Poires au Chocolat

Cumin & Lemon Cookies

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 00:33:00 +0000

I have some news.

I’ve been avoiding telling you for a while. I’m not entirely sure why. I guess I’m worried that you will be disappointed.

The truth is that since I finished my finals – even as I was tucking away each folder as my exams progressed – I’ve been missing the topics I studied, missing the medieval world and words.

Though I always enjoyed my course, the bug only truly bit in those last few months as everything started to slot into place, to create a bigger picture. I actually enjoyed revising, happy in the knowledge that I was going to be a pastry chef and nobody would care what grade I got – so I could learn the topics I loved and take risks as I scrawled out essay after essay.

Then my results far exceeded my expectations and opened doors I hadn’t even noticed. And so, even before I started at Cordon Bleu, I started to think about possibly returning to university.

At first I wanted to study part-time (after I had finished at CB), while I set up a business selling wedding cakes. I'd been drawing up careful plans of the business I wanted to create for many months by then, looking at many of the practicalities and dreaming about designs. I had a lot of ideas. A lot of opinions.

Under 'Any plans for the future?' in my college yearbook, I wrote: "My dream at the moment is to set up a bespoke wedding cake business". Now I look back and note that even then I included 'at the moment'. Tellingly, I didn't mention it here.

On our very first day at Cordon Bleu the chef asked what we hoped to do when we left. I stood there in the then-unfamiliar kitchen, a strip of my back chilled by leaning on the frosty marble, surrounded by my new classmates (the infamous Group G), waiting my turn. When it came, I didn't mention anything about wedding cakes. I spoke about this blog and about writing, recipes and photography. Maybe it was the nerves, maybe I knew by then.

So I can comfortably say now that I have put that dream to one side. I would love to make a wedding cake one day - but I don't want to make my living out of it.

As the months ticked by and my wedding cake plans started to crumble, I became more and more serious about studying again. In January I sent in three applications to study full time – I recently received two unconditional offers (I’m waiting on the last result).

So now I know that when the leaves fall and autumn arrives, I will be studying again. I will get to immerse myself back in the bewitching world of medieval languages, culture, history, religion, art and above all, literature. I’m incredibly excited.

This all leads to the final choice I've recently made – this one is only a few weeks old. I have decided to not take the third certificate at Cordon Bleu. I’m therefore leaving at the end of this term (the end of March).

I'm really content with the choices I've made. I hope you will be happy for me too, even though it means stepping away from pastry for the moment. I don’t know where life will lead me, what paths I’ll take, so maybe I will still spend some of my time in a professional kitchen of some kind. I'd like to try it out. I have every intention of continuing to blog - my love of eating, cooking, writing and taking photographs hasn't changed.

I will always be grateful for the support, encouragement and enthusiasm you - my readers and friends - have shown towards me, the course and this blog.

These cookies taste incredibly familiar and unusual all at once. The timeworn sweet flavours of butter, sugar and lemon intermingle with cumin, the second most used spice in the world after black pepper (according to wiki, anyway...). I love the little stripy seeds in savoury dishes - particularly mixed with olive oil and salt then tossed with cauliflower florets and roasted.

When I saw the recipe I knew I had to try it - though I have to admit I was a little skeptical. I'm a convert. They're chewy while warm but crisp when cool - a buttery riot of flavour.

I didn't change anything major in the recipe (by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall in the Guardian) and as it's online I decided to not write it out - you can find it at the bottom of this article.

Make sure you cream the butter very well - I did mine for quite a while in the stand mixer. I then cut the flour in by hand to make sure it didn't toughen. I rolled mine into a sausage, chilled it, sliced it and pressed it onto a sheet (leaving the rim you can see) - another time I'll make it longer and thinner as these were a bit big. I think another time I'll also reduce the cumin to 2 teaspoons and put it all in the mix itself, though the seeds do look pretty on top. I only baked half the dough - I've frozen the other half in slices.

Crêpes Suzette

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 15:45:00 +0000

Do you like to play with fire? If so, this is the recipe for you.

Do you like soft and wispy crêpes? Buttery caramel sauces? Bright and seasonal citrus? If so, you should make this dish.

It's pancake day or Strove Tuesday this week. As I've already written about my favourite brown butter crêpe recipe and made a Dusky Caramel and Raspberry Crêpe Cake, I thought I would try something new.

Crêpes Suzette is a traditional French dish. Depending on who you believe, it was either developed in 1896 for the Prince of Wales and his female companion 'Suzette' by the chef Charpentier at Monte Carlo or - more likely - discovered at Restaurant Paillard in Paris in 1889 and named after an actress.

They're also made by Mrs Patmore in Downton Abbey, which adds a little glamour and yet another excuse to try them.

I served these with homemade cinnamon ice cream. I use David Lebovitz's fantastic recipe - you shatter a load of whole cinnamon quills into the base and steep it all overnight. The flavour is incredible. It works really well with a lot of wintery desserts so I try to keep a tub in the freezer.

I haven't written the recipe out as this is already a long one and I've probably written about too many Perfect Scoop recipes as it is. I really recommend you buy the book, I love it and use it all the time. (But, ahem, you can find the cinnamon recipe online in both US and metric here).

I know the recipe seems very long. It's not actually that complicated but I wanted to make sure everything was clear and you could work quickly and smoothly through it. If you prepare everything in advance - I made the crêpes and measured everything else - it's really easy to do with guests and they'll love the dramatic flames.

I've tried this using bought orange juice with a squeeze of lemon instead of fresh juice and it was nearly as good (I still served it with a slice of orange). The first batch of crêpes were half wholemeal but I preferred them with just plain for this. I've also tried it with both navel and blood oranges - both were delicious. I've made two batches of crêpes and four sets of the dish in the last three days - it's that good.

I don't think it's traditional to serve this with slices of orange or with ice cream but I think they finish the dish beautifully. The fresh orange brightens the taste and adds texture. The ice cream gives a creamy temperature contrast and the cinnamon melds beautifully with the caramel and citrus.

