z

I am, much to the amusement of those who know me well, a huge Yankophile. I think my passion began aged ten when I first discovered the stories of Laura Ingalls Wilder. Growing up, I lived in small village and one of my first acts of independence was going on the only bus of the day to the market town of Thirsk to be met by my (much missed) Gran. Before going to her bungalow for lunch we would visit the small bookshop with the basket of secondhand books outside the front door. It was here that I purchased my first 'Little House' book. Over the summer holidays and using my meagre pocket money I was able to collect the whole series. These books became my comfort blanket. Whenever I felt lost I was able to escape to the plains and be part of a world where Pa kept danger outside the cabin and even in times of hardship Ma put food on the table.

I know that these books are an institution in America but most people here are only familiar with them through the (not so great) TV series. At the time, I pledged that if I had a family I would raise them the Ingalls way and now, when life gets too complicated, I reaffirm that pledge to myself.

Since my first taste of the Prairie, my love for the great US of A has only grown. The housemate thinks this is hilarious and yells at me to stand every time 'The Star Spangled Banner' is played. The Bedmate finds it a little less amusing, but this could be due to the fact that I might have (once or twice) mentioned that I would quite like to marry a Senator.

Anyway, I was at my American History evening class (I know, I know) in September and I decided that it would be a great idea to have a Thanksgiving Dinner for a few friends. Due to scheduling problems we had it, a week and 2 days late, on Saturday night. Wow. After the initial embarrassment of explaining to the Housemate's invitees that, no I don't have any American relatives and yes, I do know that it is slightly odd to celebrate Thanksgiving considering I was born and raised this side of the Atlantic, the evening was a huge success.

We started with Shrimp Cocktail (anyone calling it prawn cocktail was quickly corrected - prawn cocktail is a slightly naf 1970s dinner party staple whereas shrimp cocktail is an acceptably American sounding starter) with Autumn leaf Melba toast (ha ha - what fun!).

For the main course we went all out:

Roast Turkey

Mashed Potatoes

Cranberry Sauce

Giblet Stock Gravy

Sausage and Cranberry Stuffing

Biscuits ( a few sceptical looks here - why was I serving scones with the main course?)

Sweet Potatoes with Marshmallows (again, general bemusement but the cynics quietened on tasting)

It was a struggle for me to cook a roast dinner without Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes but I was striving for authenticity so they just didn't make the cut. For pudding it was Pumpkin Pie (how could it not be?) and Chocolate Pecan Pie.

Unfortunately I still haven't told people that I am writing this blog so it was difficult for me to take many photos of the food. It's bad enough being the America-obsessive for the evening without being the crazy girl who photographs her food too. Sadly I didn't get any photos of the table either although I did have a lot of fun decorating it with my munchkin gourds and Indian Corn (smuggled through customs on the way back from New York).

It seems slightly redundant posting Thanksgiving recipes when there are so many excellent American food blogs available. So rather than take coals to Newcastle I will leave you with the picture round quiz we created for people to complete while waiting for the main course to be served. First person to send all the correct answers gets my final can of pureed pumpkin.

Quiztastic:

The Second Fruit Recipe; That Makes a Pear*

2007-11-25T18:05:00.000Z

In case anyone is tempted by the thought of pear puddings, but can't quite face the rigmarole of tart making I'm adding this simple recipe. Like many budding cooks I have a bit of a feeder complex. However, having been brought up by parents who were born in the 50s and loathing the 'throw-away' culture which now prevails, I don't get rid of anything and often find myself with leftovers to make into something new.

So, left with some surplus poached pears from my pear and almond tart, I had the pleasure of making another treat. Normally I would have saved the fruit to chop up on my porridge or stirred it into some Greek yoghurt. However, I was spending Friday evening with some friends and so making something a little more calorific seemed like a better option.**

My friend K is a dazzling antipodean platinum blonde, so what else could I take for my first visit to her fabulous west London flat than blondies. I took the basic recipe from Deb's Smitten Kitchen (loving the one bowl after all the post dinner party washing-up), added plenty of white chocolate and the mashed pears. I found that the pears cut through the sweetness of the cake and provided an interesting texture coupled with the chocolate chunks.

Pear and White Chocolate Blondies

8 tablespoons of butter

1 cup (220g) of brown sugar (I used muscavado)

1 egg

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 cup (125g) plain flour

pinch of salt

2 poached pears (you don't have to be too exact with this) mashed or pureed

400g white chocolate cut into chunks

Pre-heat oven to 180 degrees.
Grease an 8x8 inch baking pan (I actually doubled the recipe*** and used my trusty slide-out brownie pan).
Melt the butter in the microwave/pan and add the sugar, stirring well.

