Let Her Bake Cake

Not hippie and not healthy: my favourite granola

2012-01-09T15:47:00.000Z

The granola in the photo above is so good that I just. Can't. Stop. Eating. It. I've been munching it all day, despite swearing this morning that I'd limit myself to one ramekin's worth with milk. (Yes, I eat granola out of a ramekin because it's so unhealthy and it helps me to limit portion size ;) But the ramekin soon turned into two ramekins, plus about umpteen handfuls throughout the day. And now I've ruined my appetite for the lovely Bolognese that's simmering on the stove.

This is my favourite granola recipe. Although I am more likely to make Mark Bittman's version, because it's a little healthier without all the oil and sugar, this is the one I really crave. I printed the recipe off the Gourmet website about eight years ago and I doubt I'll ever let that dog-eared piece of paper go.

The recipe originally comes from the Lord Jeffery Inn in Amherst, Massachussets, and it is a pretty gourmet granola - I think of it as elegant granola, if granola can be elegant? As I was making my elegant granola last night, I was pondering how on earth granola came to be seen as a) health food and b) hippie food. For one, it's categorically NOT healthy with all those oils and sweeteners (hence the ramekin portions), not even the homemade kind (don't get me started on the crap they put in supermarket variety). Secondly, why do we call people 'granola' who wear Birks, eat only vegan organic and burn incense like it's going out of style? Did hippies really eat granola? For some reason muesli make me think hippie much more than granola does, but perhaps granola was the original muesli in North America?

Suffice to say, there is not much point to these thoughts, but perhaps someone can enlighten me.

Almond-Raisin Granola
Adapted from Epicurious.com

Makes about 6 cups

3 cups old fashioned rolled oats
1 cup slivered or flaked almonds
3/4 cup shredded coconut (sweetened or unsweetened)
1/3 cup sesame seeds
5 Tbsp maple syrup or honey
1/4 cup dark brown sugar
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/4 cup vegetable or mild olive oil
2 Tbsp warm water
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup golden raisins

Preheat oven to 250 F / 130 C. In a large bowl toss together the oats, almonds, coconut and sesame seeds. In a measuring jug whisk together the maple syrup, brown sugar, oil, water and salt. Pour the syrup mixture over the oats and stir to combine.

Transfer the mixture to a large rimmed baking sheet and spread evenly. Bake until lightly browned, about 1 hour and 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the raisins and mix everything together. Cool completely before transferring to an airtight container.

Happy Holidays from Let Her Bake Cake

2011-12-25T09:00:00.002Z

Khalid's chocolate and chestnut bars

2011-12-11T15:26:00.000Z

The other day I was chatting to a caterer over the phone about my upcoming wedding menu. "So what desserts do you like to eat?" she asked. I don't know about you, but although I spend a huge amount of time thinking about, eating and generally being obsessed by food, I find it really difficult to articulate my likes and dislikes when put on the spot. "Um, peanut butter?" I ventured, conjuring up a mental image of my family and friends clustered around a dessert buffet table, digging into spoonfuls of PB straight from the jar. For some reason when someone asks me what food I like, peanut butter is the first and only thing that ever springs to mind...

Eventually though, I got into the groove and started reeling off some of my favourites. We are planning a Canadian-English fusion menu to celebrate our two countries, so I told her about my love of bread and butter pudding, peach pie, butter tarts, Eton mess and anything with maple. The obvious omission then dawned on me: "I don't really like chocolate. I mean, I like it, but it's never what I would choose for dessert."

Except maybe where these bars are concerned. These are amazing. They could turn a take-it-or-leave it chocolate person into a bonafide cocoa lover. They're simply an incredibly dense, fudgy brownie on a digestive base with chestnuts, white chocolate and figs added (though I used prunes). Really, you could add anything though. I didn't find the chestnuts necessary and would probably swap in more prunes next time. You won't be seeing these at my wedding, but I'm sure you'll see them in my kitchen again soon.

*A note of warning. The batter will be very, very wobbly when you take these out of the oven and you will think they are massively underdone. You will be tempted to leave them in for longer. Don't. Once you let them cool overnight (in the fridge for part of the time) they will be perfectly set and perfectly fudgy the next day.

Khalid's Chocolate and Chestnut Bars
From Ottolenghi: The Cookbook

Topping:
225 g dark chocolate
150 g unsalted butter, diced
2 eggs
1 egg yolk
45 g caster sugar
120 g cooked peeled chestnuts, roughly chopped (these are available in tins)
120 g dried figs or prunes, roughly chopped
120 g white chocolate, roughly chopped
cocoa powder for dusting

Base:
190 g digestive biscuits
90 g unsalted butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 150 C / 300 F. Lightly grease a 20cm / 8in square pan and line with parchment paper or foil. A pan with a removable bottom is a good option here.

Place the biscuits in a large bowl and crush with hands or a rolling pin. Add the melted butter and mix in to make a sandy paste. Scatter this mixture into the tin and press down hard to make an even base. Leave in the fridge to set.

Meanwhile, put the dark chocolate and butter in a bowl set over a pan of simmering water, and leave to melt, stirring occasionally. Remove from the heat.

Use an electric mixer to whisk the eggs, egg yolk and sugar together until thick and pale. Then with a spoon, fold the chocolate mixture in followed by the chestnuts, figs and white chocolate. Spread evenly over the biscuit base and bake in the centre of the oven for 15 to 20 minutes, until the surface is completely dry but a skewer inserted in the centre comes out with lots of gooey crumbs clinging to it. Remove from the oven, leave to cool, then refrigerate for a few hours until set. Cut into bars and dust with cocoa powder before serving.

An American in Paris: Sugarplum Cake Shop

2011-11-20T16:07:00.001Z

My parents and sister sped off to Paris on the Eurostar on Friday morning. This means I can finally post this long overdue entry on my blog. Allow me to explain...

My sister and I are, er, competitive, to put it bluntly. Don't get me wrong, we're the best of friends, but we also maintain a rather childlike (OK, completely immature) rivalry when it comes to parental privilege, particularly around the issue of travel and who-got-to-go-where. Typically it would go something like: "No fair, Mum took you to Italy to watch the figure skating and she didn't take me anywhere!" I swear, my sister still holds a grudge that I went on one more trip to Europe when we were teenagers than she did. (Yes... I am aware that we sound like spoiled brats :)

So last November when my parents and I went to Paris for a few days, there were murmurs of, "Ooh, we'd better not tell Ele we've all been to Paris together without her". We managed to keep this little secret for a year, people. I was quite proud of this feat of deception, so it was actually a bit of a disappointment when she did recently find out. There was virtually no reaction at all! I guess we're becoming more mature in our old age.

Anyway, onto Paris. My parents always stay in this hotel in the quartier latin when they visit Paris. And last year we discovered the most delightful bakery and cake shop right across the street. Sugarplum Cake Shop feels like the least French place in Paris - it's an American bakery (though there are Canadians and Scots involved in the venture too, from the accents I heard) serving authentic US-style treats and producing very impressive couture cakes, too.

The bakery itself is warm and cozy, with a nice selection of specialty teas and cakes. The signage and the service were both in English (I'd be shocked to hear French in this place, to be honest!). And if you're a Martha fan, there are stacks of Martha Stewart Living lying around, to provide cake inspiration.

There's lots going on at Sugarplum - when we were there one of the owners was in the middle of a wedding cake consultation with a bride at a nearby table, and you can see through the shop's back door into the action in their next door bakery. Oh, there's also free Wifi.

Most impressive about this place, though, were the cakes on display. Obviously I don't know what they tasted like, but the wedding cake in the window was gorgeous (see below for proof) and the bakers clearly have a sense of humour - check out the hilarious Halloween-theme they had going on. A jack-o-lantern throwing up candy - genius!

Sugarplum Cake Shop
68 rue Cardinal Lemoine
75005 Paris
Metro stop: Cardinal Lemoine

Nigella's marmalade pudding cake

2011-10-24T18:50:00.001+01:00

As a kid I was a pretty picky eater. My sister was a seriously picky eater, so in comparison I probably didn't seem that bad, but there was still a reasonably lengthy catalogue of no-go foods that needed to be worked around at mealtimes. Obviously my tastebuds have matured, and most of those once-verboten foods I've learned to love. Nuts? Love 'em! Zucchini? Loooove it. Fresh coriander? Love love LOVE it!

There are a few foods I'm never going to come around to, though. I have a pretty complicated relationship with cheese - I enjoy it in some guises, but anything too creamy or too smelly or too cheesy is just bleurgh. Mayonnaise will never, ever pass my lips. And I still don't like marmalade.

I grew up in a house filled with marmalade. I mean it wasn't like you opened a cupboard and jars of marmalade came tumbling out on top of you, but my parents are serious marmalade eaters and I remember the yearly bulk purchase of Seville oranges in order to produce the next year's batch. The practice continues to this day, and I still don't exactly relish the hot, orange fugginess of a kitchen that has become Marmalade Central.

But while I wouldn't deign to spread some hot, buttered toast with a spoonful of the stuff, I will readily admit that marmalade contributes a certain something to dessert. Like the best flavour of oranges, but deeper and more orangey. And it works especially well in this Nigella pudding. Fresh out of the oven this is a soft, sort of cakey thing, kind of like the traditional British steamed sponge. The next day it's much more solid and cake-like, and that's how we polished off the leftovers, in big hunks alongside a cup of tea. A two-in-one dessert - what's not to love?

Marmalade Pudding Cake
From Kitchen by Nigella Lawson

Serves 6 to 8

250 g soft unsalted butter, plus some for greasing
75 g caster or granulated sugar
75 g light brown sugar
150 g marmalade, plus 75 g for the glaze
225 g flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
4 eggs
zest and juice of 1 orange (reserve half the juice for the glaze)

Preheat the oven to 350 F / 180 C, and butter a 24cm / 9in ovenproof dish. Put the 75 g marmalade and juice of half the orange into a small pan and set aside to make a glaze later.

Put all the other ingredients into a food processor, process them until just well combined, and then scrape the batter into the buttered dish, smoothing the top. (If you’re not using a processor, cream the butter and both sugars in a mixer, beat in the marmalade followed by the dry ingredients, then the eggs and finally the orange zest and juice.)

Bake in the centre of the oven for about 40 minutes, until the pudding is risen and golden and a cake tester comes out mostly clean. Remove from the oven and set aside to cool a little. Meanwhile warm the glaze mixture in the pan until melted together, then paint the top of the pudding. Serve alongside custard or cream.

Back to school with oat plum crisp / crumble

2011-09-21T17:23:00.001+01:00

Summer is officially over, school is in session, and our street is filled again with scruffy teenagers who hog the sidewalks and manage to make what is actually a very natty uniform look vaguely vagrant. The difference this year, of course, is that Edward and I are both going back to school. Him to being the teacher, and me to being the student! For the past several months time has been going as slow as cold molasses (and for the past couple of weeks it feels as if it's come to an absolute halt) but finally I begin my midwifery degree on Monday.

Of course this fact has brought about the realization, "Oh no! All those things I've been meaning to accomplish over the last three weeks at home? I need to do them in the next three days!" So today I have bought a ton of groceries, weeded and raked the courtyard outside our house, vaccuumed the communal hallway (a job I've been meaning to do for over a year, since it appears no one else is going to do it), done two loads of laundry, ordered a filing cabinet online, sorted out the loose change drawer (we're rich!) and baked a banana bread. Phew!

The banana bread is only the third thing I've baked since returning from Canada. The first was the plum cake in the post below, and the second was Nigel Slater's oat plum crumble. See a theme here? A friend gave me a huge bag of prune plums from her allotment, and it was a case of use, freeze or perish! So, very much my mother's daughter, I spent about an hour slicing plums for freezing, while holding some back for the cake (a little dry, better the first time I made it) and Nige's crumble (extremely tasty).

Though, despite him calling it a crumble, it's not. It's a crisp. See this post for the difference. Whatever you call it, this kind of homey, rustic, fall dessert just says back-to-school, doesn't it?

Oat and Plum Crisp
From Tender, volume two by Nigel Slater

Fruit:
750 g plums or damsons
4 Tbsp light brown sugar
a large knob of butter

Topping:
150g g flour
100 g butter
50 g ground almonds
70 g light brown sugar
50 g rolled oats

Preheat the oven to 190 C / 375 F.

Stone the plums and slice in half. Put them in a saucepan with the butter and sugar and, on a medium-low heat, leave them to soften slightly.

Meanwhile make the crisp topping by rubbing the butter into the flour till it resembles fresh breadcrumbs. Stir in the ground almonds, sugar and oats.

Pile the fruit into a baking dish, then tip the topping onto the fruit evenly. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes until the crust is crisp and golden, and the fruit soft and tender.

Serve warm with cream.

What I've baked

2011-09-09T17:40:00.000+01:00

Some recent treats from my oven...

Ele's pizza dough (topped with tomato sauce, eggplant, kalamata olives, hot salami and buffalo mozzarella)

Dorie's Dimply Plum Cake

Grandma's butterscotch cookies

2011-08-30T21:33:00.001+01:00

Wherever my grandmother is, there is usually good baking around too. Several of my childhood favourites came from her originally, including these refrigerator butterscotch cookies, which my mum made all the time when we were little but which I hadn't eaten in well over a decade. So when we visited her in southern Ontario last week, I was delighted to discover a tupperware container full of them on her kitchen counter. Grandma is her own harshest critic, and she didn't think they were very good at all. But the flavour was in fact perfect, rich and sweet and buttery, just like I remembered. The only slight issue was that she had underbaked them by a minute or two.

When I got to my parents' house I decided to give them a crack to see if I could get the timings just right. My mum got out the old recipe card written in my grandmother's hand, and I was a little surprised to see that it gave no real instructions beyond 'mix ingredients and bake'. I guess they just knew how to do things in the old days! Despite the lack of direction, I think I got these just about perfect - crisp with a nice snap, and full of butterscotch flavour. And they are so easy. A full recipe of dough makes two logs of about 4 dozen biscuits each - the logs can be kept in the fridge or freezer, then sliced and baked off as you want them.

I've never seen this tin before, but I went out and when I got home the cookies were in it. I think this tartan lady's kind of cool. And from the looks of her, I bet she likes butterscotch cookies. Ba-da-bum-ching!

Hey, I'm known for my cookies, not my jokes.

Butterscotch Cookies
Makes 7 to 8 dozen

2 cups brown sugar (light or dark - I used a mixture)
1 cup unsalted butter
2 large eggs
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 tsp baking powder
3 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1/4 tsp salt

Preheat the oven to 350 F / 180 C. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper or a Silpat.

In a medium bowl whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, or in a large bowl with a handheld mixer, cream together the sugar and butter until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs one at a time, scraping down the bowl as necessary. Add the vanilla and beat to incorporate. With the mixer on medium-low, add the flour in three additions, mixing well after each one. The batter will be very stiff.

When the dough is well mixed, divide it between two large pieces of wax paper. Shape each mound of dough into a long log, then wrap them up in the paper and chill very well in the fridge, at least one hour. (The logs can also be stored in the freezer at this point.)

When ready to bake, cut off any messy ends of the log and slice it into rounds about 1/4 inch thick. Place them on the cookie sheets (these do not spread much so can be placed close together) and bake for about 17 to 20 minutes, until the cookies are a deep golden colour and are firm to the touch.

Cool on a rack before storing in an airtight container.

Santa Monica Farmers' Market

2011-08-11T06:50:00.001+01:00

The Sunday morning Main Street Farmers' Market in Santa Monica is more like a fair that happens to have a market tacked on. It features live music, plus pony riding, a mini petting zoo and toys for the tots and tykes in attendance. The many, many, many tots and tykes. (If you don't like children before your morning coffee, this may not be the place for you. One mother I chatted to while waiting for our sandwiches confessed that she leaves hers at home and gets out of there are quickly as possible.)

But oh my, there is so much for the grown-ups too. It was nearly impossible to choose breakfast from the various stalls (in the end I went for an outrageously delicious roasted eggplant sandwich from Bean and Thyme while Ed had an omelette), and the local produce on offer all looked beautiful.

My favourite new discovery? The pluot, a plum-apricot crossbreed. I bought a bunch of varieties, and must have eaten another four or five through free samples alone.

The one thing I found odd about this market was the lack of baking, especially compared to the London markets I am used to. Just one bakery stall, selling mainly bread and pastries, and not a cake in sight! Well, this is an LA market, after all.

California and a chocolate crunch cake

2011-08-03T15:56:00.000+01:00

Of course the week that summer decides to arrive in England, I'm off to California. So much for boasting about the sun and heat I'm going to be basking in... we've already got it here. In fact against all odds I'm

actually hoping it might be a little cooler in California, or at least less stiflingly humid.

Given this burst of midsummer mugginess, baking has been the last thing on my mind. So I leave you with a totally trashy, no-bake summer treat for nibbling out of the fridge instead.

Postcard from Cali soon!

Nigella's Sweet and Salty Crunch Bars
Adapted from Kitchen by Nigella Lawson

Nigella's version of these bars call for Crunchie bars (sweet) and peanuts (salty) but since Edward hates nuts and I wanted a more Rocky Road-like texture to the bars, I substituted salted pretzels, raisins and mini marshmallows. You can use what you like.

300 g good quality chocolate (whatever you like - dark, milk or a mixture)
125 g unsalted butter
1 Tbsp golden syrup
150 g salted peanuts, pretzels or plain potato crisps
300 g Crunchie bars (4 bars), broken up, or a mixture of other chocolate bars, raisins, marshmallows, toffee, etc.

Line a 23cm / 9in springform pan with foil or parchment paper.

In a medium saucepan melt the butter, chocolate and golden syrup over a low heat until everything is smooth and completely melted. Add the sweet and salty additions to the saucepan and stir well to coat everything in chocolate.

Pour the mixture into the prepared pan, and spread out and flatten it using a silicon spatula.

Cover and refrigerate for 3 to 4 hours before unmoulding from the pan and cutting into chunks or wedges. Keep in the refrigerator.

An (almost) perfect recipe: Cherry, nut and oat bars

2011-07-12T20:40:00.000+01:00

There's a program here on the BBC called Grumpy Old Women, in which well known women 'of a certain age' rant about things that annoy them. Despite the fact that I am a mere 31 years old, I could star on this show. I have got to be one of the most easily riled people on the planet.

To demonstrate, here is a small taste of some things that annoy me to no end:

the English "summer" that really isn't a summer at all
when people use the word 'myself' incorrectly, because they think it's somehow more posh, ie "Please return the files to myself". Only mildly less hateful is incorrect use of 'I', ie. "Thank you for joining John and I today". Argghh.
people who don't write prompt thank you cards for (expensive!) wedding gifts
mugs left all over the house
pilled sweaters
when the bottom layer of a square recipe doesn't properly cover the whole pan.

I hate that last one. And it seems to happen pretty often - you've got high hopes for some butter tart bars or date squares or whatever, and then you press the bottom layer down into the pan for the first baking, and there isn't quite enough mixture. SO annoying.

So I was weirdly thrilled with the substantial layer of oaty goodness in this fruit bar recipe from my Ottolenghi cookbook. From that point on I just knew this recipe would turn out. And turn out it did - the caramelized nut layer on top was equally perfectly proportioned, and the suggested baking time turned out the most divine - if quite sweet - squares.

I mean, really, how could these people get anything wrong?

The sweets table at Ottolenghi, Upper Street

Well, one thing did go wrong (and quite badly wrong, at that) but that was my error, not Ottolenghi's. Note to self: ignoring the instruction to line the tin with parchment paper will result in sticky square sides that are nigh on impossible to prise away from the pan!

But I can say that if you follow the instructions to the letter, this recipe is practically perfect. If it doesn't work for you, it is not my fault!

Cherry, Nut and Oat Bars
Adapted from Ottolenghi: The Cookbook

Base:
120g all purpose (plain) flour
1/3 tsp baking powder
100g unsalted butter, diced
60g caster sugar
a pinch of salt
80g whole rolled oats

Filling:
220g cherry or raspberry jam

Topping:
70g flaked almonds
210g other mixed nuts, chopped (I used walnuts and pecans)
100g unsalted butter
75g caster sugar
40ml milk
1 tsp pure vanilla essence

Preheat the oven to 170C / 340F. Lightly grease a 20cm / 8in square tin and line it on all sides with parchment paper, leaving some overhang so you can lift it out later - lining the tin is very important or the bars will stick horribly!

To make the base, in a large bowl whisk together the flour and baking powder. Add the butter, sugar and salt and rub everything together with your fingers to form crumbs. Mix in the oats (this is easiest done with your hands). Spread the mixture over the bottom of the prepared tin and press down lightly. Bake for 20 minutes or until light brown. Remove from the oven, cool for a few minutes, and then spread evenly with the jam.

To make the topping, place the nuts in a large bowl. In a small saucepan over medium heat, heat the butter, sugar, milk and vanilla. Stir until the sugar has dissolved, then pour over the nuts and mix together. Pour the nut mixture evenly over the jam and return to the oven for 30 minutes, until the top has turned golden brown.

Leave to cool on a wire rack, then remove from the tin by pulling on the parchment paper, and cut into squares.

Conquering driving and pavlova

2011-07-03T20:29:00.001+01:00

When we moved from London to the Midlands last September, I was incredibly nervous about the fact that I would have to start driving in England. While I had happily avoided this terrifying prospect during five years in London, I knew that if I didn’t get myself a bit more mobile – and stat – I’d go stir crazy in a small market town.

For the first few months I ignored the issue. We didn’t have a car yet, and when we did buy a car, I was too busy with other stuff to make driving a priority. But then I was bored. I needed a job. And I knew I would probably have to drive to the office. I was going to have to face my fears and get behind the wheel on the left hand side of the road. And navigate roundabouts. Eek!

I can tell you that my first few forays into driving in England involved: narrowly involving a collision on a roundabout, getting dangerously close to the left bank of the road, quite a bit of panicking and shouting, and an abandoned journey to Leamington Spa.

But eventually, after a top-notch roundabout tutorial from Edward's brother, I discovered that the key is confidence. (Coupled with my trust satnav friend Jane.) Just do it.

I still sometimes get nervous when I drive to a new place on my own (possibly because I missed my motorway exit on the way to work one morning and ended up on the way to Cambridge) and I have a pathological fear of meeting a roundabout such as this famous monster (it's a roundabout with another five roundabouts off it!). But hey, I can drive on the wrong side of the road! And semi-competently navigate the UK’s bizarre and unnecessarily complicated road system! It’s a pretty good feeling.

I had that same feeling in the kitchen the other evening, when I finally conquered pavlova. In the past, meringue and I have not been friends. Either it would burn or stick hopelessly to the pan or collapse into a soft, gungy mess. I would marvel at how other people could make one with relative ease, with just the right balance of crisp crunch and soft marshmallow centre, and the greeneyed monster would secretly rage within me.