Crêpes Suzette
(Crêpes adapted from Delia's Complete Cookery Course, sauce adapted from Matthew Fort and Raymond Blanc here)

For the crêpes:
15g butter
55g plain flour
1 egg
100ml milk
25ml water
extra butter for frying

For the sauce & to serve:
2 big oranges
1/4 lemon
60g caster sugar
50g butter
good splash of Cointreau or Grand Marnier
2 scoops of cinnamon ice cream (optional)

Melt the butter in a big, heavy-bottomed frying pan. Keep heating until the butter foams up and dies down and is full of rusty flecks. Pour into a bowl to cool.

Weigh the flour into a mixing bowl and whisk it to get rid of any lumps. Make a well in the centre and break the egg into it. Start whisking the egg into the flour, slowly incorporating more from around the edges. Once you have a thick paste (about half the flour will still be there), start adding the milk. Keep whisking and incorporating splashes of milk and more of the flour until you have a smooth batter. Whisk in the cooled butter. Add most of the water, reserving a little to adjust if needed.

Heat the frying pan up again and add a little bit of butter. Either transfer the crêpe mix to a jug or find a ladle. Once the pan is smoking hot turn the heat down a bit. Pour some of the mix into the pan at an angle and swirl quickly. Flip when starting to brown at the edges. Once browned on the bottom too, remove to a plate lined with a piece of kitchen paper. Repeat until you've got four crêpes you're happy with (you should have batter for about 6). You can now keep them covered in cling film in the kitchen paper (I dampen the top piece) for a few hours or proceed immediately.

Slice one of the oranges so that you have two slices from the middle to serve fresh, and two ends to juice. Carefully pull the peel off the two slices and set aside. Juice the rest of the orange, the other orange and the lemon into a measuring jug. You should have about 150ml of liquid.

Clean the pan that you made the crêpes in. Have everything ready - a whisk, some tongs or a fork to maneuver the crêpes, the butter, the juice, the crêpes, the alcohol, a small frying pan to heat it, matches, the garnishes, plates.

Scatter the sugar evenly over the surface of the pan. Heat over medium-high heat, shaking the pan slightly every now and then to maintain an even layer. Once the sugar has melted and begins to caramelise, scrape the sides down and swirl lightly so that the sugar colours evenly. Once it has reached a deep golden colour, take off the heat, add the butter all at once and whisk until smooth and frothy. Add the juice in two goes, whisking well between each - it may clump up a bit but will melt down in a minute. You'll have quite a bit of liquid.

Return to the heat. Add the first crêpe to the pan, then carefully turn it over with the tongs/fork, making sure it's totally soaked. Fold in half, then into quarters and move to the side of the pan. Repeat with the next three crêpes until the pan is full of the four quarters. Let the crêpes soak and the sauce reduce a little over the heat for about 1 minute, until you have a deep golden syrupy sauce. Transfer the crepes to the plates with some extra sauce. Add the orange slice and ice cream.

Turn off most of the lights in your kitchen. Quickly add a splash of alcohol to the small frying pan and heat until vapours start rising. Light a match and touch it just inside the pan. Blue flames will erupt - watch for the flickers of gold. Pour over the two plates while still flaming and serve immediately.

(Serves 2)

Salted Caramel Brownies

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 18:45:00 +0000

Velvety and rich. Utterly decadent. Seductive.

I'm not sure you can even call these brownies - they're so soft and smooth they're almost truffles.

A few weeks ago I found myself in Paul A. Young's Soho shop. As well as buying a box of his chocolates to sample (they were excellent), I bought a brownie. A salted caramel, cocoa nib and white chocolate brownie.

It was so rich, so precious, that I ate it over two days. A slither with tea. A corner for pudding.

The craving set in the moment I ate the last chunk. I had to make some myself.

My quest was made considerably easier by the fact that I'd been given Paul A. Young's book for my 21st birthday. The book has a recipe for bing cherry and coconut brownies. A bit of tweaking and salted caramel and cocoa nib perfection was mine.

I didn't fancy adding in the white chocolate but if you do, I'd go for about 50g of chunks strewn across the top before you swirl. I made double the caramel recipe below to have some spare for another night (and to counteract the inevitable spoons that somehow find their way into my mouth).

I know cocoa nibs aren't always easy to find (I came across some in Whole Foods) but if you can they work brilliantly here - a slightly bitter crunch against all that silky sweet chocolate and caramel.

My friend Becky came over for bread and brownies last night. When we bit into the first pieces our chatter stopped and silence fell. For a few minutes we sat quietly on the sofa, caught by the flavours, exploring the texture. You know food is good when conversation stops and you lose track of your words.

Salted Caramel Brownies
(adapted from Paul A Young's Adventures with Chocolate)

For the caramel:
75g white caster sugar
50ml double cream
10g unsalted butter
1/8 tsp fleur de sel/good sea salt

For the brownie:
100g unsalted butter
150g caster sugar
100g light brown sugar
75g golden syrup
275g quality 70% dark chocolate
4 eggs
70g plain flour
small handful of cocoa nibs

Tip the sugar into a big heavy-bottomed pan in an even layer. Place over medium-high heat. Wait until the edges start to liquify then start to move the sugar around onto the wet spots to try and get it to melt evenly. Don't worry if it starts to clump a little, it will melt down later. Keep everything gently moving until you have a liquid. Keep cooking until it reaches a deep bronze, the colour of a penny. Take off the heat and whisk in about 1/3 of the cream. Keep pouring and whisking until all the cream is incorporated. Add the butter in chunks and the salt and stir until smooth. Pour into a bowl to cool - at the moment it will pour easily off the spoon in thin ribbons.

Preheat the oven to 160C/325F. Line a 20x20cm tin (at least 2.5cm tall) with paper. Get another big saucepan and add the butter, caster sugar, brown sugar and syrup. Heat until everything is melted together then beat until smooth. Take off the heat then add all the chocolate. Stir until melted and uniform. Lightly whisk the eggs in a small bowl then incorporate them into the mix. Finally add the flour and beat throughly until very smooth. Pour into the prepared tin.

By now your caramel should be gloriously thick, as in the picture above. Spoon fairly evenly over the mix then use a knife to lightly swirl it through. Scatter the cocoa nibs over the top.

