Chocolate, lots of chocolate, and even more cream

Valentines weekend has mostly been about food - a very unromantic bout of marmalade making, further proof that I'm inclined to over boil a haggis thus bursting it (proof I could have done without) and the happy realisation that I can poach an egg (I don't much like them so had never tried before but by some happy chance I didn't over cook it and it stayed nice and neat). There was also a chocolate pudding/cake which I'm prepared to be quite enthusiastic about.

My family are coming for dinner tomorrow and basically lots of chocolate with even more cream is the pudding that should please most of us, it will undoubtedly give my father indigestion but it's what he wanted so it's what he's going to get (specifically he wanted the pudding, he's just going to have to put up with the indigestion). The cake in question is Fiona Cairns 'Chocolate love cake' though as I don't have a suitable heart shaped tin mine is just a chocolate cake. I made one for Friday night half thinking it would do for Monday as well but in the end have had a second go partly to improve on my first attempt but mostly because there wasn't enough left to go round. 

This isn't so much a cake as it is a huge chocolate truffle sitting on some sponge, it needs to be made the day before you want it but otherwise it's beautifully simple. You make a syrup from 25g of golden castor sugar and 25mls of water bought to a gentle boil and simmered for a couple of minutes, add 50 mls of liqueur or brandy (for my second attempt I'm using frangelico and I'm also going to throw some hazelnut praline on top of it) and set aside for a moment. For the sponge base Fiona says you can use a ready made flan case because it only needs a thin layer, and I'm not going to argue, they're about 99p which is both far cheaper and much less trouble than making a cake specially. Cut the sponge base to fit into a 20cm cake tin (it needs to have a removable base) and then brush the syrup over it until it's all soaked in. Meanwhile melt 220g of good quality dark chocolate (in a bowl over a pan of hot water) and whip 450ml of double cream until it's just beginning to thicken. She really means it when she says just beginning to thicken, first time round I over whipped the cream so the texture was slightly wrong in the finished article - still delicious but not quite right. When the chocolate is just melted and still hot, slowly pour it over the cream whipping it all the time as you go. As soon as it's incorporated pour it over the sponge (even second time round that was more a case of spooning and smoothing than actual pouring) then cover in clingfilm and stick in the fridge until it's time to serve. I like everything about this cake.  

Chocolate Chip Cookies

The only job I could find after graduation was as a cook in a nursery, I was there for a little under a year and learnt more than I ever expected to about chicken nuggets and fish fingers, but there was also room for something more like real cooking and I got to bake a lot of birthday cakes and biscuits. It's also where  first became really interested in food politics. I worked there for most of 1997 and as would have been the case in all the homes of the 80 or so children a day we cooked for meals were a mix of things made from scratch and those good old standbys like the chicken nuggets. When we cooked from scratch we weren't allowed to add any salt at all at any point to the food (something which has done me good in terms of my own salt consumption) but the chicken nuggets and turkey bites were stuffed with salt - it didn't make much sense then and makes less sense to me now. It was also where I really learnt about the economics of scale and how poor quality some of the things we used were.

My favorite biscuits were these chocolate chip cookies (I wonder what the difference between a biscuit and a cookie is? I think of these as very definitely cookies) which I haven't made in years. Back in nursery days the baking fat was a particularly nasty margarine (with pockets of oil and water in it - there was a slightly superior version for spreading but it was still pretty foul) and the cooking 'chocolate' was that odd stuff that isn't really chocolate. Because of the margarine the biscuits spread like mad on the baking tray, the 'chocolate' chips tasted slightly greasy, and the cookies always went really soft and broke apart very quickly but me and the kids were all fans and I always made extra so I could take some home.

Made with proper butter and proper chocolate chips however (not, I find, the same as chipped up chocolate) these are really really good (I'm wondering about adding a few oats or some chopped nuts another time). Squidgy in a good way and no longer prone to ripping apart they're just really pleasing and simple, they are also egg free which is great as I have a friend with an allergy. I bought a huge tub of chocolate chips in a foray to costco so can make loads of them (there you have the economics of scale again - small manageable packets of chocolate chips are prohibitively expensive, buy a kilo of the things and they cost a fraction of the price - you just have to hope they don't all melt together in their bucket on a hot day... I am very keen to find things to do with them mow I have them - other than eat them straight from the bucket of course)

I think this recipe originally came from an old Be-Ro flour book or something similar, I used to make it in industrial quantities but this amount is sensible - you get about a dozen digestive sized biscuits from it.

Pre-heat the oven to gas mark 5/180 degrees C. Beat 4 ounces of butter with 2 tablespoons of golden syrup and 3 ounces of soft brown sugar until light and fluffy, add 6 ounces of self raising flour and up to 2 teaspoons of milk if the mixture is very stiff. Throw in 4 ounces of chocolate chips and mix those in too. form into roughly circular dollops and put on a baking tray (probably with grease proof paper on it) and cook for 10 to 12 minutes, allow to cool thoroughly before eating or you get melted chocolate everywhere. They keep well for a few days in something reasonably air tight and have improved both my post gardening Sunday evening and Monday back at work. 

A weekend in the garden

I don't have a garden of my own but D very kindly lets me do all the work in his... Because we've been away a bit and the way work shifts have fallen though it's probably been a couple of months since I've been in it and maybe longer since I did any actual work - sometime in May I moved bits around, and they seem to be alive still so that's nice but sadly most of the herbs have gone over and I missed all the really nice roses and in the meantime slugs, greenfly, and weeds have all been thriving. Really thriving. 

