Recipe corner: maritozzi (Roman cream buns)

It's been a good few weeks since we got back from Rome and we still find ourselves talking frequently about the trip, which is probably a sign that a) it was a good holiday and b) we need to get ourselves back there as soon as ever we can. Which, unless someone wins the lottery, is unlikely to be this year. So, in the meantime, we console ourselves with glorious Italian food.

This weekend, I made maritozzi, which are light, sweet buns split and filled with whipped cream. One restaurant we went to also served a savoury version wherein the buns were split and filled with whipped anchovy butter. As rich as it sounds. For mine, I made two versions - one where the sweetened cream was rippled through with raspberry puree and another where it was combined with the sweet pistachio paste that I brought home from Rome. But, really, the world is absolutely your oyster here. 

The buns themselves are a lovely texture managing to be both light and robust, and while they are sweet they are not overly so; I split one and had it toasted with butter and jam and that was also delicious. I suppose they are tending towards the brioche, but slightly less rich.

Chef's note one: I baked a test batch for 20 minutes and they were beginning to dry out, 18 was perfect. But, it's always worth starting to test slightly early. For an enriched dough like this one, you want the internal temperature to be between about 90 and 93 degrees to ensure they're cooked.

Chef's note two: I never have whole milk in, we are skimmed all the way in this house. So, after a bit of research online, I discovered that I could combine 290ml of skimmed milk with 2 tsp of double cream which should achieve around the same fat content as whole milk.

Chef's note three: you could make these the night before and leave to prove in the fridge. Ensure that they come to room temperature before baking. Having said that, they seem to last extremely well in a sealed container.

Ingredients

300ml whole milk (see note above)

530g strong white bread flour

1 tbsp fast action dried yeast

1/2 tsp salt

1 medium egg yolk

70g runny honey

60ml olive oil (plus extra for greasing)

Makes 10 buns

Pour the milk into a small saucepan. Whisk together the honey and the olive oil. Place the dry ingredients into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook and break in the egg yolk.

Set the saucepan of milk over a low heat and bring it up to a low heat (the best way to test this is with a clean finger. It should not feel too hot to the touch). When the milk is warm, whisk in the honey and oil mix. Turn the stand mixer on to a low speed, and, when the egg is incorporated, start to pour in the liquid.

Once everything is added, and the dough is coming together, whack the speed up a couple of notches and knead for 7 mins (note: if you're doing this by hand it may well take longer. Be aware that this is quite a soft, sticky dough and a mixer is preferable if at all possible).

Transfer the dough to a lightly oiled bowl, cover and leave to prove for 60 - 90 minutes, or overnight in the fridge.

When making the buns, divide the dough into 10 equal pieces, shape into balls and place on two lined baking trays. Prove for a further 30 minutes, switching the oven on to 180 around 10 minutes before you are ready to bake to ensure it is up to temperature. Bake these for around 18 - 20 minutes, turning the trays round halfway through if the temperature distribution in your oven is uneven.

Once cooled, these can be split and served with any sweetened, flavoured cream filling of your choice. 

Fresh from the oven

Scruffily filled with raspberry cream

Recipe corner: small batch basic brownies

Happy Easter to all who celebrate it - and Happy Chocolate Day to those who don’t. This is a big year for us; my Mum finally fulfilled one of D’s longest standing ambitions by buying us an Hotel Chocolat Ostrich Egg. It is gargantuan. We will be eating it until Christmas.

The thing with us and chocolate: we both love it and have a number of sweet teeth but don’t tend to eat it in massive quantities. I have friends who tell me they can’t have sweet stuff in the house without it being consumed; we have an overflowing stash drawer and generally just have a small treat after dinner. One of the few areas of life where I find it easy to exercise moderation. Shame I can’t do the same when it comes to, say, melted cheese.

Anyway, (sense the segue) I wanted to figure out the proportions for a small batch of brownies which are a GREAT way of using up any chocolate going spare. A full size bake for two adults is a bit too much, but this recipe makes 12 brownie bites or 6-8 more substantial cakes. I’ve adapted the recipe from the gorgeous Jane’s Patisserie website which is full of lovely, lovely things.

I use a small foil tray from Waitrose to bake these which are a good size (18cm by 11cm, 2.5 cm deep). You could also use a standard loaf tin which would give you a deeper brownie (and a smaller surface area). If you do this you will probably need to increase the baking time. Baking time is CRUCIAL when it comes to brownies; although I’ve given the time that works for me and for my oven, there is no substitute for checking. Use the toothpick test visual as a guide; it really works.

Ingredients

65g dark chocolate

65g butter

1 large egg

90g caster sugar

Pinch of salt

Splash of vanilla extract

35g plain flour

15g cocoa

Up to 200g additions - optional (chocolate chips, nuts, chopped confectionary)

Makes 6-12 brownies 

Finely chop the chocolate and dice the butter and place in a heatproof bowl. Melt together (either over a pan of simmering water or in short bursts in the microwave) and then set aside for 10 mins. 

While it’s cooling, preheat the oven to 160 (fan), and have the egg and sugar measured out in one bowl and the flour and cocoa in another. Lightly butter your foil tray.

Using a stand mixer or an electric whisk, beat together the egg and sugar until you have a pale mousse. This will take 5 mins or so.

Pour over the cooled chocolate and add a pinch of salt and splash of vanilla. Gently fold the chocolate through - try and preserve as much of the air as possible. Then shower over the flour / cocoa mix and fold that through too. It needs to be well combined and this ALWAYS takes longer than you think. Patience, grasshopper.

Finally, stir through any additions you’re including before pouring in to the greased tray and smoothing the top.

Bake for 12 minutes or until a toothpick yields the correct result. Allow to cool in the tray before removing and using a nice sharp knife to cut. 

Happy New Lockdown

We watched that all time classic film Groundhog Day on NYE; it seemed peculiarly appropriate as we prepared to say farewell to 2021. And, turns out, peculiarly prescient too, as last night England was plunged back into the lockdown that everyone (apart, perhaps, from the actual government) knew was coming. And even though it won't make an awful lot of difference to my life in the immediate future (we had more or less decided to hunker down for the next few months anyway - and are blessed enough that we can do so) still, I lay awake for hours last night feeling sad and anxious.

I am worried for the health of my friends and family. I am worried for the sanity of those of them who have to go back to trying to home school their children alongside everything else. I am worried for all those businesses, particularly those in the hospitality trade, who must be limping along in hope of a miracle: what will survive when we finally make it out? I also realised, extremely selfishly, that I am worried about the food shortages that happened last time (who could forget that dreadful few days where I COULDN'T BUY EGGS*) and then started worrying about the fact that it is somewhat morally dubious to have such concerns in the face of all the others. 

*(And we get eggs delivered every week now, by our friendly local milkman, so we are usually overrun with them).