Beat in the egg and the pinch of salt.

Fold in the flour to make a smooth batter.

Stir in the pear and the white chocolate.

Pour the mixture into the pan and cook for 20-25 minutes or until sufficiently fudgy. As with all brownie/blondie creations it's best to be slightly undercooked than, heavens forbid, dry.

Enjoy!

* Sorry! I get it from my Dad.

** It's always safer when I know I have to take something somewhere so I can't just slither off too many 'trial' pieces for myself before packing it away.

*** Of course, by doubling the recipe I made sure that when I did want to slither some slices to keep for Saturday night with the Housemate and Strictly Come Dancing I still had plenty to take.

Here We Go Round the Prickly Pear at 8:30pm on a Work Night*

2007-11-24T11:43:00.000Z

As much as I love Nigella Lawson's recipes, she and I diverge when it comes to dinner party planning. Those of you who have read her books will know that she eschews fussy individual portions, can only add table decorations in an ironic sense and loves the informality of everyone gathering in the kitchen and watching and sampling as she cooks. Um, no. I suspect that people who agree with her are those who enjoy "open-plan living" and dream of guests gathering around a breakfast bar so that they can "chat as they cook".

Don't get me wrong, I too hate those stiff and pompous occasions when people are too fearful to enjoy the food because they are worried about which bread plate is theirs**. But, old-fashioned as I may be, I relish the chance to lay a table properly. I love rummaging at antique fairs and flea markets searching for beautiful and unusual tableware and I am probably one of the few twenty-somethings who grapple with the question of whether writing people's names on dried leaves with gold pen is a step too far***. Sitting around a beautiful table (even when the plates are a mixture of flea market and Ikea) is a chance to satisfy creative urges and celebrate the aesthetic.

What's more, the notion of standing at a kitchen island while six people watch me prepare the food fills me with dread. If I'm in the last-minute fluster of getting food ready to eat, I can't cope with people peering over my shoulder, judging my over-zealous use of butter and asking advice about latest boy-friend woes at the same time. Even when I was cooking a simple tomato sauce for one of my dearest friends (who is very health conscious) I had to resort to distracting her so I could quickly sneak in the butter. It's just not relaxing.

However, when you are attempting to cook a three course meal for six on a Tuesday night after work you begin to wish you weren't so bloody particular and could just give everyone a job in the kitchen, sweep the vegetable peelings off the table and tell everyone to tuck-in. But no. I cycle home swearing because it's raining (of course) and the water is leaking through the gaps in my bike helmet and converting my blow-dried hair back to its default position of frizz. Cycling is particularly perilous because the groceries that wouldn't fit in my pannier are bashing against my leg and causing me to veer unpredictably into the road. All the while my inner critic is taunting me because I bought the cheese straws for nibbles rather than baking them myself. Of course, because of my need to have the table set before everyone arrives (complete with candle/floral centrepiece) I forgo the chance to have a shower and so spend the evening clammy and jealous of my sweeter smelling friends.

Despite all the pre-dinner panic and my cheese-straw induced self-flagellation, the evening went well. To begin with I made an onion tarte tatin which is one of my friends-coming over staples. It's a really simple recipe but i won't include it here as unfortunately I was too busy folding napkins to take photos. I promise I will add it soon though as it's a real winner. For the main course it was beef bourguignon made in my trusty slow cooker and served with roast potatoes. I got the potatoes from the excellent Borough Market, they'd come all the way from Northumberland and were a fluffy variety perfect for roasting. They certainly made a beautifully crisp shell with light buttery innards.

For pudding, it was a pear and almond tart. I had made the pastry at the weekend using my mum's early-80s food processor. For years I faithfully made pastry by hand (always the purist) thinking that by playing by the rules I would end up with a superior product. It was actually my dad's mince pies which made me realise that using a processor could produce a superior result. Not only does the pastry stay cooler I find that you don't need to add as much liquid. The only problem is that it can be tempting to make the pastry too short. This time I ended up with a really light crumbly crust, but it was a real bother to roll out (hence the raggedy edges). Obviously it wasn't as pretty as I would have liked, but combined with the velvety almond custard and the vanilla-poached pears it was a real treat.