Given that I made this meringue on one of the hottest, most humid days of the year so far, I could have been forgiven for thinking it would be another disaster. But I was feeding it to company, so I knew I didn't have the disaster option. It had to work. And it did! Remember, it’s all about confidence.

Raspberry Pavlova

Adapted from Appetite by Nigel Slater

6 egg whites (from large eggs)

350 g caster sugar

1/2 tsp white wine vinegar

3 tsp cornstarch

300 ml whipping cream

raspberries or passionfruit, for piling on top

Preheat the oven to 180C / 350F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Separate the eggs, and drop the whites into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. (You can also use a hand mixer.) Be careful not to leave any shell or yolk in the whites! Add the vinegar, and beat at at medium speed until the whites are shiny, thick and well risen. Add the sugar in one go, and continue to whisk for a minute or so, until the mixture is thick and glossy. (When you pull out the whisk, the mixture should slide off it very slowly.) Using a spatula, gently fold in the cornstarch.

Scoop the meringue onto the tray, and spread and smooth it into the shape you want - I did a circle a little smaller than the width of the tray. Bake in the centre of the oven for an hour - if it starts to look too brown at any point, turn down the heat a little. After an hour turn off the heat but don't open the oven door - leave the meringue there until it is almost cool.

Meanwhile whip the cream into soft folds. When the meringue is cool, peel it from the paper and place it on a serving platter. Pile the cream on top and scatter the fruit on top, then dribble over any juices.

Study sesame

2011-06-18T10:03:00.000+01:00

I’ve finally resurfaced from a month of study hell, and boy, does it feel good. The lack of posting around here has mainly been attributable to the fact that I’ve been studying for a biology exam that took place yesterday. Passing this human biology course is a condition of starting my midwifery degree in the fall, so you know, I had to make an effort.

In the end it was fine. The short answer questions on a ragbag collection of topics utterly threw me, as the examiners seemed to have abandoned all the usual suspects from past exam papers and decided to throw us a serious curveball instead. So much for my encyclopaedic knowledge of the endocrine system! Luckily the data handling and essay questions were just what I expected – my saving grace! I wrote a very nice essay on “the processes involved in the digestion of a roast chicken dinner”.

I could try to share my exam experience with you by writing a whole new essay on the processes involved in digesting these delicious sesame crackers and a piece of cheese alongside them, but I’ll spare you that particular delight. (I can tell you that the terms peristalsis, enzymes, chyme and amino acids would be used a lot.) Instead, I’ll just tell you that these crackers are really easy, quick and yummy. They’re also perfect for some study session brain food.

Sesame Crackers

Makes about 4 dozen
2 cups all purpose / plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2/3 cup warm water
1/3 cup vegetable oil
6 Tbsp sesame seeds
3 Tbsp poppy seeds
1 /3 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus a bit more for sprinkling
1 egg, beaten, for brushing on top

Preheat the oven to 220 C / 400 F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
Combine the flour, baking powder, salt, seeds and Parmesan in a large bowl. Stir in the water and oil and with a wooden spoon, or your hands, mix until a smooth dough forms.

Halve the dough and flatten one piece into a large rectangle directly on the prepared baking sheet. Use a rolling pin to roll it into a large rectangle about 1/8-inch thick. Using a sharp knife, score the dough into two dozen pieces. Pierce it all over with fork, brush generously with the egg, and sprinkle with extra Parmesan. Repeat with second half of dough.

Bake in the centre of the oven until the crackers are dry and golden, about 20 minutes. Cool the pans on a wire rack and, once cool, break the crackers apart along the scoring line. Store in an airtight container.

Storecupboard baking: Garibaldi biscuits

2011-05-22T19:19:00.001+01:00

Er, there were some Garibaldi biscuits there. Unfortunately they were so good we ate 77% of them before I got round to taking a pic.

Garibaldi biscuits are one of the things I make when I have nothing in my cupboards. (The other is banana bread). Given this fact, I'm surprised I don't make them more often, because I often have nothing in my cupboards.

Do you know who I dream of being? You know the 'pantry staples' lists at the start of cookbooks, telling you that in order to rustle up a gourmet meal after work you should have certain foodstuffs in your kitchen? It usually goes pasta, capers, San Marzano canned tomatoes, anchovies, soy sauce, lemons, balsamic vinegar, couscous, pesto, walnuts, artichokes etc? I dream of being that person, the person who actually has all the pantry staples at hand. My mother is that person - you should see the endless ingredients in the floor-to-ceiling cupboards in my parents' kitchen. It's like they just returned from a round-the-world culinary journey. I am so not that person. I am always missing half the recipe.

Which is why I end up baking a lot of things like banana bread and Garibaldi biscuits. Things that do not require a lot of fancy ingredients. Things I might actually be able to whip up after work without a trip to Sainsbury's Local.

Given the name (and the fact that my recipe comes from an Italian cookbook) you'd think these little gems are Italian. But they're actually a British classic, invented by famous biscuit maker John Carr in Victorian times, and named after the famous Italian general who had made a visit to the UK in 1854. Given that this was a commercially produced cookie from the get-go, it's kind of interesting that so many recipes for homemade ones exist. If you think about it it's actually a bit like baking your own Oreos or custard creams. So maybe instead of going to the trouble of baking these, even though I do have the ingredients handy, I should admit defeat and go buy a package at Sainsbury's Local.

Garibaldi Biscuits
From Ursula Ferrigno's Complete Italian Cookery Course

115 g plain flour
85 g unsalted butter
55 g caster sugar, plus a little extra to finish
115 g dried currants
1 large egg, beaten

Preheat the oven to 180 C / 350 F. Grease a non-stick jelly roll tin (about 7x11 in), or if using a tin without non-stick properties, line with parchment paper so it overhangs on two sides of the tin.)

Place the flour, sugar and butter in a medium bowl and rub the butter in using your fingertips until it is evenly distributed throughout. Stir in the currants. Add almost all of the beaten egg to bind everything together and form a soft, but not sticky, dough.

Turn the dough into the tin and press down so the surface is even. Brush all over with the remaining egg and sprinkle with the extra sugar, to taste.

Bake in the centre of the oven for about 30 minutes, until the top is golden brown. When it is out of the oven cut into as many squares as you want, and leave to cool before eating.

My cake

2011-05-13T22:52:00.001+01:00

We’ve discussed Kate’s cake. Now let’s talk about my cake!

Yes, I have a wedding cake in my future. Not in my super-immediate future, mind you. Due to various issues – one family wedding already scheduled for this summer, wanting to get married in Canada, and starting a midwifery degree with short, fixed holiday dates – my and Edward’s wedding won’t be until August next year. I guess that just gives me lots of time to think about details. Like cake.

Being a girl who loves to bake cakes, it may surprise you that wedding cakes don’t excite me much. They don’t always taste that great (I can’t actually remember the taste of a single wedding cake I’ve ever eaten, though I'm sure some of them must have been nice) and I’ve never missed it when I’ve been to a wedding without a traditional cake, or indeed, no cake at all. But weddings do funny things to people, don’t they? Now I think I’d quite like to have something to cut.

My taste is small, simple, pared down and plain. I’ve long gravitated to Martha Stewart for the ultimate in this aesthetic. I favour just two tiers, like one of these:

My mum is absolutely charmed by these personalized wedding cake toppers, and I must admit they’re very sweet. I also like fresh flowers on a cake, and I've long admired the adorable bell topper pictured below.

And even though I don’t like cheese, I am obsessed with the fabulous cheese cakes you can order these days. Since Edward is a total cheese fiend, wouldn’t this be a great savoury 'groom’s cake' to accompany a traditional wedding cake?

I know what you’re really wondering, though. Is she going to make her cake herself? Um, I doubt it! I’ve been to weddings with homemade cakes and there is something wonderful about them. My mum says that the best fruitcake my grandmother ever made was the one for my parents’ wedding (she then had it professionally decorated, a very sensible halfway house approach if you ask me.) Gluten Free Girl may be able to whip up her chocolate cake at 10:30pm on the eve of her wedding, but something tells me there will be enough stress without the added pressure of a kitchen meltdown.

And now, a ring shot. Just because!

Loving... the Beater Blade

2011-05-09T20:54:00.001+01:00

My mixer is back! I have to take a moment to sing the praises of KitchenAid's customer service (and of Edward, because without his initiative in actually contacting KA and getting the darn thing sorted out, it would still be sitting broken and unusable on my counter). All he had to do was ring them up, tell them the serial number by which they could see that the mixer was within warranty, and a couple of days later they picked it up from our house. A week after that it was returned to my door in perfect working order. Love it!

I also love my new Beater Blade, a birthday present from my mum and a revelation in the world of mixer attachments. You know the oft-repeated recipe instruction, "Scrape down the bowl between each addition?" It's now obsolete in my kitchen. The Beater Blade's rubber edge means you don't have to stop the mixer and get our your spatula. It actually works - I am really impressed by how smooth its motion is and how it all but eliminates batter build-up on the sides of the bowl.

And this is kind of cool too: no matter which mixer you have - KA, Cuisinart, Kenwood, Viking - Beater Blade makes a product to fit it! Really, once you see the blade in action the idea seems so obvious that you go, "Why didn't I think of that?" It's definitely true that the best ideas are the simple ones.

Kate's cake

2011-05-04T20:07:00.000+01:00

The dress was absolutely gorgeous, wasn't it? But what did you think of the cake?

As I mentioned back in November, I'm no lover of over-the-top royal wedding cakes. But this one wasn't terrible as these things go. In fact, it was kind of alright. I was already familiar with Fiona Cairns, who was chosen to make the cake - her business is just 20 miles from here and I often see her delivery vans driving up and down the M1 on my way to the office. She seems to have done a good job of making this a relatively understated creation, but one that still has serious oomph amidst the majesty of Buck Palace.

Here are some pretty cool photos of it, and an accompanying article about the making of the cake and the symbolism of the flowers and architectural details used.

Oh, and we did end up going down to central London for the wedding. My mum, who was visiting, and I caught the earliest train to London and met my sister near The Mall. It was SO worth it:

More rhubarb and royal wedding telly

2011-04-27T18:30:00.000+01:00

Here in England we have definitely entered Royal Wedding Week. This fact is immediately obvious to anyone who dares to turn on a radio or, worse, a television set. If it’s not a royal-weddings-of-yore documentary (When Royals Wed; Britain's Royal Weddings) featuring David Emanuel reliving the horror of Diana’s crumpled dress emerging from the carriage, it’s your favourite morning radio show using their “BBC 2 royal wedding mobile phone” to talk to fans camping outside the Abbey. Today they chatted to Donna from Connecticut. (Truth be told, Donna sounded like so much fun that I almost wished I were camping out with her.)

But far worse than the general royal wedding documentaries are the William and Kate-based ones. It’s basically the same program over and over and over again. At 8, sit down and watch Kate and William: A Love Story on BBC One. At 9, flip to Channel 5 for When Kate Met William: A Tale of Two Lives. What’s that, you say? It’s the same five minutes of footage, seven facts about the couple and three "close personal friends" being interviewed as were in the last five shows? (This guy pops up in nearly every doc. He knows pay day and 1.5 minutes of fame when he sees it!) At least the US made-for-TV movie William and Kate was a bit different, cringetastically awful though it was.

I probably sound grumpy about Kate and Wills and their wedding. I’m actually not – I have a serious soft spot for a bit of royal pageantry, and am among the minority of inhabitants of this island who is actually excited about Friday. I’m just sick to death of this pile of television garbage.

If you’re stuck watching something absolutely awful on TV this evening, this rhubarb cobbler might make things a bit better. It’s light and springlike and so quick to whip up that you have time to do it before William and Kate: Romance and the Royals begins on Channel 4 at 9.

Rhubarb Cobbler
The Best Casserole Cookbook Ever

Serves 4 to 6

2 cups rhubarb, chopped
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1 Tbsp all purpose (plain) flour
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp grated orange or lemon zest

Biscuit topping:
1 cup all purpose (plain) flour
2 Tbsp granulated sugar
1/4 tsp salt
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 cup butter, softened
1 large egg, beaten
2 Tbsp milk

Preheat the oven to 350 F / 180 C. Spread the rhubarb in the bottom of the pie pan. Combine the sugar, flour, cinnamon and zest in a small bowl and sprinkle evenly over the rhubarb. Set aside.

In a large bowl stir together the flour, sugar, salt and baking powder. Now add the butter in small pieces and work it into the dry ingredients with your fingers until the mixture resembles large, coarse crumbs. Beat together the egg and milk and add it to the dry mixture; using a wooden spoon stir it in until everything is just moistened. Drop spoonfuls of the batter over the rhubarb, and spread smooth with a spatula if you wish.

Bake in the centre of the oven for about 30 minutes, until the top is golden brown and the rhubarb filling is soft and bubbling.

Big Sur browned butter rhubarb bars (try saying that five times fast!)

2011-04-20T20:59:00.001+01:00

By this time of year, I am so thoroughly sick of "winter fruit". By this I mean the usual imports plus the single domestic offering found during the darker months: apples, oranges, bananas, and the odd kiwi. Good riddance to the lot of you.

Instead, I throw my arms wide in a welcoming embrace to rhubarb! Hello rhubarb! How I’ve missed you! You are a delightfully tangy and tasty change for my palate, and a harbinger of things to come – peaches, plums, cherries and berries, the fruits I could (and often do) live off in the summer months.

Although I’ve got a real thing for simple and quick rhubarb cakes, this past weekend I turned my hand to something a bit more complex, specifically browned butter rhubarb bars with a shortbread base, an eggy, buttery, sugary middle, and a rhubarb compote top. The recipe comes from The Big Sur Bakery Cookbook. Now, I’ve never felt compelled to cook anything from this book before (it’s a castoff my sis gave me a couple of years back) but given that Edward and I are heading off to California for two weeks in August and on our itinerary is a visit to Big Sur, I figured I should make an attempt at one of the recipes to see if the restaurant might be a worthwhile culinary stop on our journey.

The success of this recipe has got me wondering if I should give this cookbook more of a chance. And I am definitely visiting the restaurant in person. Because these bars are simply awesome. They got rave reviews from every single person who tried them and I am convinced that they are actually worth the effort of the compote making and the pastry pressing and the butter browning and every last step of the process. They are that good.

Oh, and did I mention that browned butter smells amazing? If you needed one last reason to convince you to make these - that would be it.

Browned Butter Rhubarb Bars
Adapted from The Big Sur Bakery Cookbook

I have decreased the amount of sugar from the original recipe, because it seemed like an obscene amount.

The original recipe calls for a 9 x 13 inch pan, but I didn't find there was enough base mixture to cover it so I used a slightly smaller 7 x 11 inch pan and increased the baking times by about 5 minutes.

For the compote:
3/4 cup sugar
grated zest and juice of 2 oranges, or blood oranges if you have them
1/2 vanilla bean or 1 tsp vanilla extract
4 rhubarb stalks, cut into 1/2 inch pieces

To prepare the compote, place the sugar, orange zest and juice into a medium saucepan. Split the vanilla bean in half lengthwise and scrap out the seeds from one half with a small knife. Place the pulp and the pod in the saucepan and bring the mixture to a boil over high heat. Cook until the faintest bit of caramel color starts to appear around the edges. Add the rhubarb and continue to cook, stirring with a wooden spoon until the rhubarb turns into a smooth jam, about 7 to 10 minutes. Transfer the mixture (discarding the vanilla pod) to a separate dish to cool while you make the crust and filling.

For the crust:
1 cup unsalted butter
1/4 cup icing sugar
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1/4 tsp salt

Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium high heat, whisking frequently. Cook until the butter separates (the white milk solids will rise to a foam on top) and the butter starts to brown and smell nutty, about 5 minutes. Pour the hot brown butter into a dry bowl and freeze till solid, about 45 minutes to an hour. Place the sugar, flour and salt in a bowl and mix to combine. Take out the frozen butter and cut it into small cubes. Mix the cubes into the flour mixture, using a pastry cutter or your hands to break up the butter until large crumbs start to form. Work the crumbs together into a crumbly dough with both hands and place it in a 9 x13 baking pan. (Or a smaller one - see note above.) Press the dough in firmly with the bottom of a glass to make sure the crust evenly covers the entire bottom of the dish. Chill the crust in the fridge for 30 minutes, then bake at 375F / 190C for 15 to 20 minutes, until the crust is golden brown. Remove to cool, but leave the oven on.

For the brown butter filling:
3 eggs
1 cup sugar
grated zest of 1 orange
3/4 cup plus 2 Tbsp all purpose flour
1/2 vanilla bean or 1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup plus 2 Tbsp unsalted butter

Whisk together the eggs, sugar, orange zest and flour in a medium bowl. Scrape out the other half of the vanilla bean just as you did for the compote and put the pulp and the pod in a medium saucepan along with the butter and melt over medium high heat, until the butter separates and gets brown and nutty. Discard the vanilla pod. Carefully add the warm brown butter mixture to the egg mixture, whisking constantly until all the butter is incorporated.

Assemble the bars by spreading half the brown butter mixture over the cooled crust, then dollop with the compote. Spread over the remaining brown butter mixture and finish off with dollops of the remaining compote. Bake in the centre of the oven for 25 to 30 minutes, until the filling is deep golden brown on top. Cool before cutting into squares.

Birthday guest post by Edward: it IS rocket science

2011-04-07T20:30:00.000+01:00

I turned 31 yesterday. It was a great day - I came home from work to my friends having arrived from Canada for a visit, plus lots of lovely cards and presents - and a cake! I had been harassing Ed about this for awhile, but didn't actually think he would make one. But not only did he make one, he blogged it! Here's his guest post on the making of my birthday cake. Just a warning: if you don't know Ed, you may not "get" all of his expressions... he's a bit different.

It only seems fair I should make Hilary a birthday cake after the genius creations I’ve had for my birthdays over the years. I can solve the time-dependent Schrödinger Equation and hold my own in a conversation about the Higgs Boson, so why is baking more like mysterious witchcraft?

I’ve gone for this carrot cake.

Only just this morning I had KitchenAid come and pick up Hil’s mixer as it needs servicing. They are very good. I rang them with the model and serial number, and they knew it was well within warranty (we’ve had it three years at least). The bad news though, I have to make this cake without it!!

Method:
Go to Sainsbury’s and buy everything on the list in the book, even if you’ve probably got it in the cupboard already, this saves time looking for stuff when you’re not really sure where it might live in that strange room with the oven in it.

Open a beer. Find your bottle opener attached to your keys, and with the usual leverage motion, ease the cap off along with the nerves of what is about to go terribly wrong.

Measure out all the ingredients into individual bowls, because that’s what they do on the telly, it looks good and makes for a good photo. A stroke of luck I discovered is to grate the carrots into a colander (I was running out of bowls) but this lets all the juices run out, and I had a nice puddle of carrot juice to slurp up off the work surface underneath. Move your phone out of the way first, flour doesn’t come out of the iPhone very well.

What is the metric measure for ‘light and fluffy but not too white and meringue-like’?

I think cake mix stain in the recipe book is OK, makes it look used, and I don’t think I’ll be in too much trouble for that.

Feel free to deviate from the quantities, mainly the cinnamon, because it’s minging. There also seemed to be far too much oil going into this, so I didn’t put as much as it said, only time would tell if this would be my downfall. There are also no walnuts in the cake, I don’t like them, and this is my cake.

Bish, bash, bosh, in the oven… write blog post, finish beer, tidy up the mess.

Mixing butter with cream cheese without a mixer is impossible; I’m so cross I’ve had to stop just to write this paragraph. This has stopped being fun now! Oh, hang on, wait, bingo, two metal forks and a stabbing motion!

I left the cake in a bit longer than it says, because the book thinks I am making individual smaller cakes, and the knife I keep poking in never comes out clean… again, not very scientific, this. I must recount my adventure to the chemistry teachers at school, this is all very similar.

It came out of the tin!!! IN YOUR FACE…. CAKE!!!

Salvage

2011-04-05T21:15:00.000+01:00

I know this has nothing to do with baking. Please stick with me anyway. I'm so excited, I have to share.

There's a shed out the back of my house that is filled to bursting with old, dusty, mainly broken furniture. I'm assuming it all graced the boarding house next door at some point in history, and technically belongs to the School. But judging by the layers of grime covering them, I think it's safe to say that some of these pieces have been in there for 20 years or more. Ain't no one gonna miss 'em.

So I was delighted to find a salvageable piece amongst the detritus a few weeks back. See, we really need more seating in our living room and I was hoping to find something that could be recovered that would end up being a) nicer and b) cheaper than what I could buy at a store. Enter this classic 1960s Parker Knoll chair! Looks awful, right?

Well, look at it now:

Pretty, eh?

I must admit it didn't end up being quite as thrifty a project as I was expecting. With supplies for refinishing the wood, upholsterer's fees and sundries, and the (albeit very expensive) fabric, I spent around £200 taking this chair from shabby to chic. But it's well built, original and I feel good that I've brought new life to an unloved piece rather than gone out and bought something new.

Now, as I watch Edward slumped in it while playing Gran Turismo 5, if I could just convince him that this isn't his new "gaming chair"...

It must be spring

2011-03-27T16:53:00.000+01:00

It must be spring, because I've had my traditional spring cold all week. I get this cold every single year. I sneeze all day, my nose becomes a red, raw carbuncle, my ears are so blocked I can barely hear the conversation next to me, and I'm knocked over by fatigue. It's awful. All I want to do is drink lemon and ginger and watch Frasier on a constant loop, but instead I get up, go to work, and pass along my germs to the very same people who passed them to me in the first place.

For me one of the worst parts about these knock 'em sock 'em colds is that I can't taste anything. I usually find food to be a real comfort when I'm sick, so being unable to savour it is just a bummer. I may as well be drinking water and eating dry, unbuttered toast for all the enjoyment it brings me. So there's absolutely been no point in eating this lovely peach and blueberry pie I made earlier in the week. It would have been completely wasted on me.

This pie is an old family favourite from a classic Ontario Mennonite cookbook, and my mum's been making it for years. I'm not sure if it was my mum or my sister who first added the blueberries, but they're a nice colourful complement. Of course, these aren't Ontario wild blueberries (they're from Chile and they're pretty bland) and these aren't ripe August Ontario peaches (they're - gasp - canned!!). But this pie is still a decent early taste of summer, with the promise of much better pies to come.

Luckily today was the first day I woke up feeling vaguely human. Now that I can smell (and taste!) again, excuse me while I go cut myself a piece of pie.

Exhausted, but perfect, flapjacks

2011-03-16T19:47:00.001Z

There's a reason that tray of treats looks like it's curled up in a blanket, about to go to sleep.

That's where I want to be. I am so tired. So flipping tired. Work has kicked up about eighteen notches, and while I tend to thrive on an office crisis, it’s also stressful. And the stress is probably why I can’t sleep. Last night I dreamt about websites – specifically our company website – for about six solid hours. And six hours was probably all the sleep I got, because the rest of the time I was tossing and turning, too hot and too uncomfortable and too wired to sleep.