Let's talk of happier things, shall we? Did everyone manage to have some sort of Christmas? We were lucky enough to see my parents briefly on Christmas Day - I don't know how lucky they felt given that I wept all over them - which was gorgeous. I baked Gougeres for the first time in ages which almost made me feel like a hostess again. Christmas Dinner was our standard fare - confit duck leg, duck and black pudding bonbon, mash, red cabbage, creamy mustard sprouts - which, as ever, was sublime. And, for the first time ever I made a Yule log! I'd share a picture but, dear Teapot, my food photography skills, lacking at the best of times, have not been kind to the poor beast and I wouldn't want to put anyone in mind of...well, you know. Suffice to say, the sponge was light, the filling flavoured with cherries and Kirsch was airy and boozy and the chocolate ganache was dark and slightly bitter to balance everything out. I declare it a positive triumph.

Amazingly, our waist lines escaped the whole festive period relatively unscathed. We'd already been making efforts in that direction before Christmas (of which maybe more in a future post) and I think we naturally managed to balance the more indulgent days with lighter ones. My last hurrah meal before work re-started yesterday? A poached egg on toast. And very nice it was too.

A couple of recipes to share with you (I'll add the links to the relevant page). I used several different recipes for the Yule log, but the basic chocolate Swiss roll was from the GBBO site and I was extremely pleased with the way in which it turned out. Some recipes call for beating the eggs and sugar up over a pan of warm water, but warming the eggs slightly first is so much easier! My sponge was perfect after 8 minutes of cooking, but my oven is a beast so the 10 minutes specified in the recipe is probably fine for most. 

And this carrot and sesame seed bread by Dan Lepard (I'm getting slightly obsessed with the man) was divine - although I found that my mixture needed a splash more liquid than specified to completely come together. Marvellous flavour and texture in the finished loaf though - and a crisp crust that particularly suits it for toasting.

2021 may not have got off to the greatest of starts, but I hope everyone out there is bearing up. (Sort of ) happy new year all!

Recipe corner: Mussel and bacon pizza (jingle all the way!)

The thing about authentic Italian pizza is that tends to be pretty simple. Tomato, cheese and then a few, carefully chosen, toppings. Not enough of anything to create sloppiness: a crisp base and the structural integrity of the whole is important. No weird combos. No doughiness, no ten tonnes of cheese (that is the province of Domino's and their ilk). I get all that and I appreciate it. But SOMETIMES it is fun to play a little bit and end up with something which is somewhere between what an Italian Nonna would appreciate and what drunk people order at eleven pm with a side of chicken wings.

When I wrote this up in my notebook I called it "Pizza Bianca del mare e dell'odore" which means "A white pizza of the sea and the sty". And I like that title very much. It sounds so much more elegant than mussel and bacon pizza. But I've stuck with the English for the blog title because it's probably a bit more useful. 

This is a pizza that combines seafood and cheese, that is a little bit on the sloppy side and, to be honest, is a bit of a bloody faff if you're making it because it involves numerous processes. None of them difficult but it's not easy home cooking. Jamie couldn't squish it into a 30 minute meal. So I probably haven't sold it to 99.99% of the people who will come across this blog post. But for the rest of you, who are intrigued, you are in for a tremendous treat. I think this is the most delicious pizza that I've ever made.

When I wrote pizza 101 back in July 2016 (!) I was using Paul Hollywood's dough recipe, but I've fallen out of love with that recently after a couple of issues with the dough being just too sticky to practically use. So I turned to Dan Lepard and, sure enough, his recipe and method worked perfectly. I won't repeat it here but if you DO pop over to have a look I would note:

I used a tablespoon of malt extract and all water, rather than open some of D's precious beer

I went up to 200ml of water - 50ml fresh boiled and 150ml cold from the tap to get it luke(ish) warm.

I initially made the dough the night before using and left it in the fridge overnight before moving on to the stretching and folding stage. This has the benefit of spreading the effort a bit as well.

I was making personal sized pizzas, so divided this recipe into 6 (actually, I made a half batch and divided it into 3). This was a generous portion. If you're not greedy, you could reduce the portion size further.

And for the topping...

Ingredients

1/2 kilo mussels

Splash of white wine or Vermouth

150ml milk

3-4 garlic cloves, peeled and bruised

Large sprig of thyme

15g Parmesan

10g butter

10g flour

75g pancetta (or diced bacon)

Small onion, thinly sliced

100g firm mozzarella, grated

75g smoked cheese, grated

Makes 2 generous individual pizzas

OK, so firstly we want to cook the mussels with no more flavourings added than a splash of white wine. Clean and de-beard the crustacea then heat the wine in a large, lidded pan until it simmers madly, and tip them in. Cover the pan and cook for around 5 mins, shaking gently every so often. They'll be ready when the majority of the shells are yawning open. Incidentally: we tend to buy up bags of mussels whenever we make it the fishmonger, cook and freeze them for future use. But if you do this be sure to freeze them alongside their delicious liquor.

Make the white sauce by first infusing the milk with the garlic and the thyme. Place all together in a small pan, scald the milk (which means heating it until the edges are beginning to bubble) then turn off the heat, cover and leave alone for at least a couple of hours.

Then we make a roux - melt the butter, add the flour and stir briskly to make a paste. Pour in the infused milk, bit by bit, stirring vigorously every time to eliminate lumps. When you've added all the milk, add the mussel liquor - again, bit by bit. Gently bubble the sauce for a few minutes to ensure that all the flour is cooked out (the easiest way to check this is by tasting it - if you can taste even a hint of flour, cook for a bit longer) then season with the grated Parmesan, a tiny pinch of salt and a little pepper. This is the base of your pizza.

Fry off the pancetta until crispy and then remove from the pan with a slotted spoon. Then, turn the heat right down and soften the onion in the bacon fat.

Finally, assemble your pizza. Take your rolled out bases and spread across the white sauce. Top with the cooked mussels, bacon and onion and finish off with the mozzarella and smoked cheese. If you have any spare, sprinkle a few fresh thyme leaves over to finish. Bake in a very hot oven for about 12 minutes until everything is bubbling and beginning to brown. 

If you have any sense at all, you'll allow it to cool slightly (and, in doing so, begin to solidify) before eating.

Recipe corner: garlic butter naan breads

As mentioned in my previous post, I've been turning to Dan Lepard a lot lately for baking recipes. This one is an adaptation of a recipe for coconut garlic naan that can be found here. Although the original works perfectly well, I did not find that you got much of a taste of coconut from the coconut milk, so tried it out with plain yoghurt (which we more usually tend to have knocking around the kitchen) and was pleased with the resulting soft texture. I also advocate garlic butter rather than garlic oil for the dabbing-while-cooking but you need to be careful not to allow it [the butter] to burn.

Dan Lepard has a slightly different approach to bread making which generally means much less hands on time, and although it feels counterintuitive, it does actually work really well. You just need to make sure you're keeping track of where you are in the instructions!

I think that these, as with most flatbreads, are best straight out of the pan but the good news is that can you make the dough up in advance, divide it up into balls and then leave them, covered in the fridge for a good few hours with no ill effect. I finished the dough at 6pm on Saturday and cooked up the last naan bread at 12pm for lunch on Sunday and it still worked like a charm, if, perhaps, it puffed up ever so slightly less. However, since I was using it as a wrap, this wasn't an issue.