Pear and Almond Tart

2.5lb firm, ripe pears (I used William)

6 tbsp lemon juice

1/2 vanilla pod, halved length ways and the seeds removed

3 tbsp apricot jam

Almond Cream

2.5 oz butter

3 oz icing sugar

2 tsp cornflour

3 oz ground almonds

1 large egg

1 tbsp Amaretto (or dark rum)

3.5 oz creme fraiche

Pastry

8 oz plain flour

2 oz butter

2 oz shortening e.g. lard or trex (if you prefer not to use shortening just use another 2 oz butter)

ice cold water

If you want to make this in advance you can make the pastry and the almond cream ahead and freeze them. Bear in mind that the pears should be left to infuse overnight.

The night before, peel the pears, cut them in half and remove the cores. Place them in a bowl and cover them with 3tbsp lemon juice.
Put 1 litre of water, 3tbsp lemon juice and the vanilla into a pan and bring the liquid to the boil. Add the pears and put a circle of greaseproof paper on top while you let them simmer for 10-15 minutes. Allow to cool and then cover and leave the pears to infuse overnight. I think adding some amaretto to the liquid could also add to the flavour.
The next day, make the pastry. Put the flour, a pinch of salt and the fats into your food processor and add the flour (you can do this by hand if you prefer). Pulse the mixture to make breadcrumbs. Don't be tempted not to add any water even if the mixture is coming together - the pastry will be a nightmare to handle. Add enough cold water to bring the pastry into a ball. Wrap the pastry in cling film and chill in the fridge.
Meanwhile make the almond cream. Soften the butter with a wooden spoon. You don't want to beat air into it like a cake, you just want to soften it. Add the icing sugar, cornflour and ground almonds and mix well. Add the egg and mix it in. Finally pour in the amaretto and the creme fraiche and stir until the mixture is silky smooth.

Roll out your pastry and line a 8.5 inch tart tin. You don't need to bake the pastry blind so add the almond cream and smooth the surface. Arrange the strained pears on top, core side down.
Put the tart in a preheated oven (180 degrees) and bake it for 30 minutes.
Once the tart is cooked allow it to cool and remove it from the pan. It is important to let the tart cool before you serve it, otherwise the almond cream won't be set properly.
Heat the apricot jam in a pan until it is liquid and then brush it over the surface of the tart.
Enjoy!

* T.S. Eliot bastardized. I apologise.

** Go for the one on the left.

*** I haven't been brave enough yet, but one day I will.

26.2 Slices of Cheesecake

2007-11-12T22:00:00.000Z

So, I'm back from New York or Noo Yoik as I kept saying all week (much to the dismay of the Bedmate). We had a fantastic time and he did brilliantly in the marathon. I like to think my pre-race rendition of Labi Siffre's Something Inside So Strong helped spur him on. A BIG congratulations to anyone else who completed the gruelling course. I have so much respect; I got out of breath just walking over the Brooklyn Bridge.

The highlight of the trip (aside from spotting the Bedmate at mile 24 of the marathon) was seeing the ladies of Sex and the City filming in Bryant Park. I, along with practically every other person on the planet sporting a pair of ovaries, love SATC. Love. Last time I was in New York I did one of the SATC tours. Any of you who actually live in the city are probably rolling your eyes in tourist-induced disgust at the moment but I can't apologise for my passion. So you can imagine my delight when I saw the four ladies up close. I instructed the Bedmate to take photos, not wanting to appear stalkeresque, however this illusion may have been ruined when somebody, perhaps me (I can't be sure; there was a lot of hustle and bustle) screeched "You look beautiful Sarah-Jessica." Oh dear.

The holiday, of course, involved a lot of food. Being a dutiful girlfriend I matched the Bedmate with all of his pre-run carb loading and all of his post-race calorie replenishing. I know what you're thinking: selfless. Subsequently, I am now carrying some extra 'Junior's' weight, so named because of the amazing Junior's cheesecakes. Seriously, these people bake cheesecakes encased in chocolate fudge cakes. Good Lord. I was two steps away from buying their recipe book in Borders, but much like Eve and the serpent, sometimes it is better not to know.

When we weren't overdosing on the cheesecake we went in search of the perfect cupcake. The search, however, was short lived as after a couple of disappointingly dry results we decided to give up. I have come to the conclusion that too many cupcakes are of the fur coat and no knickers variety: beautiful to look at, but somewhat lacking in taste.