Over the last couple of months there have been no shortage of anxious calls on my part asking if everything has been watered and demanding rhubarb before it goes over which got the response 'yes I've watered' uttered in a tone of voice which suggested I'd better pray for rain (I did, it obliged) and 'I'm not bringing bloody rhubarb to work' interspersed with 'I might not

cut it properly'. What he did do was send me dozens of pictures of things looking there best which in it's way is even better than getting sent actual flowers and never fails to make me happy.

I was warned this weekend that there might be a bit of weeding to do, turned out there was, I've never seen the garden look so wild (or trodden on so many thistles - the lawn might need a bit of attention) but after two days of hacking and up-rooting things are sort of under control (apart from my back - my back doesn't feel like my own at all) and there's a young hay stack of weeds waiting to be disposed of. On the upside we managed to rescue a reasonable haul of cherries from the birds and wasps and I got my rhubarb with the promise of plenty more (it's also really nice to know that something other than lemon balm and the mint I don't like really thrives in that garden - it's a fairly solid clay which not everything appreciates). 

Rhubarb

I had meant to write about Diana Henry's 'Food From Plenty' tonight - actually I've been meaning to write about it for weeks but other things keep pushing in and today is no exception which is a shame because it's excellent and doesn't deserve to be sidelined. It's moment will come soon. Meanwhile a trip out to buy milk and glare at the 'G' section in Waterstones fiction department because they still don't have those Rumer Godden books (how I spend my weekends maybe needs re-addressing) led to bargains - bunches of daffodils for 10p each (I've never had so many daffodils in the house before, and as I type I can hear them popping open; it's very disconcerting) and cheap English rhubarb. 

Rhubarb is always a favourite, forced rhubarb even more so, and what could be better than supporting a home grown industry? Absolutely nothing could be better if it involves rhubarb. Anyway I managed to come home with about 2 kilos and the question of what to do with it all. I also got a very decent litre of vodka at a knock down price so schnapps was an obvious choice. Nigella has a recipe, so does Diana Henry in Salt Sugar Smoke, and so does Mary Prior in 'Rhubarbaria'. I've gone with Diana Henry's but basically it's rhubarb, sugar, and vodka, I'm guessing quantities don't matter very much - you fill a jar with rhubarb, add sugar, let it melt and get all juicy over night, and then top up with vodka before letting it mature for a month. 

I also went with Diana Henry's rhubarb jelly recipe because it uses apples as well which meant I had enough rhubarb left to make the rhubarb muffins from Mary Prior's book. The apple rhubarb mix is draining into a bowl at the moment but it doesn't look like it's going to produce a whole lot of juice, if the jelly is as good as I hope it will be I'll try making more before the season ends.

juices beginning to macerate; very exciting!

As for the muffins - I've never had much luck with muffins in the past, they've been okay but a little bit underwhelming but these are brilliant. Fruity, not to sweet, moist - generally delicious (I've eaten 2 already)... One of the things I love about 'Rhubarbaria' is that each recipe comes with a provenance, these muffins come from Canada with a charming story attached.

Mix 150g plain flour with 1 and a 1/2 teaspoons of baking powder, 100g of sugar, 1/2 a teaspoon of vanilla extract, 120 mls of milk, 60mls of sunflower oil, and 1 egg. When just combined throw in a cup and a half of  rhubarb chopped into small squares (that's about 4 small stalks) stir in and divide into muffin cases. Sprinkle the tops with caster sugar and bake for about 30 minutes at 190 C/ gas mark 5. Very enjoyable.

I've written about 'Rhubarbaria' before, it's a terrific little book, and should be indispensable to anybody who likes rhubarb even a little bit. It's far more than a cookbook, I get lost in it every time I consult it; it's the sort of book that begs to have cuttings added to it (I have) and invites you to imagine something of the lives of all the very many people who are the source for it's recipes.    

Whisky Truffles

The aftermath - please believe we left more than we drank.

Our belated Burns night celebration was great fun - a mild hangover and a mountain of washing up both bear testament to the festivities and at least one of those factors has been responsible for a fairly lazy Sunday - though I have got through quite a few odd jobs so maybe not so lazy.

 One thing I particularly like about a Burns night supper is how easy it is to cook. Haggis, neaps, and tatties (turnips/swedes and potatoes for the none Scots) don't really require much attention - you simmer them until they're ready, stab one, and mash the others. I believe Cullen Skink is the approved first course but I favour home made bread (because I like baking it) and fish or mushroom pate which feels appropriately rustic and makes for very welcome left overs - also whizzing something up in a blender is less effort than soup and less faffing in the kitchen when you have friends and wine waiting elsewhere. The blonde insists that the pudding is cranachan which is also easily knocked up ahead of time and demands nothing more than enjoyment after that, all of which means there's plenty of time to think what shall I make now...

This stuff is brilliant.

It was going to be fudge but then I thought chocolate whisky truffles would be even better. Mastering chocolate is something of an ambition for me (in any way you choose to interpret it; all to often chocolate masters me). There's a lot of technique involved, it's messy, and calls for a great deal of patience, all of those present challenges - with truffles though I think it might be the mess that bothers me the most.

The truffle recipe I use is from Sara Jayne-Stanes 'Chocolate The Definitive Guide' (published by Grub Street - they're one of those publishers whose mark on the spine is enough to make me pick up the book). It's a while since I've looked through this book but I remembered the truffles being light, delicious, and easy to mix up (the tricky bit comes later) what I hadn't remembered was just how much other stuff was in there - it's good to get re-acquainted with a cook book you haven't picked up for a while - it's maybe even more exciting than buying a new one. 