Ingredients

25g boiling water

75g cold tap water

4g fast-action yeast

185g plain, full fat yoghurt

275g strong white bread flour

Tsp salt

Oil, for the worktop

Additional flour, for shaping

25g butter

2 cloves of garlic, crushed or finely grated

A sprinkle of nigella seeds

Makes 3 large or 4 medium naan

Measure out the water into a large bowl (I've given weight rather than volume as I think this makes life a bit easier). Test it when the two waters are combined - it should be warm but not hot. Whisk in the yeast until dissolved and then whisk in the yoghurt.

Shower in the flour, add the salt and, using your hand shaped like a claw, bring the dough together - it will be soft and not too sticky. Cover the bowl and leave for 10 minutes.

Oil the worktop, tip out the dough and knead gently for 10 seconds. Return to the bowl, cover again and leave for 1 hour. Wipe up any remaining oil while you remember.

When you return to the dough, lightly flour the worktop then tip it out and divide into 3-4 pieces. Shape these into rough balls, cover, and leave these again for 30 minutes (at this point, you can transfer the dough to the fridge until you need it. Just be sure to bring up to room temperature before using).

Roll the dough out - the teardrop shape is traditional for naan, but round will work just as well here. 

Put a frying pan over a medium heat. Crush or grate the garlic over the butter and then melt (I use a microwave but a small pan and a low heat will do just as well).

Fry the breads for about a minute and a half, dabbing the melted butter onto the surface with a silicon brush, and finish with a sprinkle of the nigella seeds.

Recent Eats - the lockdown 2.0 edition

This post has been sitting in my drafts for a while. I started on it a couple of weeks ago, but kept losing heart. I would start a sentence and then drift off, only to find myself staring blankly at the screen.

It's been so long that the title now only just applies. We are, apparently, approaching the end of Lockdown 2.0 in England, although given that my area (along with many others) lurches straight into Tier 3, we probably won't really notice. 

Gah, I don't want to moan. I really don't want to moan when I am safe, my family are safe, I am gainfully employed, able to work from home and, delighted that someone (either the supermarket supply chain managers or the Great British Public, who knows?) seem to have learned the lessons of Lockdown 1. We have been able to get supermarket delivery slots throughout and last week, the shopping contained flour! Two types! So, you know, what's to complain about?

Still, (because it is my blog and if I can't be self indulgent here...) my mood has really plummeted this week. One of the first signs is when I struggle to read and I haven't (until last night) managed to pick up a book in days. I've watched quite a lot of Christmas films - and even a Christmas sitcom - on Netflix, which has been nice. But I've still found myself sitting in floods of tears for no reason whatsoever. It feels terribly selfish and not a little pathetic when so many people are experiencing real problems and real heartache but I think all of us have taken a bit of an emotional bashing recently. I'm missing my family and my friends terribly - I've seen my Mum and Dad once since March and my father in law once and, other than that, it's been D and the cat. 

Sorry - this all turned into a bit of a pity party. It was my original intention to write about what we've been cooking lately, not snivel into the ether. When I flicked back through my most recent photos, all I managed to find were pita breads and stew and dumplings, which makes for rather beige pictures (not that anyone is here for the food photography!)

Pita or pitta?

The pita breads are by Dan Lepard, and the recipe can be found online here as well as in his book "Short and Sweet". I am finding, more and more, that I turn to Lepard for baking queries and this book is an absolute godsend. His brief-knead-and-leave method of bread making is unconventional but works very well - I would certainly urge you to forever eschew the store bought pita and go for these instead. They are a leetle labour intensive, but well worth it (and, I can confirm, they freeze beautifully).

Stew and, more importantly, dumplings

The stew in question is my late mother in law's panacalty. Or, rather, our take on it. Corned beef, and chunks of root veg in oxtail soup (!) with suet dumplings on top. I make it slightly faffier than just bunging everything in a single pan - roasting off the veg for a bit of extra flavour, caramelising onions for sweetness, finishing with a little mustard. We also use D's homemade corned beef rather than the tinned stuff...altogether, it's a lovely, lovely thing. And very much of the North East. 

I'm sure that there are more things to share but I have bored on quite enough for one Friday afternoon. Sending huge love and virtual hugs out into Tinternet to everyone out there who is struggling, be it a little bit or a whole lot. I wish you all a weekend of good food, cat cuddles and Strictly (or whatever it is that makes your world feel a little less crap). 

Recipe corner: Carrot, apple and date muffins

Back when I used to work in an office (remember that time?) we had a Starbucks open just thirty seconds from the front door and, I must admit, initially the novelty factor was such that I was in there most mornings. And what better way to start the day with a milky coffee big enough to bath a kitten in, and a nice chunk of cake. For, let us be clear, we all know that the word muffin (in the non-English sense) is just a sneaky way to legitimise cake for breakfast.

I eventually managed to (more or less) ditch the Starbucks habit (although consumption used to creep up again around this time of year when the gingerbread lattes hit the store. I love a gingerbread latte, sickly as it is, and I love the announcement that the red cups are coming because - Christmas. But we won't go there yet). 

To return to the original thought - I eventually stopped the daily detour. And one of the things that helped break the habit is that they stopped doing two of the best muffins - apple and cinnamon and, for high days and holidays, "breakfast" muffins. I have only a limited idea what was in these latter but they were good - fruity and spicy with a sprinkle of seeds on top to indicate virtue.

I don't think these are quite the same, but they come pretty close. I don't generally eat breakfast much now - most of the time we do intermittent fasting to only eat between the hours of 12 and 8. (And yes, I realise that the first meal of the day is breakfast whatever time you choose to consume it, but I mean to say that I don't often eat breakfast type foods at noon.) However, a nice muffin is perfect with a cup of tea mid afternoon to get you through a sugar slump. This makes six decent sized muffins, but there is no reason why you could not miniaturise them if you felt so inclined. They contain some fruit and veg not to mention are partially made with wholemeal flour, so you can almost convince yourself that they're a health food - again, if you feel so inclined.

Ingredients

70g wholemeal flour

90g plain flour

1.5 tsp baking powder

Pinch of salt

1.5 tsp ground cinnamon

Tsp mixed spice

50g soft brown sugar

Eating apple, peeled, cored and chopped into small chunks

Carrot, peeled and coarsely grated

50g chopped dates

150ml milk (I always use skimmed which works fine)

1 egg

55g butter

3 tsp demerara sugar

3 tsp pumpkin seeds (or similar)

Makes 6 muffins

Preheat your oven to 200 (180) fan and prep a tray - I use a silicon muffin tray which I brush very lightly with vegetable oil, but you could use a metal tray with paper liners,

Combine all the dried ingredients (flours, baking powder, spices, sugar) in a large bowl. Add in the apple, carrot and dates and mix well so they are thoroughly coated.

In a small jug or similar, melt the butter (I do this in the microwave for ease). Whisk in the milk (which will immediately cool the butter) and then the egg.  Pour this into the dried ingredients and stir to combine.