Bake for 20 minutes then take out and leave to cool. Once cool, put into the fridge overnight or the freezer until frozen solid. Slice up with a sharp knife dipped into hot water and cleaned between each cut. Serve cold, warm or at room temperature - up to you!

(Makes about 16-20 small but rich squares)

NOTE 19/02 - I've found these freeze really well and come out perfect & ready to eat if you like them cold - they've generally firmed over time. I think the flavours have intermingled and improved too.

Grapefruit Olive Oil Cake

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 20:15:00 +0000

As I was dusting off my bundt tin this morning, I realised that the last time I'd used it was to make the Ginger Root Bundt Cake. In that post, I wrote about taking my friend Helen for a bon voyage lunch at Dinner. I gave her a slice of the cake on that blustery November day.

Chance has it that today we had our welcome home lunch, as she flew in yesterday from Hong Kong. So I wrapped a slice of this up for her and took it with me - a full circle of cake, literally and metaphorically.

Once again we had a delicious lunch. We followed the foodie hordes to the tiny Pitt Cue Co in Soho, which opened a few weeks ago after running a very successful food truck last summer. They say it's the best American style BBQ in London. I had some incredibly tender pork ribs (the St Louis ribs) with some creamy mash, a little slaw, some pickles and a hunk of charred sourdough. I was covered in sauce and made an absolute mess.

Despite being stuffed we shared the bourbon and salted caramel sticky toffee pudding & ice cream. It was seriously good, probably the best I've ever had. Their dessert menu doesn't seem to be fixed, but if you go and they mention it - pounce.

This bundt was born out of my desire to try baking with grapefruit, mainly inspired by Kaitlin. I've commented on several of her posts like this or this saying I really should try it out. So here I am.

Before this my main use for grapefruit was eating it for breakfast. Usually I jazz it up by sprinkling caster sugar over the top and blasting it with the blow torch to create a crackly caramel topping. I made this cake early this morning (as I had to make and photograph it before the aforementioned lunch) so I had the other grapefruit (as you can see in the 2nd photo) and remaining yogurt for breakfast, which felt quite neat.

This recipe popped up in my reader a few days ago. It's from a beautiful blog, The Yellow House. I particularly liked that you start by rubbing the zest into the brown sugar to release the oils (as in the photo above). In the end, it's a very light and fluffy cake. It's not very sweet but, as Sarah said, quite "zingy and earthy". The fruity olive oil comes through clearly, as does the characteristic grapefruit. I can smell the wholemeal flour (is that weird? Do other people smell it even if they can't taste it?).

I think it would be perfect as part of a weekend brunch spread - or for second breakfast, elevensies or afternoon tea (yes, I do eat like a hobbit).

Grapefruit Olive Oil Cake
(adapted from the The Yellow House, who adapted from Melissa Clark)

2 grapefruit
180g light brown sugar
50-100ml plain yogurt
3 eggs
180ml extra virgin olive oil
115g plain flour
85g wholemeal flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1/4 tsp salt
2 tbsp icing sugar

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Carefully butter the bundt mould (especially the bottom), dust with flour then tap to remove the excess. Zest both grapefruit into a big bowl. Add the sugar and rub the two together as if you're making pastry (this releases the oils from the zest) and make sure there are no lumps. Sift the flours, baking power, bicarbonate and salt together into another bowl.

Juice one grapefruit into a measuring cup - hopefully this will be between 65-100ml (if not add some from the other fruit). Top up with the yogurt to 165ml. Add to the zest/sugar mix and whisk until combined. Pour in the olive oil, whisk, then add the eggs and whisk again until silky smooth. Tip the flour into the bowl and fold in with the whisk until everything is combined - don't overwork. Pour into the tin and put into the oven. Bake until golden brown and a skewer/toothpick comes out clean from the middle - mine took 35 minutes, but it could be up to about 50.

Leave to cool on a rack for 10 minutes or so then turn out - I put a plate or rack on top then flip over. You might need to give it a tap. Stir the icing sugar with a bit of leftover grapefruit juice until it's thick and smooth. Drizzle over the top of the cooled cake.

(Serves about 6-8)

Bread & Butter Pudding

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 19:50:00 +0000

When I first started getting interested in photography, about five years ago, my grandfather handed me his camera. It's a Nikkormat (Nikon) FT from somewhere between 1965-7.

I thought it looked incredibly cool but didn't really know what to do with it. I had no concept of exposure at that point, having only ever used a digital point-and-shoot. I took a film but when I had it developed the envelope contained a discouraging sheet of blanks.

It moved from house to house, shelf to shelf, collecting dust. In one move, it was accidentally dropped and the rewind mechanism sheared off.

I finally got around to taking it to the specialists a few weeks ago for a full service and several repairs. When I finally got it back home again, I managed to complete the alien process of loading film after studying the manual. I took my first 24 exposures in 24 hours, rushing it to the developers as soon as possible.

Thankfully all 24 came out. I made mistakes and they're not perfect - but I was thrilled. The feeling of opening that envelope was priceless.

I can't wait to experiment with photographing food (and friends and places and...) on film. The photos below are a sample of my first film - a shot of the park in the afternoon light and one of my orchid (I thought I'd killed it by leaving it over Christmas but the one of the two remaining buds suddenly burst open that day).

Aside from the fascinating process - being forced to work without electronic gizmos and screens, the proper shutter noise, the agonizing wait to see how they've turned out - I love the character of film. I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but there's something special.

We made brioche in class this week. I intentionally left some to go stale just so I could make this pudding. The bread needs to be stale so that it doesn't disintegrate into a soggy mess when soaked.

I've left this recipe open to adaption. I made it with my marmalade as that's what I had to hand - I didn't add any extra peel/dried fruit. I brûléed a few of the peaks with some cinnamon-infused caster sugar after I'd taken it out of the oven for some crunch and flavour. The dusting of icing sugar was for purely aesthetic purposes.

I also really like the classic version with nutmeg, currants or sultanas and maybe a bit of quality mixed peel. Chocolate chips could sex it up. Try out different combinations and see what you like.

This is a proper pudding. Winter days were made for proper puddings.