Basically you take 200g of the best quality dark chocolate you're prepared to use and 290 ml's of double cream. Break the chocolate into little bits and pop it in a reasonably big bowl whilst bringing the cream to a rolling boil - when the cream is ready poor it over the chocolate and mix until it's all thoroughly blended and melted at which point you add any flavouring - in this case 3 tablespoons of whisky and some vanilla powder, and leave it to cool at room temperature for something between one and two hours after which you whisk with an electric mixer until it just starts to thicken. You can then pipe out the truffles - which makes for very messy washing up, or you can let the mix set some more and then roll them by hand. This is also messy but hands are easier to wash than piping bags and mine currently smell amazing. However even dusted with cocoa after 4 truffles I had to stop to wash mu hands because they got to sticky - the chocolate and cream mix just melts, though try and work with it when it's to cold and it disintegrates then melts. 

Eventually I had enough truffles rolled out for last night (I did the rest today which is how I know what happens when they get to cold) and wanted to cover them in white chocolate. White chocolate is inclined to burn and is not my favourite thing to work with - but is an excellent foil for the bitter dark chocolate and the smoky whisky I used. When it was cool enough to give the truffles a good thick coating it was also cool enough to be difficult to apply - though still warm enough to make the truffles want to melt. I didn't manage to cover all my truffles, or all of all the truffles I did get chocolate on, but happily they tasted great. More practice this afternoon with all the leftover mix yielded very slightly better results. This IS something I will crack.  

Oh, and apparently they will keep for a week - but honestly there's no chance of that happening.  

Sunday baking is back

Well for one Sunday at least Sunday baking is in full swing. I got caught out by the snow this weekend, my journey home that normally takes 15 minutes took 2 hours - not because the snow was particularly bad but because traffic was. The world and his dog apparently decided to leave work at the same early time - and got precisely nowhere very, very, slowly. The snow wasn't the problem, ice and far to much traffic were the cause, and the result is that I abandoned initial plans for the weekend, and as today has bought lots more snow I've spent it indoors and in the kitchen.

Checking the cupboards and fridge for comforting winter food ingredients revealed a lot of half used odds and ends left over from Christmas baking so a fruit cake was inevitable. We finished my Christmas cake this week and I've been missing it, truthfully I would have liked to bake another just like it and have it plain but I didn't have any cream, or any inclination to venture out for some. Happily Dan Lepard is not a one fruit cake kind of a man, and half a jar of slightly grainy honey suggested his cinnamon honey fruit cake. Previously my favourite chunky fruit cake was this one from 'River Cottage Everyday' but the honey cinnamon one beats it by a mile (and the River Cottage one is pretty good). 

It was also a chance to use the 5 inch cake tins I got a while back and have only looked at since which has given me 2 cakes instead of 1. It's nice to know that the recipe splits perfectly, the smaller size suited my oven too which tends to take it's own sweet time to cook things so they get a bit crispy on top, so I'm sure with a bit of thought I can come up with some good reason why 2 cakes are better than 1 (apart from the obvious).

The Honey and Cinnamon Fruit Cake recipe is here. I used whisky instead of brandy or cold tea (though I had plenty of cold tea I had more whisky) which I'm inclined to regard as an improvement. The flavour really comes through and is wonderful. I also made lots of wine mulling syrup, a lamb honey and prune tagine, and an apricot upside down cake... It may be cold outside, I may have to venture out to work first thing tomorrow, I may (and most likely will) end up with wet feet before I get home - but when I do get home there will be no shortage of comfort food.      

Scandilicious Sunday

Any serious plans I had for today got off to a bad start after getting plastered with my mother in a car park this morning. We had a bottle of chilled champagne and it was raining so it seemed logical to drink it, of course once it was open we realised we had to finish it because wouldn't it have been a shame to waste it? So we did finish it. In twenty minutes. Neither of us are used to doing that for breakfast so when the rain stopped and we got out of the car we were - well we were very giggly. The rest of the morning passed in a happy haze.

Back home, and after a restorative nap, I really wanted to bake another cake - after last weeks below par effort my pride needed rescuing, also I have a copy of 'Scandilicious Baking' to play with, and my poor kitchen aid hasn't had the exercise it deserves recently. Because I haven't been baking much recently my cupboard and fridge both have a collection of things that need using up which was yet another reason to make cake (it's amazing how many half full bags of different sugars one woman can collect). The recipes which really attract me in 'Scandilicious Baking' are the bread based ones, both sweet and savoury, I really look forward to trying them at some stage, but the things I had to hand suggested the Flourless hazelnut and whisky chocolate cake - except with almonds because that's what I had. 

The flourless chocolate cakes I've made before have all involved melted chocolate and whisked egg whites, this one doesn't which makes it much less trouble to throw together and significantly reduces the washing up. The whisky gives the batter a real kick, and as I type smells pretty good, the cake also looks to be behaving and better yet flourless batters are meant to sink a bit in the middle. I have high hopes. 

Despite the rain

Initial plans for today (made in last weeks sun) were for a picnic at Kirby Hall. Then the rain started and it no longer seemed like a very good idea, but I wasn't going to be done out of the promised treat of a mornings intensive baking - I woke up at half past seven and couldn't stay in bed any longer thanks to the excitement of trying a new recipe, and if that sounds like I need to get out more than bear with me. I've cut down on the baking recently partly in an effort to save money, and partly to eat less cake, which is all good - but I do miss making things and any excuse is welcomed, so before the blonde picked me up today I made spinach and feta parcels, scones, jam tarts, and Queens's Gingerbread...

The Queen's Gingerbread came from Dan Lepard's column in The Guardian, I'm almost annoyed with myself for making this my Jubilee bake because although Dan Lepard is excellent I feel our relationship is becoming a bit exclusive and there are still so many other cookbooks to flirt with (really I do get out of the house sometimes). On the other hand Queen's Gingerbread is egg free (good for L who is severally allergic), highly spiced with flavours that give more than a nod to the first Elizabethan age, and was quite unlike anything else I've baked before. It was also quite quick and easy, goes down a treat with tea, and made a huge amount that's perfect for sharing around.  