Seasoned bakers will know - you want the ingredients to be only just mixed - don't overwork. I tend to use a spatula to fold the wet ingredients in, rather than stirring with a spoon, and I find this helps. Fold through four or five times until you can't see much by way of dried flour anymore.

Put the mixture in the cases (it will fit although they will be full) and sprinkle over the demerara sugar and the seeds. Bake in the oven for around 35 minutes until a skewer comes out clean (it may take slightly longer - my oven is a beast).

Serve for breakfast, lunch, dinner or snacks. Cake is good at all times of the day.

Recipe corner: my perfect Toad in the Hole

I'm finding it particularly difficult to edit Blogger posts at the moment which is most annoying and is what led to the original version of this post sitting in drafts for a couple of weeks before I ended up deleting it in disgust.  They have changed the layout which is supposed to make it easier to post from a phone or a tablet (it doesn't) and seemingly done away with the ability to poke around at the HTML version of the post which was what I used to do to de-wonk it when nothing else would work.  Or perhaps I'm missing something?  That seems quite likely. 

Anyway. Toad in the Hole. Isn't it a glorious concoction?  Plump sausages nestled in a cloud of golden batter - I can think of few things more comforting.  I mean, you could melt some cheese on top for that extra layer of indulgence (Diana Henry has a lovely, cheesy version in her book From the Oven to the Table which also features baby leeks) but here, we're going nice and simple and classic.

I've struggled with getting the Yorkshire Pudding element of my Toad right for years but recently saw Nigella making it on TV and she suggested using Jane Grigson's method which involves adding solids to liquids rather than the other way round and that seemed to work a treat. The result had a bit of crispiness at the edges but was wonderfully soft and gooey in the middle.  This may not be to everyone's taste - some people prefer their batter to be crisp throughout, in which case this may not be the recipe for you.

Notes:  there is no need to start the sausages off in the frying pan as I have suggested below - but it helps to give them a bit of colour.

In the (as usual somewhat crappy) picture, you will see that I have made the Toad in a rectangular Pyrex dish, but I have since tried it in a 20cm round silicon cake tin and this worked even better - no sticking of batter to silicon and, also, for some reason I feel it is more appropriate that this dish be round, although for the life of me I couldn't explain why.  

Side dishes - gravy is a must (and there is no shame in just making up some good old Bisto as far as I'm concerned) but then I think all you need is something along the lines of some roasted roots, perhaps some peas.  You could serve it with a scoop of mash, but I think it is unnecessary and I say that as a greedy person.

Ingredients

6 pork sausages - go simple and classic here

1/2 onion (red for preference) - thinly sliced

2-3 sprigs of thyme

2 eggs

160ml milk

125g plain flour

1/2 tsp mustard powder (optional)

2tbsp vegetable oil

Serves 2

First, make your batter - and you need to allow a bit of time for the liquids to stand, so factor that in.  Whisk together the eggs and milk and set aside for at least 15 minutes.  Then add the flour, mustard powder and seasoning and whisk again. Some people swear blind that batter needs to rest properly before using - I'll be honest, I've tried resting it for a good half hour and cooking with it straight away and didn't notice a great deal of difference.  Just be aware that you have some flexibility.

Incidentally, unless you're planning to have the batter sit around indefinitely, I would suggest pre-heating the oven at the point at which you add the solids - to 200 degrees - you want it to get nice and hot.

Put a tablespoon of oil in the dish you are using for the Toad and place in the oven for around 10-15 minutes.  Meanwhile, if you are cooking the sausages separately, heat the oil in a frying pan over a medium heat and cook them for 5-10 mins, turning regularly to get a decent colour on all sides (if not, just put all of of the oil and the sausages in at the beginning and start off in the oven).

Once the oil in the oven is hot, remove the dish, add the sausages and any oil remaining in the frying pan, and pour over the batter.  You need to work quickly here to make sure the batter hits the oil while it is still nice and hot.  Sprinkle the sliced onion and the thyme leaves over the top and return to the oven.

Bake for around 40 minutes by which time the pudding should be puffed and golden, just beginning to catch at the edges, and the sausages should be cooked through.  

Recipe corner: pineapple upside-down cake

I make no apologies for publishing something so unashamedly retro because it is, without a shadow of a doubt, exceedingly good cake.

I've been baking quite a lot over the last few weeks.  For one thing, barely going out means that I need to keep a supply of potential snack food on hand.  For another, it is a very soothing activity and makes me feel very content in a sort of 1950s hausfrau sort of a way.  Also (and this is particularly pertinent to this post) we have been getting all sorts of random fruit and veg in our weekly box which we wouldn't normally buy and baking is a good way to make sure everything gets utilised.  

I read through quite a few recipes before settling on this one, which originates from the BBC Good Food site.  The method, of smearing the butter and sugar mixture all over the bottom of the cake tin rather than melting it down into a caramel, seemed to me to be pleasingly faff free and it worked a treat.  When you look at the ingredients list, the scant amount of sponge mix might seem like an error but I think it produces an excellent ratio of fruit and caramel to cake.  

Treat this recipe as a blueprint to pull out whenever you have some random soft fruit that you need to use (perhaps in your weekly box, or a tin lurking at the back of the store cupboard).  I had great success with making an upside-down plum cake the other week (in fact, D preferred the plum version to it's pineapple cousin).  Inspired by that, and again in the quest for the perfect distribution and ratio, I would encourage you to imagine a plum cut into eighths when slicing your fruit.  When I made the version in the picture, my pineapple chunks were a bit...chunky.

Incidentally (and I'll stop whiffling and get to the recipe in a second) I make this in my silicon cake tin and it works like a charm.  I am slightly obsessed, I won't deny it, even if it does fly in the face of tradition somewhat and means that I run the risk of losing my 1950s hausfrau badge.

Ingredients

50g light, soft brown sugar

50g softened butter

Tsp ground cinnamon

250g pineapple, cut into smallish chunks (see note above)

100g softened butter

100g caster sugar (golden if you happen to have it)

100g self raising flour

Tsp baking powder

Tsp vanilla extract

2 eggs

Preheat the oven to 180 (160 fan).

Combine the 50g butter with the 50g sugar and the cinnamon until it reaches the texture of very damp sand.  Spread this across the bottom of a 20cm cake tin and about a quarter of the way up the sides (you don't have to be too precise here).  By far the easiest way to do this is with your hands.  Pretend you're making sandcastles.

Arrange the fruit across the caramel mixture.  Aim for as even a distribution as possible.

Now for the cake.  Cream together the rest of the butter and the sugar until pale and fluffy.  Then add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each one, and stir through the vanilla extract.  Finally, sift in the flour and the baking powder and gently fold through so that you have a soft, smooth batter.

You now need to spread the cake mix on top of the fruit.  It may look like there isn't enough, so spend a bit of time, preferably using a silicon spatula, to make sure the mixture is evenly spread.  

Bake in the oven for 25-35 mins (my oven is a beast so I start checking after 20).  The cake is ready when a skewer (or a small piece of dried spaghetti, my weapon of choice) comes out clean.

