And the seasons they go round and round...

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!

The Second Fruit Recipe; That Makes a Pear*

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

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


4. Beat in the egg and the pinch of salt.


5. Fold in the flour to make a smooth batter.


6. Stir in the pear and the white chocolate.


7. 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.


8. 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.

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

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

1. 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).
   
2. Sift together the flour, salt, baking powder and ginger into a bowl.


3. 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.


4. Stir in the oats and the sugar.


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



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


7. 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.


8. 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*

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

1. Preheat your oven to 180 degrees.
2. 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.
3. 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.
4. 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).
5. Allow the cakes to cool while you make the icing.
6. 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).
7. 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.
8. 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.
9. 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.

Trifles Make Perfection, and Perfection is no Trifle*

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

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees


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


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


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


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


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


7. Add the chocolate and mix well.


8. 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.


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


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




11. 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).


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


13. 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.


14. 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.


15. 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.