After a picnic in the comfort of L's dining room we went to the Astley Book Farm and although both the blond and I were sure we knew the way we managed to miss not one, but two, junctions on the motorway (I blame the rain which made for appalling visibility...) when we finally managed to send ourselves southbound again it was only to go twice round a roundabout before eventually still taking a wrong turn - the back streets of Bedworth on a rainy Sunday are not precisely the spot I'd choose to find myself in. Fortunately L clearly had an accurate (if unflattering) opinion about our ability to get from A to B and had bought a sat nav, ten minutes later we were parked up had managed to stop laughing hysterically, and saw the SALE sign.

The book farm provided bunting, a marquee that smelt of slightly damp canvas and grass, and a very enjoyable conversation about Dorothy Whipple with the owners - I don't think I could have had a better day.

Gingerbread recipe - I fiddled with this just a bit to fit what I had and take into account that none of us are mad about ginger (and I could still have used less)...

450g plain flour

5tsp ground ginger

2tsp ground nutmeg

2tsp cinnamon

a pinch of cloves

1tsp bicarbonate of soda

250g of castor sugar

150g of melted butter

150g each of runny honey and black treacle

75g each of mixed peel, dried apricots, and dates blitzed until well chopped

A good handful of flaked almonds

Line the base of a 20 cm square baking tin with greaseproof paper and set oven to 180 degrees/gas 5. Gently melt the butter, remove from heat and add the sugar, treacle, and honey - mix well.

Throw the flour, spices, and bicarb into a bowl making sure they're lump free, stir in the treacle mix and dried fruits until a nice stiff dough is formed. Press this down into the baking tin making sure it's nice and level  then press in the almonds. Bake for 25 mins until it's all evenly puffed up, remove from the oven and allow to cool in the tin before cutting up. 

     

Domestic Sunday

I had meant to spend a good chunk of today writing about 'Can You Forgive Her' but opted to make jam, shop, and catch up with a friend instead. There were also scones. And after all Trollope will wait, both he and the book demand a wholehearted and proper job to do them justice.

Beryl Wood's 'Let's Preserve It' was a Christmas present from mum which I was really enthusiastic about at the time but hadn't used at all until now, however last years jam has all but run out and although soft fruit isn't cheap (or flavourful) enough yet pineapples are looking good. The Scottish one teases me about my pineapple obsession - I love them, really love them, but haven't tried cooking them much, Wood had a jam recipe and I had a lot of pineapple (is 4 an unusual amount to have round the house?) so I thought I'd have a go.

There are a couple of really good things about this little book, I like that it's arranged as an A-Z in the manner of a mini preserving encyclopaedia (there are 579 recipes crammed in a really quite small book), I also like that some of the more exotic recipes are for quite small amounts - my jam made 3 jars which is more than enough to be going on with (and let me use my favourite copper pan rather the usual iron monster I can hardly lift). On the downside is that it's aimed squarely at people who know exactly what they're doing - let me quote the jam recipe in full:

2lb pineapple (when prepared), 1 1/2 lb sugar, 1/4 pint water. peel pineapple, remove hard core, cut in cubes; do this on a plate to catch as much juice as possible; put sugar and water in pan, simmer till dissolved and just syruping, add pineapple, cook to set.

 Elegant in it's simplicity I'm sure you'll agree, but I wouldn't really mind a bit more instruction. I couldn't find any indication of how much pectin pineapples contain so I used half and half jam making sugar and added a bit of lemon juice which turned out to be a good idea because without it the jam would have been far to sweet. I should also have used a sugar thermometer, I got impatient and may have been a bit hasty about deciding I'd reached setting point. Now it's cool it's still a bit runny - I think that's okay though, the flavour is good and it's going to make a great filling in a victoria sponge. It's excellent with scones (if messy). However it's a thoroughly inspiring book and one I mean to use a lot more albeit with fingers crossed I'm doing it right.

The shopping part of the day was even more exciting - my friend L insisted (I may have encouraged her a little) that we go to a garden centre, and just when I was in the middle of a rant about searching high and low over the last couple of years for scented geraniums with absolutely no luck at all it turned out I was standing next to a table full of them. I can't begin to say how pleased I was - also they were only £1.99 each , I have lemon and rose scented ones now, my friend's choice smelt of cola (it really did). Potentially very exciting additions for all sorts of recipes and pretty too.  

Cocktails – Bompas & Parr

Though perhaps a better title might be 'Something for the Weekend'. There are lots of things I like doing on a Sunday afternoon but that doesn’t include trying to find a train fare from Leicester to Carlisle for under £100 via a dodgy internet connection, or for that matter from Leicester to Reading. 4 solid hours of searching later and I think I’ve cracked it but it all rather depends on what happens at the train station tomorrow...

After all that efforts I would dearly love a drink (perhaps something which would go down well with Downton Abbey) sadly the one that I’m itching to try sounds both overly potent and a bit extravagant for an ordinary (albeit frustrating) Sunday. A nice cup of tea will do stand in duty but lacks something in the louche decadence department.

 A basic understanding of cocktails and their ordinary ingredients is a part of my job (drinking them isn’t in the description) and I’ve experimented with a few books over the years. The first thing I learned is that making cocktails isn’t as easy as I imagined – the method really matters. The second thing I learnt was that people drink some crap; cocktails go through some dire fashion cycles. Still its work, you have to do it and when I discovered margarita’s I thought I’d give the whole thing another whirl. The results were a lot better mostly due to carefully following instructions.