Leave the cake to cool for 5 minutes and then you need to turn it out onto a plate.  This is less scary than it sounds.  Place your hand flat under the cake tin (use an oven glove if it is still too hot to handle at this stage) and cover the exposed cake layer with a large plate then turn over in one swift, smooth movement.  Believe me, I am the clumsiest person in the world and I have managed several times without incident.

This cake is lovely warmed, with cream or ice cream for a school dinners-tastic pudding, but cold with a cup of tea is good too.  Whatever floats your boat.

Molehills in the time of COVID-19

We continue to adjust to life in lockdown.  It’s not the staying indoors that bothers me at all – I am, by nature, a hibernator and quite happy to spend my days pottering around the house.  As long as I have my cat, my books, Netflix et al, I can be quite content.  But this has made me realise how incredibly, desperately spoiled I was with regards to food and shopping.

In my entire adult life, there has pretty much never been a time that I have not been able to get something I want to eat.  All those meal plans where we said: “I fancy aubergine this week!  Dover sole!  Chicken thighs!  Taramsalata!  Scrambled eggs!”  And then, boom.  COVID-19 happens, and food shopping becomes a thing to be feared rather than a quick ten minute sojourn before you get on with the business of whipping up a meal.

I don’t like the modern phrase of “Check your privilege” but it is so applicable here.  I am definitely checking mine.  I took so much for granted and with it, all those people toiling away in the supply chain, probably for minimum wage, to ensure that my every whim was met.

And the privilege continues to a certain extent, because it is a privilege at the moment to be even fretting about something like this but I do think that my anxiety has hooked on the issue of food availability and supply rather than dealing with the bigger, more frightening things happening outside these four walls.

It was eggs that I fixated on at first.  Eggs were in short supply.  We are genuinely trying to go out as little as possible, and certainly avoiding large supermarkets. But the little Sainsbury’s Local that I ventured out to, in that first week, was stripped.  Suddenly, all I could think about was – what if we can’t get any eggs?  What will we do?  I never realised that I was so very fond of eggs or that they formed such a staple part of my diet. We’ve now signed up for a weekly delivery of milk, eggs and butter (from The Modern Milkman if anyone is interested and in the supply area – only two deliveries in but have been extremely impressed with the whole process and the quality of the produce.)

Less pressing, but stll, niggling at me like an itchy cardigan, I began to worry about our supply of beloved Maldon Sea Salt, and the sriracha chilli sauce that we tend to strew with abandon over half our meals.  Ebay, and an online Asian supermarket, have solved these problems for now, although the fact that I have three boxes of salt in my pantry probably means that I am turning into one of those stockpilers that I so despised at the outset of all of this.

Flour and yeast were then the next obsession and I became frankly Gollum-esque protecting my precious jars.  I’ve just been able to order a few bags of plain and bread flour and some fresh yeast (which I can freeze) at Shipton Mill who are, very sensibly, releasing a limited number of delivery slots on a daily basis as and when they become available so that has solved that immediate problem.  I await, resigned, to see what will strike next.

I am genuinely curious to see if this has a long term impact on shopping and eating habits when things revert to normal.  Will we revert away from the current culture of little-and-often-as-whim-dictates more towards a weekly “Big Shop”?  Will we continue to use these small suppliers who have been there for us when we needed them or will we abandon them in favour of supermarket convenience and competetive pricing?

If nothing else, I just hope that I remember to be a little bit more aware of how lucky I am.  And never, not never, take eggs (or salt, condiments and flour) for granted.

Recipe corner: Ecclefechan tart

I know I still need to put the recipe for Christmas pudding cheesecake up but that is at home and I am not. I am currently in Edinburgh, waiting for a train back to Leeds and so it seems fitting to be talking about Scottish food.  If you have never been to Scotland (or, weirdly, Waitrose which sometimes sells little ones at Christmas as some sort of mince pie alternative) then you will probably never have come across Ecclefechan tart and that is a shame because it is lovely. I think it is nicer than its more widely known distant cousin, the Yorkshire curd tart.

I made D go to Ecclefechan once. Reader, there did not appear to be anything there. We spent the evening playing cards in the hotel bar. But we did have Ecclefechan tart. And when I told the proprietor of the Ecclefechan House Hotel that I was basically there because I was a tart groupie, she was kind enough to let me copy the recipe which had been in her possession for donkey’s years.

So, some notes. The first: I have not provided a recipe for sweet shortcrust pastry here, feel free to use your own. Or, you know, Google it. The recipe does not call for blind baking so we did not and I have not mentioned it below. It was fine. But if you are a pastry purist and you want your bottom super crisp, then you might need to improvise a little here.

The second: I was slightly short on dried fruit so I made up the weight with some mincemeat that I had hanging around. Which isn’t quite in the spirit as it will have introduced a slight element of booze and spice which shouldn’t really be there. But it still tasted lovely so it’s worth considering if you have any leftover from Christmas that needs a good home.

The third: the vinegar will smell very pronounced when you first add it, but will cook out to a mellow, slightly sour back note in the finished dish, so do not be tempted to skip.

Ingredients

1 quantity of sweet shortcrust pastry, sufficient to line a standard tart tin (ours is 9 inch)

100g butter
2 eggs
150g soft brown sugar
1 tbsp vinegar
200g mixed dried fruit (sultanas, raisins, currants)
50g chopped walnuts

Cream, to serve

Serves 8 

Roll out your pastry, line your tart tin and place in the fridge to chill until required. Preheat oven to around 160 (fan).

Place the butter in a saucepan and melt over a gentle heat.

Meanwhile, whisk the eggs and then tip in the sugar and whisk again to combine.

When the butter is melted, remove the pan from the heat and set aside for a couple of minutes to allow it to cool very slightly.

Stir the melted butter, the fruit and the vinegar through the eggs and sugar mixture.

Pour the whole lot into the tart tin and transfer to the oven to bake for around 30 mins. I covered mine with foil halfway through to stop the top from catching (but our oven is a beast).

Allow the tart to cool slightly before serving - it is best warm, not hot. Lovely with a good splash of cream.

Edited - 25 January 2021

We have been marking Burn's Night with a feast of Scottish food and revisited this recipe - but with individual tarts rather than a large one. To make two individual sized (5" diameter) tarts I used the following amounts:

35g butter

35g beaten egg

50g soft brown sugar

1 tsp vinegar

65g mixed dried fruit

15g chopped walnuts

Also - this sweet pastry recipe worked a treat (and I'm very nervous about pastry handling). I halved the recipe and there was enough for two individual tarts plus offcuts for a few mini mince pies. A sterling success.

Recipe corner: Sticky Toffee Parkin

A disadvantage of being born in the period between Christmas and the New Year is that a lot of nice restaurants are shut. I mean, it’s not a disadvantage for the people who work in them who are, I’m sure, very pleased to be able to spend time with their loved ones. But if you’re the kind of person who likes to push down the misery of growing older with copious quantities of delicious food and wine, then it can be a problem. So often, I ask poor old D to cook for me. Next year (which ends in a 9 which means it is not a big birthday but it is very nearly a big birthday and thus I am likely to be quite depressed) I’m just going to get takeaway pizza and a Colin the Caterpillar cake, I promise. But this year he delivered quite the triumph with his “Chicken Caesar Salad 2018”, pan fried seabass with lobster butter and, best of all, sticky toffee parkin.