Bread & Butter Pudding
(adapted from Delia's Complete Cookery Course)

Base:
4-8* slices of stale white bread (such as brioche)
unsalted butter, to spread
175ml milk
25ml cream
20g sugar
little lemon zest
2 eggs

Additions:
currants/sultanas/fruits/chopped chocolate etc - handful/approx 30g
sprinkle of spices - nutmeg, cinnamon etc
marmalade/jam/maybe lemon curd - few tbsps
icing or caster sugar to dust/caramelize

Start by buttering one or both sides of the bread, depending on how decadent you're feeling. If you're using jam or marmalade, sandwich the slices with a slick of the preserve. Cut in half into triangles. Stick into a dish (mine was about , standing up or propped up against each other.

In a jug mix the milk, cream, sugar and zest together. In another bowl break up the eggs. Whisk the two liquids together. Pour all over the bread. It seems like there's too much liquid but don't worry. Leave to sit for 15-20 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Sprinkle with any currants/etc. I also dusted the bread poking out with a little cinnamon sugar. Pop into the oven and bake for 30-40 minutes - the custard should be golden brown and set and the bread should be crispy on top. You can caramelize some caster sugar on the bread with a blow torch or dust with icing sugar - or both!

I find this is best eaten warm.

* Depends on size - mine were very small so I used 8, normal loaves you'll need 4-6.

(Serves 2-4)

Cranberry Oatmeal Cookies

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 20:03:00 +0000

A proper British winter has descended. Grey, damp, and bone-chillingly cold.

If you do want to venture outside for a walk, as I did this Sunday, you'd better take a thermos and a snack. Nothing like a cup of tea to breathe some life into frosty fingers.

The first time I tried to photograph these cookies, they refused to play game. I was just on the edge of giving up and scrapping the post when I realised I should push myself forward instead.

So I baked up a new batch from the freezer, wrapped a few in a piece of cloth, make some tea and ventured out to the park for a picnic.

Living in a big city, I miss the silence. I grew up in the countryside, taking long walks most days through the fields and wild woods, by the rivers and over the bleak moors. The mountains we visited and lived in are quiet, majestic and full of crisp, clean air.

Even though there are green spaces here, they are hemmed by noisy roads and filled with families, cyclists, dog walkers, skate parks, shouting footballers, joggers. Sometimes I want to escape to a space that doesn't bear the touch of humanity.

Besides the silence, it would also be nice as then nobody would be there to look at me like I've gone totally batty because I'm standing on a park bench (/mossy boulder) taking pictures of a cup of tea and some cookies.

I'm on a dried cranberry kick at the moment so I adapted the recipe to include them. The cookies taste of nutty oats rounded off with brown butter, brown sugar, a touch of spice and salt - all offset by the fruity, slightly sharp cranberries. Rustic and satisfying.

The dough freezes beautifully - you can just take however many out want out of the freezer and bake them. Delicious, warm cookies in 15 minutes flat.

Cranberry Oatmeal Cookies
(adapted from Erin C. Weber in Remedy Quarterly Issue 6, who adapted from Deb)

115g unsalted butter
85g plain flour
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 tsp fine sea salt
120g light brown sugar*
1 egg
1/2 tsp vanilla paste/extract
135g porridge/rolled oats
100g dried cranberries

Melt the butter in a wide pan. Keep heating as it foams up. When the foam starts to reside, rusty brown flecks appear and it starts smelling fantastic, scrape all the butter and flecks into a bowl to cool.

In another bowl, whisk the sugar, egg and vanilla together until smooth. Sift the flour, bicarbonate of soda, salt and nutmeg together. Once the brown butter is down to body temperature, whisk into the egg mix. Gently stir in the flour mixture until everything is combined. Finally fold in the oats and cranberries. Cover the bowl and put into the fridge to chill. Leave for at least an hour - I left mine overnight.

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Scoop out tablespoonfuls of dough onto a sheet - if baking immediately, leave a few inches gap. If freezing, place closely together then freeze on the sheet before putting in a bag the next day. Place into the oven and bake for 10 minutes from the fridge, 12 from the freezer - they should be golden and crisp on the outside. Cool on a rack.

*I used 60g dark brown sugar and 60g white caster as I had run out of light brown.

(Makes about 30)

Seville Orange Marmalade

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 22:30:00 +0000

On a quiet rainy morning last week, I pulled out my biggest pan and made marmalade. I'd found seville oranges a few days before at the market and knew it was finally time to try it out.

I went to four wise ladies for advice: Constance Spry, Jane Grigson, Delia Smith and Fiona Beckett. There are quite a few ratios of pulp-liquid-sugar you can use depending on how strong you want your marmalade - I went for a fairly weak one that used all of my liquid.

Before I discovered a much faster method of separating the pulp from the pith, I sifted through it by hand. My fingertips puckered as if I'd spent hours languishing in the pool.

By the time dusk fell, I had just about finished hand shredding the mountain of soft peel. It's not the quickest of processes.

It's all worth it when you line up the finished jars and then take the first bite.

Marmalade has a great affinity for melted butter. The best container for melted butter is, of course, a toasted crumpet.

(Is my nationality really that obvious?)

Crumpets are one of the only things I buy rather than make - I haven't worked out a recipe that is better than bought.

A slick of marmalade completes the picture - silky sweet, a touch of bitter, a little chew.

I found the idea for the labels on Tea & Cookies. I stuck them on the lids with a bit of double sided sellotape.

Nothing brightens a grey, rainy day like marmalade you've made by hand glowing brightly in its jar. I don't have a fireplace to kindle some bright flames this winter - but I do have my marmalade.

Seville Orange Marmalade
(adapted from Jane Grigson's English Food)

8 seville oranges (about 1.2kg)
2 litres water
2kg sugar

Prepare the jars (about 6-7) by running them through the dishwasher. Put a few saucers in the freezer (for testing the set).

Wash the oranges in cold water to remove any dirt, remove the stalk buds and slice off any funny marks. Pour the water into a big pan and add the oranges. Bring to the boil then reduce to a simmer. Keep simmering for 1-1.5 hours until the oranges are soft and tender - a knife should easily slide in. Fish them out and leave to cool - make sure you keep the liquid.