This so far (and I’ve done a bit of research) is the best cocktail book I’ve found. It covers the basic recipes and technique both of which are vital, have those at your fingertips and everything else should come together. The technical information is spot on, I know - I had to sit an exam on this stuff, which would have been more fun to revise for if I’d had this book at the time.

Mixed in with the practical bits are anecdotes about Bompas and Parr projects (the architectural punch bowl) improbable concoctions (a cocktail made with ambergris which as the authors point out is bitchingly expensive, another with ether which would certainly fulfil the requirements for louche and degenerate – what sort of hangover would ether inflict?) the postmodern (buckie milkshakes) and tricks of the trade (things involving cream whipper’s which are probably only really for professional use, and found in the sort of bars you don’t really get this far from London– nice to know how it’s done though). 

There are also instructions for Sabrage – the art of cracking open a bottle of champagne with a sabre. A kitchen knife is the suggested tool here if you lack a sabre but I’ve found in the past that a saw works well to – whatever comes first to hand. Sabrage is a party trick which shouldn’t impress but generally does, you need to make sure no one is in front of you, take a bottle of fizz and hold it by the bottom, line it up so that you have the seam of glass running up the bottle away from you, then take a reasonably weighty knife (sabre, or saw) and run it blunt side smoothly, swiftly, and with reasonable force down the bottle until you hit the lip of the neck. This is the weakest part of a bottle under tremendous force from the wine inside, if all goes according to plan the top snaps off cleanly (flying several feet) and you don’t spill too much.   

And as for the recipe I really want to try; Black Gin punch. A concoction of gin, vermouth, madeira, honey, pineapple, cinnamon, cloves, sugar, orange, lemon, and more, all to be served hot in a teacup. It sounds much more exotic than mulled wine, and much stronger. I can’t practically make it as the recipe stands but hope that I can produce a slightly watered down version in more manageable quantities. Wish me luck. 

Cracking Nuts

I love my mother; she is a wonderful generous woman with an amazing array of talents and achievements including a way with a telling a story that’s irresistible. I love that her generosity extends to garden the produce her flat bound daughter couldn’t get anywhere else, and am only mildly suspicious that it’s always things which take an eternity to deal with, (kilos of plums, cherries, and hazelnuts) and make a sticky or crunchy mess. Today I’ve cracked the shells of about 2 kilos of hazelnuts, thankfully my friend C came round for coffee and did the last of them – between us we put in some 4 hours work. There are worse things than hitting nuts with a hammer – I’m now a crack aim, they are now all beautifully preserved in honey and I daresay that in a week or two I’ll have located (probably by standing on them) all the shards of shell that dispersed in the traditional manner of shrapnel around the kitchen.

It has been a proper kitchen day although one with mixed success. The nuts and honey look good but as that was a task of attrition rather than skill any pride in it is restricted to the stamina C and I displayed in getting through the job. More impressive –I feel – has been my first attempt at Lebkuchen. I’ve never made biscuits quite like these before, not that they’re especially challenging – but they felt quite exotic, I think it was the boiling honey and the profligate use of clove and cinnamon, maybe it was the dissolving bicarbonate of soda or the vaguely unexpected inclusion fruit and two types of nut, or wondering why it’s called gingerbread when there’s no ginger – but no, on reflection it was definitely the smell.

The honey, clove, and sugar element was as black and sticky as tar, it also got everywhere and on everything (I’m still sticky despite some serious scrubbing) but I deeply enjoyed making these, I wish I’d realised that the dough is meant to rest for 24 hours before luring C with promises of biscuits – I made some anyway after a mere 4 hours (nut crushing time) and they seem fine, but will see tomorrow if even more chilling makes a difference. I expect it won’t but you never know.

The recipe called for dried orange and lemon peel which I didn’t have and couldn’t find in town so I used apricots that desperately needed seeing to instead which I think sounds nicer anyway and you can’t argue that the Austrians don’t like apricot (I realise as I type this that I’m basing this entirely on an ancient episode of Two fat Ladies which has inexplicably stuck in my head – I’m sure they were right though...) There were still apricots left and because C doesn’t like sultanas, and because the Lebkuchen looked like it might be a non starter I thought I’d make fruit buns with them. Disaster followed wherein insult was added to injury.

casualties 

My poor electric hand whisk gave up the ghost - which it’s been threatening to do for a while and brings the number of hand whisk casualties up to 4 (I have form with these and hoovers). It means a serious, and expensive, dilemma. I can’t do without some sort of mixer and as another whisk gives up the ghost I have to admit that perhaps I really do need (as opposed to just want) a kitchen aid (such a middle class sort of a problem). I might conceivably have the money for one by March. I can hear the siren call of the credit card - almost every fibre of my being is telling me to be extravagant but there is a very quiet voice urging common sense and debt avoidance and I can’t help but blame the dastardly buns for all of this nonsense.

 Twas the bun mix that did the damage causing one of the hooks to cease turning for good and all, which I could have been philosophical about had the little devils risen. They would not; the mix sat leaden in the bowl, and sat leaden on the tray. You get to a point of no return with bread where you feel you have to see it through just in case of a miracle. There was no miracle and they went straight in the bin. I’m blaming this on a dodgy sachet of yeast, and they would have been so nice if they’d worked. Thank god for the Lebkuchen.  