This latter dessert is a reminder of all that is good and true in the world, even in these days of Brexit and Trump. It has all the spice of the traditional Yorkshire Parkin (my recipe for that is here) but slightly lighter of texture and, of course, DRENCHED in golden toffee sauce. You could have a bit of cream or ice cream alongside but, to be honest, you don’t need to do so. It is perfect as it is.

It should be noted that my husband cooks very big puddings indeed. The quantities that he provides as serving 3 could easily be stretched to 6 (in my humble opinion) if being made for people with normal appetites who are coming to the end of a substantial meal. Obviously, because it was my birthday I just engaged my Pudding Stomach and ate an entire one as described. But on your birthday it is OK to be greedy.

Right. Per the man himself:

Ingredients

75g self raising flour
40g oatflakes
5g ground ginger
1g ground nutmeg
1g mixed spice
3g baking powder
85g soft dark brown sugar


1 medium egg
28g butter

5g bicarbonate of soda
85g chopped dates
143g boiling water

Serves 3-6 depending on levels of greed

Oven at 180C.

Butter 3 metal rings - diameter 7cm and height 6cm, wrap tin foil round bottom quite tightly, the mixture is quite wet and will seep out otherwise. Butter the bottom of this too.

Put all the dry ingredients in your Kitchen Aid, using a K-whisk attachment, whisk ingredients until incorporated.

Add egg, and whisk until incorporated.

Add butter, in centimetre cubes and whisk until incorporated.

Add the boiling water to the dates. Add the bicarb. Mash the date mixture.

Add to the other ingredients and whisk until incorporated.

Pour into the rings, until about 1cm below the top.

Put in oven for about 25 minutes. Don't worry if the tops catch slightly as you will be cutting the tops off so they are flat.

Once they are done i.e. you can skewer them cleanly, leave to cool.

Make the sauce.

Ingredients

60g salted butter.
60g soft dark brown sugar.
50g double cream.

Put ingredients in a pan and bring to a boil. Turn off heat. Stir. Done.

Remove tops off the puddings (the puddings will rise about a centimetre or more above the height of the rings, which will make it easy to cut the tops off.)

Remove them from rings, using a knife round the sides.

NB: You could, at this point, divide each cylinder into two portions by cutting horizontally through the middle.

Put in a bowl.

Pour over the caramel sauce.

Eat.

Post Christmas blue(berry scone)s

Seasons greetings to all! We are now in the period of the year where, if your household is anything like ours, you will be barely moving apart from the well trodden path between the sofa and the kitchen. Secretly, you will already be planning the health kick to end all health kicks on which you plan to embark at one minute past midnight on January 1st. And then you remember that you’ll have a fridge full of NYE leftovers at that point so best hold off until you return to work.

Today is my birthday. Most of the year, I dislike having a birthday so close to Christmas but, I must admit, there is something nice about having an event to look forward to post Boxing Day if only to punctuate the naps. I woke to the smell of blueberry scones in the oven - there are few better smells than home baking and, I might almost suggest that it beats the more commonly evoked scent of bacon frying into second place. But I digress. Behold these beauties which were sweet and buttery and perfect with a cup of tea. They were an almost exact replica of the old Starbucks berry scones that I used to adore back in the day and which the bastards saw fit to stop producing (in the U.K. at least).

Hopefully everyone had a wonderful Christmas dinner? Our duck legs were as delicious as ever (I don’t really understand why we only tend to cook them once a year). And D’s last minute brainwave of making shredded duck and black pudding bonbons, very lightly flavoured with Chinese five spice, was a genius addition.

We were due to spend Boxing Day eating a Christmas dinner proper with my parents. And, indeed, D managed it. But I took to bed mid afternoon with a stomach like a washing machine - a potent combo of my gnarly digestive system in uproar about the surfeit of rich food and drink that I had dared to subject it to, and that wonderful monthly visitor that makes it such a pleasure to be female. I am rather sad about this, although 24 hours of barely eating seems to have calmed things down slightly and my Mum did package up some turkey and sausage-meat for me to enjoy a traditional post-Christmas sandwich. Hopefully, it will be sorted out early in the New Year (the gnarly digestive system rather than the being female bit) at which point I might buy a turkey breast and offer to cook them a not-Christmas dinner in recompense.

That aside, it has been a lovely festive season and I have once again been reminded of how lucky and blessed I am. A blog is a funny thing - even one which is ostensibly about dieting and food will often come to be treated as a sort of confessional and that means the focus here might be skewed towards the less positive aspects of my life. This year, like all years, has brought its issues and struggles but also its gifts and it will be the memory of these latter that will endure.

Recipe corner: Mince pie brownies

Mince pies and a filthy imposter!

As I mentioned in my last post, my team at work had a mince pie bake off recently.  I toyed with a number of ideas, including a delicious sounding Mary Berry recipe for mincemeat topped with frangipane, but ultimately decided to veer off in an entirely different direction, a decision which may or may not have been slightly motivated by my fear of pastry.

I don't know what the issue is; when I've attempted pastry it has always worked perfectly well.  But, in my head, it is something that I Can't Do.  I used to feel the same about bread and I got over that, so perhaps 2019 should be the year that I take on pastry.  Although 2019 is also supposed to be the year that I finally lose a few stone and emerge from a chrysalis of podge like a beautiful, middle-aged butterfly.  The two things are not particularly compatible.

Anyway!  Mince pie brownies.  Good Food magazine have a recipe for this online wherein they recommend inserting actual mince pies.  I thought you'd get a better flavour if you stirred the mincemeat itself straight through.  And for a bit of crunch, I chopped up some shortbread biscuits (working on the basis that most people will have shortbread lurking around the house at Christmas) and bunged those in too.  Delightful.

The basic brownie recipe is based on my go-to which is from the Hummingbird Bakery book.  I have never been to the Hummingbird Bakery but I commend their brownie skills.  I've reduced the sugar for this batch, on the basis that the mincemeat will be pretty sweet and I don't want the whole lot to end up sickly.  Spoiler alert: they did not.

Additional spoiler alert: these did not win the bake off because they were not enough of a mince pie.  Pah.  I think they're rather delicious anyway.

Ingredients

200g dark chocolate, broken into small pieces
175g unsalted butter, chopped

210g caster sugar

110g plain flour
15g cocoa
Tsp ground cinnamon

3 eggs

Half a jar of mincemeat
4 shortbread finger biscuits, roughly chopped

Makes around 16 - 20 brownies

It might take a few bowls here, but I’d recommend getting everything weighed and ready to go before you start which then makes this the easiest job in the world.

Preheat the oven to 170 (160 fan) and grease and line a square tin.

Chocolate pieces and butter in one, microwave proof, bowl.

Sugar weighed out in another bowl.

Flour, cocoa and cinnamon in a third.

Mincemeat in a small pan.  Set over a really low heat.  You want to melt the suet and make the whole thing slightly more liquid which means it will distribute evenly through the batter.