Even baking, which is usually a fun and relaxing activity for me, seems like a whoooole lot of effort. These days I want to sit in the bath and read in the evenings, or watch some mindless telly, not partake in an activity that requires (very, very minimal) physical effort. And thinking. Ugh. I have no energy for thinking!

I’m hoping I’ll snap out of this by the weekend. I usually accomplish an enormous amount in those two days and I hate to waste them. Last weekend, for example, in addition to sleeping for 11 blissful hours on Saturday night, I: finished the first section of my biology assignment, hosted a dinner party for two friends, went to the pub, sanded down a reclaimed chair, bought some fabric for said chair, made a trip to the post office, cleaned the flat, caught up on my favourite TV programs, and cooked two recipes from Felicity Cloake's brilliant How to cook perfect… series in The Guardian.

How to cook perfect... is a delightful little feature that appears every week or so on the newspaper's website. Food writer Cloake takes a classic dish, wades through its history and tradition, tries out multiple recipes and ultimately arrives at her perfect version. Then the real fun begins, when hundreds of people wade into the comments section with their own perfect interpretations. So far, I've had great success with these recipes. I don't always stick to Felicity's ultimate version, but I glean so many interesting and useful tips from the article and comments, that I always end up with something scrumptious.

On Saturday night it was cottage pie (my tip: try a mix of minced beef and already-cooked roast beef and add a healthy dollop of Branstons pickle - yum) then on Sunday it was flapjacks. In case you're thinking of a thick, fluffy pancake, that's not what I mean. In the UK, flapjacks are oatmeal squares, deliciously buttery and syrupy. And Felicity's version of this classic treat - with my health-giving addition of chopped apricots and mixed seeds - is indeed pretty close to perfect. If only I hadn't overbrowned them.

Notes from my broken life

2011-03-05T17:12:00.001Z

I spent all of last week looking out at that view. Pretty stunning, no? The photo was taken from the main room of our chalet looking down onto the village of Val d'Isere in the French Alps. Edward and I and ten friends had an amazing time there. We lucked out with a chalet host who was also a trained chef, so we were treated to a week of exceptional dinners. After weeks of no snow in the Alps, it dumped it down on the day after we arrived so the snow conditions were good. And we had at least two picture-perfect sunny days which, when you're at cloud level admiring mountain peaks and pristine sparkling snow all around, just makes you think wow, this world of ours is pretty awesome.

It's good that our week was so relaxing, because since we got back everything seems to be falling apart. Our whole flat was repiped while we were gone so now we have heating that actually works and we won't turn to icicles next winter. Unfortunately the place is in a state - we came back to half a bathroom floor gone, gaping holes where radiators previously stood which need to be replastered and repainted, furniture piled in corners of rooms, and virutally every surface filthy and every wall scuffed. There is a lot of cleaning, paint retouching and general work to do. It's a small price to pay for warmth, I suppose.

I've also discovered that my washing machine is slowly eating my entire wardrobe. The spin cycle of our machine is basically on speed. It is crazy. It shakes the whole kitchen, throws things off the counter and can scare the living daylights out of an unsuspecting guest. I hadn't put together until this week, however, that it's responsible for the gazillions of small holes appearing in all my tops, and the fact that my pyjama bottoms keep getting longer and longer. So now we have to sort that out. Great.

I haven't been doing much baking since I returned from holiday. One reason is that Edward and I have been taking Dana's approach to post-vacation eating this week, going light, healthy and vegetarian. The food in our chalet may have been delicious, but it was meat-, sauce- and dessert-heavy. The other reason is that my KitchenAid mixer is busted. Ed has been bugging me for a year to be get it serviced, since it works in much the same way as the spin cycle on my washing machine. After a particularly vigorous breadmaking session the other week, during which it shook, shuddered and went a bit mad, it finally spit out the rod that holds it all together and is currently unusable. Yeah yeah, I know, an ounce of prevention and all that.

I did manage to go back to basics and make these browned butter triple chocolate chunk cookies from Under the Highchair by hand, though. I can wholeheartedly recommend them. A welcome treat when everything is falling down around you!

Gone skiing

2011-02-18T15:55:00.000Z

Birthday bundt cake

2011-02-14T18:41:00.000Z

Last December I was temping for a small company where the Christmas card was king. Everyone distributed a twee little holiday greeting to everyone else, except for the people who preferred to donate to charity in lieu of doing Christmas cards, and instead sent a jolly Christmas email appraising everyone of this fact. It was an office suffering from the tyranny of the greeting card.

Despite being brand new in this place, I didn’t entirely manage to escape the card craziness. Everyone felt obliged to buy me one too, except for my closest associate, whom I had confided to about my total lack of enthusiasm for the office card exchange. The morning she brought in her stash she said to me, "I didn’t get you one because I know you don’t believe in them." Erm, last time I checked I didn’t have a fundamental belief in not sending cards – I mean it’s not like I’ve founded an anti-card cult – I just don’t see the point of sending pointless little folded pieces of paper to people I see every day (and may not even particularly like.) Call me a killjoy (I probably am one), but I’m just not that into cards.

Heck, I don’t even buy cards for people I know and like. I am the girl who perpetually shows up to the birthday party sans card, because it doesn’t even cross my mind to go and buy one. Edward certainly never gets a birthday card. Until this year, that is. About ten months ago I spotted a cute science- and Nobel Prize-themed card at the Design Museum, which I thought would be perfect for him, given that he's a science geek. I was so proud of myself for buying the perfect card! Nearly a year in advance! The trouble is, I’m so unused to giving cards and therefore crap at it, that after all the effort of purchasing the perfect card, I forgot to give it to him. So I presented it a day late, after we had done the presents and the dinner and the cake.

Ah, the cake. I might be lax on the card giving front, but I do like to make a lovely cake for people’s birthdays. After last year’s hedgehog, which was adorable but nearly inedible, I wanted to go for something a bit more sophisticated this time around. Edward had requested coconut cake, but I didn’t want to make the same one I’d made for his thirtieth.

Luckily I found this absolutely delicious coconut bundt cake recipe in my Dorie Greenspan book. She calls it a ‘tea cake’, and it would certainly be perfect with an afternoon cup, but I’ve always been partial to bundts for birthdays too. After a big celebratory meal who really wants to chow down on layers of gooey sponge and sickly sweet icing? This is a delicious alternative.

Coconut Tea Cake
Adapted from Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan

2 cups all purpose (plain) flour
1 tsp baking powder
pinch of salt
1 cup canned coconut milk
4 Tbsp unsalted butter
4 large eggs, preferably at room temperature
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
2 tsp dark rum (optional)
3/4 cup shredded unsweetened coconut (toasted if you wish)

Icing:
1 cup icing sugar, sifted
2 to 3 Tbsp milk or coconut milk
2 or 3 drops almond essence (optional)
shredded coconut, for sprinkling on top

Preheat oven to 350 F / 180 C. Grease and flour a standard-sized bundt tin. Make sure to do this well and get into all the cracks and grooves.

In a medium bowl whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

Pour the coconut milk into a small saucepan, add the butter and heat until the butter is melted. Remove from the heat.

In a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, or in a large bowl using a hand mixer, beat the eggs and sugar at medium high speed until pale, thick and almost doubled in volume, about 3 minutes. Beat in the vanilla and the rum, if using. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the flour, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed and stopping just when the flour disappears.

Keeping the mixer on low, add the coconut, mixing only until it is blended, then steadily add the hot milk and butter. When the mixture is smooth, stop mixing and give the batter a couple of turns with a spatula, just to make certain that any dry ingredients that might have fallen to the bottom of the bowl are incorporated.

Pour the batter into the tin and bake in the centre of the oven 6. Bake for 50 to 60 minutes, or until the cake is golden brown and a thin knife inserted in the centre comes out clean. Transfer the cake
to a wire rack and cool for 10 minutes before unmoulding onto the rack to completely cool.

Once the cake is completely cool, make the icing. Place the sifted icing sugar in a small bowl and add the milk a tablespoon at a time, mixing in until it is fully incorporated. When the icing is thick but pourable, add the almond essence. Pour the icing slowly over the cake, allowing it to drip down the sides. Top with a generous sprinkling of coconut.

Good luck (and a good brownie, too)

2011-01-31T20:19:00.001Z

First things first. The winner of the beautiful Rusted Chain cupcake necklace is entry no. 36 (generated with random.org)... Diana! Her favourite sweet treat is red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. I can't say I blame her.

_____________

I had the best week last week. It was a week that disproved the superstition that breaking a mirror brings seven years of bad luck. In fact, I think it brings seven days of good luck.

On Monday morning I had just finished doing my makeup for a job interview while watching BBC Breakfast when, in typical clumsy Hilary fashion, I knocked over the freestanding mirror I had leaned against the coffee table for the purpose. It broke into three pieces. Oh great, I thought. I'm not going to get the job now. But over the next week:

I got the job.
I got an offer of some freelance work which had previously looked unlikely.
I got another university offer, so I now have two to choose from within commuting distance of my house.
I found out that Series 4 of The Tudors was finally starting on the BBC.
I went to a book group mainly made up of my fellow boarding school "faculty wives" and actually enjoyed it.
I caught up with the local farmers' market, which though small, features dairy and vegetables and bread and baking and honey and more free range, organic meat than you can shake a stick at.

I also made these really good Ottolenghi brownies. After the unwelcome coffee and walnut cake from last week, I had promised Ed something he would like. And he really likes anything chocolate.

I knew that the brownies in the Ottolenghi shops have a big following, and now I can see why. These have all the hallmarks of a really great brownie in my book: dense, moist, fudgy and not too sweet. Ottolenghi also add stuff to their bars - toffee, jam, chestnuts, macadamia nuts, white chocolate... I love the principle of brownie add-ins so I've written this recipe so you can add whatever you want. This time around I went with mini marshmallows, dried cranberries and dark chocolate pieces, but it's infinitely flexible.

Ottolenghi Brownies
Adapted from Ottolenghi: The Cookbook

200 g unsalted butter
280 g plain (all purpose) flour
1/2 tsp salt
300 g dark chocolate (at least 70% cocoa solids), broken into pieces
2 large eggs
220 g granulated or caster sugar
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
375 ml "additions" (chopped nuts, dried cranberries, dried sour cherries, mini marshmallows, white chocolate chunks, toffee bits, etc.)

Preheat the oven to 175C / 350F. Grease a 22cm / 8in square baking pan and line with parchment or baking paper, leaving some to overhang the edges of the pan on two sides.

Whisk together the flour and salt in a medium bowl and set aside.

Put the butter and chocolate in a saucepan set over very low heat. Leave to melt, stirring from time to time. Turn off the heat.

In a large bowl, combine the eggs, sugar and vanilla. Beat vigorously for about a minute, until the mixture becomes pale and foamy. Fold in the melted chocolate mixture, then fold in the flour, just until combined. Add your chosen additions and fold in until well distributed.

Pour the batter into the pan and smooth the top. Bake in the centre of the oven for about 25 minutes, until a knife inserted in the centre comes out with gooey crumbs sticking to it. The brownie will feel thicker but not entirely set in the middle - if it seems like it isn't quite ready, then it's probably time to take it out! Allow the brownie to cool completely before cutting into squares - you may want to give it some time in the fridge if you want it to set very dense and fudgy.

A Rusted Chain giveaway

2011-01-27T13:04:00.000Z

I get quite a lot of email from companies wanting things from me (quite often free publicity!), and I ignore or decline the vast majority of them. But occasionally a pitch is so perfectly well-aligned with my blog that it leaps out at me and I actually want to get involved. Such was the case when I received an email from Beki at jewellery company The Rusted Chain. Beki's sterling silver creations are so utterly charming that I jumped at the chance to pair up with her and offer a baking-related giveaway.

The item up for grabs is the Life Is Sweet necklace, pictured above. The sterling silver pendant hangs from an 18" stainless steel chain, along with a bead, a Swarovski crystal and a freshwater pearl. This necklace would be perfect for a girly cake lover! (And in case you needed any more persuasion that this would be a good thing to wear, Martha Stewart herself owns one of Beki's necklaces.)

Worldwide entries are welcome. To enter, either leave a comment below OR send me a tweet confessing your all-time favourite sweet treat. Please make sure I have a way to get in touch with you (Twitter, blog link or email) as I will need to contact the winner for their mailing address. The winner will be drawn on Monday 31 January at 5pm GMT (that's British time!).

You can see more pieces at The Rusted Chain or read more on Beki's blog.

This is not an Edward cake

2011-01-21T17:02:00.000Z

What's under that adorable vintage cake dome? Something Edward won't eat. I am in "bad girlfriend" territory this week apparently, due to my insistence on baking a cake that I like and he doesn't.

Edward likes most things, to be honest. He is not generally a fussy eater (oh dear, I'm talking about a grown man like he's two years old here, aren't I?) and proclaims most things I cook as "his favourite" or "the nicest thing he's ever had". Except when it comes to two ingredients.

a) Nuts
b) "Cold coffee things". Coffee, he loves. Coffee-flavoured baked goods, not so much.

He's in a huff because I combined them and baked Nigel Slater's Coffee and Walnut Cake.

How can he not like this??!!

To be honest, I understand the aversion to nuts. I hated them with a violent passion until my early twenties. (In fact, kids who like nuts are surely kind of weird.) But the coffee aversion? I have so much trouble understanding it. If you like coffee, you should like coffee-flavoured baking. Right? No? Am I totally off base here?

The upside of all this is that there's more cake for me. Over the week I have eaten nearly this whole cake on my own, and it's been delicious. I think the trick to making a simple cake like this shine is using the best ingredients - fresh unsalted butter, free range eggs and - if you can get it - instant espresso powder instead of instant coffee.

Look out for something Edward-friendly next week!

Coffee and Walnut Cake with Coffee Buttercream
Adapted from a Nigel Slater recipe in The Observer

Cake:
175 g unsalted butter
175 g light brown sugar
65 g walnut pieces, finely chopped
3 large eggs
175 g self raising flour
1 tsp baking powder
2 tsp instant espresso or coffee granules

Buttercream:
100 g unsalted butter
200 g icing sugar
1 tsp instant espresso or coffee granules
8 to 10 walnut pieces, for decorating

Set the oven to 180 C / 350 F. Grease two shallow 20cm (8in) cake tins and line the bases with parchment paper.

Whisk together the flour and baking powder and set aside.

In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment or in a large bowl using a handheld mixer, beat the butter and sugar until it is light, pale and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition and scraping down the bowl as necessary. Dissolve the coffee granules in 1 tbsp boiling water and beat in.

With the mixer on a slow speed, add the flour to the batter, mixing until it is just incorporated. Add the walnuts and fold in gently.

Divide the mixture between the two prepared tins, smooth lightly, and bake for around 20 to 23 minutes, until they are just set in the middle and a knife inserted in the middle comes out clean. Remove the cakes to a wire rack to cool.

To make the frosting, with a stand mixer or handheld mixer beat the butter until soft and pale, then add half the sugar and beat until incorporated. Stir 1 tbsp boiling water into the coffee granules and add it to the buttercream along with the rest of the sugar. Beat until smooth and creamy.

As soon as it is cool, turn one cake upside down on a plate, spread it with half the buttercream, then place the second half on top. Spread the remaining buttercream on top and decorate with the walnut pieces.

Babies, bumps and blueberry crumble muffins

2011-01-16T19:29:00.005Z

Not my baby. Not my bump. But I do have a lot of both in my immediate future.

When I left my publishing job in London this spring, just prior to going travelling and moving up here to the Midlands, I knew that I would likely not be going back to anything similar. I was good at my job, but I had known for awhile that ultimately, office life was not for me. I had also realized that much as I love baking, it was my hobby, not my career. It was another, very different, path that had been simmering in my brain for a long time and had finally reached a boil. And now I can tell you that after endless thinking and doubting and researching and extra biology studying, I have been accepted to university in September to start a BSc in Midwifery. I am going to be a midwife!

I know my decision has come as something of a shock to my family and friends (my mother's face upon hearing the news was priceless), as I've always been a very humanities-oriented person. Arts and letters? Absolutely. Blood and bodily processes? Not so much! However, once people have processed the information, the response to my news has been overwhelmingly fantastic. The other week my sister said to me, "Oh Hil, I've haven't been so excited about something you've done in ages." Neither have I!

Apart from the slight madness of embarking on a career change and yet another university degree at the ripe old age of 30, I am so eager to start my training. Although the maternity service in this country is worryingly understaffed and underfunded - which should make for an eye opening experience - I believe that working to facilitate safe and positive birth experiences for women and their families is an immense privilege. (Of course, ask me about this two years from now after a week of night shifts and it may feel less privileged, more painful!)

Right, I think that's plenty of bump talk for now. Onto the muffins - which aren't actually mine, either. They're Yotam Ottolenghi's.

I already have a favourite blueberry muffin recipe so am disinclined to try new ones. But after making this sublime savoury fennel crumble, I had a quantity left over and decided to use it up on these crumble muffins. They just looked so pretty in the photo that I couldn't resist the dalliance, even if it meant cheating on my regular recipe. And indeed, these really are some of the prettiest muffins I've ever seen. They look like the big, fat, calorie-laden ones you buy in bakeries, but they taste so much better.

The only strange thing about this recipe is the assertion that it makes 10 to 12 muffins. They must make jumbo muffins at Ottolenghi because I got about 18 regular-sized ones out of this recipe. Not a bad thing, as I now have lots of these stored in the freezer ready for reheating on another day.

Blueberry Crumble Muffins
From Ottolenghi: The Cookbook

Makes about 18 regular sized muffins. The crumble topping is optional, but yummy.

Muffins:
540 g all purpose flour
5 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 large eggs
340 g caster or granulated sugar
140 g unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly
380 ml milk
grated zest of 1 lemon
1 Granny Smith apple (unpeeled), cut into 1cm dice
200 g fresh blueberries
1/2 quantity of crumble (optional)

Crumble:
300 g all purpose flour
100 g caster or granulated sugar
200 g cold butter, cut into small cubes

To make the crumble: Put the flour, sugar and butter in a bowl and mix with your hands to work into a uniform breadcrumb consistency. Make sure there are no large lumps of butter left. Transfer to a plastic container and store in the fridge. It also keeps very well in the freezer.

To make the muffins: Preheat the oven to 180 C / 350 F. Line a 12-cup and a 6-cup muffin pan with paper cases.

In a medium bowl sift together the flour, baking powder and salt and set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, lightly whisk together the eggs, sugar and melted butter. Whisk in the milk and lemon zest. Add the sifted dry ingredients and fold together very gently. When about half of the dry ingredients are properly folded in, add the apple and blueberries and continue to fold in. Make sure you stir the batter just enough to combine; it should remain lumpy and rough.

Spoon the mixture into the muffin cases to fill them up. Generously cover with the crumble topping to form small domes on top of the batter. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until a skewer inserted in the centre of a muffin comes out clean. Remove the muffins from the pan while still warm and serve immediately.

Christmas delayed: Orange, cranberry and cornmeal muffins with millet

2011-01-08T14:57:00.000Z

According to my parents, my sister and I are both very resilient individuals. Certainly a measure of resilience was required when our Christmas plans went tits-up last month. Although it was disappointing to spend the eagerly-awaited holidays apart, after a good wallow Ele and I both picked ourselves up and went off to our respective boyfriends' families for a very pleasant break.

We still wanted our "family Christmas" though. So we went online, booked two astronomically priced plane tickets, and hopped on a jam-packed flight late last week for a belated holiday visit.

This change of plans actually worked out very well, giving both of us a chance to visit with extended family and friends, as well as celebrate some semblance of the Christmas we missed. That family Christmas (well, Christmas gift opening session, really) took place on a morning earlier this week specially set aside for the occasion. And it started with breakfast.

Food plays a big part in our family Christmas. Before we even comtemplate opening our stockings (the highlight in our family!) we sit down to a festive muffin breakfast, made by yours truly. Although I have sometimes made these blueberry muffins, most often it's these orange, cranberry, cornmeal and millet ones that I bake for my family on Christmas mornings, and that's what I did this year, too. There's just something so Christmassy about them, with their scent of orange and bright cranberry flecks.

I know that "Christmassy" recipes are the last thing on anyone's culinary wish list right now, so don't be out off by my description! This is also just a damn good everyday muffin. While millet would not normally be at the top of my favourite baking ingredients list, its addition is just so right in this recipe, lending a pleasing little crunch. It's also one of the healthiest whole grains going. So instead of "Hilary's Christmas muffins", think of these as "January nutrition resolution muffins", and try them for yourself.

Orange, Cranberry and Cornmeal Muffins with Millet
From In The Sweet Kitchen by Regan Daley

Makes 12 generously-sized regular muffins

2 2/3 cups all purpose flour
4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2/3 cup yellow cornmeal, preferably stone ground
1/4 cup millet
2 large eggs
1 tsp finely grated orange zest
1 1/2 cups orange juice
2/3 cup unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1 cup dried cranberries, plumped in warm water for 30 minutes if necessary

Preheat oven to 350 F / 180 C. Grease 6 jumbo or 12 regular sized muffin cups, including rims, or line with paper liners.

Sift the flour, baking powder and salt together in a large bowl. Add the sugar, cornmeal and millet and whisk to blend.

In a separate bowl, lightly whisk the eggs, then stir in the orange zest and juice and melted butter. Add the egg mixture all at once to the dry ingredients and mix with a rubber spatula or a wooden spoon just until the dry ingredients are moistened. While there are still a few floury patches, gently fold in the cranberries.

Spoon the batter into the prepared tin, filling each cup to the top. Bake for around 20 minutes, or until the tops are golden brown in places, spring back when lightly touched and a knife inserted in the centre comes out clean.

Transfer the tin to a rack and cool for a few minutes before turning the muffins out onto the rack.

Serve warm with butter. Store leftover muffins in the freezer, or at room temperature for up to two days; to reheat, wrap in foil and warm in a low oven.

Merry Christmas

2010-12-25T10:06:00.000Z

Bah humbug

2010-12-22T17:14:00.000Z

That whole magical-English-countryside-oldey-worldy-Christmas with my family? Yeah, it's not happening. A combination of freak winter weather and incompetent management of Heathrow Airport has gone and buggered up our plans. My parents' flight was cancelled, there is no availability to rebook before the holidays and I am now spending my second Christmas in a row without my sister and parents. Bah humbug indeed.

I do keep reminding myself that it could be much, much, much worse. In the grand scheme of life issues, one disappointing Christmas is not a big deal. But it is disappointing. Despite masses of snow here (so much that the town roads were turned into an amusement park ride this morning and I had to turn home), which would normally have me feeling very Christmassy indeed, my holiday cheer has deserted me.