Once they're cool, cut the oranges into quarters (they look like this). Use a spoon to scoop the insides out into a sieve placed over a bowl. Squish the insides through the sieve until the pulp has all come out into the bowl and only the pips and white sectioning bits (for want of a better word!) are left. Put the pulp/juice to the side.

Pick out most of the pips and place them in a square of muslin. Bring up the sides into a bag and tie a knot around the neck with some string/thread. Tie it to the side of the pan so that it dips into the liquid.

Take the soft peels and get ready to shred. Scrape/slice the peels slightly so there isn't too much pith and slice off any funny bits. I then sliced each 1/4 lengthwise and then very thinly sliced each one - I made them about 1mm thick. It does take a while so music/company/film/tv is recommended... (you could also slice them a bit thicker but it will be chunky in the marmalade - I don't know if a mandoline/processor slicer would work as they're pretty soft).

When you're done, put the pulp and shreds back into the reserved cooking liquid - quite a bit should have evaporated during the initial boiling - I guess about 2/3 is left. Put the sugar into a big tin and warm it up a bit in a cool oven. Start warming up the pulp/peel, then add the warm sugar and stir over a low-medium heat until the sugar all dissolves. Turn the heat up and boil for 20-25 minutes, testing the set towards the end. It will foam up but should die away later - if not, skim it off.

To test the set, take out a frozen saucer and put a little spoonful of marmalade onto it and place it back in the freezer for a few minutes. Run a finger into the marmalade - if it thickly crinkles in ripples in front of your fingertip, it is set.

When you're happy with the set, take the pot off the heat and leave to cool for 10-15 minutes (this helps stop the peel sinking). While you wait warm the jars up in the oven on a tray. Either find a jam funnel or prepare a paper version*. When ready, either use a jug or ladle to pour the marmalade into the warm jars through the funnel.

If you don't have any waxed discs to place on top of the marmalade, I used a trick I found on Fiona's blog - I popped the lids on just after filling them then wrapped a towel around and quickly flipped it over so that the jam covered the sides and lid and then back again - this seals the jar. Leave to cool and the little buttons on the lids should click down after a few hours.

Once cool, add labels of your choice. Enjoy the glow!

(Makes 6-7 jars)

*As I didn't have a jam funnel I improvised one out of some thick paper - it stops the drips on the jar - see here for a diagram.

Baked Oatmeal

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 22:58:00 +0000

What inspires you?

My tastes have changed over time. I stumbled upon 101 Cookbooks when I first started blogging. I (insert collective gasp) wasn't too sure about it and clicked away - I guess I thought it was a bit lacking on the refined sugar/butter/cake front.

It's a bit like Harry Potter. I started reading the Philosopher's Stone in the summer of '99, got a chapter or two in and gave up (not something I often do). Fast forward a few years and I was a fully fledged Harry Potter fan (I may or may not have spent a sizeable proportion of my early teens on HP websites, hotly debating Harry's future love life).

Nowadays I find myself drawn to different blogs, to different books. I'm slowly changing the foods I choose to make - not out of recognition, but as my skills and knowledge develop and as I explore, I guess I'm unconsciously making slightly different choices. For instance, at the moment I'm particularly drawn to dishes with a history, tradition or story.

I find inspiration in lots of places - to me it's a general creative feeling that touches everything I do, not only what ends up in my oven. I obviously love food blogs (my absolute favourites are on my blogroll on the sidebar) but things like art, literature, light, scenery, photographs (see Brian Ferry) and flowers (see Amy Merrick) find their way in too. There are loads of amazing and slightly different magazines and journals out there - instead of my old Good Food and delicious, I now read Gastronomica, Remedy and Fire & Knives. I finally bit the bullet and bought the second issue of Kinfolk recently - it's absolutely stunning, my jaw was on the floor. Old cookbooks, my grandma's cookbooks, return wonderful recipes.

Of course, a new cookbook can revitalize your ideas too - I finally bought Heidi's Super Natural Every Day to give to my mum for Christmas (I got my copy through amazon from the US but it's officially released here in March). This was one the best things we tried - it's wonderfully filling and feels healthy yet sweet. Perfect for a special weekend breakfast where you want something a bit more substantial than waffles/pancakes etc.

I made this again yesterday with pears in the bottom instead of bananas which worked really well. The frozen fruit mix I used this time had strawberries which was a bit odd (my usual one is raspberries, blackberries, redcurrants & blackcurrants) so perhaps avoid them if you share my aversion to cooked strawberries. I'd like to try substituting coconut milk too.

I also browned the butter. I can't help myself. Time passes but I'm still hopelessly addicted - and inspired - by its nutty tones.

Baked Oatmeal
(adapted from Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Every Day)

200g porridge oats (rolled)
60g walnuts, toasted*
60g soft brown sugar (or maple syrup)
1 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp fine sea salt
475ml milk
1 egg
45g butter
2 tsp vanilla paste (or extract)
2 bananas in thick slices*
approx 150g mixed frozen summer berries*
maple syrup, to serve

Preheat the oven to 190C/370F. Butter a 20cm square baking dish. Melt the butter in a small pan then keep heating - it will foam up and then die down - take off the heat when it is filled with brown flecks and smelling gloriously nutty. Put aside to cool a little.

Mix the oats, 1/2 the nuts, sugar, baking powder, cinnamon and salt in a bowl. In another bowl whisk the milk, egg, 1/2 the butter and vanilla together. Arrange the banana slices on the bottom of the dish and sprinkle about 2/3 of the berries over the bottom of the dish. Tip the oat mixture over the top and spread it out over the berries. Drizzle the milk mixture over the top, making sure all the oats are wet. Thwack on the counter to evenly distribute it. Scatter the rest of the nuts and berries over the top.

Bake in the oven for 35-45 minutes until it is set and golden. Drizzle the rest of the brown butter (you may have to warm it a little) over the top and serve with maple syrup (and possibly some cream if you're feeling naughty).

* You could swap up the nuts and fruits as you like or according to season. I always have some frozen summer berries in the freezer - they worked perfectly and didn't need to be defrosted. I was skeptical about walnuts but they actually worked really well.

(Serves 6-8)

Brandy Snaps

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 12:38:00 +0000

I meant to post these in 2011 as I thought they'd be a good party dessert for the holiday season. I ran out of time. You're just going to have to have a dessert party now.