Microwave the chocolate and butter on a medium heat for around five minutes or until melted and glossy.  I find this easier than setting up a bowl over boiling water.  You need to take it out and swirl it around every so often to prevent it from overheating, but as long as you set the temperature to medium-low (about 50% on my model) it should be fine.

Add the sugar and stir well until incorporated.  I find that this works best if I add it in about three lots, stirring well after each time.  Then sift in the flour / cocoa / spice combo and stir well again.


Break the eggs into one of the bowls you used for the dry ingredients and lightly whisk before adding to the batter.  Again, I find that it incorporates best if you do it in about three goes, briskly stirring after each addition.

By now, the mincemeat should be nice and melty (a technical term!) so remove from the heat and allow to cool very slightly while you fold the shortbread pieces through the mix.  Finally, stir through the mincemeat. 

Transfer the lot to the prepared tin and bake in the oven for around 30 minutes (actually, they took 20 in my oven but it is a BEAST).  

The brownies are ready when they have a shiny crust and the underneath quivers very slightly when you remove them from the oven.  Alternatively, stick a skewer (or a piece of spaghetti – my implement of choice) into the cake.  The brownies are done when it emerges with a few scant crumbs clinging to it.  There’s a really good visual of what I mean here. 


I defy anyone, mince pie hater or not, to dislike these.  The combination of boozy fruit and chocolate is, to my mind, absolutely irresistible.  Merry Christmas all!

Rusty Shears, Whitby (my new happy place)

We took ourselves off to Whitby for a couple of days this last weekend. We booked it months ago to mark the date on which we first met (fourteen!!! years ago) but we never need very much excuse to travel across. It's the perfect place to relax, take deep breaths of chip-scented sea air and be a wee bit indulgent.

And if it is indulgence that you are after, alongside a side of whimsy and a good, stiff gin then look no further than Rusty Shears - a tea shop come House of Gin. Was there ever a more appealing combination?

It doesn't open in the evening, but the sign reassures customers that gin is served from 11am, and there is nothing guaranteed to make one feel more hedonistic than ordering gin and tonic with lunch (we waited till one o clock because spirits before noon does feel wrong). There is an absolutely massive selection - we managed to try five different ones across the course of two visits and still had barely scratched the menu's surface. Amongst them - a local gin brewed in someone's garage just up the road and a Scottish gin with a mere two botanicals (juniper and rosehip should you be interested). It was total ginvana.

But obviously sustenance is needed alongside and the menu of sandwiches, light bites and the most delicious homemade cake hit the spot perfectly. I jumped at the chance to order a Reuben on rye, a great personal favourite, and D opted for wild mushrooms on toast. Then we committed the grave error of treating ourselves to a piece of cake apiece. I say error; the cake was fantastic, sublime. My Guinness cake with a thick layer of lighter-than-air-and-sweeter-than-a-kitten's-purr frosting was perfect. D's maple pecan cheesecake was a delight. But all that sugar occasioned, unsurprisingly, quite the slump and we ended up staggering back to our room for a much needed post-cake nap. Still, that's what holidays are for, no?

There was nothing that I did not like about this place from the eccentrically nostalgic decor (Miss Marple after she'd hit the gin selection) to the enthusiastic and charming staff. Oh, actually. I'm sad about the fact that it isn't open in the evenings - we could absolutely have whiled away an entire evening and an awful lot of money there - and that it is in Whitby rather than Leeds. But perhaps, given how much I both gin and cake, it is all for the best.

Easter Sunday lunch

Although Christmas Day is generally the time where we push the boat out with regards lunch, we decided to put a little bit of time, trouble and thought into our Easter repast this year.  And, might I say, the results were very pleasing.

We wanted our starter to be nice and simple and, as luck would have it, we still had a packet of Tobermory smoked salmon in the freezer so elected to have that alongside some homemade bread.  It turned out, when said packet was retrieved, that the smoked salmon was actually smoked trout but we enjoyed it just the same.  It needed nothing more than a scrunch of black pepper and a few drops of lemon juice to make it perfect.  As for the bread, my love affair with Dan Lepard's sour cream loaf continues.  Such a good bread.  We ate the last of it yesterday (Thursday), lightly toasted, and it was still very delicious indeed.

For our main course, we wanted to try and recapture the glorious duck dish that we ate at Joro earlier this year.  The duck was brined for 48 hours and then served with a coriander and peanut pesto and a katsu sauce.  To make it more substantial than the original, we added a side of rice through which we stirred D's coriander and green chilli chutney.  This was utterly sublime, and I intend to blog the full recipe very soon so that I don't manage to forget exactly what we did.  If you happen to come to our house for dinner in the course of the next year, it is quite likely that this is what you will be served.

D gave up sweet stuff for Lent, bless his heart.  For six weeks he eschewed puddings, sweets, chocolate, biscuits and cake like a little trooper.  So I let him choose what he wanted for dessert on Easter Sunday, and his request was for a no-bake lemon cheesecake.  When I came to research this, I found that the majority of lemon cheesecake recipes were, in fact, baked.  But I came across this one by Mary Berry which seemed to fit the bill nicely.  It may seem a cheat to use lemon curd as a flavouring but the results were delicious and it was incredibly easy to do.  Instead of making one large cake, which served eight, I opted to half the recipe and make four cheesecake pots which makes life an awful lot easier in terms of serving.  My only criticism was that, for me, the ratio of base to topping was slightly off - the biscuit at the bottom is always my favourite part of a cheesecake.  So, if I make this again, I'd probably up the amount of crumb in the bottom of the pots by half.  Bear in mind though that I am greedy. 

We finished with cheese from The Cheeseboard in Harrogate.  If you ever happen to find yourself in Harrogate, and if you are a lover of cheese, then you must make them a visit.  The selection is amazing and they do nice bread and chutneys too (although obviously my bread is better!)

There may not have been a roast lamb in sight (I will remedy that shortly - one should never have to wait too long for a roast lamb dinner) but a very pleasing meal all the same and it was nice to mark the most important celebration in the liturgical year for all that I would no longer consider myself a practicing Catholic.  I hope that everyone out there on T'Internet, particularly those of the Christian persuasion, had a very happy and holy Easter.  The next stop is surely Spring!

Recipe corner: A good, old-fashioned rabbit pie

D started a blog once.  It didn't last long, and only two posts were, er, posted.  The second one was his recipe for rabbit pie.  The fact of the blog means that I know that we have been making, and eating, this delightful dish for six years at the very least.  And yet I have never mentioned it here.  Mea culpa. 

Everything about this pie is delicious.  The suet crust, which crisps on top but remains fabulously pillowy underneath.  The delicate flavour of the rabbit in its lightly clinging sauce.  There will be those who wish to enter into a debate as to whether it should be called a pie when the pastry is only on top but I will leave them to it and merely tell you to ensure that you have a pile of buttery, peppery mashed potato ready to serve on the side. 