Sunday

Sunday the 5th December and have I been writing Christmas cards? Have I finished my Christmas shopping? Have I had a good and thorough tidy round my flat? Caught up on book reviews and read any of the pile of books clamouring for attention? Finished the Christmas rota for work? Of course not to any of the above, instead I’ve made biscuits, mince pies, and fudge – all very nice and I’m telling myself useful preparation for the next few weeks. I feel very festive (as well as slightly sick after over sampling the fudge) up to and including the seasonal sense of panic that comes from not having started Christmas cards, not knowing where many of my friends live (because now I’ve left it quite late to find out), not remembering the names of most their spouses (far, far, too late to ask), and knowing I’ll be in exactly the same position in a week’s time...

Thanks to a day spent in the kitchen I have a stack of recipes I want to share, and a similar stack of cookbooks I want to rave about – it’s all terribly exciting (for me), indeed I’m so excited I hardly know where to start. Perhaps with an apology to the lovely delivery man from DHL. Gary (that’s his name) got back to me this afternoon after the dozens of dropped calls I left on his mobile to say he was outside my door. I was a good quarter of an hour away but the dear man promised to wait if he couldn’t get someone to take charge of my parcel. He even phoned me back to give me a progress report, so I take back everything I said. Someone who’s prepared to come out on a cold icy Sunday making sure I (and others) don’t have to go to Loughborough is someone who deserves the highest praise.

And now back to the kitchen – I’m quite proud of having made a successful batch of fudge today. I’ve tried before and ended up with a gritty, sticky, sugary mess. Not very nice. This fudge however is really pretty good, in the manner of an obsessive fudge maniac I’ve been comparing the recipe I used before (Nigella) and the one I used today (Hope and Greenwood). Today has much more in the way of detail and that’s clearly the way forward for a recipe pedant like me. The fudge is smooth, creamy, and sweetly delicious with just a hint of saltiness at the finish (I don’t even like fudge very much, more than a very small piece gives me a horrible headache, but none of that’s stopping me feeling ridiculously pleased with this stuff).

The Hope and Greenwood book ‘Life is Sweet’ is one I got last year, was hugely enthusiastic about at the time and then totally failed to use, I plan to spend serious time with it in the new year. I also used my sugar thermometer (a present from my dear dad last year) for the first time – turns out it makes all the difference.

Salted Vanilla Fudge

8 inch shallowish baking tin lined with baking parchment

700g granulated sugar

75g unsalted butter

200ml evaporated milk

200ml double cream

Seeds scraped from a vanilla pod

Maldon Sea Salt (or similar)

Place the sugar, butter, evaporated milk and cream in a heavy bottomed pan (one with good deep sides) and gently heat until the sugar has dissolved stirring all the while with a wooden spoon.

Introduce the sugar thermometer to the pan and turn up the heat to medium, bring the mix to boiling point, stirring regularly to make sure it doesn’t stick on the bottom. After 15 minutes it should have reached 100°c (212°f) at which point lower the heat as this is the danger point for burning.

Keep heating until it reaches 115°c (240°f) (soft ball...) this took far longer than I would have believed possible. When temperature is reached take off the heat and start to beat with an electric whisk – carry on for about 7 minutes and then add the vanilla seeds, carry on beating for another 5 to 7 minutes or until the fudge loses its glossy look and gets grainy round the edges. Just at the last minute add a good pinch or two of salt and whisk that in to.

Dollop into the prepared tin, smooth down and leave to cool. After about an hour score into squares and when it’s finally set (another couple of hours at least) snap into bits ready to share round else you go into some sort of sugar induced coma.

A Sunday Road Trip

I’ve only had one day off this weekend (finished at 6pm on Saturday, start at 8am on Monday – so early to bed tonight to get up even before the crack of bloody dawn tomorrow) but one way or another it’s been a good one and what’s more has felt like proper time out. The Scottish one came and picked me (and quite a lot of wine – Christmas is coming...) up from work, took me out to the countryside and set me down with Fortnum and Mason's latest catalogue (unbelievably sumptuous, terrifyingly expensive) whilst he cooked. That man is a treasure.

Last night was clear and frosty – the first time I’ve seen stars in weeks - and all the way we drove back out from town to the countryside there were wreaths of smoke from fireworks accompanied by a wonderfully sweet autumnal aroma; quite romantic, and very nice to be indoors by the fire with wine (and Fortnum’s catalogue). Today was equally clear and sunny and far too nice to stay indoors, I could have tidied the garden but we got itchy feet and decided We Should Go Somewhere And Do Something. Given the beauty of the day with its opportunities for getting the last of the sloes for gin making, or a few late apples, or just a simple walk through all the fallen leaves admiring the colours of the landscape we decided we’d go to Stoke-on-Trent.

Whatever else Stoke has going for it, it really isn’t a pretty town, but again the drive up (yes I’m talking about the A50) was lovely with a fantastic sky full of sunlight and clouds (and Ratcliffe on Soar power station but we worked hard on ignoring that). Mum and I used to regularly visit the potteries where she gathered a formidable collection of china, and where we both developed a slight obsession with Emma Bridgewater... Poor Scottish one, no idea where he was being directed and probably no interest in trawling through shelves of mugs, but he dealt with it all manfully. I might have mentioned my love of overpriced, middle class mugs before – but what the hell – here’s another picture because they’re just so nice, and tea clearly tastes much better out of one of these than out of a lesser mug.

After Bridgewater we went to Burleigh Pottery – the really remarkable thing about today was the fact that we didn’t really get lost (just one very minor detour which hardly counts at all...) because all these places are tucked away down side streets behind housing estates, or empty bathroom shops and the like; it’s almost impossible to believe your anywhere near where you want to be. Burleigh was fun too, a big warehouse full of intensely coloured and decorated plates, bowls, jugs, and who knows what else, the overall effect is definitely overwhelming but leaves you in no doubt that there are treasures to be unearthed.