At least we have Grandma's shortbread. Even if it was made by me, and not Grandma. Last year I talked about how my Grandma's shortbread is the best holiday recipe in the world. (It is!) I also talked about wanting a ceramic shortbread press so I could stamp pretty patterns onto my cookies like she does, and the frustration of not being able to find one without a without a witchcraft theme. Lo and behold, my mum read the post and gave me an appropriately Christmassy one last Christmas! Unfortunately the three wise men fade into somewhat blob-like insignificance once the shortbread cookies are baked, and I've had more than one person ask me in a puzzled tone, "What is this on the cookie?"

But I know those kings are on the cookie, and that gives me a smidgen of Christmas cheer.

Mexican wedding cookies

2010-12-14T18:44:00.000Z

Last year around this time, I wrote about my family being big on Christmas traditions. That's probably an understatement. You could say our holiday is stuck in quicksand.

This Christmas, however, is going to be a bit different. Although it should be Edward's and my year to go over to Canada, instead my parents are making the trip across the pond and we'll all spend the week at this Landmark Trust property in rural(ish) Shropshire.

I've fantasized about Christmas in a Landmark for awhile. In my dreams it was this one, but never mind, I'm sure Bromfield Priory will be just fine. Idyllic setting? Check. Oldey worldy charm? Check. Wood burning stove? Check. Just add some decorations and plenty of rich holiday food, and we're good to go.

With all this change in the crisp winter air, what better time to branch out into some new holiday recipes! Like all our other Christmas traditions, the baked goods consumed in our family have been the same year on year for as long as I can remember. Chocolate cake on Christmas Eve. Grandma's shortbread. Komish Broit cookies. Stollen. Light fruitcake. So how will my family handle the wild and crazy addition to this year's repertoire... the Mexican Wedding Cookie!

Well, probably just fine. Because it's hardly a change at all. It's, er, shortbread with ground nuts added and rolled in icing sugar.

Baby steps, baby steps.

Mexican Wedding Cookies

Makes 3 dozen

65 g toasted nuts (pecans, walnuts or hazelnuts)
227 g unsalted butter, at room temperature
30 g icing sugar
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
260 g all purpose flour
1/4 tsp salt
100 g icing sugar, for coating

Place nuts on a baking sheet and bake for about 8 minutes, or until lightly brown and fragrant. Once the nuts have cooled place them in a food processor fitted with a metal blade, and process until they are finely ground. Make sure you don't overprocess them into a paste!

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or in a bowl with a hand mixer, beat the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the vanilla extract. Add the flour and salt and beat until combined, then add the nuts and mix until combined. Cover and refrigerate the dough for about one hour, or until firm.

Preheat oven to 350F / 180C. Line two large cookie sheets with parchment paper.

Form the chilled dough into 1 inch balls and place them 2 inches apart on the cookie sheets. Bake for about 12 to 15 minutes, or until the edges of the cookies start to brown. Remove from oven and cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, sprinkle about half the icing sugar onto a large tray and then place the slightly cooled cookies on top of the sugar. Sift over the remaining sugar using a fine strainer or sieve.

Store in an airtight container.

Christmas baking coming

2010-12-07T19:18:00.000Z

I wasn't feeling particularly Christmassy this year... until we went into deep freeze!

This was the scene from my living room window this morning.

And this was at work, later in the day.

With picture perfect winter scenes like this, who can stay a Grinch for long?

Watch this space. Christmas baking projects are on their way!

Paris pretty

2010-12-02T17:44:00.000Z

Brought back from a recent trip to Paris by my mum.

Believe it or not, I had never had real French macarons before.

Yum.

Morning baking: Cinnamon raisin bread

2010-11-24T20:07:00.002Z

I am not a morning person. This will come as a surprise to no one who knows me well. Me and the process of waking up just do not get along. This is partly down to the fact that I've had lifelong sleep issues. My mum loves to tell the story of how, as a little baby, my dad would rock me and rock me... and rock me... and rock me to sleep in the evenings, until he would think I was finally asleep and then - up! - my little head would pop. So he would start rocking and rocking and rocking some more.

This insomnia lasted throughout childhood, though by some miracle I've managed to mostly overcome it as an adult. Still, sometimes I get into patterns where sleep deserts me once more. Recently I've been in one of these patterns. Sleep just won't come. Sometimes for hours. I fidget, I toss, I turn, I throw off covers because I'm too hot and I curse my new memory foam mattress, which I have since learned from my sister are notoriously prone to overheat. While doing all this, I try not to disturb Edward too much.

All this can make it difficult to get up in the morning. And when I do finally manage to drag my butt out of bed, my head is fuzzy and I do stupid things. Like knock over my Melitta coffee cone while it is full of brewing coffee and have to spend ten minutes cleaning up a sludgy brown mess. Or drop said coffee cone on the floor and break off the handle. (Don't worry Mum, it still works perfectly!) So let's just say that my early mornings aren't all that productive at the moment.

With that being the case, I'm somewhat astonished that I managed to - gasp! - complete a baking project a few mornings ago. I had bought all the ingredients for a cinnamon raisin loaf some time before, but hadn't gotten around to making it. But this particular morning dawned bright and cold and crisp, and once my coffee was poured (from the handleless filter cone, natch) I decided to embark on bread baking. Thus passed a very pleasant, fragrant, cinnamony morning, during which I knocked nothing over.

This loaf makes fabulous toast, by the way. Perfect for mornings, whether you like 'em or not.

Cinnamon Raisin Bread

Makes 1 loaf

1/2 cup milk
1/3 cup warm water
2 tsp active dry yeast
1 egg
3 Tbsp white sugar
1/4 cup unsalted butter, softened
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup raisins
3 cups all purpose flour
1 Tbsp milk
1/3 cups white sugar
2 Tbsp ground cinnamon

Warm the milk in a small saucepan or in the microwave, until it just starts to bubble. Remove from heat and let cool until lukewarm.

Add the warm water to a large mixing bowl. Add the yeast and set aside until it dissolves, about 5 minutes. Mix in the egg, sugar, butter, salt and raisins, then slowly stir in the cooled milk. Now stir in the flour gradually to make a stiff dough, bringing it together with a wooden spoon or your hands, if that is easier. Once you have a mass of dough, lightly flour a surface and knead for several minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic.

Place the dough in a large, lightly oiled bowl and turn it to grease the dough evenly. Cover with a damp tea towel and leave it to rise until doubled, usually about 1 1/2 hours.

On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough into a large rectangle about half an inch thick. Moisten the dough with 1 Tbsp milk and rub it all over the dough with your hands. Now mix together 1/3 cup of sugar and 2 Tbsp of cinnamon and sprinkle the mixture evenly on top.

From the long end, roll the dough into a coil. Tuck the ends under and pinch them together underneath the loaf.

Place the loaf in a standard sized loaf pan and let it rise in a warm place for about an hour.

Meanwhile set the oven to 350 F / 180C. Bake the loaf in the centre of the oven for 40 to 45 minutes, until the loaf is golden brown and the underneath sounds hollow when tapped. Remove from the oven and let it cool for 10 minutes on a wire rack before turning out. Allow to cool before slicing.

Royal wedding cakes

2010-11-17T11:35:00.001Z

I know it's not cool, but I don't care. I LOVE a good royal wedding! My sister and I have already started the "will we go, won't be go" debate. Obviously not as actual guests, but as part of the unwashed plebeian masses straining at the gates of St. Paul's for a glimpse of the couple.

As a little tribute to Wills and Kate, I thought it would be fun to take a look at royal wedding cakes down the years. Now, I am not a fan of traditional wedding cakes at the best of times, and unfortunately I like the royal versions even less. Like royal wedding dresses, royal wedding cakes are traditionally big, presumably so they can be seen and create an impact at the reception, while feeding a lot of people. They also tend to be rather elaborate and almost architectural in nature, which is another point against them for this lover of all things homemade and imperfect.

William's parents Diana and Charles exemplified the architectural thing with their 1981 wedding cake. No wonder the marriage got off on a bad foot, with this as an edible symbol of their love.

Decades earlier, Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip had a classic cake in the tradition of the St. Bride's steeple. While a little frilliana, there's something rather quaint and charming about it. I suppose now we'd call it 'vintage chic'.

Now let's hop to the continent for the wedding cake of my favourite Australian princess and her leading man, Crown Prince and Princess Frederik and Mary of Denmark (seen above). Although still in the way-too-tall royal style, I like that in the midst of a formal occasion they've injected a bit of humour with their cute cake topper. I also like the pretty colour that matches the bride's gown.

Royal watchers know that Princess Letizia of Spain and her husband Felipe, Prince of Asturias and heir to the throne, are the most stylish of royal couples. Not so with their wedding cake. This, from their 2004 wedding, is hid-e-ous! Words fail me!

I wonder if the style quotient of the princess is in inverse proportion to the style quotient of the cake. Queen Rania is a fashion icon and a Vogue favourite, but just look at the cake created for her wedding to Abdullah of Jordan. It's a lacy apartment building made out of cake!

Maybe royal wedding cakes are improving, or maybe I'm just a product of my time, because I am really quite keen on this innovative cake from the recent summer wedding of Crown Princess Victoria of Sweden to Daniel Westling. Still a little large for my liking, but it's clean, spare, modern and a bit different. Nicely done.

Let's wait and see what our British royal couple come up with. No doubt, it will be tall.

All I got is apples

2010-11-09T18:07:00.000Z

I think the rut is catching. When I read Dana's post last week about being stuck in a cooking/blogging rut, I empathized. It happens to all of us from time to time. And now it seems to be happening to me.

I have not baked in over two weeks. I did have an excuse - my parents were over from Canada and I've been here, there and everywhere - but they left four days ago now. And still, nothing. I don't even have flour in the house. How many years has it been since that last happened?

I've taken to smearing slices of white bread with jam, just to get my sweet fix. Instead of delicious slices of homemade cake, we snack on Penguins after dinner. (Actually, don't knock 'em til you've tried 'em. Those babies are yummy.)

This lazy silliness will stop soon. I will buy flour and sugar, I will roll up my sleeves, I will bake! But for here, for you, for now, is the only thing I have managed to make recently. Applesauce, my way. It may not be baked, but it is good!

Applesauce

Makes about 1 1/2 cups

6 medium apples, peeled, cored and chopped
3/4 cup water
1/2 tsp cinnamon
zest and juice of half a lemon

In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine the apples, water, cinnamon and lemon zest and juice. Simmer gently for 15 to 20 minutes, until the apples are very tender. Once the mixture has cooled, use a blender, food processor or fork to blend to your desired consistency.

Ways with vegetables

2010-10-31T16:05:00.000Z

I've always been a huge fan of vegetable cakes. I don't mean broccoli cake (though I like that, too) - I mean sweet cakes that use veg as one of their main ingredients. In my experience the British often find this a bit weird - people freak out about zucchini loaf (sorry, courgette loaf) and don't even get them started on pumpkin pie. I guess vegetable-as-baking-ingredient is more of an across-the-pond thing, though there are signs that things are changing over here. Carrot cake is now as much a British classic as it is an American one; beetroot seems to be the cake ingredient du jour, with Nigel Slater extolling its virtues and a very popular version being sold at London farmers' markets; and one of last year's hot cookbooks was all about making cakes healthier using veg. Look - there's even a company in Northumberland specializing in root vegetable cakes.

I realized just how far my veg-in cake-obsession had gone when I found myself whipping up a parsnip and raisin cake the other week, for want of anything more usual in the house. And you know what? It was really good! It didn't taste all that much different to any other root vegetable cake, where the veg in question adds texture, moisture and earthiness rather than any distinct flavour. I don't even like parsnips, but I liked this cake.

Given that root vegetables and squashes abound right now, I've prepared a list of my favourite sweet vegetable-using recipes on the blog. Perfect for when you're (finally) sick of Halloween candy.

Rose Bakery Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting

Sweet Potato Spice Cake

Beetroot, Walnut and Hazelnut Cake

Orange Squash Cupcakes

Pumpkin Cheesecake

Pumpkin Muffins

All-in-one Holiday Bundt Cake

Sweet Potato Pancakes

Lakeland spice cupcakes

2010-10-18T12:25:00.000+01:00

Remember last year's baker's pilgrimage to King Arthur Flour in Vermont? The trip itself is but a distant memory now, but luckily my nearly $200 worth of purchases live on and get lots of use, especially my trusty KAF shopping bag.

Still, I'd love to go back and stock up again. More extracts, more specialty flours, that thistle shortbread mould I wanted but didn't buy the first time around... Of course, I know another visit to Vermont isn't going to happen for years, so it was a thrilling discovery to find a Lakeland shop in nearby Stratford-upon-Avon last weekend. Lakeland is the UK's closest KAF equivalent. It's a kitchenware shop, not just a baking one, but it boasts an immense range of baking equipment, ingredients and novelty items. Plus the shops are light, bright and well merchandised. And isn't their branding cute?

After overdosing on Japanese food and Shakespearean history, my friend Helen and I had reserved half an hour for some special shop visits at the end of the day. While she headed to H&M, I headed to Lakeland. In very restrained fashion, I came out with nothing more than a cupcake piping set, disposable piping bags (awful for the environment but sooo handy) and some boring old parchment paper, which I needed anyway.

Back in Rugby, I decided to put my icing set to use immediately with my sort of cupcake recipe. (My sort of cupcake is the antithesis of the storebought cupcake, for those who missed the Great Calgary Cupcake Debacle of 2010). I wanted something autumnal, but with canned pumpkin being non-existent in this town, I defaulted to spice instead. These cupcakes are fabulous, if I do say so myself - moist, beautifully scented and very grown-up in flavour. The sour cream icing that accompanies them is a little bit like cream cheese frosting - it's got a tang that cuts the sugar and balances the rich flavours in the cupcakes. Never mind that the frosting doesn't actually pipe that well, given its soft consistency. They still looked and tasted great.

For serious spice lovers only!

Spice Cupcakes with Sour Cream Icing

This recipe easily doubles to make a two-layer cake. Bake the layers in two 9-inch round pans for 35 to 40 minutes. You will also need to double the icing recipe.

Makes 12 cupcakes

1 1/2 cups all purpose (plain) flour
1/4 cup walnuts or pecans, coarsely ground
3/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
3/4 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ginger
1/4 tsp nutmeg or mace
1/4 tsp allspice
1/8 tsp cloves
1/3 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup tightly packed brown sugar
1 large egg
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup semi skimmed or full fat milk
3 Tbsp sour cream

Preheat the oven to 350F / 180C. Line a 12-cup muffin pan with cupcake liners.

In a medium bowl whisk together the flour, ground nuts, spices, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside.

In a glass measuring cup mix together the milk and sour cream. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or in a large bowl using a handheld mixer, cream the butter until soft. Add the brown sugar and cream until light and fluffy. Beat the eggs in one at a time, scraping down the bowl after each addition. Beat in the vanilla. With the mixer on low, add the flour in three additions and the milk in two, starting and ending with the flour. Don't overwork the batter - when the flour mixture is mostly incorporated turn off the mixer and finish mixing by hand, until everything is just incorporated.

Fill the muffin cups most of the way to the top, then bake them in the centre of the oven for about 20 minutes, until a tester inserted in the middle of a cake comes out clean and the top springs back lightly when touched. Cool the pan on a wire rack for 10 minutes before turning out the cupcakes to cool completely. Ice the cupcakes once completely cool.

Sour Cream Icing

Makes enough for 12 cupcakes

1/3 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 cups icing sugar, sifted
1/4 cup sour cream
squeeze of fresh lemon juice
1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/8 tsp pure almond extract (optional)

In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or in a large bowl with a handheld mixer, beat together the butter with one cup of the icing sugar. This can create a big cloud of icing sugar dust, so I usually cover the bowl with a tea towel to contain it. Once the icing sugar is incorporated, add the second cup and beat to blend again. The mixture will be thick and clumpy.

Now add the sour cream, lemon juice, vanilla extract and almond extract (if using) and beat until the icing is smooth and spreadable.

Brown sugar bundt cake, take two

2010-10-11T11:08:00.000+01:00

Firstly, what do you think of my new header? Cute, eh? Many thanks to Reani for my whimsical baking Marie Antoinette!

This time last year I had just returned from a wonderful autumnal trip to Vermont, where leaf chasing was high on the agenda. Unfortunately the colours in Ye Olde England aren't quite so vibrant as they are in New England, but they still have their own charm, as I was reminded on a day trip to the beautiful (and oh-so-tourist-packed) Cotswolds last weekend, with Edward and our visiting friends Catherine and Clint.

Lower Slaughter; Bourton-on-the-Water; the churchyard in Lower Slaughter

Inspired by the pretty colours and the fresh nip in the air, I was inspired to bake something that screamed Autumn. This cake is a repeat from earlier in the year, but made a little more fall-like this time around. I swapped in local grated apple (picked in a field on a Sunday walk to Dunchurch) for the pear I used last time, added finely ground walnuts to the flour mixture and topped the whole cake with a brown sugar glaze (simply made by briefly simmering brown sugar and whipping cream until the sugar dissolves). The result is a delicious October creation for crisp days and cold nights.

You can find the recipe here.

Practically perfect pound cake

2010-10-04T20:44:00.000+01:00

Rose on the left, Dorie on the right.

Occasionally the feeling overcomes me that I’m not a very good baker because I’m missing a lot of 'tested til perfect' recipes from my repertoire. For example, if someone were to say to me, "Hilary, I need the perfect scone recipe", expecting me to whip one out of my trusty recipe box of perfection, they would be disappointed. I don’t know the perfect scone recipe. Ditto the perfect pastry recipe. Ditto the perfect buttercream recipe. But for all my failings, at least now I can say that I know - if not the perfect - then a very, very good classic pound cake recipe.

Last week I had the unexplained urge to make and eat pound cake. In fact, why not make and eat two of them? Because pound cake is composed of so few ingredients, I thought it would be neat to put two recipes head-to-head and see if all pound cakes are indeed created equal. I figured that because it is composed of so few ingredients, superior flavour and texture would really shine through in the winning cake.

I put two dynamo bakers head to head. Dorie Greenspan’s Perfection Pound Cake versus Rose Levy Beranbaum’s Perfect Pound Cake. Which one would turn out to be truly parfait?

Taste. Here, I couldn’t tell the cakes apart. The ingredients were nearly identical, albeit in different quantities. I tasted. And tasted. And tasted. I made myself slightly sick on pound cake and still couldn’t make out a genuine difference in flavour.

Appearance. Both recipes delivered a lovely, golden brown loaf. I gave Dorie's loaf the teensiest edge here, because the cake rose a bit higher and was bit more pleasingly formed.

Texture. The most discernible difference lay here, though it was still subtle. Dorie’s cake-making method involves lots of creaming in a stand mixer, which results in a cake with a tight structure and crumb. Rose uses the 'one bowl' method, with the butter and egg mixture being added to the dry ingredients and beaten for considerably less time. Both cakes became tighter in texture the next day, but I found Dorie's almost too tight, while Rose's was, I thought, a little more velvety. Here I gave Rose the nod.

Overall winner. Rose Levy Beranbaum's Perfect Pound Cake

This was a tough one, but in the end I crowned Rose’s cake the winner by the narrowest of margins, mainly because of the simplicity of the recipe. The cake was the quicker and easier to prepare of the two, and I enjoyed the ever so slightly looser crumb that the reduced beating time produced.

So is it perfect? Well, possibly not, but I don’t even know if perfect exists in the world of pound cake. So for me, for now, it is practically perfect.

Perfect Pound Cake
Recipe from The Cake Bible by Rose Levy Beranbaum

To create a perfect crack along the top of this cake, remove it from the oven after 15 minutes and run a large knife deep down the centre, before returning to the oven to continue baking.

3 Tbsp milk
3 large eggs
1 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups cake and pastry flour, sifted (if not available substitute all-purpose flour)
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
13 Tbsp (180 g) unsalted butter, softened

Preheat oven to 350F / 180C. Grease and flour a standard-sized loaf pan.

In a medium bowl lightly whisk the milk, eggs and vanilla extract.

In a large bowl using a handheld mixer, or in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine the dry ingredients and mix on low speed just to blend. Add the softened butter and half the egg mixture. Mix on low speed until the dry ingredients are moistened. Increase to medium speed (or high speed if using a hand mixer) and beat for 1 minute. This will aerate the mixture and develop the cake’s structure.

Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Gradually add the remaining egg mixture in 2 batches, beating for 20 seconds after each addition to incorporate the ingredients.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the surface with a spatula. Bake 55 to 65 minutes or until a knife inserted in the centre comes out clean. If at any point it is becoming too brown, cover loosely with foil.

Let the cake cool in the pan for 10 minutes before turning out onto a wire rack.

Where I bake now

2010-09-27T13:18:00.000+01:00

One of the saddest things about leaving London was leaving my beautiful, beloved flat, with its gorgeous view onto Blackheath's parish church and its huge rooms of Georgian proportions. And did I ever mention my kitchen? Look at those windows, people. Look at that space. I've never seen a kitchen that size in a rented flat and I don't think I ever will again.

Sure, the knotty pine cabinets were outdated and the floor was hideous, but when the morning sun streamed in through the east facing windows, man, how I loved that kitchen!

It was inevitable that I would be taking a step down the kitchen ladder in our new house. I was very worried about it, to be honest. Any of you who have lived in rented places know that the kitchens can be dire. Here's what I ended up with:

A massive sigh of relief. Not dire. It may be small, it may not be a patch on my London kitchen, but let's look on the bright side. The units are far more up to date, I have much better and bigger appliances (because we were required to buy them ourselves!) and I finally have under-cupboard lighting. (Under-cupboard lighting counts for a lot in my book.) And what the kitchen lacks in space (it's what my mother would call a "two person kitchen") it makes up for in compact functionality. Yes, I can definitely bake in here.

If there's one thing I still miss about my old kitchen it's those windows and the lovely view. Isn't this pretty?

My new kitchen looks onto an alleyway and the boys' boarding house next door. Oh well. At least the incessant sound of screaming teenagers in the evenings makes it rather jolly.

Melitta morning coffee

2010-09-23T20:49:00.000+01:00

I just had to share my adorable new vintage coffee maker with you all. I love it.

My thoughtful mother took her first foray into eBay purchasing (a feat I have yet to accomplish - eBay intimidates me to no end) and bought me this classic Melitta porcelain manual drip coffee maker from a British charity shop. This is how coffee has been made in parents' house for as long as I can remember, and it results in a fabulous cup with no sludge at the bottom. My poor cafetiere has been relegated to the back of the cupboard as I enjoy my first of many 'non chewy' mugs of coffee in my own home.

Thanks Mum!

Hope chest muffins: plum, marzipan and cinnamon

2010-09-14T16:15:00.008+01:00

You probably thought that no woman has had a hope chest (or 'glory box' or 'bottom drawer') since the 1950s, right? Well colour me retro, because this modern girl has somehow managed to acquire a freaking dowry over the years.