(Oh and no, I'm not on a January diet. In case you hadn't guessed. Delicious things eaten in moderation every day of the year here.)

Mum and I made these a few times when I was little - preparing them was more of an event than the party we took them to. I loved waiting for them to cool until just the right point (somewhere between scorching and scalding) and then rushing to get them neatly curled up before they stiffened and shattered.

I decided to serve these drizzled with a sharp berry sauce. I always like contrast in desserts. The sweet spicy warmth from the ginger and brandy in the snaps plays off the cool, pure cream piped inside. The berry sauce adds an acidic edge while still pairing with the rich spicy flavours.

Brandy snaps are eaten with your fingers. The snap cracks and shatters and the cream oozes everywhere, stained pink from the sauce. It's messy. It's worth it.

Brandy Snaps
(adapted from Delia's Book of Cakes)

50g golden syrup
40g caster sugar
50g unsalted butter
40g plain flour
1 tsp ground ginger
pinch of salt
1 tsp brandy
approx 500ml double cream to fill
100g mixed berries (optional sauce)
icing sugar to taste (optional sauce)

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Grease a baking sheet with a little butter but don't line it. Melt the syrup with the sugar and butter in a small saucepan over a medium heat, stirring until the mixture is smooth (no crystals from the sugar). Take off the heat then beat in the flour, ginger and salt. Finally stir in the brandy.

Spoon the mixture onto the sheet in teaspoons, leaving quite a bit of space between each and only putting a maximum of 9 on a tray at once - start with a few as you have to work quickly to roll them. Put into the oven and bake for about 10 minutes - they should be lacy and a deep rusty gold (see the photo above). Prepare yourself while they bake with a wooden spoon (or another tool of a similar circumference), something to place the hot tray on and a wire cooling rack. Leave to firm up a little on the hot tray for 2 minutes. If any have spread into each other, quickly cut down the join with a sharp knife.

When you can lift them up and they don't break but are still pliable, lift one off and quickly wrap it around the handle of the spoon. Hold for a moment then slide off and leave to cool completely. You need to work quickly as the moment when they are perfectly pliable is short.

I really recommend making a sharp berry sauce to drizzle over the brandy snaps. To do so, heat the berries gently (I used frozen berries) until they're soft. Add icing sugar to taste. Finally pass through a sieve to get rid of any seeds and skin.

To fill the brandy snaps, whip up the cream until it holds firm peaks (but be careful to not overwhip - you just need it strong enough to stay in the snaps and not run out). Fill a piping bag and pipe into each brandy snap. Drizzle with the sauce if you're using it. Eat with your fingers.

(Makes 16-18)

Galette des Rois

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 21:09:00 +0000

I love foods that have a story and a tradition.

Galette des Rois or King Cake is made to celebrate Twelfth Night or Epiphany on January 6th. The cake changes according to region and country - this is the version from northern France. A bean, or fève, is always hidden in the galette - though now this is often a small collectible figurine.

Tradition goes that when you cut the cake, the youngest person present hides under the table. The cake is cut into the right number of pieces, then the youngest calls out who gets each piece. The person to find the hidden bean is the king for the day, hosts the next year and gets the crown. They get to pick a queen, who wears the other crown.

As I wasn't buying a galette, I needed crowns. I got out the paper, spray paint and glitter and had a wonderful time playing about.

I went a little bit crazy with the glitter. Most of the flat sparkles now if you catch it in the right light.

After I'd finished I made mum model them for me. Whenever I do this, she starts making funny faces and then we both end up crying with laughter. Good times.

I was going to buy some puff instead of making it. Sadly the only stuff I could find in the supermarkets was made with vegetable fats instead of butter. No good.

Instead I decided to try out Michel Roux's rough puff recipe from Pastry (you can find it online here). I was really pleased with the results - quicker and easier than classic puff and it turned out beautifully. Definitely a good recipe to have. I think I'm going to make some palmiers for mum with the spare chunk.

I've tried to explain the technique for making the pretty edges to the galette in the recipe - we learnt how to do it last term.

This recipe stood out for me as it didn't involve pastry cream. I've never been a big fan. Then last term we made it so many times and used it in so many ways - we were all totally sick of it by the end. I'm sure there'll be plenty more this term but I wanted to avoid it while I could.

I also followed Clotilde's suggestion of using some ground hazelnuts in the creme - I'm so glad I did. They add a lovely extra dimension.

I have to admit I wasn't convinced that this was going to be particularly tasty. I was very pleasantly surprised - it was totally delicious. Flaky and buttery with a complex nutty middle. Definitely worth trying.

Galette des Rois
(adapted from Chocolate and Zucchini)

For the creme d'amande:
125g unsalted butter, soft
125g caster sugar
100g ground almonds
30g ground hazelnuts
1 tbsp cornflour
pinch of salt
1 tbsp flavouring of choice*
2 eggs

To assemble:
500g quality puff pastry
1 egg yolk
1 tbsp milk
1 tbsp icing sugar
1 tsbp hot water
2 beans or ceramic figures
2 crowns

Beat the butter in a stand mixer (or by hand) until very soft and creamy. Mix the sugar, almonds, hazelnuts cornflour and salt together in another bowl, then tip in. Mix until combined. Add the flavouring and beat again. Finally add the eggs one by one, making sure they're well distributed before you add the next. Transfer to a smaller bowl and put in the fridge to firm up for an hour.

When you're ready to make the galettes, take the puff pastry out of the fridge (make sure it's well chilled) and divide into four. Put two chunks back into the fridge. Roll out one of the pieces until it's roughly a 7"/18cm circle. Using a plate or the bottom of a cake tin, cut out a 6"/15cm circle with a sharp knife and place onto a piece of parchment paper. Roll out the other piece and cut a slightly bigger circle - 6.5"/16cm or so.

Combine the egg yolk and milk to make an egg wash. Brush the edge of the smaller circle with it, being careful to not go over the edge (can stop the layers separating). Spoon about two heaped tablespoons of creme d'amande into the centre (within the egg) and smooth out into a disc. Place the ceramic/bean on top and press in (it's best around the edge so it doesn't get caught in the knife when you cut it, like this). Drape the bigger piece of puff over the top and smooth out any air bubbles on the creme. Press it in and up so that the two edges align and the curve is tight to the creme underneath. Press to seal.