I had a great time and he didn’t complain, so I like to think we both enjoyed ourselves, and I actually feel like I’ve had a holiday which is a bonus because work is going to involve a mountain of stuff to move around tomorrow – anybody would think Christmas was coming.

Nigella v Hugh

Thursday night whilst I was settling in front of the television for an hour or so of thinking about getting round to the ironing I was disturbed by a text message asking if I too though the background music on ‘Nigella’s Kitchen’ was to reminiscent of a porn film. I wasn’t qualified to answer because a) I don’t watch porn – unless you count Nigella, but as I understand it licking your fingers whilst wearing a cardigan is pretty innocent behaviour, and b) I was watching ‘River Cottage Everyday’ at the time.

Thanks to channel 4’s helpful habit of repeating everything an hour later, and BBC iPlayer this isn’t such a problem – but really why on earth schedule my two favourite cooks against each other? Momentary irritation was soon forgotten listening to the lovely Hugh Fernley-Whittingstall wax lyrical about the joys of mussels but it’s all come back to me today.

Sunday (as you might well have noticed) is my day for cleaning the kitchen before turning it back into a bombsite post bake, considering housework before escaping to mooch around John Lewis and Waterstone’s, and realising that I’ve not done anything really useful and it’s time for bed again. After years of practice I’ve got it down to a fine art but today’s rain is making the walk into town really unattractive and looking for inspiration in the kitchen has ended up in a replay of the Hugh v Nigella dilemma.

It normally does come down to one or other of these two. I love Nigella’s what the hell add more butter attitude – perfect for a Sunday afternoon treat (and Monday evening, Tuesday lunch, Wednesday breakfast...) I like how easy she makes things too, but then Hugh – well he has a twinkle in his eye as well, and theoretically his small holding ethos is nearer to my heart. Realistically Nigella’s brand of chocolate covered domestic goddessery often wins out over wholemeal goodness, but then I like the get your hands properly dirty attitude that comes with river cottage. Choices, choices – because after all Hugh seems to like chocolate too, and Nigella isn’t all double cream; the truth is that my ideal lifestyle would be some sort of unholy combination of the two.

Today river cottage won out and I made Chelsea bus from Handbook number 3 ‘Bread’ (by Daniel Stevens) which by the by is another thing I really like about both outfits. Nigella (with her collection of 4000, count ‘em 4000 cookbooks!) frequently credits other cooks with influences coming from all over, and possibly my favourite thing about the River Cottage books are the handbooks. A whole community of people all adding fresh voices and ideas to the brand. ‘Bread’ is another one I’ve taken away for holiday reading and I can testify to the quality of the buns I made today, and the basic bread recipe I’ve made almost enough times to graduate onto something more complicated.

The Blonde and I have a plan to spend a Sunday making bagels – for me this means spending some serious time comparing and contrasting different recipes and if there are any major variations between them we plan to take one each and see what happens, and unless they’re absolutely the same chances are it’ll be Nigella’s on the one hand and Mr Stevens on the other...

Sundays

Sundays do tend to be about food round my way and today has been no exception. Yesterday the blonde and I headed out to the country to inspect the new house of a teacher friend and fellow Bridgewater fan (whatever else was moving chaos the tea was impeccably turned out) the house is great with a very promising garden, not however as promising as the teachers fathers garden... It has a lot of fruit trees – several kinds of apples, some really good plums, and a damson all gave up their best for us. So fecund were they that even the fact that I was wearing heals didn’t stop me getting bags of fruit. I’ve got some serious plans for all this fruit, now all I need to do is get organised before it goes over.

My last foraging expedition was a couple of Sundays ago when the Scottish one and I went out hunting for blackberries, I baked some into an apple and blackberry version of Apple pudding cake (I seem to remember we liked it!) but the majority went into blackberry whisky (one big jar half filled by 70cl of cheap whisky, 200g of sugar and as many blackberries as it took to fill the rest of the jar). The Scottish one tested it today and has declared it delicious (hopefully my turn soon) with no sign of secondary fermentation (the original Dom Perignon and I have both had problems with this – in my case with homemade mincemeat which is a bit less glamorous than his Champagne experiments) and so we’re hoping to find enough blackberries to make more, possibly using brown sugar which I hope will add another layer of complexity and general deliciousness to the overall flavour.

Today however is about cheesecake – made by request for lunch. I’ve not made a cheesecake for years and had vaguely remembered it being a slightly complicated process. It’s not. This is a version of a Nigella chocolate and lime cheesecake but mine is a lot smaller, lunch was only for 4 and there’s only so much left over cheesecake a person can eat without slipping into a larger dress size. I’m not sure how fashionable cheesecake is these days but it tastes as good as it ever did so here’s the recipe (for the original and probably best see ‘Nigella Bites’ or possibly her website)

1 packet of crunchy chocolate chip cookies – double choc chip won’t go amiss (150g)

40g of butter

100g caster sugar

2 whole eggs + 1 egg yolk

2 tubs (400g) cream cheese (might as well be the light version)

Juice of 2 ½ limes

1 small (17cm) springform cake tin needs to be made as waterproof as possible. It needs a sheet of tinfoil big enough to cover the base of the tin (Inside, and clipped into place by the sides) and to wrap up almost to the top of the outside of the tin. A second sheet of tinfoil wrapped around the outside of the tin should then do the trick.

Next the biscuits should be blitzed into a powder, then the butter added and the whole lot blitzed again into a buttery crumby ball. Spread this on the base of the prepared tin and put in the fridge to harden.

Set the oven to 180°, boil a kettle, and dig out a roasting tin big enough to fit the cake tin with room to spare round all the edges.