I've always loved collecting 'house stuff'. But I moved to England to do a Masters when I was 24, and as a result haven't had the opportunity to put a lot of that 'house stuff' to use. It still sits in various rooms and corners of my parents' house, waiting for its day. On top of that, I always seem to be acquiring more, so my burgeoning trousseau now includes art; furniture inherited from my granny that I am planning to reupholster; endless gifts received during the years when I celebrate Christmas in Canada; an assortment of my beloved Wedgwood Drabware; enough cookbooks to stock the cookery section of a small municipal library; plus one heck of a lot of kitchen and baking equipment. Luckily my parents have a big house.

I like to think of all this as 'things for my future Canadian home', which I will get around to having someday. But from time to time I get annoyed that I don't have that Bundt pan/cookbook/whatever and I make a mental note to cart said item back with me next time I'm in Ottawa. (My sister has previously written in hilariously accurate detail about our family tendency for cross-Atlantic shipping.)

This time the thing I managed to cram into my already-overstuffed suitcase was my trusty jumbo muffin pan. I had been missing the thing because it makes muffins the size of those huge calorie-, fat- and sugar-laden monstrosities you buy in cafes, but made healthier and much more delicious at home. I had also spotted an Ottolenghi muffin with a plum compote topping that I thought would be a real showstopper if made supersized. These are for a special occasion, since the compote means a bit more work than you'd usually expect from a muffin recipe. But the plum compote is lovely and tart against the sweetness of the marzipan, and the compote-topped jumbo muffins are quite a sight to behold.

And one more piece of my trousseau has found its purpose...

Plum, Marzipan and Cinnamon Muffins
From Ottolenghi: The Cookbook

Makes 12 regular or 6 jumbo muffins

Muffins:
480 g plain (all purpose) flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
pinch of salt
200 g caster sugar
2 large eggs
110 g unsalted butter, melted
280 ml milk
grated zest of 2 oranges
120 g marzipan
icing sugar for dusting

Plum compote:
700 g ripe red plums, stoned and cut into quarters
60 g caster sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon or 1 cinnamon stick

Make the plum compote first (it can be made in advance if you wish): preheat the oven to 180C / 350F. Place the plums in a shallow baking dish, add the sugar and cinnamon and mix together. Bake for about 20 minutes, until the plums are soft and their skin starts to separate from the flesh. (The cooking time will vary significantly depending on the ripeness of the fruit). Set aside to cool or refrigerate until ready to use.

To make the muffins: put the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon and salt in a large bowl and whisk together. Set aside.

Put the sugar and eggs in a large bowl and whisk together. Add the milk and melted, cooled butter and whisk to combine. Grate the marzipan on the coarse side of a grater and add this to the batter, along with the orange zest. Now stir in 80 g of the plum compote (both fruit and juices). Set the rest of the compote aside for later.

With a spatula, gently fold the dry ingredients into the wet batter until just combined (there may still be a few lumps and bits of flour; that is what you want).

Line the muffin tin with paper cups and fill them nearly up to the top. Bake in the centre of the oven (20 to 22 minutes for regular muffins / 25 to 30 minutes for jumbo muffins) until a skewer inserted in the centre of a muffin comes out clean. When cool enough to handle, remove the muffins from the tin and leave on a wire rack to cool.

Just before serving, dust the tops withicing sugar and top with the reserved plum compote.

Vacation vintage

2010-09-08T16:52:00.000+01:00

Saskatchewan is a charming Canadian province, but it's not a locale that tends to make it onto those '50 Places to Visit Before You Die' lists. And I'm not sure the town of Melville, population 4677, would manage to make it onto the '50 Places in Saskatchewan to Visit Before You Die'. But vintage and antique lovers, it's time to reconsider this prairie town!

On our way from the cottage at Kenosee Lake to Saskatoon, Edward and I decided to take the longer route specifically to pass through Melville. My mum had mentioned that the town boasted a neat collectables store, "and everything in it is at Saskatchewan prices!" (That means cheap.)

It turned out Mum was right. Without an address or name to go on we had a little difficulty locating the place, but once we did we entered a veritable treasure trove of vintage and antique pieces. Everything from kitchenware to old farm equipment - it was all we could do to walk out without purchasing an Art Deco dresser for 300 bucks and having it shipped back to England. Instead we settled on a box full of vintage kitchen goodies:

First I spotted a set of Pyrex mixing bowls in mint condition that looked as if they'd never been used.

The old salt and pepper shakers are now in use as icing sugar and cocoa shakers.

Unfortunately a sweet dotted coffee pot was a casualty of the trip, but at least the matching milk and sugar set survived.

My favourite, and final, find was a pristine white milk glass cake stand with delicate scalloping.

And, lucky me, the owner threw in a cute vintage mini muffin tin for free.

Melville, Saskatchewan. The 51st Place to Visit Before You Die.

Cornerstone Market

Corner of Main and 3rd

Melville, Saskatchewan

S0A 2P0

Performing miracles, and our first house cake

2010-09-05T18:30:00.001+01:00

Well, that was an exhausting two weeks. And I mean both physically and emotionally.

I'm not sure I've ever slept so well as I have over the past fortnight, even though the bed I've lain down on each night has been an air mattress. Non-stop cleaning, painting, furniture-moving, blind-hanging, curtain-hemming and tea making (to fuel the DIY, natch) will do that to you.

Friends, let me give you some words of advice. I do not recommend ever moving into a house sight-unseen. It is not for the faint of heart or the fussy and particular (that would be me). In our case, we didn't have a choice, but if you can avoid this fate then my suggestion would be avoid, avoid, avoid. Like you'd avoid the bubonic plague.

But actually, it's turned out happily in the end. Paint, window treatments and some nice bits of furniture with transform any space. If I do say so myself, Edward and I have worked aesthetic miracles on the place over the past ten days. In the Church of Interior Decoration, we would be up for canonization.

Once I was feeling a little more cheerful about our new surroundings, Ed dared to ask me when I would be making 'our first house cake'. I mean, a new home calls to be christened with a new cake, right? Luckily, I knew just which book to reach for. I have been dying to finally crack open my new Ottolenghi cookbook since it arrived in June, while we were packing up our London flat and shipping out. And after all these months of anticipation, Ottolenghi didn't disappoint.

The chocolate fudge cake I selected as 'our first house cake' didn't look like much at first glance, but when I delved in I was astonished at how much I liked it. A bit like our house.

Chocolate Fudge Cake

Adapted from Ottolenghi: The Cookbook by Yotam Ottolenghi

240 g unsalted butter, cut into cubes
265 g semisweet chocolate (52% cocoa solids), cut into small pieces
95 g bittersweet chocolate (70% cocoa solids), cut into small pieces
290 g muscovado sugar
4 Tbsp water
5 large eggs, separated
a pinch of salt
cocoa powder or icing sugar, for dusting

Preheat the oven to 170 C / 340 F. Grease an 8 or 9 inch (20 or 23cm) springform cake tin.

Put the butter and both chocolates in a very large heatproof bowl – it should be big enough to accomodate the entire batter. Put the brown sugar and water in a small saucepan and bring to the boil over medium heat. Pour the boiling sugar syrup over the butter and chocolate and stir well until they have melted and you are left with a runny chocolate sauce. Stir in the egg yolks, one at a time. Set aside until the mixture comes to room temperature.

In a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, or in a large bowl using a hand whisk or electric mixer, whisk the egg whites and salt together to a firm, but not too dry meringue. Using a spatula, gently fold the meringue into the cooled chocolate mixture. The whites should be fully incorporated but it's OK if you see small bits of meringue in the mix.

Pour about two thirds of the mixture into the prepared cake tin and level with a palette knife. Set aside the rest of the batter for later. Bake the cake in the centre of the oven for about 40 minutes, until a knife inserted in the centre comes out almost clean. Remove from the oven and leave to cool almost completely.

Flatten the top of the cake with a palette knife - don’t worry about breaking the crust. Pour the remaining batter on top and level the surface again. Return to the oven and bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the cake still has a few moist crumbs when checked with a knife. Leave to cool completely before removing from the tin. Dust with cocoa powder or icing sugar and serve in small slices.

Riding the rails

2010-08-19T17:45:00.001+01:00

All abooooooard!

Why don't you hop onto The Canadian and accompany me along the next leg of my coast to coast journey, from Saskatoon to Toronto? We've got two days and two nights to kill on this moving hotel. Luckily it won't be difficult to entertain ourselves.

Now that we've settled into our cabin for two (the chairs collapse and two bunk beds come down at night!) let's wind our way to the back of the train, where we'll enjoy a coffee and a book in the Park Car.

If the inane nattering of our fellow passengers becomes too much for us to bear, we'll head up the stairs to the viewing car and watch the onboard shutterbugs among us take 1700 photos of the never-changing, albeit lovely, prairie scenery. (Yes, I am talking to you, man at the front of the photo.)

Dinner time! We'll head to the dining car for the "moonlight" seating. If we're lucky, we'll be seated with our friends the crazy German couple! You might be worried that this meal will be somewhat like a glorified airline dinner, but I'm here to reassure you that the quality food that two cooks can turn out in a small, moving galley kitchen is actually pretty incredible. And boy, can the wait staff juggle those trays as we lurch from side to side!

At the table, while we enjoy getting to know people from home and abroad, we'll be entertained by scenery like this:

Once we're sated, it's lights out as the train gently rocks us to sleep. OK, it rocks us to sleep on the second night. On the first night it's more like it keeps us awake with its thumping and thudding. But no matter. Despite a few teeny inconveniences, this train journey really is one of those very special "trips of a lifetime".

And I didn't even get to tell you about 3pm Bingo in the Activity Car!

Back to baking

2010-08-10T02:15:00.017+01:00

Edward and I have developed a sort of motto over the course of our holiday. We keep saying, “This is the best thing we’ve done on our trip so far!” Then the next day, “No, this is the best thing we’ve done so far!” We're starting to sound like a broken record. Or a skipping iPod, as the kids apparently say these days...

The latest “best thing” we’ve done is visit a family cottage on Kenosee Lake in Moose Mountain Provincial Park, Saskatchewan. The property first belonged to my great grandfather, who had a little cabin which my mum would visit during her childhood summers. Later on my great aunt built a four-season house there, which is now owned by her daughters. Lucky for us, they are
very generous in encouraging everyone to come out and enjoy the property.

We love cottage life. Some people can’t “do” cottages because they’re not very good at unplugging and sitting still. But Edward and I both excel at wasting a lot of time and accomplishing absolutely nothing, so cottages work well for us. If I consider it, I suppose we actually did quite a lot while we were at the cottage: we went on a horse ride, walked a birch forest trail and got bitten alive, and canoed out to a pelican colony. But we also pootled around and read our books. Oh, and did I mention I baked?

After countless roadside picnics and restaurant meals, it was so nice to barbecue and bake and find my way around a kitchen again. And because so many different people come out to this cottage on a regular basis and bring basics with them, this is one well-stocked kitchen! I adapted this lemon blueberry cake recipe from The Silver Palate Cookbook, one of the few cookbooks I found in the house. I'm often a little wary when I try a new cake recipe, especially one I just stumble upon, but this was a real success - light and summery and perfect for tea time, whether you're lucky enough to be at the lake or not.

Blueberry Lemon Cake

Adapted from The Silver Palate Cookbook

Cake:
1 cup (1/2 lb) unsalted butter, softened
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs
3 cups all purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup buttermilk
2 Tbsp grated lemon zest
2 Tbsp fresh lemon juice

1 cup blueberries (preferably wild)

Icing:

1 cup icing sugar, sifted

Fresh lemon juice, as needed

Preheat the oven to 325 F / 160C. Grease and flour a 10-inch Bundt pan.

Whisk together the flour, baking soda and salt. Set aside.

In a large bowl using a handheld mixer or in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter, sugar and lemon zest until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, blending well and scraping down the bowl after each addition.

Mix the dry ingredients into the creamed mixture alternately with the buttermilk, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients. Gently fold in the lemon juice and blueberries.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and smooth down the top. Bake in the centre of the oven for about 65 minutes, until the cake pulls away from the sides of the pan and a tester inserted in the centre comes out clean.

Cool the pan on a rack for 10 minutes before turning the cake out. Meanwhile, make the icing by mixing together the icing sugar with a spoonful of lemon juice, adding more juice in tiny amounts until you have a thin, smooth, spreadable icing. Use a pastry brush to brush the icing all over the cake while it is still warm.

Alberta love

2010-08-02T03:15:00.008+01:00

Banff, Alberta

Alberta is a province that holds a very special place in my heart. I have no real familial attachment to it (my ancestors were prairie people but they were from Saskatchewan, one province over), but since the first time I visited when I was 18, I've been smitten with "Wild Rose Country". The cute cowboys, the big skies, the beautiful Rocky Mountains, the wildlife, the diversity of the terrain...

Did I mention the cowboys?

Here's a few reasons (including cowboys!) why I love it so much:

Cupcakes in Calgary

2010-07-26T19:36:00.000+01:00

I've decided once and for all that I'm not a cupcake person. By that I really mean that I'm not a bakery cupcake person. I do like to make my own from time to time, because I can control the amount of sugar that goes into the little bad boys. (For an enthusiastic baker, I have a serious aversion to sugar.) No, I just don't like cupcakes that haven't been made at home. Preferably in my home. Or in that of someone I trust around the oven.

Let me tell you how I came to this conclusion. On our second day in Calgary, Edward and I headed downtown to seek out Bliss & Co., a cupcake company that came highly recommended as being the place to get cupcakes in Calgary. If Julie says so, then I'm sold.

The shop is difficult (OK, nearly impossible) to find, tucked into a basement unit on the edge of Chinatown. Look for the colourful pink sign on the sidewalk outside, or you'll just walk on by. The shop space is what you'd call no-frills (it feels like you're in a basement in Chinatown) but the cupcakes are so pretty and colourful that it brightens up the whole space. These cupcakes really are beautiful. And generously proportioned. In fact they are probably among the nicest-looking cupcakes I've ever seen in my life. Unfortunately for me, that's where the goodness ended.

One bite into the chocolate strawberry cake, and I knew I wouldn't be able to eat my allotted half. I was overwhelmed by sugar. This surprised me because I had read that Bliss's cupcakes were less sweet than the competition. In that case, I shudder to think how much sugar goes into the competitors' products! Although I fared better with the Island Dream coconut cake, it was still too rich for my blood.

Lest you think I have nothing good to say about Bliss, let me tell you that I loved their rhubarb-strawberry galette (see the first photo). It was still a tad too sweet for me, but the balance of the fruits was delicious and the pastry was really tender. So even for cupcake haterz like me, there's still something to enjoy at Bliss.

But in fairness to cupcake businesses everywhere, and so as not to lead any cupcake lovers astray, I'm going to refrain from frequenting any more establishments or doing any more reviews. I clearly lack the cupcake gene.

So take this post with a grain of salt. You'll probably love these cupcakes.

Tofino Time

2010-07-24T20:58:00.008+01:00

Tofino, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love your wild coastline and rugged shores.

I love your spectacular sunsets gleaming from behind tall trees.

I love your wildlife, especially your bears foraging by the side of the road!

I love Middle Beach Lodge, and the cutest cabin I could have wished for.

I love your tasty restaurants, especially the smoked fish platter at Sobo.

And now that I've left, I think I love you even more in my memories.

Can you tell I really loved Tofino, on the west coast of Vancouver Island? Actually, I should qualify that. The town of Tofino itself is nothing special. In fact, I'd go as far as to say it's a bit of a surfer-infested craphole (a few excellent restaurants notwithstanding, including the wonderful aforementioned Sobo). The beauty of Tofino is in the beauty of the natural environment. Rainforest, windswept beaches, birds and whales and bears - it's all there.

We used our time in Tofino to relax and just enjoy the bounty around us. Staying at an oceanside resort a few kilometres above the town, we didn't venture there all that much. Instead each morning we drove the road that winds through Pacific Rim National Park, stopping at points along the way, then came back in the afternoon and holed up in our cabin. We rambled along beaches and walked along trails. We saw our very first black bear (unfortunately from the safety of the car - I was hoping for a more dramatic encounter). We did 500-piece puzzles in the lodge's great room and read our books. Bliss!

After nearly two weeks in British Columbia, I felt somewhat sorry to leave. It is a beautiful province with so much to see, to do, and to eat! But I was buoyed by the promise of what lay ahead - one of my favourite places in all of Canada. Cowboy country, here we come!

San Juans: the friendliest little islands

2010-07-19T17:00:00.017+01:00

I was especially looking forward to the next stop on our summer tour, our only scheduled dip into the US. On this trip I knew I wanted to spend a considerable amount of time in the Pacific Northwest, an area I hadn't previously experienced much of. I also knew I wanted some relaxed, chilled out time included on our itinerary. So when my research brought me to an absolutely delightful-looking little group of islands in the Salish Sea called the San Juans, I knew we had hit the jackpot. I also thought these islands sounded suspiciously familiar.

One quick trip over to Dana Treat, a firm blog favourite of mine, confirmed my hunch. The San Juans were what I had previously thought of as "Dana's islands". Dana has written eloquently and often about Lopez Island, one of the four main islands in the San Juans, where her family has a vacation house. This place is clearly close to her heart, and she writes about it with so much emotion that my sister and I have even exclaimed to each other in the past, "I wish we could visit Lopez!" Well, I decided I was going to!

Lopez Island

I can see why this group of islands is so special to Dana and her family. It is a beautiful, laid back, and above all, friendly place. Unfortunately we had neglected to reserve a taxi for our arrival on San Juan Island, and soon discovered that they are few and far between. Having set off on foot and seeing us struggling up a hill with our bags (on my fractured foot, no less!) someone immediately offered us a lift in her car, then invited us out for drinks. We also made good friends in the couple who rented us their guest house for three nights - not only did they go above and beyond in transporting us around and providing every little comfort, but they invited us to a dinner party they were hosting, where we got to meet a terrific group of islanders. And on the day we cycled round Lopez (which is not as flat as I had been led to believe by others), nearly every driver raised their fingers from the wheel in friendly salute.

Sausage croissant, almond butterhorn and scone from Holly B's Bakery - a Dana Treat favourite. (And now a Let Her Bake Cake favourite, too!)

Even the whales extended their fins in friendship. The whale watching tours never guarantee that you'll see orcas when you go out, but oh, did we see orcas! In addition to seals and a minke whale, we spent a full hour watching orcas swim, splash and play on three sides of our super speedy Zodiac boat.

We even saw one breach! (Too bad I'd brought the wrong lens.)

With so much natural beauty and friendliness around, I could have stayed longer in the lovely San Juans. But more islands beckoned. Next stop: Vancouver Island!

Vancouver! City of positive people and fractured feet

2010-07-16T12:00:00.001+01:00

Greetings from Vancouver, the city that negativity forgot. Vancouver was the first stop on our cross-Canada tour, and it was amazing. In the week we were there I grew to love this city in a way I didn't when I first visited a few years back. Part of the attraction this time round was staying with a dear friend who devoted herself to our total enjoyment and entertainment. Part of it was the unbelievable, 30-degree-and-sunny, unheard-of-in-Vancouver weather we experienced.

This Vancouver love is a little unexpected. See, I'm a hardened cynic. I come from a long line of pessimists. And Vancouver is opposite to my nature. It has got to be the friendliest, most positive city I have ever visited in my life. Street cleaners say good morning to you. Waiters gush. Recreational volleyball teams cheer the other team when they score. (No joke. Ed and I attended our friend Alana's game and saw this with our own eyes. We were like, huh?)

And when you step off a curb and roll your foot and break your metatarsal, friendly Vancouverites are on the scene in minutes. Unfortunately I know this from personal experience, having done exactly this down by the water on what was supposed to be our last day there. As I hopped around in pain and worried that our trip was over before it had begun, a volunteer ski patroller and Level 3 first aid responder came over to help, bandaged me up, donated a splint and gave me care instructions for the next 12 hours.

On the left: my normal foot. On the right: what my feet would look like if I were fat.

By the next morning my foot was the size of a sausage and it was apparent that I should probably get an X-ray. Thanks to my insurer, Insure and Go, who were fabulous to deal with and made sure I never paid a dime up front or out of pocket. And to the doctors and nurses at Vancouver General Hospital, who got me X-rayed and diagnosed and bandaged and in and out of emergency in 3.5 hours. And to the other patients with foot and ankle injuries (it was a record day for them, apparently, and we were all sitting like lame ducks in a row) who kept me entertained during the wait.

The injury turned out to be almost fortuitous because our extra day in Vancouver was one of our best days there. We attended a fab barbecue on a unique rooftop terrace with spectacular views of the city. Caesars were drunk, corn on the cob and burgers were eaten, bocce and football were played and new friends were met.

Oh, and delicious cupcakes were devoured, too. How cute are these? I'd say they made the fractured foot almost worth it.

Next stop: the San Juan Islands! (Oh, and the foot continues to improve every day. It didn't even need a cast. Sturdy, supportive walkking shoes and frozen peas are my friends!)

On the road

2010-07-02T17:55:00.013+01:00

My little corner of the blogosphere hasn't been doing very well recently. Luckily I'm a great one for excuses, and I have plenty of them for you.

Between packing up our flat, leaving London and shipping all our stuff to Edward's parents' house for the summer, preparing to move to Rugby in August and departing for six weeks in Canada in three days' time, there hasn't been a lot of baking going on. Or a lot of anything that could be considered relaxing, fun or even mildly unstressful. (Well, I did get to have a fabulous lunch at Ottolenghi with Dana and Eleanor, but that was the exception to the no-fun rule.)

Thankfully, life is about to get fun again. Edward and I are taking off to my homeland for a six week cross-country tour, starting in Vancouver and ending up in my hometown, Ottawa. Over the course of the summer I anticipate that this blog will become less baking treasure trove and more travelogue. I'm looking forward to some excellent eating (as is Edward - he thinks of Canada as Land of the Burger, which basically makes it his spiritual home), and I'll be sharing my best finds here, both sweet and savoury. I hope you'll join me on my travels.

Bon voyage to me!

A very English cake: Victoria sponge

2010-06-22T17:25:00.001+01:00

I work very hard at being Canadian. To most of you that probably sounds a little odd. Why would you need to work at something that you just are? Well, I've been living on this tiny island called Great Britain for almost six years now, and I can tell you from first hand experience that it's very easy to become a product of your day to day surroundings. The patterns of speech, the vocabulary, the cultural reference points - they just creep in, and one day you find yourself puzzling over what the Canadian equivalent of "We're sitting on the top table" would be (it's "We're sitting at the head table"). A few months back my dad mentioned to me that my blog posts were sounding increasingly British. I inwardly freaked. I love England, I am an Anglophile through and through, but I am always Canadian first. Time to ramp up the Canuck quotient, I told myself.