What the Bedmate was impressed with was the selection of Ben and Jerry ice-cream flavours.* In fact, if anyone was in the small supermarket on Henry Street in Brooklyn last Wednesday you might have seen us. We were the two Brits staring in awe at the ice-cream freezer, one of whom was trying to mask her tourist-tastic 'I heart NY' sweatshirt (ostensibly purchased for the Flatmate but pulled on in the bitter cold near Wall Street).

Now we're back in London where the taxis are a sedate black and the most exotic B&J flavour is Phish Food. I've been longing to do some wholesome home baking, but am giving myself a week to allow the grave risk of cheesecake induced heart failure to subside. I promise a recipe next time.

* Not only does New York have a devilishly good selection of ice-cream flavours, the choice of fruits and vegetables is also outstanding. I took these pictures at the Union Square Greenmarket (a favourite of many a New York food blogger - I was on the look out for familiar faces). Look at the selection of carrots (including the rainbow variety). Tesco take note: we want more than just orange.

And just in case you thought with all that cheesecake I was neglecting my five-a-day quota:

Remember, Remember the Fifth of November, Gunpowder, Treason and Plot

2007-10-31T21:14:00.000Z

I love bonfire night. A black sky punctuated by lights; the thick smell of smoke wending around people with half-hot faces; and the promise of a charred baked potato from the ashes.

My earliest memory of the 5th of November is aged 5, pressing my nose against my bedroom window, watching the neighbours setting off Catherine wheels below. My mum is ridiculously frugal (I think receiving Christmas presents wrapped in Tesco carrier bags turned me into the Martha Stewart fanatic I am today) and scoffed at the idea of spending money on things that would, quite literally, go up in smoke.

In later years we would go to village bonfire parties and pay a couple of pounds towards building an extension to the village hall or whatever the latest good work was. The bonfire would be ablaze, but after a holiday to Disney World, where the million dollar firework shows were choreographed to Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, the ad hoc rockets and bangers seemed a little limp.

I think my love for the celebration is compounded by the fact that Mr Guy Fawkes himself came from York (yes, I am a true Yorkshire girl). Apparently, St. Peter's School, where the hot-headed anti-monarchist studied, doesn't celebrate bonfire night. Given that Mr Hawkes ended up being hung, drawn and quartered, I guess it makes sense.

Like any celebration, there are certain foods which scream 'Bonfire Night' even more than those screechy rockets which scare the pets. Baked potatoes, toffee apples and most importantly, given my roots, Yorkshire Parkin. Just like dogs and their owners who tend to look alike, parkin and the people of Yorkshire share similarities. It is an unpretentious cake; not as glamorous as its sponge brethren and you have to give it time to develop before you see how great it is. At its best it's a dense, sticky and spicy treat; perfect for a blustery November 5th.

Sadly, I won't be waving my sparkler* on Monday as, not so sadly, I am going to New York for a week. Yay! The Bedmate is doing the marathon and I may well tackle a sporting event of my own (26.2 different New York specialities, starting with bagels, in sub-4 hours is my personal challenge). I have been scouring the blogs to find tips for New York eateries, but if anyone has any must-eats I would be very grateful to hear from you.

So, in my absence, make this warming treat, wrap it in foil and leave it to perfect ready for Monday night.

Traditional Yorkshire Parkin

8oz plain flour

pinch of salt

2 level tsps baking powder

2 rounded tsps ground ginger

2oz butter

20z lard

8oz oats/medium oatmeal

4oz light brown sugar

6oz golden syrup

6oz black treacle

4 tbsps milk

Preheat the oven to 180 degrees and grease a 10 inch x 8 inch tin and line with greaseproof paper if you can be bothered (I didn't and it was fine).
Sift together the flour, salt, baking powder and ginger into a bowl.

Cut the butter and lard into small pieces and rub the fats into the flour to make fine breadcrumbs. Relish the feeling of the cool breadcrumbs running through your fingers.

Stir in the oats and the sugar.

Warm the syrup and the treacle (I do this in the microwave until it is more runny than sticky).

Pour the milk and the treacle into a well in the dried ingredients and stir with a wooden spoon until the ingredients are combined.

Turn the mixture into the prepared tin and bake in the oven for about 45 minutes or until the cake has started to shrink ever so slightly away from the tin. Don't worry if it starts to sink slightly.

Cool the cake, wrap it in foil and leave to mature for 3 days to a week.**

* I do love a good sparkler. Last year bonfire night was marred by an official in a yellow vest who told my friends and I that we weren't allowed to light them due to "health and safety". Trying to write your name with an unlit sparkler isn't very much fun. Booo.