Use the blunt side of a knife to score a pattern in the top, running down from the centre to the edge in a curve. Turn the galette as you go, making until you have a full circle. Crimp the edges by placing your finger onto the pastry at an angle and curling the knife around it (see diagram and photo). Carefully brush the top with egg wash, avoiding the edge again. Use the point of your knife to make five holes in the top - in the middle and then four more (helps the puff to rise evenly). Place onto a baking sheet using the parchment. Put into the fridge to chill for an hour. Repeat with the other 2 pieces to make the second galette. At this point you can freeze them for later.

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Bake the galettes straight from the fridge for 30-40 minutes until puffy and deep golden brown. Just before they come out, combine the icing sugar and hot water. Remove from the oven to a wire rack, then immediately brush with the glaze. Leave to cool (I placed a bit of kitchen towel underneath as they were a bit buttery on the bottom).

* You can use orange blossom water, the liquor of your choice (rum, brandy etc) or I used 1tsp of vanilla extract and 2 tsp of water to make up the liquid.

(Makes 2 small galettes - each serves 3-4)

Best of 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 08:15:00 +0000

Happy New Year!

Here are six picks from this year's posts - chosen, like last year (see Best of 2010), for being fairly low-key but incredibly delicious. These are recipes I can't stop thinking about and that I'm sure I'll make in 2012 and the years to come.

Which would you choose to eat? If you go over to facebook, you can vote!

First, possibly my favourite dessert, served here with macerated summer fruits but incredible on its own = Tiramisu

Toasted Coconut, Brown Butter & Dark Chocolate Blondies

Apple & Quince Pie

Buttered Pecan & Butterscotch Ice Cream

Coconut Milk Chocolate Cake

Strawberry Cream Layer Cake

Pomegranate & Berry Pavlova

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 21:37:00 +0000

When I was a girl, we always had pavlova for pudding at Christmas. Though it wasn't shrouded in flickering blue flames like its traditional rival, I thought it was the most exciting part of the whole lunch.

Granny would top her pavlovas with defrosted raspberries saved from the summer bounty. In memory of her I used some frozen mixed berries on our Christmas pavlova.

I also scattered over some fresh pomegranate. When I came to photograph the fruit I found myself trying to create the same (lovely) pomegranate shot I've seen so many times. Instead I decided to try and make it mine. So in the middle of our sitting room I started splashing the pomegranate quarters into the waiting bowl of water, holding my camera in the other hand.

I must have looked pretty sheepish when mum found me drenching the white sofas and rug in the midst of torn up wrapping paper from earlier in the day. She moved me outside onto the balcony (thankfully not as cold as last time) and dropped the quarters into the bowl for me. Arthur tried to 'help' and got in the way.

Not only did I get a photo I like but I also got a Christmas memory I'll always remember with a smile.

I've had some troubles with our old recipe over the past few years so I decided to try a new one from this gobsmackingly beautiful post by Katie. It's a great recipe - it feels stable as you heap it on the sheet and bakes into a soft pillow of marshmallow-esque filling with a nice crisp shell. I like some contrast so I barely sweetened the berries and kept the cream simple.

It's a classic for a reason.

Pomegranate & Berry Pavlova
(Adapted from What Katie Ate)

For the pavlovas:
1/4 lemon
4 egg whites
220g caster sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 and a 1/2 tsps cornflour

To assemble both:
250ml double cream
1/2 tsp vanilla paste
1/2 pomegranate
100g frozen mixed summer fruit
1 tsp icing sugar

Preheat the oven to 150C (or 130C for a fan oven). Line two trays with baking parchment. Rub the clean bowl of a stand mixer (or a mixing bowl if you're using a hand whisk) with the slice of lemon. Add the whites and whisk until you have a thick froth that forms a soft peak then start slowly adding the sugar. Keep whisking until glossy and holds a fairly stiff peak. Add the vanilla and sift over the cornflour, then whisk briefly to combine. Divide the mix between the two trays, heaping it up in the middle. Use a spatula to spread out into a large nest shape (I then brought the spatula in around the sides to create a pattern.

Bake for 30 minutes then swap the trays and turn them around to help them cook evenly. Bake for another 30 minutes then turn the oven off and leave them to cool for one hour. Afterwards, take them out and leave to cool totally on a wire rack. They'll store for at least a week if needed.

When you're ready to serve, defrost the fruit. Sprinkle the icing sugar over the top to lightly sweeten them without breaking them down. Cut the pomegranate into quarters and de-seed in a bowl of water. Whip the cream and vanilla until soft peaks form. Knock the centre of the pavlova gently in then spread the cream over. Top with the summer fruits and pomegranate seeds and serve.

(Makes 2 medium pavlovas, each serves 4-6)

Merry Christmas!

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 10:00:00 +0000

We're having waffles with maple syrup and swiss bacon for breakfast as we open presents and then preparing the big lunch - turkey and all the trimmings - and generally having a quiet family day. I'll post about our dessert in the next few days...

I hope you all have a wonderful festive season filled with delicious food, smiles and laughter.

Merry Christmas!

Bûche de Noël

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 14:57:00 +0000

Three things I learnt yesterday about the highly specialized field of sub-zero food photography:

1/ Icing sugar to simulate snow-on-a-log is pretty pointless when you also have actual snow on your yule log.

2/ Forget tables - plant pots with a drift of snow perched on top or sun loungers (oh the irony) make excellent surfaces.

3/ 'Shoot and run'. It's -6 C. No fancy moves, just a bit of exposure tweaking. Or your hands will fall off (gloves get in the way). Wrap up as if you're going skiing or taking the dogs for a walk. Yes, that means thermals (sexy, I know). Food photography is just another activity that has to be adapted to snow (and therefore darkened houses) when it just keeps on falling for days and days on end.

My frozen mind stuck onto 'shoot and run' while I was out there and somehow produced this:

"But I shot a log in snow,
Just to catch it glow,
When I hear that wind a' blowin',
I hang my lens and go."

Ahem. Anyway. Enough butchering of Johnny Cash.