Edward would probably say that my Canuck quotient is extremely high. After all, I read The Globe and Mail every single morning, the first thing I do when I log onto the computer. I read lots of Canadian blogs and magazines. I have many Canadian friends here. And I try my very hardest to keep my 'twang' - I will not succumb to the mid-Atlantic accent! It seems to be working because Ed is constantly telling me that I sound like 'the loud American' when we're out in public, an observation which is usually accompanied by a hilarious - and completely inaccurate - impression of my accent.

I also make a lot of what I would call North American-style baked goods. By that I mean butter tarts and bars and coffee cakes and Depression-era recipes. I suppose it's what I identify with, those treats feel like they're 'me'. But sometimes a girl needs to connect with her Four Weddings And A Funeral-watching, fascinator-wearing, Maldon sea salt-eating inner Anglophile. So the other day I made a proper English cake. The cake that, in the words of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, "launched a thousand afternoon teas and church fetes".

The Victoria Sponge, also called the Victoria Sandwich because the two cakes are sandwiched together with cream and jam, was named after Queen Victoria. She was said to enjoy a slice of this cake with her afternoon tea, especially once she retreated to her residence on the Isle of Wight after the death of Prince Albert. Apparently it was here where the cake was named after her, and ever since it's been a traditional British teatime treat.

This light, delicious cake certainly does scream Rule Britannia. I suspect that one day when I'm living in Canada again I'll be reading The Guardian every morning and making Victoria sponges galore, trying to ramp up the Blighty quotient.

Victoria Sponge Cake
From a recipe on the Guardian website by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall

This recipe can only be made by weight, so you will need a kitchen scale.

4 eggs
unsalted butter, softened
caster or granulated sugar
self raising flour, whisked with a pinch of salt
1 tsp vanilla extract or 1/4 tsp almond extract
a bit of milk, if necessary
raspberry jam, or to taste (pressed through a sieve if you prefer it seedless)
whipping cream
icing sugar for dusting

Heat the oven to 180 C / 350 F. Grease two 20cm / 8in cake tins with butter and line the bases of each with parchment paper.

Weigh the eggs in their shells and weigh out the same amount of butter, sugar and flour. In a large bowl with a wooden spoon, beat the butter until creamy, then beat in the sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the vanilla or almond extract, then gently but thoroughly fold in the flour. Now check the consistency of the batter. Scoop up a tablespoon of the mixture and hold it over the bowl. If it drops down fairly easily, it's just right. If it sticks on the spoon, fold a tablespoon or two of milk into the batter.

Divide the batter equally between the two tins and smooth the tops. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until a knife inserted into the centre comes out clean. Leave to cool the cakes in their tins for 10 minutes, then turn out on to a wire rack to cool completely.

Meanwhile, whip the cream to soft peaks (between 125 ml and 250 ml, depending on how thick a layer you want on the cake) . Don't overwhip to stiff peaks or the cream may weep and separate.

Turn one of the cakes upside down on a plate, so the flat surface is uppermost. Spread generously with raspberry jam. Spread the whipped cream on the flat surface of the second cake and sandwich the two together. Dust the surface with icing sugar.

My everyday loaf. Not for snobs.

2010-06-17T15:40:00.000+01:00

Stop the presses!

I have learned to make a real, live, loaf-shaped loaf of bread. A loaf of bread that is springy and not solid as a rock. A loaf of bread that you would actually want to turn into a sandwich. And put in your mouth. And eat.

Believe me, in my kitchen this counts as a send-out-a-news-release event. Bread has never been my strong suit. Sure, I've done brioche and no-knead bread and focaccia with reasonable levels of success. But the humble sandwich loaf has always eluded me. My efforts have always turned out too hard or too small or too lopsided or too salty or too sweet. They've never resembled anything that I would pay money for from a retail establishment.

Until now. Enter the bread recipe that has changed my life. I admit to feeling a little sceptical about this recipe when I pulled out the ingredients to make it the first time, like this bread was somehow beneath me. After all, I had found the recipe on the side of a flour packet. Surely great recipes don't come from the side of a supermarket ingredient packet? The recipe also called for instant yeast, which I had previously been taught by 'serious' bread lovers to think was inferior in taste, in texture, and in every other way.

Well, in this case I'm the first to admit I was wrong, and happily so. I don't know what it is, but this recipe just works. Consistently. It rises beautifully every time (oh, does this bread rise! You've really got to watch it during proofing because it's got a life of its own) and it bakes up lovely and soft and chewy. And in record time, I might add. From time of starting the dough to removing your loaf from the oven, it's just 1.5 hours.

So I admit, this loaf is not beneath me. This loaf is my friend. Such a good friend that I've taken to making it weekly. Hmmm, maybe those people at flour companies really do know something about baking with flour... go figure, huh?

And don't worry - if you're one of those 'instant yeast snobs' (it's okay, I'm not judging you, it's just that I'm a lazy and slapdash baker so I've decided that instant suits me fine) you can replace the instant yeast with active dry in equal parts and it seems to work perfectly well. Just remember to activate it in some warm water first. But of course, I don't need to tell you that. If you're a yeast snob, you already know.

Everyday Loaf

500 g all purpose flour (or substitute up to 125 g mixed grain or whole wheat flour)
1 packet (7 g) instant / easy bake / rapid rise yeast
1 tsp granulated sugar
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 Tbsp butter or vegetable oil
300 ml warm water (1 part boiling to 2 parts cold)

In a large bowl mix together the flour, sugar, salt and yeast. If using butter, cut it in with a fork until it disappears into fat crumbs. If using oil, mix together with the water. Make a large well in the dry ingredients and pour in the water. Mix together until you have a shaggy dough.

Turn the dough onto a floured surface and knead for 7 to 10 minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic. Shape and ease the dough into a 2-lb loaf tin and cover loosely with a tea towel. Leave in a warmish spot to prove until doubled in size, about 45 minutes to an hour.

Meanwhile preheat the oven to 200 C / 400 F. Once risen, bake in the centre of the oven for about 30 to 35 minutes, until the loaf is golden brown on top and the bottom sounds hollow when tapped. Cool on a wire rack.

Elderflower time

2010-06-11T11:45:00.000+01:00

For those of you in elderflower-growing regions, I wanted to remind you that it's cordial-making season again!

If you've never made your own elderflower cordial, this is the year you should start. Because what began for me last year as a fun experiment has, I guarantee, turned into an annual ritual. And I'm pretty sure it will for you, too. Because making it is just so easy. And cheap. And tasty. And presented in a pretty bottle, it makes a fabulous and unexpected homemade gift.

The beauty of elderflower is that it shows up in the most unexpected places - look up in a leafy corner of London and you'll probably find some. I picked mine beside our village recycling bins last week while I was down there offloading paper and plastic (charming, I know).

Already I'm enjoying the cordial simply diluted with sparkling or tap water, as a mixer in cocktails and added to white wine spritzers. And did I mention it makes a great gift?

Check out last year's post for instructions.

Baking for victory: sweet potato spice cake

2010-06-06T16:35:00.005+01:00

The other day I went to see a wonderful little exhibit at one of my favourite London museums, the Imperial War Museum. The Ministry of Food explores how Britain adapted to food shortages on the home front during the Second World War. From the Women's Land Army, which tilled the fields while the men were away, to the role of the Commonwealth countries in getting supplies to Britain, to rationing and the government information campaign on how to stretch those meagre weekly allowances into passable meals, it was a fun look at a rather bleak culinary period.

My own father was born into this environment, and my granny was one of the housewives who had to feed a growing family on a less than ideal diet. Growing up in Germany she had servants and housekeepers; she didn't really learn her way around a kitchen until she was raising a family in wartime England. The family joke is that this is why she was such an ghastly cook - anyone who learned to cook in wartime Britain didn't stand a chance!

Central to feeding the nation, of course, was encouraging people to grow their own vegetables to alleviate pressure on a restricted food supply. The number of allotments doubled over the course of the war, and vegetable gardening at home, previously thought to be a bit gauche, became the norm as people planted war gardens or victory gardens, both in Britain and in the allied nations abroad.

As I was going through the exhibit, I couldn't help but notice that it all had a whiff of the familiar. These days waiting lists for allotments are at an all-time high in England; farmers' markets are super trendy; Michelle Obama has planted the White House Kitchen Garden, the first vegetable garden at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave since Eleanor Roosevelt's WWII victory garden. Back then, of course, the war was against a foreign enemy; now it's a war on food miles, processed supermarket junk and unsustainable agricultural practices.

I'm sure it's no coincidence that this interest in "growing your own" coincides with a reprint of The Victory Garden Cookbook, which originally accompanied the PBS gardening show of the same name in the 1980s. This cookbook won't win any awards for style, but my mum's sticky, dog-eared copy has long been a firm favourite of mine for its excellent ideas for cooking a whopping 37 vegetables. Along with the baked onions that cause a riot every year at the Christmas dinner table (they're so good that everyone wants the last one), this is my favourite recipe from the book.

I often add a layer of cream cheese frosting to the top of this casual cake, but it's really not necessary. It's so moist and flavoursome that the sweet potato shines on its own. A true taste of the garden.

Sweet Potato Spice Cake
Adapted from The Victory Garden Cookbook by Marian Morash

1 cup all purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp cinnamon
4 Tbsp unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
1 large egg
1 large apple, peeled and grated
1/2 pound (225 g) sweet potato, peeled and grated
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans (optional)

Preheat the oven to 350F / 180C. Grease and flour an 8 inch square pan.

In a medium bowl combine the the flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon and nutmeg, and whisk together with a fork. Set aside.

Peel and grate the sweet potatoes and apple. Set aside.

In a large bowl with a wooden spoon, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the egg and vanilla. Stir in the grated sweet potato and apple, then add the dry ingredients, stirring until everything is just becoming incorporated and there are a few dry patches left. Mix in the nuts, and make sure there are no dry patches of batter left.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and bake in the centre of the oven for 20 to 25 minutes, until the cake springs back lightly when pressed and a knife inserted in the centre comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack before icing with cream cheese frosting if you wish, and cutting into squares.

Classroom chocolate cupcakes

2010-05-27T14:00:00.044+01:00

The first order of business today is announcing the winner of the cookie cutters and Fudges biscuits. I put the names of all the eligible entrants into a hat and the winner was... Sarah! Sarah, I'm sending you an email.

Now, onto cupcakes for a crowd. Cupcakes are not a common occurrence in my kitchen. I find them a little precious, a little overdone. I'd rather eat a big, fat, honking slice of cake. Sometimes, though, cupcakes really are the best option. Sensibly-sized, individually portioned and easily transportable in the right container, they are perfect for celebrating with a big group, especially a class group.

With class sizes being what they are these days, a standard 24 cupcake recipe won't always do. Nope, you're more likely to need 30 (if not more - eek!). This recipe is perfect because it makes 30 kid-sized cupcakes. Not too big, not too sweet and not slathered in junky, fake buttercream. These cakes were apparently a big hit with the 13 year old girls I made them for, but they would be just as appropriate for an end-of-year party in a classroom full of 5 year olds (or heck, even a university lecture theatre full of adults).

Of course, you're probably not allowed to bring cupcakes to 5 year olds anymore, are you? On the grounds of 'health and safety', gluten and dairy allergies, and all the nutritional evils that can lurk in a cupcake. At least these don't have nuts in them. I may have no regard for kids' health, but even I'm not stupid enough to suggest taking nuts to a school!

Chocolate Cupcakes with Chocolate Ganache Glaze
Adapted from Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan

Makes 30 cupcakes

I find that there can be quite a bit of variation in the size of cupcake liners between countries. If you are using standard American ones (which measure 2" across the bottom) then fill the liners a bit more than half full. If you've got the slightly smaller size often available in England (about 1.5" - seen in the photos) then fill them 2/3 full.

Cupcakes:
2 cups all purpose (plain) flour
1/2 cup cocoa powder
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup granulated or caster sugar
3 large eggs
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 cup buttermilk
3.5 oz (100 g) bittersweet chocolate, melted and cooled (at least 70% cocoa solids)

Ganache glaze:
7 oz (200 g) semisweet chocolate, coarsely chopped (or half bittersweet and half milk chocolate)
1/4 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces
pinch of salt

Preheat the oven to 350F / 180C. Line muffin tins with 30 paper cupcake liners. If you don't have enough tins, you can bake the cupcakes in batches.

In a medium bowl whisk together the flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda and salt.

In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or in a large bowl using a handheld mixer, beat the butter until soft and creamy. Add the sugar and beat for about 2 minutes, until everything is blended together. Add the eggs one at a time, beating after each addition and scraping down the sides and bottom of the bowl as needed. Beat in the vanilla. Reduce the speed to low and add half the dry ingredients, mixing just until they disappear. Now add the buttermilk, mixing until incorporated, then mix in the remaining dry ingredients. Scrape down the bowl, add the melted chocolate and mix it in with the rubber spatula. Divide the batter evenly among the cupcake liners, filling them just over halfway.

Bake for 17 to 20 minutes, or until the tops of the cakes are dry and springy to the touch and a knife inserted into one of the centres comes out clean. Transfer the muffin pan to a rack and let them cool for 5 minutes before unmoulding. Repeat with the rest of the batter. If you are only making 6 cupcakes in your final baking, you can fill the remaining 6 cups with a bit of water to prevent the pan from scorching or warping.

To make the glaze, melt the chocolate in a saucepan over very low heat, constantly stirring. Transfer the saucepan to the counter and let stand for 5 minutes. Using a small whisk or spatula, add the salt and stir the pieces of cold butter into the chocolate. The glaze may be nice and spreadable at this point; if it's too thin, refrigerate briefly until it reaches a thicker consistency. Using a knife, ice the cupcakes with the ganache once they are completely cool.

Fudges for you!

2010-05-24T16:48:00.011+01:00

This blog is, of course, all about home baking. But a girl doesn't always have the time or the inclination, especially in the middle of a sweltering heatwave such as London is experiencing now. That's when the storebought cookie comes in.

My sister got me thinking about my all-time favourite commercial cookie with this post the other day. While hers, a Dad's Oatmeal Cookie, is an excellent choice, mine is undoubtedly the President's Choice Raspberry Temptation (though the Peek Freans Fruit Creme will do, too).

If you're in the market for something a little more sophisticated, however, you cannot go wrong with Fudges' new range of chocolate-dipped biscuits. Fudges is a Dorset company that makes my very favourite premium crackers (I am so in love with the cheddar wafer that I want to marry it) so I was pretty pleased when they sent me a whole whack of their new sweet varieties. Buttery, crumbly and very moreish, they really are the biscuit business.

To win some Fudges for yourself, leave a comment by 5pm BST on Thursday 27 May telling me what your favourite (or least favourite) shopbought biscuit or cookie is, and make sure I have some way to get in touch with you. If you're the winner I'll send you Fudges' Butter Biscuits, Lemon Biscuits and Hazelnut Biscuits, plus a set of these super fun and ultra durable Kuhn Rikon kids' cookie cutters - for when the heat subsides and the baking urge strikes again.

Unfortunately this contest is open to European residents only, but a (bigger) worldwide giveaway is still coming later in the year.

Baking classes and celebrity sightings

2010-05-20T14:30:00.005+01:00

I like to think that I have a sixth sense about things. Sometimes I just know when something is going to happen, usually when I'm about to win a prize. Once I went on a cake decorating course and I knew that I was going to win the cake that the instructor had decorated at the end of the day. I went to a leadership conference in my final days of university and knew I going to win a random prize there, too (it was a striped tank top). Two years ago I won the grand prize at our office Christmas lunch - a massive hamper of tasty goodies. Yup, I knew it would be me.

Sometimes I have an intuition for non-contest-related events, though. Yesterday, as I was walking out of Divertimenti, a kitchen shop-cafe-cookery school that is one of London's top culinary destinations, who should breeze past me into the shop but the exquisite actress Thandie Newton. Holy gorgessity. Blessed with supermodel looks, teeny tiny bone structure, the confidence that oozes from the famous and the kind of money that can buy serious style, I was rather tickled by this impressive celebrity spot. I also knew I wasn't done for the day - there would be another celeb sighting later on.

So I was hardly surprised when I turned around in Topshop an hour later and Nicola Roberts (the ginger one) of Girls Aloud was coming up the escalator. OK, so it wasn't the most momentous celebrity sighting - we're talking homegrown talent rather than Hollywood glamour here. But it still totally counts. I think the moral of this story is that I am clairvoyant. Or perhaps it's just that celebrities don't have 'real jobs' so they have an inordinate amount of time to fritter away when other people are at work. This is why you will always see them out shopping on a Wednesday.

Back to the reason that I was out and about in central London on a Wednesday afternoon in the first place. Yesterday I attended a baking class at the Divertimenti Cookery School, taught by the delightful Flavia Rowse, who used to be head chef in the Divertimenti Cafe. The course was a bit basic for me, covering some of the cafe's most popular sweet treats, but I enjoyed the chance to try out some new recipes, to bake with other people and not to have to do any of the boring prep or cleanup. It was also a great opportunity to ask a Cordon Bleu-trained chef some of those questions I've always wondered about: Yes, your eggs should always be at room temperature because eggs don't like being too cold or too hot; no, you don't really need to sift your flour; temperature doesn't matter that much for cakes - a long, slow bake at a low temperature will always get the job done.

Here's the best thing I learned: wondering how cafes get their cookies so perfectly, uniformly sized? Well, they don't measure out a 'heaping tablespoon of batter' or 'dough the size of a golf ball'. Nope, they do it by weight. Each chocolate chip cookie in the Divertimenti Cafe weights exactly 65 grams. When you weigh out 65 grams of dough and form it into a flattened ball, it means perfectly circular, uniform cookies every time. That tip was worth the (expensive) price of admission alone. And you just got it for free.

What I baked

2010-05-18T21:45:00.006+01:00

Edward's parents were with us in London this weekend, which means only one thing: indulgence. We always seem to get through the most enormous quantity of food when they come to stay (not that I'm complaining!). Croissants at breakfast, cheese after dinner, good red wine, and plenty of tea and biscuits throughout the day. The weekend culminated with a barbecue feast (sadly eaten inside the flat while rain poured onto the roof terrace) to which I contributed this banana layer cake with berries and cream cheese icing.

The other sweet treat I made this weekend is something I've been meaning to share here for awhile. Roasted rhubarb is hardly even a recipe but it is healthy, easy and simply scrumptious. With some granola, thick Greek yogurt and a drizzle of maple syrup it's one of my favourite summer breakfasts. It's also a very good remedy for too many croissants.

Roasted Rhubarb

500 g (1 lb) rhubarb
50 g (1/4 cup) granulated sugar
juice of one orange or 1/4 cup water
1 tsp pure vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 180 C / 350 F.

Chop the rhubarb into pieces about 2 inches long and place in an ovenproof baking dish. Add the orange juice or water, sugar and vanilla extract and toss until the rhubarb is covered. Bake in the centre of the oven for 20 to 25 minutes, until the rhubarb is very tender and begins to fall apart when pierced with a fork.

Serve warm or cold.

When company calls

2010-05-13T10:45:00.000+01:00

The only reason my sister visits me is for the baking.

Well, I'm not sure this is entirely accurate, but her enthusiasm for sisterly visitation does seem to be suspiciously linked to the availability of freshly baked goods. If she stops by unannounced for a cup of tea, it often seems to be in the hope that I might have a cake or a batch of cookies lying around ready for her consumption.

So I wasn't that surprised when I called her up the other day to see if she wanted to come over for tea and a chat, and the first thing out of her mouth was, "Have you baked?". Well no, I hadn't. Miraculously, she agreed to come over anyway.

But being the sort of over indulgent big sister that I am, and knowing that I had at least an hour before I was expecting her, I began to feel guilty that I had nothing but an months-old package of hard gingersnaps to offer. What kind of hostess was I? So I baked.

This super duper simple chocolate Bundt cake is just the sort of the recipe you need in your arsenal for times like this, when you're called on to whip something up at a moment's notice. It looks (and tastes) rich and impressive, but the batter is a quick and easy two-bowl affair, and the cake bakes up in just half an hour. The sour cream ganache is a nice touch but it's totally optional - you could use cream if that's all you've got on hand, or just dust the cake with a bit of icing sugar and leave it at that.

I choose to see my sister's visiting habits as a compliment on my baking rather than a judgment on the appeal of my company. After all, there are worse things than to be loved for your cakes.

Death by Chocolate Bundt Cake

As with all chocolate cakes, the flavour of this cake really improves the next day.

1 3/4 cups all purpose flour
3/4 cup cocoa powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 Tbsp instant espresso powder (optional)
2 large eggs
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 1/2 cups buttermilk or plain yogurt
1 cup hot brewed coffee
2 tsp pure vanilla extract

Ganache:
150 g (5 oz) semisweet chocolate
1/2 cup sour cream
1 Tbsp golden syrup or corn syrup
pinch of salt

Preheat the oven to 350F / 180C. Grease and flour a 12 cup (10 inch) Bundt pan very well.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, two sugars, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and espresso powder (if using). Set aside.

In a large bowl whisk together the eggs, oil, buttermilk and coffee. Add the dry ingredients to this wet mixture and fold in until everything is just combined and there are no more dry pockets.

Pour the wet batter into the prepared pan and bake in the centre of the oven for about 30 to 35 minutes, until the top of the cake springs back lightly when pressed and a knife inserted in the centre comes out with just a couple of crumbs clinging to it. Cool in the pan for at least ten minutes before turning out onto a wire rack to cool completely.

Meanwhile, make the ganache: chop the chocolate and melt it in a small saucepan over very low heat. Once the chocolate is completely melted, remove from the heat and stir in the sour cream, syrup and salt. Let the ganache cool to a thick, shiny, spreadable consistency. Once the cake is completely cool, spread the ganache over top.

Comfort food: my favourite rice pudding

2010-05-09T17:50:00.012+01:00

I was suffering for most of this week with an awful cold. Red, raw nose, pounding head and sinuses, aching joints and scratchy throat. It lasted for days and it wasn't much fun. Strange as it sounds though, I actually love the rituals of illness. I enjoy slowing down, not having to get out of my PJs or put on makeup or leave the house, the obligation to do nothing. When else can you feel virtuous for slobbing out all day in front of a Frasier box set?

For me, being sick always involves:

a duvet and pillows on the couch
books
hot baths
mindless daytime television
endless cups of tea with honey and lemon
buttered toast
chicken noodle soup, garlic soup and ramen noodles with lots of chilli.

The soup is especially important. I have an unfounded but immutable belief that the key to restoring health lies in chilli and garlic by way of clear broth, so I tend to lunch and sup on said soups until I've chased away my sniffles. With their warmth and heat they say health to me, and also comfort.

By day three of this cold, however, with garlic oozing from every pore, I was ready for a bit of variety in my diet. Just like my soups, I wanted something that would be easy to prepare, that would provide comfort, that would wrap me up in a hug and say, you're ill and I'll make you feel better. And there's no better food for doing that than my favourite stovetop rice pudding.