** I must admit, only half of my cake made it into its foil wrap, but it is definitely much better once it has matured.

Autumn Days When the Grass is Jewelled and the Silk Inside a Chesnut Shell*

2007-10-28T20:50:00.000Z

I'm going to sound terribly British when I say this, but hasn't the weather been just beautiful recently? Clear, bright skies with a crisp rosy-cheeked chill. On days like these everything is in such sharp focus; it's as if the leaves and the trees have been cut out of photos and stuck onto a backdrop with glue. Reading some of my favourite blogs** I see I am not the only one coming over all Keats. Food and the change of seasons seem to go hand in hand, much like crispy leaves and my desire to cycle over them (seriously, the thrill of the crunch has me swerving all over London).

As the clocks go back (you had to love that extra hour in bed this morning) it also means the start of legitimate hot-pudding-eating weather. It's not like I haven't had a warm pudding all summer (hell, after six weeks of eating rice and fruit in Thailand I ate an apple crumble on a sun-scorched beach) but it's like girls who insist on going out on the town in the wind and rain wearing vest-tops and bare-legs; it just doesn't look right. So, while others bemoan the dark nights and the ceremonial switch-on of the heating, I rub my hands with glee and think of all the stodgy delights ahead.

If I was forced into a Sophie's Choice decision about hot puds, I think Sticky Toffee Pudding ("STP") would accompany me to the camp. Some pudding novices confuse STP with treacle sponge (such people also confuse treacle sponge with treacle tart, so they clearly can't be trusted) but, for me, STP should be dark, dense and drenched with a rich toffee sauce.

I normally advocate eating STP in a country pub, in a comfy chair next to an open fire, but sometimes one must forgo the traditional context and get a hit elsewhere. And so, it was in Flaneur Food Hall in Farringdon that I succumbed. After surreptitiously removing my fluorescent cycling tabbard around the corner, I entered the restaurant through the shop. Unfortunately, I was the last to arrive, otherwise I would have had a chance to browse the shelves (laden with produce, the shop looked like a fabulous, if expensive, place to pick up some new ingredients).

My savoury courses were both delicious but, as P sagely told us, we had to save room for the puddings. I hadn't expected to sample my first STP of the season but when my toffee and banana cake arrived warm and sitting in a moat of toffee sauce I knew that Autumn had arrived. I must admit that the banana was unorthodox for a true afficinado, but marbling the spiced sponge it worked well. Together with the vat (seriously, go see for yourself) of Chantilly cream, it was definitely enough to create pudding-envy amongst P and C.

The following night was my Irish pals' fancy-dress birthday party. With the memory of the pudding fresh in my mind, I wanted to make some STP inspired cupcakes, complete with banana. I'm not normally that much of a Jamie Oliver fan (his matey-matey thick tongued banter gets a bit wearing) but he does have a great recipe for STP in his "Jamie's Dinners" book. I took this as my starting point and did some tweaking to get a sponge not dissimilar to the one from Flaneur, if not more moist. Unfortunately, the rich toffee sauce wouldn't have worked a-top a cupcake so I opted for a moussy, brown sugar icing instead.

Toffee Banana Sponge

225g fresh dates, stoned

1 tsp bicarbonate of soda

85g unsalted butter

170g dark brown sugar

170g self-raising flour

1/4 tsp ground mixed spice

1/4 tsp ground cinnamon

1/4 tsp ground ginger

2 tbsp Ovaltine

2 tbsp natural yoghurt

2-3 freckled bananas mashed (I used my potato masher)

Malty Brown Sugar Icing

1 large egg

1/3 cup dark brown sugar

75g butter at room temperature

1 tbsp Ovaltine

1tsp vanilla extract

Preheat your oven to 180 degrees.
Put the dates into a bowl and sprinkle with the bicarbonate of soda. Cover with 200ml of boiling water so that they can plump up ready for cooking. Leave them for a couple of minutes then drain them before whizzing them in a food processor to make a puree. Resist the urge to eat the date paste straight from the mixer's bowl.
Meanwhile, cream the butter and sugar using a wooden spoon. Add the eggs then fold in the flour, spices and Ovaltine. Mix together, then fold in the yoghurt, dates and bananas.
Spoon into muffin cups (about 3/4 full) and bake in the preheated oven for about 30 minutes (or until a cake-tester comes out clean).
Allow the cakes to cool while you make the icing.
Fill a saucepan with an inch or so of water and bring it to simmering point. Put a bowl over the simmering water and then break the egg into the bowl. Whisk the egg over the heat until it is light and frothy (the simmering water should not touch the bottom of the bowl).
Whisk in the brown sugar until it has dissolved and the mixture is warmed (1-2 minutes). Remove the bowl from the pan and allow it to cool.
Meanwhile, beat the butter in a separate bowl until it is light and fluffy. The more elbow-grease you use, the better the icing will be. Gradually beat in the egg/sugar mixture and then the vanilla extract. Don't panic if it starts to curdle, you can always use some icing sugar to bind it. Add the Ovaltine and beat well.
Once the cupcakes are cool you can ice them. I was intending to sprinkle some crunched up dime bars over the top of the cakes, unfortunately our local Best One was all out. Such is life!