Whip the cream cheese until smooth, add the sugar and beat again, then add the eggs and lime juice, poor the gloopy limey mix into the prepared tin and place it in the roasting tin, half fill the tin with boiling water (and definitely below the level of the tinfoil!) put the whole lot – very carefully – into the oven and bake for about an hour. It should basically look set but with the hint of wobble to it.

Immediately remove as much foil as possible without undoing the sides and leave to cool on a rack – when it’s properly cool put in the fridge, still in the tin, for 2 or 3 hours (minimum) to make sure it’s well set and then eat.

Sunday

This has been quite a day for me – I’ve become a god mother (which I’m really excited by), my god son is a paragon of every virtue (he didn’t cry once) and I’ve publicly renounced Satan and all his temptations – which I feel pretty good about. It has been a little bit distracting though so I’m not in the mood to write about E F Benson’s ‘Mrs Ames’ which was plan A, plan B is in a roundabout way about rearranging my kitchen.

Another (less momentous) landmark passed this week – my collection of virago books reached the 200 score. Since last month’s influx of books I’ve been trying to catch up rather than acquire, but good charity shop finds can’t be ignored and the 200 mark is one I was a little bit keen to pass. In for a penny in for a pound and all that – so when I saw the new Nigella book half price in Waterstone’s I couldn’t resist. I honestly meant to wait until Christmas for this one, but her books have almost totemic status in my kitchen and ‘Kitchen’ (Recipes from the heart of the home) is a more than worthy addition to the canon.

‘Kitchen’ has been my bedtime reading for the last couple of nights and the first thing it’s made me do is act on some long held but half formed plans to organise my own kitchen rather better. The Scottish one got to spend Saturday night in town helping me scrub down the top of the fridge and generally shift and carry, and this is the thing I most love about Nigella. On television I find it hard to warm to her, I don’t doubt that she’s a voluptuous and lovely woman (I saw her once at a book signing, I’ve never in my life seen such a long queue of bashful looking men – all clutching baking books) but I don’t see much of my own life in those programmes, that and they feel a bit over staged.

The books are a different thing altogether. I really like the woman in-between these pages, and perhaps more to the point I trust her (who could help but trust someone who confesses to having over 4000 cookbooks, I mean I thought my collection was getting out of control...) I love these cookbooks because they are precisely that – books full of ideas for people who like to cook, nothing chefy, nothing I feel like I couldn’t tackle, nothing I feel I can’t tinker with if I want to change it. These are things which matter to me – I’m an enthusiastic but not terribly skilled cook, the right guide gives me the confidence to try things I might otherwise avoid – which in turn gives me more skills. Cooking and sharing food is something that makes me happy, and I also share this sentiment entirely “a kitchen however inadequate or alien, has the ability to make you feel once you’ve cooked in it a few times, as though you’ve marked out some safe and reassuring place of your own.”

There are no shortage of days which make me feel like a safe and reassuring place is exactly where I want to be and my kitchen is for me just that place (even more so than under the duvet on a dark and stormy night), especially after my rearrange and now that I can see work surface again. It’s also really nice to read someone who’s serious about their food, but happy to have a trashy, kitschy element to it – Nigella never makes me feel judged for liking things I probably shouldn’t (like Fry’s Creams).

Mr Wright

After last Sunday’s promise of summer this has felt like a bit of a grim old weekend, not a feeling helped by working on Saturday and Monday, or an oncoming cold, or a sense of homework waiting to be done (caused by homework waiting to be done). To avoid the homework I started on a mission To Tidy Up A Bit, quickly followed by an escape to Waterstone’s, ostensibly to find a present for the Scottish one, but mostly to get me out. Foiled by a fire alarm I returned home bookless to a flat that’s at the point of ‘tided up’ that makes it look like I’ve been burgled.

Now several hours later the dust has moved about a bit, but hasn’t actually dispersed, and there is Jam on the floor – the best laid plans etc... Still the day hasn’t been an entire wash out, I’ve finished a book group book (A Month In The Country, which I would love to talk about here, but as it’s a postal group I don’t want to spoil it for the books owner), have put into action a long cherished plan for making Genoese sponge, and have been spending a good few hours with Mr Wright – John Wright’s guide to the ‘Edible Seashore’ to be specific.

(The sponge thing was long cherished but never executed because Leith’s technique Bible suggested it was tricky, Fiona Cairn’s said tricky, and so I thought it would probably be tricky, but ‘River Cottage Everyday’ said no problem, and I trust Hugh, and indeed he was telling the truth so I feel very competent right now.)

Post baking, and just before the jam disaster, when I should have been working out what wines go with a variety of made up dinner scenarios (and at a molecular level why that is) I retired to bed with ‘Edible Seashore’ (I can’t even call myself an armchair forager). My love of the River Cottage Handbooks is no secret, and frankly I could kiss the feet of the commissioning editor. Reading this book positioned so I could see as much sky as possible – and it’s been a suitably dramatic sky for looking at – felt like an adventure (bear with me on this one). The thing with the sky, especially on dramatically cloudy days, is that you really could be anywhere or anytime...

My absolute favourite book as a child was Enid Blyton’s ‘Island of Adventure’, closely followed by any famous five book you care to mention. John Wright’s River Cottage Handbooks appeal to the same part of me; he’s a terrific writer, funny and informative with the ability to make you feel you’re out and about discovering with him. As a girl who spent much of her childhood poking around on beaches he’s speaking my language when he talks about the heady excitement of pulling up lobster pots, or even turning over rocks to see what’s underneath (though I prefer it when it’s not eels), so I’ve spent an entirely blissful couple of hours reading about different types of edible seaweed and winkles, reliving numberless happy memories. Not a wash out weekend after all, now – about that jam...