Redolent of old fashionedness and nostalgia, this pudding is so easy to prepare that even a person who's a little under the weather can manage it. It's also so tasty that once your health is restored you'll want to make it again. You'd be crazy to confine this stuff to the sickroom.

Old Fashioned Rice Pudding

For a lighter version, omit the butter and egg yolks. The result is still creamy and delicious!

4 3/4 cups whole or semi skimmed milk
2/3 cup shortgrain rice (such as Arborio or Carnaroli)
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 Tbsp unsalted butter
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp freshly ground nutmeg
pinch of salt
1/3 cup raisins
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
2 egg yolks

In a large saucepan over medium-low heat, combine 4 cups of the milk with the rice, sugar, butter, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt. Simmer for about 30 to 40 minutes, stirring often, until most of the milk has been absorbed into the rice and the mixture is very creamy and thick. Remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla and raisins.

Heat the remaining milk in a small saucepan over low heat, then whisk in the egg yolks. Continue to whisk for about 2 minutes, until the mixture is thick, then pour it back into the pudding and stir to combine. Serve warm, or cover and refrigerate.

Self saucing: banana butterscotch pudding

2010-05-04T14:15:00.002+01:00

This banana pudding reminds me of the first dessert I baked when I moved to the UK for the first time. Obsessed with all things British and living out my Anglophilic dream (except that I was in Scotland... no matter) I threw myself into the culture around me. On the culinary front, this meant only one thing. Nigella. This was late 2001, when Nigella-mania was taking off around the country, but before she arrived on North American shores. I was gaga over this new culinary star, she of the sharp mind, witty writing, Botticelli-like beauty and come-hither glances. Who cared if her recipes sometimes promised more than they delivered? She invited me into her cozy, privileged west London world, and I was besotted.

Although my favourite Nigella book remains the ironically titled baking bible How to be a Domestic Goddess, it was from Nigella Bites, which accompanied her first TV series, that my first British dessert came. Easy Sticky Toffee Pudding intrigued me because it was self saucing, a curious quality I'd never heard of before. The process seems dubious but works beautifully - a watery, sugary syrup is poured over a simple batter, then baked in the oven, resulting in a spongy , cakey pudding with its very own sticky sauce below. That first sticky date and toffee pudding was delicious, and although I rarely make hearty desserts (it seems vaguely silly in a household of two) I remain a devotee of self-saucing puddings. They're simple, satisfying and so very British.

This particular version, banana pudding with butterscotch sauce, comes from the Australian chef Bill Granger via Rachel Allen (who is herself a sort of Irish Nigella for the noughties), with my own twists. The original recipe is toe-curlingly sweet, so I have halved the amount of sugar in the batter, relying on the sticky sauce to provide most of the sweetness. This pudding is also a great hiding place for healthy ingredients, notably whole wheat flour. While this type of flour is generally unsuitable for baking where a light, fluffy texture is required, in this pudding I find that its nuttiness complements the deep banana flavour and provides interesting texture.

Banana Butterscotch Pudding
Adapted from Rachel's Favourite Food at Home by Rachel Allen

Pudding:
125 g whole wheat flour
65 g caster or granulated sugar
1 Tbsp baking powder
1 ripe banana, mashed
250 ml milk
85 g unsalted butter, melted
1 egg
1 tsp pure vanilla extract

Topping:
100 g brown sugar
2 Tbsp golden syrup or corn syrup
150 ml boiling water

Preheat the oven to 180 C / 350 F. Grease a baking dish that fits at least 5 cups or 1.25 litres.

In a medium bowl whisk together the flour, sugar and baking powder.

In a small bowl mash the banana and beat in the milk, melted butter, egg and vanilla extract. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix until everything is well combined. Pour the batter into the prepared baking dish.

To make the topping: combine the brown sugar, syrup and boiling water in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Pour the boiling mixture carefully all over the pudding. Don't worry if it seems too liquidy and sinks to the bottom of the dish! Bake in the centre of the oven for 30 to 40 minutes, until the middle of the pudding is just firm when pressed. Serve warm with cream.

Baking in the afternoon: rum, raisin and apple loaf

2010-04-30T10:50:00.004+01:00

Remember when I told you last month that I had left my job to focus on new things? Well, it hasn't quite worked out that way yet. Any of you who have overseen the hiring process will know just how long it can take to advertise a position, gather CVs, conduct interviews, find the right candidate and get them in. So while my colleagues wait for my replacement's first day, I'm plugging the gap by doing more or less my old job - only this time from home as a freelancer.

While it's not what I expected I'd be doing with my time, it's a happy state of affairs. Work is so much more enjoyable when you don't have to go to the office! I never thought I'd be the sort of person who could work well at home - I thought I'd be endlessly distracted by laundry, the newspaper, making dinner, that errand that I really should run, the television... Surprisingly I haven't found this to be the case. With BBC Radio 2 and a coffee for company, I'm amazed at the tasks I can get through with amounts of speed and focus I didn't know I possessed. The calm and quiet certainly helps, along with the fact that almost no one in the organisation knows my phone number :)

While I've been pleasantly surprised by my home work ethic, the beauty of home working is that your hours are generally flexible, and during the day you can run that errand, or throw laundry in the machine, or accept a parcel delivery - or bake a cake. Which is what I did the other day as I waited to hear back from a colleague about something or other. This moist and gutsy loaf cake, although it was suggested in a newspaper column as part of a dinner menu, says afternoon to me. With a 3pm cup of tea and a quick flick through a magazine, it's perfect for taking a well-earned break from work.

Rum, Raisin and Apple Loaf
Adapted from Lucy Waverman's Weekend Menu column

This makes a very large loaf - make sure your pan is large enough or the batter will spill over the sides during baking. You could also add half a cup of chopped dried apple to the batter, at the same time as the fresh apple and raisins. Consider making this the day before you want to serve it - the flavour of this cake really improves on day two.

3 Tbsp dark rum or brandy
2 Tbsp water
1/2 cup raisins
2 cups all purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 cup unsalted butter
1 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp grated lemon rind
2 large eggs
1 cup applesauce
1 apple, peeled and diced
2 Tbsp brown sugar

Preheat the oven to 350 F / 175 C. Grease and flour a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan.

Combine the rum (or brandy) and water in a small saucepan over medium heat. Add the raisins, bring to a very gentle simmer and simmer for 2 or 3 minutes, until the raisins are plump and flavourful and most of the liquid has been absorbed. Set aside.

In a medium bowl combine the flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or in a large bowl with a handheld mixer, cream together the butter, sugar and lemon zest until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well and scraping down the bowl between additions. With the mixer on low, add half of the flour mixture, then half of the apple sauce, then repeat. Add the raisins (and any remaining liquid) and diced apple, and mix until everything is just combined.

Spoon the batter into the pan and sprinkle the brown sugar over top. Bake for 1 hour to 1 hour and 10 minutes or until a knife inserted into the centre of the loaf comes out clean. Let it cool in the pan for 10 minutes before turning out onto a wire rack.

Some kids get a Barbie cake, other kids get an orange Bundt cake

2010-04-26T12:00:00.002+01:00

This is the cake that had me in fits of hysterics hours before my friend Catherine's 18th (17th?) birthday party. I had bravely offered to supply the cake for this auspicious occasion, when, with just hours to go before dinner, I unmoulded the cake to find huge chunks of it still clinging stubbornly to the inside of the pan. I promptly lost it. I had a hissy fit in the middle of the kitchen, banging things around, crying and wanting to start all over again. My dad got very cross with me and told me to stop being so silly. Once the rage subsided, a circle of strategically placed orange slices hid the visible damage, and I learned a valuable lesson - when making this cake, grease the pan very, very well. Obviously I still haven't got the hang of it twelve years later, as evidenced by the photo below.

An orange Bundt cake may seem an odd choice for a birthday (after all, the shape wasn't exactly made for holding candles), but when I was growing up this cake served as a sophisticated favourite in my family, and it's still the cake I associate most with birthdays. Yep, some kids get elaborated frosted cakes on their special day - Bob the Builder, princess Barbie, a soccer pitch fashioned out of dyed green coconut and little figurines. Other kids get an orange Bundt cake.

Adapted from The Silver Palate Cookbook, this cake is a crowd pleaser for all ages. For adults the appeal is the sophisticated orange flavour, subtle sweetness and lack of thick, cloying frosting. For kids it's is the sticky glaze that pools at the bottom of the plate and makes the underside of the cake gooey and moist. (OK, that's still the appeal for me, too!). This time I added poppy seeds for a bit of extra interest, but they're not necessary. And whether it comes out in one piece or many, it will still taste like the best citrus cake you've ever had.

When I told my mum I was planning a post about this cake, she said "Oh good, that cake deserves to be more famous." It also deserves to star soon at a birthday near you.

Orange Poppy Seed Bundt Cake
Adapted from The Silver Palate Cookbook

This recipe make a very large Bundt cake, but can easily be halved to fit a smaller tube or savarin pan.

Cake:
16 tablespoons (1 cup / 225 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
4 eggs, whites and yolks separated
grated zest of 3 oranges
3 cups of all purpose flour
3 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup fresh orange juice
1/4 cup poppy seeds (optional)

Glaze:
1/4 cup fresh orange juice
1/4 cup granulated sugar

To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 350 F / 175 C. Generously grease and flour a large Bundt pan.

In a medium bowl sift the flour with the baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, or in a large bowl with a handheld mixer, beat the egg whites until stiff. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or in a large bowl with a handheld mixer, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add the egg yolks and the orange zest, beating until everything is well incorporated and scraping down the sides of the bowl as necessary. With the mixer on low, add the dry ingredients to the batter in three additions, alternating with the juice in two additions. Mix until the dry ingredients are just incorporated. Turn off the mixer and, using a spatula, fold the egg whites gently into the batter in broad strokes, along with the poppy seeds (if using).

Pour the batter into the prepared Bundt pan and smooth down the top with a spatula. Bake in the centre of the oven for about 40 to 50 minutes, until the sides of the cake shrink away from the edges of the pan and a knife inserted in the centre comes out clean. Cool the cake for at least 10 minutes in the pan before unmoulding onto a wire rack.

To make the glaze: While the cake is cooling, combine the orange juice and sugar in a small saucepan and simmer over low heat for a couple of minutes, until the sugar has dissolved and a light syrup forms. Spoon or brush over the warm cake. Once the cake is completely cool you can also add an icing sugar drizzle if you wish (as in the photo).

Double chocolate cookies with cranberries, toffee and marshmallows... after a workout

2010-04-22T18:10:00.000+01:00

When I was in my last year of high school I got really into working out. It was the beginning of my three-year-long 'exercise junkie' period. I am probably the only person in the history of university meal plans who has managed to lose the frosh/freshers/freshman fifteen rather than gain it - and this is while dining all year on an all-you-can-eat dormitory meal plan.

My thinnification was helped along by a close-to-0%-fat diet (fresh, healthy food had come to university campuses by this point!) coupled with insane amounts of weight lifting, step classes and cardio sessions. Sometimes weight lifting followed by a step class followed by a cardio session. Somehow I didn't perceive this as particularly out of the ordinary. I actually used to scoff and make fun of certain other highlighted, manicured blondes who were completely addicted to the gym. How could I not see that I was just like them?

It can be difficult to acknowledge your own crazy behaviour sometimes, just as it's difficult to notice how your own body is changing over time, which is why so many of us creep up or down on the scales without being aware of it. I think I finally realized I was taking things a little far when my housemate's boyfriend referred to me as "your friend who's too thin". Unbelievably, it wasn't meant as a compliment!

Looking back at photos now, I can see that I was underweight for my body type. My weight and crazy habits were put right by an indulgent year in Edinburgh during which exercise and low fat options were the last things on my mind, and ever since I've been slightly heavier. I'm a big believer that everyone has their own ideal range, and through sensible eating and moderate exercise, that's more or less where you'll stay. At least it's worked for me so far!

This is why I don't feel too guilty that I came in from a run yesterday evening and promptly wolfed down about two and a half of these large, crammed-full-of-yummy-stuff cookies. I eat vegetables, I walk everywhere, I go for the occasional run on a beautiful evening. So I'm happy to 'cancel out' a workout with fudgy indulgence. I think it all balances out in the end.

Double Chocolate Cookies with Cranberries, Toffee and Marshmallows
Adapted From In the Sweet Kitchen by Regan Daley

Makes 32 to 40 large cookies. This recipe is easily halved.

2 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder (preferably dutch process)
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup unsalted butter
1 cup tightly packed dark brown sugar
1/2 granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
3/4 cup dried cranberries or sour cherries
6 oz (170 g) bitter or semisweet chocolate chopped into small chunks
3/4 cup English toffee pieces, such as Skor Bits or crushed Werther's Originals
1 cup mini marshmallows, or regular marshmallows snipped into pieces

Preheat the oven to 350 F / 175 C. Line two heavy baking sheets with parchment paper or non-stick mats and set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa, baking soda and salt.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or in a large bowl with an electric mixer, cream together the butter and both sugars until light in color and fluffy, about 2 to 3 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition and scraping down the sides of the bowl. Beat in the vanilla. Stir in the flour mixture in 3 additions, mixing just until the dry ingredients are incorporated. Stir in the chunky ingredients and mix until they are evenly distributed.

Drop the batter by golf ball-sized spoonfuls onto the baking sheets and bake as close to the centre of the oven as possible. Rotate the sheets once or twice. Bake the cookies for about 15 minutes, or until barely set in the centre and just firm around the edges. Cool the cookies on the tray for a few minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely before storing. Store the cookies in an airtight container for up to 5 days.

Eating Italy at Eataly

2010-04-18T17:15:00.002+01:00

A few weeks back I mentioned that I had been in Turin for a few days, taking in the World Figure Skating Championships with my mum. (If you're interested, you can see my photos here.) While the figure skating program took up a large chunk of our time, there was definitely time to eat. There is always time to eat. Especially when you're in Italy.

Turin is a large, elegant city in the Piedmont region, and somewhat off the tourist track. The 2006 Olympics, the Shroud and Fiat were my only associations with it before our visit. I certainly didn't know that it's a city famous for its food. While you can spend days in Turin sampling the region's famous bicerin, bagna cauda, hazelnut chocolate and Barolo wine, if you want a one-stop shop for taking in Turin on a plate, you should head for Eataly.

Near the Lingotto complex sits this old vermouth factory which has been turned into what can only be described as a gastronomic emporium. Eataly is a vast grocery/market/restaurant complex devoted to Italian cooking and the slow food movement. Over several floors and several thousand square metres, it contains a library and bookshop, food education centre, cellars, multiple restaurants, and every Italian grocery imaginable.

My favourite part was the main eating hall. With the most beautiful produce you've ever seen running down the length of the room, it is surrounded by counters devoted to different food groups including carne, pesce, pasta and salumi e formaggi. We ate at the verdure (vegetable) bar, where my mum had a carrot sformato (a moulded soufflé) and I ate a delicious pesto lasagna.

And the groceries for sale! All carefully sourced from artisanal producers, I have never had so much fun ogling shelves packed with pasta (I got some shaped like communion wafers), sauces, flours, condiments, vinegars, cakes, biscuits and every variety of olive oil under the sun. I'm pretty sure I could happily live in the aisles of Eataly. Just give me a nudge with your cart if you want to get by.

We had just an hour and a half in which to shop, eat and run, but a food lover could easily spend a half-day here or more browsing and dining (and racking up a serious bill). While I can't see another trip to Turin in my future, Eataly in itself is almost a reason to return.

Eataly
Via Nizza 230
Lingotto
Turin

Sweet: St. Louis gooey butter cake

2010-04-15T16:30:00.000+01:00

Ooooh, sweet.

This is what my mother says when she takes a bite of something too sweet for her sugar-averse palate. It's usually accompanied by a slight grimace as she places the offending sweet treat back onto the plate immediately.

I fear it's true what they say. Women always turn into their mothers. Because this was my exact reaction when I took a bite of this fresh-from-the-oven gooey butter cake. Ooooh, sweet.

It wasn't just me, though. Edward had the same reaction. So cloying and so rich from copious amounts of butter and sugar, he thought it was tasty but couldn't manage more than a bite or two. And to think this was a low-sugar version of the recipe, according to the lady who developed it!

A pleasant thing happened as the cake cooled, however. Once it was cold, the overwhelming richness disappeared and what remained was a pleasantly luscious, moreish treat. I could actually eat a whole piece and enjoy it!

This was good, because this gooey butter cake, which apparently originated in the 1940s in St. Louis, really does have a lot to recommend it. The yeasted dough base (devised to replace the more usual cake box mix base, which helps to cut down on the aforementioned sweetness) is lovely and buttery and lends a very morning-coffee-klatsch feel to the cake. It's a nice foil for the sugar-rich top batter, which bakes into a soft, chewy layer that you want to sink your teeth into.

This cake did have me using my mum's favourite dessert put-down. Ooooh, sweet. But in the end, it was in a good way.

St. Louis Gooey Butter Cake

Recipe at The New York Times

This recipe is designed for a 9x13 inch pan but I used an 8x8 inch and simply baked the cake for about ten minutes more than the recipe called for. I strongly urge you to bake this cake in a light-coloured or glass pan. I used a dark non-stick pan and the cake developed too much bready crust on the bottom and around the edges. Using a light-coloured pan will keep the cake nice and light.

For the kids: healthier rice krispie squares

2010-04-09T17:25:00.001+01:00

"Is she actually posting a recipe for rice krispie squares?" I hear you sneer. "What has this blog become?"

I know that a recipe for non-nutritionally-bankrupt rice krispie treats may not seem earth-shattering, but it actually came as something of a revelation to me. So I thought it might be useful for some of you too, particularly those of you with little ones around. I mean, when a couple of little tweaks can make something a whole lot more nutritious for your kids (and they won't be any the wiser), why not give it a try?

This idea for a healthier slant on everyone's favourite childhood treat comes from food writer Lucy Waverman's column in The Globe and Mail. Her weekly Weekend Menu is a regular read for me because so often the recipes are fast, nutritious and fun.

These squares are certainly all those things. Making Lucy's healthier version is simply a matter of reducing the butter, adding some dried fruit (totally optional) and subbing in a whole grain cereal for the usual Rice Krispies (I used puffed brown rice but you could use puffed millet, barley, or a mixture).

And for my money, those few little changes add up to something that is just as tasty. I really doubt most kids below a certain age would even know the difference.

In fact, Lucy taste-tested these on a class of ten-year-olds at a Toronto school and some of the kids even preferred these to regular rice krispie squares. How's that for a ringing endorsement?

Healthier Rice Krispie Squares
From Lucy Waverman's Weekend Menu column

4 cups puffed whole grain cereal
2 cups mini marshmallows or about 25 large ones
2 Tbsp butter
3/4 cup dried cranberries (or substitute part chocolate chips)

Butter an 8-inch square pan and set aside.

Heat the butter in a pot over medium heat. Add the marshmallows and stir until melted. Add the cereal and cranberries and stir until everything is well coated. Remove from the heat and add chocolate chips, if using. Scrape the mixture into the prepared pan and use a spatula to pack it tightly. Let it set until firm before cutting into squares.

We have a winner

2010-04-07T17:05:00.003+01:00

The winner of the bread giveaway, generated using random.org, was no. 15 - Angeltreats!

Thank you to everyone who entered. As I mentioned earlier, I'm planning to host a worldwide competition later in the year, with a decidedly lighter prize.

Bread booty to give away

2010-04-05T13:35:00.001+01:00

The good people at Wild Card have been showering me with baking goodies recently, so much so that I'm running out of room in my kitchen. So I thought I would share this good fortune with one of you!

Up for grabs is a bread baking parcel consisting of two bags of Allinson's specialty flours, a tin of Allinson's traditional yeast and a never-used copy of The New Family Bread Book by Ursula Ferrigno, a lovely book which I have baked from many times and of which I happen to own two copies.

Unfortunately due to the hefty weight of this stuff, I can only open this giveaway to UK entrants. However, I promise that I will have a worldwide giveaway later this year. (It just seems fairer that way, no?)

Just leave a comment (you could share what your favourite bread is, maybe?) before 7 April at 5pm GMT and I'll enter you to win these goodies.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2010-04-03T18:45:00.007+01:00

A few factors have combined to make this blog somewhat barren in recent weeks. For that, I apologize. I'm not suggesting there's anyone out there who lives and dies by a new post here, but I do know the frustration of a favourite blog going mysteriously silent, and checking and checking and checking back to see if they have finally updated it! I hate the thought of putting anyone else through that agony, so I promise to do better. This should be relatively easy, because I'm about to have a lot more time on my hands.

I finished work on Wednesday and have officially joined the ranks of the unemployed. (Well, I do have some freelance work - my colleagues can't let me go! - but I'm mostly unemployed.) The reason is that Edward I are leaving London a couple of months from now to move to Rugby, a market town in the Midlands, where he has a teaching job. We're both extremely excited for the opportunity, slightly scary though it is. There will be lots of changes to adapt to - new people, a new part of England, a small town, boarding school life. There will also be, hopefully, lots of new opportunities, including the chance for me to dabble in a few different pursuits and figure out what I really want to do when I, you know, grow up.

To add to this big change in life circumstances, a smaller change around here is a newfound commitment to health. After a long, sedentary winter I am feeling decidedly sluggish. Too many cakes and not enough green things.

So, with this renewed interest in good health and wholesome baking, I present to you a loaf that is all kinds of healthy! This bread was inspired by some fantastic seed and whole grain flour I was kindly sent by the girls at Wild Card. If millet, barley, rye and linseed don't scream healthy, then I don't know what does. This recipe makes a wonderful soft, textured sandwich bread - the kind that I hated as a kid, but love now. To get that lovely, nubby texture look for a flour with lots of seeds and grains in the ingredients, or add a small handful of mixed seeds yourself. Whatever the grains and seeds in it, this is truly a loaf to help you back on the path to virtue.

Seed and Grain Loaf

325 g mixed grain flour

1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp sugar
1/2 Tbsp unsalted butter or vegetable oil
1 tsp instant yeast
200 ml warm water (made with 50 ml boiling, 150 ml cold)

In a large bowl mix together the flour, salt and sugar. Rub in the butter (or oil) using your fingertips. Add the warm water and mix with a wooden spoon to form a soft dough.

Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead by hand for 10 minutes, until it is smooth and elastic. Place the ball of dough in a lightly buttered or oiled bowl, cover with a tea towel, and place in a warm place to rise for at least an hour or until the dough has doubled in size. (It is fine to leave the dough much longer than this if necessary).

Preheat the oven to 220C / 425F. Punch down the dough to remove the air, shape it into a log and ease it into a 1-lb loaf pan. Cover again with the tea towel and set aside for at least 30 minutes, until the dough has puffed up and risen again.