* From the primary school classic, "Autumn Days" by Estelle White.

** Smitten Kitchen, Orangette and Oswego Tea to name a few.

A true friend is one who thinks you are a good egg even if you are half-cracked*

2007-10-10T20:52:00.000+01:00

As well you know, I have perfectionist tendencies. I should, however, clarify that such tendencies are almost always directed towards myself (and sometimes the Bedmate - poor soul). I promise you that I am not someone who is ridiculously high maintenance and when I am not being pinnikity about having my books in alphabetical order I am actually pretty laid back. So please don't think it's just me having crazily high standards when I say:

Is it just me or is anyone else ever a little disappointed by their friends sometimes?

I feel like a traitor even saying it and I don't want you to think that I don't have great friends who are very dear to me, but so much energy is expended dissecting the relationships between men and women that sometimes I think we forget that our friends can upset us even more than the latest crush.

So, recently I have been feeling a little bit jaded about my long term relationships. A missed birthday here, a last minute cancellation there - I felt like running away with the milk-man. Thankfully I have been saved from becoming this cliche** by a couple of lovely ladies I met on a brief jaunt to a different office with work.

We bonded over our shared love of food and we grew closer still with lively debates on the merits of slide-out brownie pans (truly excellent). But it was on my final day in the office that I realised I was in the presence of greatness. Returning to my desk after lunch I was met with a slab of chewy brownies and the moistest carrot cake I had ever encountered. Being the one who normally caters for these sorts of occasions, I felt truly touched at being the recipient this time. However, hating to come to a party empty-handed, I was glad I had brought some baked-goods of my own to add to the haul:

Traditional Shortbread

This shortbread is one of the first recipes I remember making; pressing the dough into the corners of a battered old pan and decorating the surface with row after row of fork marks. The result is a crumbly, sandy biscuit which is rich in flavour but light in bite.

50z plain (all-purpose) flour

pinch of salt

1oz rice flour or ground rice

2oz caster sugar

40z butter (use a brand that you enjoy the flavour of)

Sift the four, salt and rice flour/ground rice into a bowl.
Add the sugar and grate in the butter straight from the fridge. Or add the butter, diced.
Using the tips of your fingers rub the fat into the dried ingredients until the mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs.
Press the mixture into a 7-inch straight sided sandwich tin (I actually used the aforementioned brownie pan). Because of the butter content you shouldn't need to grease/line your tin. Don't worry if the mixture needs a little force to push it together - that's normal.
Chill the mixture in the fridge for an hour or so. Once the shortbread is chilled you can decorate the top and mark out the portions so it's easier to break when cooked. Traditionally, the shortbread would be cut into short bread "tails" (triangles) with patterns provided by a fork.
Put into a preheated oven (3o0 degrees) for about an hour or until the shortbread is pale straw coloured. Allow the baked shortbread to cool on a wire rack and then break into pieces.
I decided to go a little Jackson Pollock with my biscuits (apologies to the thousands of Scots who are now turning in their graves) and drizzled melted plain chocolate across the top. If you want to be authentic, you should dredge the completed biscuits with caster sugar.

I also made Orangette's sumptuous 'Winning-Hearts-and-Minds Cake'. Moist, rich and dense, I can assure you that it is absolutely as good as it sounds and with only 1 tablespoon of flour is pretty much health food. Next time I would like to try the recipe using orange-flavoured dark chocolate and a slug of Cointreau.

So, I left the office with a full tummy and a renewed faith in the power of female friendships. And, as if the cakes hadn't been enough, a dazzling new addition for my kitchen:

A big hurrah to new friends!

* Anon.

* Apologies, I can't find out how to do the "e "with an accent on blogger. Any tips gratefully received.