Note: the rabbit filling can also be prepared in the slow cooker.  We did ours on Low overnight and woke to a very savoury-scented kitchen.  I do think that slow cookers beat scented candles for making a house smell homely.  I would recommend reducing the amount of liquid slightly if you make this in the slow cooker (my general rule of thumb is to half the volume).

Ingredients

2 small rabbits, preferably wild, skinned and jointed
2 cooking apples, peeled, cored and chopped
2 white onions, chopped
275ml dry cider
425ml chicken stock
1 bay leaf
8 rashers of streaky bacon, diced

40g plain flour
40g butter
Nutmeg (for seasoning, along with salt and pepper)
Heaped tablespoon Dijon mustard
A generous handful of golden sultanas

350g self-raising flour
175g suet
200ml water
Milk, for brushing

Serves 6-8

At the bottom of a large pot, make a trivet out of the apples and onions, onto which you can place the rabbit and bacon pieces.  Pour over the cider and stock, throw in the bay leaf and a little seasoning and then bring the lot to a gentle simmer and cook for an hour, or until the rabbit is tender.  Set aside and leave to cool.

Carefully transfer the bacon to a pie dish using a slotted spoon.  Remove the rabbit meat from the bones, and add this to the dish as well (rabbit bones are small and sharp so this stage should be undertaken with a little care and attention).  Toss together the two meats, along with the sultanas, so everything is evenly distributed.

Strain the liquid remaining in the pot and set aside for sauce making (everything up to this stage can be done well in advance).

Now for the sauce - melt the butter in a large saucepan and then add the flour and combine to make a paste.  Gradually add the sieved rabbit and apple and onion stock, whisking well on each addition.  You may not need all of the liquid - you want the resultant sauce to be slightly thicker than double cream.  When you are there, season well with the nutmeg (about a quarter of a whole nut), salt and lots of pepper, and stir through the mustard.  Pour the sauce over the contents of the pie dish.

And now for the pastry.  Combine the flour and suet in a large bowl, alongside another generous heft of seasoning, and then gradually add water until it comes together to form an elastic dough. 

Generously flour a work surface and roll out the dough until it is slightly bigger in diameter than the pie dish.  Cut off a strip of dough, brush it lightly with milk and sit this around the edge of the pie dish.  The remaining pastry can then be draped across the top.  Brush the surface with milk, cut a steam hole in the centre and proceed to bake for around 30 minutes in a preheated, moderate oven.

Recipe corner: Parkin

Parkin is a glorious bake which appears to be particular to the North of the country, where it is a Bonfire Night staple. I first encountered it nearly thirteen years ago, at The Star Inn at Harome. The chef there, Andrew Pern, is a tremendous champion of all things Yorkshire and he served slabs of warm parkin as a dessert, with spicy poached rhubarb and rhubarb ripple ice cream. A very beautiful thing.

But, as I said, for many Northerners, parkin is chiefly associated with Bonfire Night and I suppose the inherently comforting sticky, dense spiciness is ideally suited for wintry nights. The addition of oats give it a slightly rougher, more interesting texture than gingerbread, the dark treacle lends a liquorice depth to the sweetness. It's well worth making it a couple of weeks before you intend to eat it as, like Christmas cake, it will sit quietly, wrapped in foil, and do nothing but improve.

Now. I've baked Andrew Pern's recipe several times but, until this year had not made it in my current oven. My current oven is a BEAST. And I foolishly ignored my instincts and adhered to the cooking time thus ending up with a sadly over baked parkin which tasted familiar but had a texture somewhere between flapjack, cake and Hobnob. I have suggested an hour in my recipe below, but just keep an eye on it. It is ready when it is lightly springy to the touch and the top is gaining a tawny, caramelised look.

Edited August 2018 to add: if you are following the Weight Watchers Flex programme, this parkin works out at 8 Smart Points per 16th portion. Steep, but worth it.

Ingredients

175g golden syrup
50g black treacle
100g butter
100g soft brown sugar

100g self raising flour
Pinch salt
2 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp mixed spice
75g rolled oats

Egg
Splash of milk

Grease and line a 20cm square tin and preheat your oven to 140.

Place the syrup, treacle, butter and sugar in a saucepan and set over a very low heat. The aim is to melt these together into one golden liquid. Keep the heat low to prevent it from boiling and avoid stirring - pick up the pan and give it a good swirl every so often to ensure it melts evenly.

Meanwhile, sieve together the flour, salt and spices into a large bowl, then stir through the oats.

Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and combine. Stir through the egg and a little milk - just enough to ensure that the batter has a semi-pouring consistency.

Put the mixture in the prepared tin and bake - mine took 45 minutes and Andrew Perm says 90. If you have a relatively normal oven, I'd start checking after an hour.

TWTWTW: Winter is coming

It appears to be one of the depressing truths about getting older that time is permanently getting away from you.  I am sure that when I was a child, a single weekend would stretch out for days, summer lasted pretty much forever and a year was a lifetime.  And now, at the grand old age of thirty-ouch the whole play reel has sped up to an alarming degree.  I don't know how it can possibly be nearly the end of October, and 2017 approaching its final throes. 

I mean, I understand logically that we must be nearly into November, and thus practically at Christmas, because I made my Bonfire Night parkin today.  It was my second attempt, I am very sorry to say, the first being an abject lesson in trusting my cooking instincts.  Basically, we have an absolute beast of an oven and always have to reduce both cooking temperatures and times whenever we make anything to ensure that it isn't overdone; even bearing this in mind, I still managed to over bake my first parkin until it resembled nothing so much as a big, spicy HobNob biscuit.  Nothing wrong with the flavour, and, if you're happy to lose a few teeth, perfectly edible.  But not squishy, sticky parkin.  For those unfamiliar with this particular bake, I'll stick the recipe up next week.  The key thing to remember is that if it looks ready, smells ready and is only slightly springy to the touch DO NOT PUT IT BACK IN THE OVEN.  Even if you've only baked it for half the specified time.

I've titled the post, winter is coming, but last night's weather - full on wind and rain screeching and battering at the windows - made me think that it is pretty much here.  It was a perfect night to be inside, with all the sparkly loveliness of Strictly on the TV and a fire blazing in the log burning stove.  That stove, which we had fitted back in early summer, finally seeing off the Gawdawful 70s-style gas fire monstrosity, has proved to be our most worthwhile purchase of the year.  It was the first real stamp we put on this house after we bought it from our landlord and it's fabulous. Every home should have one, plus a cat to stare wistfully into the flames.  Example:

I say wistful.  That particular emotion might be slightly beyond her but she does a good impression, no?

In addition to the fire, we were also warmed on the inside by the delicious Rafi's curry that we had for supper (do you see how elegantly I segue into food chat?  Seamless!)  It had been quite a few years since we'd used one of their curry packs, but, now they have a permanent presence in Kirkgate market I can see us buying them much more regularly.  The Xacutti curry, which we made with chicken thighs, red peppers and onion, had a wonderfully rich, almost smoky quality to it.  We both agreed that we could have taken more heat, so, if we repurchase will request the mix be made hot rather than medium.  Served with nothing by rice and a supermarket naan bread it was a perfect Saturday supper.