Bake in the centre of the oven for about 30 minutes, until the top of the loaf is golden and the bottom sounds hollow when tapped. If the top is browning too fast, cover loosely with a piece of foil part way through baking. Cool before slicing.

Lost in translation

2010-03-31T21:05:00.001+01:00

I'm back from Turin, where I've been with my mum for a few days taking in some sights and the World Figure Skating Championships. I've got a post to come about a neat culinary experience I had there, but in the meantime I just had to share this little (non baking-related) gem.

This is what happens when you run a menu through a literal online translation program circa 1998:

'Three-colour scampi terrine'

somehow becomes...

'Flat to the three colours to you escape him'

I wish I had ordered that.

Sunday with Dorie: Morning glories (aka carrot spice muffins with lots of stuff)

2010-03-28T08:00:00.011+01:00

I am a muffin girl. I know muffins. I love muffins.

I think I got this muffin passion from my mum. When I was a kid she wasn't much of a baker, but muffins she did, and she did them very well. Her blueberry version (minus the berries for my sister) and her oatmeal version were a regular weekend breakfast treat in our house. Later on, we expanded into Regan Daley's wonderful muffins, with the millet, cornmeal and cranberry ones becoming a festive, Christmas morning tradition in our house.

So having excellent muffin-making in my genes, I feel pretty qualified to say that after nearly a full year of baking from this book, I've realized that muffins aren't really Dorie's strong point. Dorie's baking kicks butt in most other areas, but her muffins (apart from these fabulous, gutsy pumpkin muffins based on the famous Sarabeth's version) always seem to be lacking a little je ne sais quoi, missing some elusive element that I can't quite put my finger on. Like these carrot muffins - they had nuts and coconut and raisins and carrot and spices all sorts of delicious things - all the hallmarks of a really great-sounding muffin, right? But they were just... OK.

I still love Dorie. But she should leave the muffin-making to my mother.

Carrot Spice Muffins
From Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan

Recipe at Annie's Eats

All about sugar

2010-03-20T14:10:00.017Z

This blog is fuelled by sugar. So I was delighted when my former coworker Fiona - once brilliant book publicist and dodger of lecherous authors, now brilliant promoter of all brands food-related - sent me some Billington's sugar products in the mail. Any keen baker in this country will know that Billington's makes wonderful natural, unrefined cane sugars. These are the Rolls-Royce of sugars.

With my baking cupboard already bulging, all this sweet stuff has been sitting on my kitchen table for a week now. Looking at it day in, day out, got me thinking that, well, I know almost nothing about sugar. Kind of shameful for someone who sometimes gets through half a pound of it a week...

As it turns out, sugar is really interesting!

Cane sugar vs beet sugar
You can get sugar from many fruits and starches, but most commercially available sugars are made from either sugar cane or sugar beets. In recent years beet sugar has taken over an increasing proportion of the market because it's cheaper and easier to produce. Producers are not required to specify the source of their sugar, so unless your bag is labelled cane sugar, you're probably using beet sugar, or a blend of the two.

Many sugar purists swear by the more expensive cane sugar, insisting it tastes better and performs better in icing, caramel and candy work. Whether there's any truth to it, I don't know, but internet food message boards are full of interesting debates on the subject.

Unrefined sugar vs refined sugar
At its most basic, sugar is made by crushing the cane (or beets) to extract its juice, then removing the impurities and boiling the syrup until it crystallizes. Sugar made in this method is usually called unrefined sugar or natural milled sugar, and is always labelled as such. Unrefined brown sugars are made by stripping out the naturally-occurring molasses during the crystallization process, until the desired amount remains. Unrefined white sugar is the very last stage in the process (although this still has a blond colour since a very small amount of molasses is still present).

The vast majority of sugars we use today, however, are refined. This involves extra processes at a refining plant, which further purify the sugar and strip it of its colour plus all trace fibre, nutrients and minerals, creating the pure white sugar we know. To make brown sugars, molasses is then added back into the refined white sugar.

Although unrefined sugar retains a tiny amount of nutrients and minerals, don't think this means it is somehow a health product. It's still sugar!

Types of sugar

Granulated
Granulated sugar is the type most frequently used in baking in North America. When a recipe calls for 'white sugar', this is what you reach for. Although on its own it imparts pure sweetness and no real flavour, when used in baking it takes on a mellow caramel flavour and colour.

Caster (also called superfine)
Caster sugar is exactly the same as granulated sugar, but spun into slightly smaller crystals. It is the type of sugar most frequently used in Britain ~~where granulated sugar is much less common.~~ ETA: apparently granulated sugar is widely sold in Britain, although not really used in baking. I've just never noticed it on the supermarket shelves! The two types can be used interchangeably, but caster is sometimes preferable where a very fine texture is preferred, like in a delicate cake or shortbread. You can make your own caster sugar simply by whizzing up granulated sugar in a food processor - don't pay more for caster when you don't have to!

Icing / confectioners'
Icing sugar is the same old white sugar, which has been pulverized to a powder and then had cornstarch added for its anti-clumping properties. It is most often used in icings and frostings, but is also good for sweet sauces since it dissolves quickly.

Light brown
Light brown sugar has the smallest amount of molasses of all the brown sugars, and the mildest taste. Because brown sugar is so moist due to its molasses content, it makes baked goods soft and chewy. Light brown sugar is frequently used in cookies like oatmeal and chocolate chip, where dense chewiness and a butterscotch flavour is desired.

Dark brown
The same as light brown sugar, but with a higher molasses content. It is best used in strongly flavoured recipes like gingersnaps, fruit and spice cakes. It can be used interchangeably in a recipe calling for light brown sugar if you don't mind a slightly stronger flavour.

Muscovado (also called Barbados)
Muscovado is an unrefined cane sugar (ie. it is made during the natural cane sugar milling process and cannot be made by adding molasses back into refined white sugar). It is also known as a raw sugar. It has a very dark colour, sticky texture and strong molasses flavour. Muscovado is best used in baked goods with bold flavours, such as dark fruit or spice cakes. You can substitute dark brown sugar for a slightly milder flavour.

Demerara
Demerara is another unrefined, or raw, cane sugar. It has large crystals and a very dry texture. Because of this texture it is often used for sprinkling and decoration, or in baking when a slightly crunchy texture is desired. It's also a popular sweetener for coffee and tea.

Turbinado (also known by the brand name Sugar in the Raw)
Turbinado is an unrefined cane sugar of large, soft, pale crystals and a hint of molasses. It can be used in the same way as light or dark brown sugar. It is often thought to be another name for Demerara sugar, but this is incorrect - Turbinado is softer and less strongly-flavoured.

Vegan-friendly sugar
Have you ever wondered why a lot of vegan baking recipes call for strange-sounding sweeteners like agave nectar? That's because charcoal derived from animal bones is often used during the sugar refining process, which makes it a no-no. Happily for vegan bakers, unrefined sugars are 100% vegan friendly!

Storing sugar
All sugars will last at least two years, and quite possibly longer, if stored in an airtight container in a cool, dry place. Brown sugar dries out very quickly but can be kept moist with a special terracotta disc or a piece of bread or orange peel stored in the container.

Spring has sprung

2010-03-14T18:53:00.002Z

Well, I hope it has. Sure felt like it this morning at the farmers' market!

Blog steal: Chicken pot pie(s)

2010-03-11T13:10:00.001Z

The other day I was reading Mark Bittman's terrific Bitten blog when he made a remark that, had I been walking at the time, would have stopped me in my tracks: "I have nothing against chicken pot pie; in fact I love it. But honestly, I probably haven't made it in 10 years, because if I'm going to make a crust, I'm going to use it for dessert". Then he really set off alarm bells: "Not many people make [chicken pot pie] at home, maybe because it seems like too much work."

Too much work? Try "easiest recipe ever". Not many people make it at home? I had made one just the day before - and I'm not particularly ambitious in my dinnertime menu planning. I thought everyone made chicken pot pie at home. (Well, except vegetarians, of course. But they've got vegetable pot pie.) When I was a kid chicken pot pie was the standard dinner for using up leftovers from a roast chicken. It's cheap, healthy and a great way to finish off bits of veg hanging around in the crisper.

As Mark says in his blog, perhaps people's reluctance to make this hearty dish comes from a belief that chicken pot pie needs a pie crust. Well, it doesn't. My parents' CPP is actually a stovetop dinner, with a topping of light and fluffy steamed dumplings (or, ahem, dough balls as my friend Will's family called them. Mmm, nothing like a light and fluffy ~~cannon~~ dough ball.) Other versions use a quick biscuit mix or easy-peasy, store-bought puff pastry. Nothing time consuming about that!

Do you make a version of chicken pot pie at home? I'd hate to think anyone is missing this simple and wildly crowd-pleasing dish from their weeknight repertoire. For your consideration, two variations on the theme:

Mark Bittman's Chicken and Vegetable Cobbler at The New York Times is a traditional chicken pot pie with a biscuit topping. Swap vegetables in and out according to what you have.

Chicken Pot Pies with Leeks and Lemon at Under the Highchair are a bit special and grown-up. Faced with mounds of leftover chicken from a lovely roast earlier in the week, this is what I made last Sunday night, though I made one large individual pie (see photo above) and got a bit fancy with a pastry crust on top. And even that didn't take very long.

Long live the chicken pot pie, king of leftovers.

When is a fruitcake not a fruitcake? When it's a Dundee Cake

2010-03-06T20:28:00.002Z

I promised a traditional Scottish treat to accompany my last post, and here it is. Now, I'll be the first to throw my hands up and admit that Dundee cake isn't a perfect match for a post on Edinburgh. After all, Dundee is a good 60 miles away. But I couldn't think of a cake that originated in Edinburgh, and I really, really like Dundee cake, so you know, it will have to do.

I never actually ate Dundee cake when I lived in Scotland. The first time I tasted it was just a couple of years ago. We spent a weekend celebrating Ed's dad's 60th birthday in Dent in the Yorkshire Dales, one of his favourite walking destinations. On the Saturday morning we took a stroll across hills and streams to the lovely little cottage where Margaret and Tony, friends of Ed's parents, live in idyllic isolation. And waiting for us in their lovely garden was a feast of cakes!

While a chocolate birthday cake was the centrepiece of the spread, I spent most of my time gorging on Margaret's Dundee cake. I'm pretty sure I was shoving the slices into my mouth, possibly not bothering to swallow before reaching for the next one. I loved this cake, and went on and on and on about it so much, that Margaret was kind enough to post me the recipe the very next week. This is her recipe for you, with a couple of adaptations.

Dundee Cake is a fruitcake for people who don't like fruitcake. Does that make sense? To me it just doesn't conjure up the same 'ewww, fruitcake' feelings that seem to afflict so many otherwise enthusiastic cake lovers. In fact, the myth goes that Mary, Queen of Scots, who was particularly picky about her fruitcake (she didn't like cherries in hers) inspired Dundee cake.

Although most modern versions do now contain cherries (off with their heads!), if Mary's allowed to take liberties, then we are, too. If the only dried fruits you like are raisins you could use just raisins in the cake - or get experimental with chopped apricots, sour cherries and dates. If you don't like glace cherries, do as Mary's baker did and leave them out. Same goes for the dreaded candied peel. This delightful handwritten recipe seems to get closest to the heart of the matter: the baker has written '12 oz raisins etc.' Basically, use whatever you like!

If you're part of the 'ewww, fruitcake' brigade, I urge you try Dundee cake with the fruits that you like. Then we'll have a chat about whether or not you like fruitcake.

Dundee Cake

175 g unsalted butter
175 g granulated sugar
grated rind of 1 orange
grated rind of 1 lemon
4 large eggs
200 g plain flour
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp cloves
500 g mixed fruit (raisins, sultanas, currants, chopped apricots, chopped dates, sour cherries, etc.)
50 g glace cherries, halved (or substitute more fruit)
50 g mixed cut peel (or substitute more fruit)
50 g whole blanched almonds

Preheat the oven to 150C / 300F. Grease an 8 inch (20 cm) deep sided cake pan, either springform or with a removable bottom.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or in a large bowl with an electric mixer, beat the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, at least 2 minutes. Add the zest of the orange and lemon and cream in. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well and scraping down the bowl after each addition. Add the flour and spices and mix until most, but not all, of the flour is incorporated. Now with the mixer on low, or switching to a wooden spoon if you were using a handheld mixer, mix in the fruit, cherries and peel until well mixed. The batter will be extremely thick, consisting of more fruit than batter!

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top with a spatula. Arrange the almonds in circles around the top of the cake.

Bake on the lowest rack of the oven for about 2 hours. Times can vary drastically according to your oven however, so check the cake after 1 1/2 hours - it may need to bake for up to 2 1/2 hours. When done, the top of the cake will be evenly brown and will spring back when pressed, and a tester inserted in the middle of the cake will come out almost clean, with just a couple of crumbs clinging to it.

Leave the cake in the pan for at least 15 minutes before turning out. Kept wrapped in an airtight container, this cake will keep for several weeks.

Going back again

2010-03-03T16:04:00.001Z

The other week, for Edward's 31st birthday, I took him on a mini break to Edinburgh. We had been talking about going there for a long time, and finally everything aligned and the time seemed right for a quick getaway up north.

Edinburgh is a place that's very close to my heart. I spent a year studying there while an undergraduate, and I look back on that year as one of the best of my (shortish) life. An avowed lover of all things British since childhood, I was living on this tiny isle for the first time. Smack dab in the middle of a beautiful, historical, world class city to boot. And I decided to make the most of that year. I left behind my at-the-time very rigid eating habits (so much so that my mother gently told me to get thin again when I returned home the following summer); I made a pact with myself to take school less seriously (I have always been a very conscientious student); and I let my hair down. I made some wonderful friends. Together we explored every inch of the city and beyond. And we partied All. The. Time. I have never spent more time behaving badly than I did when I lived in Edinburgh.

The train from London to Edinburgh

But try as I might I couldn't be completely unserious about my studies - it's just not in me. Edinburgh University was an academically stretching experience. The kids in the Classics department were way ahead of lil' old Canadian me, and I had to catch up fast. By the end of that year, boy did I know my Amores from my Ars Amatoria. I could translate a cheeky Catullus love poem or a soaring Cicero speech with the best of them. Give me a hexameter and I'd scan it to within an inch of its life. I got seriously edumucated in Edinburgh. (Too bad my wicked Latin skills mysteriously disappeared the day after I wrote my last university final...)

Coming back to all this after eight years, in some ways it felt as if I'd never left. I showed Ed around campus, pointing out my lecture rooms and my favourite study spot in the library. We wandered around all my favourite areas of the city - the Old Town where I had lived, the elegant Georgian New Town, Leith of Trainspotting infamy and quiet, quaint Dean Village.

But they say you can't go back again, and this trip made me wonder if perhaps that's true. I didn't recognize a single soul in two days. My Edinburgh friends now live in Luxembourg and Toronto and London. Without them there, something was missing, an essential ingredient that had made the city 'mine'. I think it's the people who make the place.

New Town townhouses

Next time: to celebrate Edinburgh, a traditional Scottish cake.

Dean Village

(Not quite) carbon copy: Beetroot, walnut and hazelnut cake

2010-02-28T15:33:00.001Z

We are really lucky in London to have a fantastic network of farmers' markets. And I am doubly lucky because one of them happens to run every Sunday in the little London village where I live.

Because of the market, Sunday mornings are my favourite time in our neighbourhood - the village centre is bustling with shoppers, bringing to mind a time when people shopped at the butcher and the baker and the candlestick maker, not at soulless big box supermarkets. It's such a nice feeling that I can even put up with the yummy mummies and daddies clogging up the narrow sidewalks with their expensive all-terrain prams and designer babies!

At the market you can buy all manner of veg, fish, meat and poultry, plants, baking and dairy, from the finest cream you've ever tasted to the most exotic mushroom varieties. (For an overview of what's on offer, there's a weekly market round-up at Kitchenist.) There's one stall that I consistently drool over but rarely buy from, though. See, it's a cake stall. And if I bought cakes to eat in addition to eating the ones I make... well, the situation would not be pretty.

This stall is beautiful, though. It's the same stall that inspired one of my very favourites, the lemon, almond and polenta drizzle cake. The cakes are all homemade-looking, a little rough around the edges, not too perfect - they're so lovely that I consistently feel compelled to recreate them!

This time it was the Barbie Beetroot and Hazelnut Cake that I wanted to bake chez moi. It's probably the signature at this stall, standing tall and proud and pink, the cake of every little girl's dreams. And it's delicious, like a carrot cake, with an appealing nuttiness and a thick lemony frosting:

While my version didn't turn out quite as similar to the inspiration as I had wanted or expected, it was still delicious enough in its own way that I decided to post it here. While the original is fairly light in colour and texture, mine is a heavier cake, much like a dense, moist carrot cake. (If you want a slightly lighter version, whisk the egg whites separately and gently fold them into the batter at the very end. I suspect this would give a lightness that's a bit closer to the market version.)

The other main difference is colour. Anyone who has even a passing relationship with beets knows that they stain instantly - so the second the grated beets went into the batter I had what looked like a bowl of pink lava. I can't figure out how the original cake stays so pristine, the only presence of beet being the jewelled red flecks throughout the sandy-coloured cake. I wonder if they squeeze the juice out of the grated beetroot and then add it gently at the very end. Thoughts, anyone?

I may yet have another attempt at recreating that market cake, but for now I'm happy with my own not-quite-the-same version. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but surely there's room for a little creativity in imitation, don't you think?

Beetroot, Walnut and Hazelnut Cake

200 ml vegetable oil
200 g golden caster sugar or light brown sugar
3 large eggs
200 g all purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp cloves
1/4 tsp allspice
150 g raw beetroot, grated
100 g walnuts, finely chopped and lightly toasted
100 g hazelnuts, finely chopped and lightly toasted

Icing:

125 g (1/2 cup) unsalted butter

360 g (3 cups) icing sugar

juice of 1 small lemon

Preheat the oven to 200ºC / 400F. Butter and flour two 8 x 2 inch (20 x 5 cm) cake pans.

To make the cake: In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder and spices. Set aside.

In a large bowl, combine the oil, sugar and eggs iand whisk very well, until the mixture is thick and pale, at least three minutes. Gently fold in the flour mixture. When the flour is almost all incorporated mix in the beetroot and the nuts, folding just to combine.

Scrape the batter into the pans and smooth down the tops with a spatula. Bake in the centre rack of the oven for about 15 to 20 minutes, until a tester inserted into the cake comes out clean and the cake springs back lightly when pressed.

Cool the cakes on a wire rack for 15 minutes before turning out of the pans and leaving to cool completely.

To make the icing: In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment or in a bowl with an electric mixer, cream the butter until soft. Sift in two cups of the icing sugar, and with the mixer on low, beat until combined. It's a good idea to cover the bowl with a tea towel to contain the cloud of icing sugar dust. Squeeze in the lemon juice and beat well. Sift in the third cup of icing sugar and beat until you have a creamy, workable icing. Adjust the consistency as desired with a little more lemon juice or a splash of milk, or a bit more icing sugar.

Ice the cake once the layers are completely cool.

Sundays with Dorie: Brown sugar bundt cake

2010-02-21T11:40:00.001Z

I have an irrational dislike of the expression "more than the sum of its parts". I can’t really explain it, I just find the phrase irksome and overused. So it pained me somewhat when I was forced to conclude last Sunday that, in the truest sense of the expression, this brown sugar bundt cake really is more than the sum of its parts.

The recipe doesn’t seem that impressive at first glance. Some fresh pear. Some raisins. A whole lot of brown sugar. But something magical happens in the oven - the brown sugar seems to infuse everything with its mellow sweetness and soft chewiness, and the cake becomes something… well, more.

Brown Sugar Bundt Cake
From Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan

2 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup ground hazelnuts or walnuts (or 1/4 cup more all purpose flour)
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
225 g / 8 oz unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 cups lightly packed light brown sugar
3 large eggs, at room temperature
1 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/4 tsp pure almond extract (only if you're using the ground nuts)
1 cup buttermilk, at room temperature
2 medium pears, peeled, cored and diced (or substitute apple)
1/2 cup prunes, cut into 1/4 inch pieces (or substitute 1/2 cup raisins)

Preheat the oven to 350F / 175C. Butter and flour a 9- to 10-inch Bundt pan (I used a Kugelhopf pan).

In a medium bowl whisk together the flour, nuts (if using), baking powder, baking soda and salt.

Working with a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or in a large bowl with a hand mixer, beat the butter and sugar together at medium speed until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, beating for 1 minute after each addition. Beat in the vanilla and the almond extract (if using). Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the flour mixture and the buttermilk alternately - add the flour in 3 additions and the buttermilk in 2, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients. Mix only until the ingredients are incorporated and scrape down the bowl as needed. Turn off the mixer, and with a rubber spatula, stir in the pears and prunes. Scrape the batter into the pan and smooth the top.

Bake in the centre of the oven for 60 to 65 minutes, or until a thin knife inserted deep into the centre of the cake comes out clean. (If at any point the cake is browning too fast, cover the top loosely with a piece of foil.) Transfer the cake to a rack and cool for 10 minutes before unmoulding, then cool to room temperature on the rack. Finish the top of the cake with icing sugar or a simple brown sugar glaze.

Loving... Books for Cooks

2010-02-18T10:00:00.027Z

If you're in the London area, or even if you're just visiting, the Notting Hill cookbook store Books for Cooks is a little gem that you should visit at least once. This place is simultaneously a landmark on the London food scene (it opened in 1983 and under a series of owners has been going strong ever since) as well as being a guilty secret that I don't want more people to know about than strictly necessary. (Luckily most people have never heard of it - you're special so I'm sharing it with you.) While I love being in a shop full from floor to ceiling with cookbooks, I really come here for the food.

Tucked at the back of the shop is a tiny but light and bright café, serving a small selection of lunch dishes (sometimes there's a choice of two but often it's take-what-you're-given), coffees, wines and cakes. The USP here is that all the recipes come from books in the shop - this is the shop's test kitchen, so to speak.

I'll admit the dining experience isn't the most relaxed and pleasant you've ever had. The café is first come, first served, and it's always a good idea to get there just before noon if you want to be sure of securing a table without queuing up at the oh-so-cramped back of the shop. The service is brusque and non-responsive. You'll probably think the server didn't hear your request for two shots in your latte. But she heard. She just didn't feel the need to respond.

But the space is lovely and the food is always good. On my most recent visit they were serving lamb and bean soup with fresh coriander and sesame focaccia on the side (delicious), which I followed with an ill-advised sour cream chocolate and peanut butter layer cake from the book Sky High: Irresistible Layer Cakes. So good, so rich, so defeated by the huge slice.

After you've eaten and paid up (entrées are a ridiculously affordable £4, while generous slices of cake are £3 each), take your time browsing around the thousands of titles on offer, including the very best selection of baking books in London.

Books for Cooks
4 Blenheim Crescent
London W11 1NN