Trifles Make Perfection, and Perfection is no Trifle*

2007-09-22T21:03:00.000+01:00

I should say straight away that there are no recipes for trifle in this post. Sorry. As much as the neat lead-in appeals to me, I am trying not to be such a, well, perfectionist.

A few years ago I was making a lemon meringue pie for a special family dinner and what should have been a pleasant evening introducing my sister's then boy-friend to us all. Unfortunately the evening ended up as, what I can only describe as, "Cornflourgate"(yes, my behaviour was bad enough to make it a "...gate".

The fundamental mistake was trusting my (often red wine addled) mum when she told me that she had "packets and packets of cornflour in the cupboard". There was none. I blame myself. I should have checked the cupboards; I should have assembled the ingredients before starting. All this I now know, but there's something about the maternal bond that makes you want to believe a woman when she looks her child in the eyes and tells her that there is "without a doubt, plenty of corn-flour in the cupboard".

A more mature person would have turned the already juiced lemons and the hand-made pastry case into a lemon tart. A slightly more balanced person would have asked someone to go to the shops and get the wretched flour. Unfortunately, as a someone who suffers from Perfectionism** I did neither. I got angry. I lashed out and I declared in between stifled sobs that "I didn't want anything to do with the damn pie". If it wasn't going to be perfect, I didn't want my name on the bill. My mum continued with the sorry mess and the result was edible, though runny. To me it didn't matter; it was ruined and I was embarrassed to have ever been associated with it.

I realise that this story doesn't show me at my best and I assure you that I usually conduct myself with more grace than the average sugar-high 4 year old. I haven't been such a brat for a long time now, but the Perfectionism is still here.

My first post leads you to believe that I decided I wanted to start a blog and so I did. Carpe Diem! Go getting blogger-to-be gets started. No. I couldn't get the website right. I don't have a SLR camera. My photos are snap-shots. It was only when I was holding back tears of frustration when I couldn't get the header to fit on one page (there is code behind these pages, people, real computer speak complete with "<>") that I realised that I was likely to miss living my life while I checked to see that the towels were properly folded.***

In the time between conceiving the blog and actually giving birth I've missed posting many recipes. So, I decided to go back to August and post the recipe that I intended to start with. Using numerous bowls, and having numerous steps that I'm not sure it necessarily merits this cake is not perfect, but, this time, that's fine.

Quarter of a Century Chocolate Cake

The chocolate cake is taken from the Magnolia Bakery cook book and is billed as a "devilishly rich" cake. I beg to differ. I think, as with many American cake recipes, the sponge is a lighter vehicle for rich icing. I chose a chocolate ganache to provide some extra "oomph" I would recommend this recipe for a cake which will provide a celebratory punch is not going to weigh heavy on the tummy if you want to do birthday dancing later on. I added the raspberries because I couldn't resist them when I saw them at Chapel Market on the morning of baking.

Cake
3 cups of all-purpose flour
1.5tsp baking powder
1.5tsp baking soda
3/4tsp salt
3 large eggs - separated
1.5 sticks unsalted butter - softened
2 cups of firmly packed light brown sugar
8 ounces of unsweetened chocolate, melted
2 cups of milk (I used semi-skimmed)
1.5tsp vanilla extract
2 small punnets of fresh, juicy raspberries

Chocolate Ganache Icing
24 ounces of dark chocolate (I used 50% cocoa solids)
3 cups of double (heavy) cream

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees

Grease and lightly flour two 9x2-inch round cake pans (I used loose-bottomed)

In a large bowl sift together the flour, the baking powder, the baking soda and the salt. Put out of the way.

Beat the egg yolks until they are thick and pale. I use my hand rotary whisk for a few minutes.

In a large bowl cream the butter and the sugar until light and fluffy (use a wooden spoon).

Add the egg yolks, beating well until they are incorporated.

Add the chocolate and mix well.

Add the dry ingredients in thirds, alternating with the milk and vanilla extract, beating after each addition until smooth. Try not to over-beat at this stage as you don't want to over develop the gluten in the flour which will make the cake tough.

In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form (use an electric mixer to save your wrists!)

Gently fold the egg white mixture into the batter (use a metal spoon).

Divide the batter between the prepared pans and cook in the centre of your oven until the cakes are done (about 40-45 minutes - a knife inserted into the centre should come out clean).

Once the cakes are done, let them cool in their tins and then turn them out to cool properly.

To make the icing, pop the chocolate (broken into pieces) into a pan with the cream and stir over a low/medium heat until the chocolate melts and the mixture thickens (about 30 minutes). It won't become an icing consistency at this stage; you need to chill it in the fridge for a couple of hours. When I made this I was in a real rush so I popped the icing in the freezer for a while (checking up on it every 10 minutes or so) and it soon came right.

Spread the icing on the top of one of your layers and add a layer of the raspberries. I shmushed the berries into the chocolate as well as leaving some whole. Add the second cake and then ice the top and sides of the cake as you please.

Set aflame and celebrate!

* Michaelangelo
** Perfectionism. A dehabilitating disease which is still somewhat socially unacceptable. Symptoms include intense irritation and even panic when sufferers see papers at anything other than a 90 degree angle to the edge of a desk.

*** I favour the Anthea Turner method of towel-folding myself.

Oh Crikey! I am Finally Starting a Blog

2007-09-19T22:07:00.000+01:00

I must admit that this is not something that comes naturally to me, but recently I have not been able to think about anything else. I have been sculpting scintillating foodie prose on my way to work, engaging in imaginerary repartee with fellow bloggers on the way home and every meal I have eaten has been sauced with thoughts of how I would lovingly describe it.

I first sampled the sweet taste of food blogs at Chockylit's Cupcake Bakeshop. When Google lead me there after I posed an innocuous question about using buttermilk in cupcakes I felt that the stars had aligned. Cupcakes, endless discussion about baking and scores of fellow addicts - how had I not known about this before? As you will learn, I have the propensity to be a bit of a binge eater* and much like the packets of chocolate Homewheats** I have been known to demolish, I devoured post after post, picture after picture and recipe after recipe. It was from Chockylit's site that I found Deb's Smitten Kitchen and this is when I realised I was hooked. I relished the bantering prose and the fact that I was allowed to be part of this stranger's life (wedding photos and all). I am currently binging on the breath-catchingly evocative Tea and Cookies and, thankfully, I have room for much much more.

Aside from my love of all things cooking, what has pushed me out of my comfort zone and into the world of posting chatter for strangers is the evident sense of community. Since moving to London eighteen months ago, I have yearned to belong to something real. London, like many cities, is a place where it is easy to forget where you come from. It is all too easy to feel disconnected from the past, from the seasons and from any sense of reality. My personal remedy for this sense of displacement is to sink my hands into a bowl full of scone dough. As the plump dough yields to the touch and the flour collects under my fingernails I feel grounded and creative again. I sense that I will get a similar feeling through writing this blog.

Obviously this new commitment is not without problems. The First? I am not a writer. My sensibilities will not allow me to craft too many metaphors without cringing. I have often tried to write diaries and travel journals but when I re-read them they all sound so embarrassingly self-conscious (in fact, I have just skimmed over the preceding paragraph and I am feeling decidedly uncomfortable). I think the solution will be to post as if I am e-mailing The Housemate** as it is with her that I tend to have my funniest exchanges, typically about food.

The second problem I fear is more grave. I hate imposing on people. The idea that I am foisting myself on the good people of the blogging world ("read me, love me, link me") makes me feel slightly sick. I am sure that those of you of the Freudian bent will be muttering "self-esteem issues" under your breath and you are probably right (I urge such pop-psychologists to stay tuned as I am sure to give you plenty of neurotic material to work with in the future). This fear of imposition can be crippling and is especially apparent on my birthday when the thought of people coming to an event solely in my honour makes me wince. But perhaps it's time for change. After all, check me out now - imposing myself all over the world wide web!

The third problem I suspect is one that is widespread: what if no one reads my blog? However, I have decided to give this insecure little voice short-shrift. It dawned on me that it simply doesn't matter. I am sure, like writing diaries, much of the satisfaction from blogging is the cathartic pleasure of writing about things that you love. Of course it is better if you are blessed with interaction and the chance to make new friends but, if not, I am not going to take it too personally. Rather, if I don't receive any comments I'm giving myself licence to assume that you are all so captivated by my witty and charming style that you are too busy recommending people to e-mail me!

More food talk next time, I promise.

* Baked goods are my crack.
** Chocolate covered digestive biscuits made by McVities combining the crumbly delight of a digestive with a covering of plain or milk chocolate goodness. They used to be called Homewheats and I like to use their Sunday name to test whether I am dealing with a true British biscuit aficionado or a mere pretender.
*** My fellow food-obsessed housemate. Co-Baking Tester along with the other occupant of the Victorian maisonette we inhabit: "The Bedmate".