I decided to keep this simple: light chocolate sponge (the one I used to make the chocolate & peanut butter mousse swiss roll), a chestnut-marscarpone filling and whipped dark chocolate ganache swirled over the top. It's a delicious combination. The chestnut gives a smoky depth and graininess to the filling.

Also - I passed basic patisserie! Despite a very stressful and frustrating practical exam my other marks pulled me up to a credit - I was so happy when I opened my certificate envelope at graduation.

Bûche de Noël
(sponge recipe adapted from David Lebovitz's Ready for Dessert)

For the sponge:
60g plain flour
30g cornflour
20g cocoa powder
1/2 tsp baking powder
pinch of salt
3 eggs, separated
35ml cold water
120g caster sugar

For the chestnut cream:
200g marscarpone
125g chestnut puree*
1 tsp icing sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

For the whipped ganache:
150g dark (70%) chocolate, very finely chopped
150g double cream
2 tsp light brown sugar

Preheat the oven to 170C. Line an oven tray with parchment paper. Sift the flour, cornflour, cocoa powder, baking powder and salt together three times - the mixture should be a uniform pale brown. Place the 3 egg yolks and the water into the bowl of a stand mixer. Whisk on high for 1 minute then sprinkle the caster sugar over the frothy mixture. Put back onto high and whisk for 5 minutes until the mixture reaches ribbon stage (i.e. if you lift the whisk, the ribbon coming off it stays on the surface for a few seconds) and is very pale.

In another clean bowl whip the egg whites to stiff peaks. Steady the bowl of whipped yolks on a damp cloth and sieve over a 1/5 of the flour mixture. Fold in with a rubber spatula, swirling around the edge of the bowl and flicking into the middle. Repeat with the next 1/5 and so on until you have incorporated all the flour mixture. Fold in 1/3 of the whites to loosen, then fold in the remaining 2/3. Scrape out of the bowl onto the tray then with bold strokes use a palette knife to spread out into a rectangle roughly 20x30cm.

Bake for 12-15 minutes until the sponge springs back when touched in the middle. While it bakes prepare two sheets of parchment bigger than the cake. Lay one on a table and sprinkle with a little caster sugar. When the cake comes out of the oven, let it rest for 1 minute then flip it out onto the parchment. Slowly peel the baking parchment off the top. Lightly score a line about 1cm from the end of one of the shorter sides with the back of a knife. Top with the clean parchment sheet then start rolling up from the scored end, tightly tucking in as you go. Once you get to the end, wrap the whole roll in a tea towel and leave to cool a little.

While it cools, beat the marscarpone until smooth in a bowl. Add the chestnut puree and sugar and beat again, then finally add the vanilla and combine until uniform.

When the wrapped roll is no longer hot to touch but is still warm, carefully unwrap it. Spread the inside with the chestnut marscarpone mix and then roll up again, using the outer parchment but discarding the inner. Place in the fridge to firm up.

Put the chopped chocolate into the bowl of a stand mixer. Place the cream and sugar into a small saucepan and heat until steaming, then pour over the chocolate. Leave for a minute then stir until smooth. Place into the fridge to firm up - you want it to be thick but not solid. When it's ready, fit the bowl into the mixer and whip until fluffy and a bit lighter. Dollop some of the icing onto the chilled roll and spread over the entire roll with a palette knife. Style the icing to your liking - I used an icing comb to create a bark-esque effect on the top, then a serrated knife to create the rings on each end. The roll keeps really well in the fridge - in fact we preferred it after it had chilled for a few hours.

(Makes about 10-12 slices)

*Here in Switzerland they sell tubes of prepared chestnut puree but you could easily create some by roasting some chestnuts then pureeing them with a little water to form a thick paste.

Maple and Nutmeg Biscuits

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 17:54:00 +0000

I'm going home for Christmas on Sunday. I can't wait to see and ski all the snow that has been falling, to properly start the Christmas baking and to decorate our tree.

We've got mincemeat and mince pies to make, a christmas cake to decorate and stollen to create. This year I'm also thinking of trying out a yule log/bûche de noël - does anybody have a good recipe or tips?

I made up the dough on Monday but waited to bake these until today. In the gap I managed to eat a fair chunk of the chilling packet - the dough is absolutely delicious. I hadn't tried this combination of maple syrup and nutmeg before but it's fantastic - I'm definitely going to try and think of other ways to use it.

I'm not going to write out the recipe as I wasn't happy with the way they baked (they're not the prettiest but they are good to eat - though not as good as the dough!). It may well be because I removed the egg yolk when I halved the original recipe, so you can give it a go from there if you like. I tried to jazz them up with a touch of icing sugar - doesn't it look like glitter in b&w?

Do try the maple-nutmeg-salt combination though, it's absolutely wonderful.

Chocolate Chunk Banana Bread

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 12:28:00 +0000

When I popped out to Switzerland for five days a week or so ago, my mum made me some chocolate banana bread. It was an unusual choice as I don't like banana bread.

Or perhaps I should say I didn't like banana bread. As she knew, this recipe is a game changer.

My mum and I differ in our attitude to recipes. Take this one, for instance. One day she decided to double the banana as well as adapt the chocolate. Things are weighed, but in a much more dash & splash & heaped spoon manner. I adapt recipes all the time too, but I'm very methodical and always measure and record my changes carefully.

But you know what? This banana bread is fantastic. So here's to mum and her courage to just go out there and double ingredients without a thought to ratios and percentages.

Before I left, I carefully wrote down the changed recipe into my notebook so that I could make it when I got home.

Imagine my horror when I opened the cupboard to make the cake today and discovered that I'd left my home scales in my knife kit at school - I'd taken them in as a spare set for my exam. Bake without scales?! Not be able to measure everything exactly to the gram? Dear me.

But my hunger for warm, comforting banana bread won out. So I eyed 100g out of my 250g pack of butter, I used my tablespoon to measure out the flour and sugar. I went with the flow.

Heck, if mum can double an ingredient and it tastes better, I can be a few grams out today. A little break from precision.

As the cake went into the oven, it started to get dark. I'd forgotten how quickly the light drains out of the sky at the moment and soon it was far beyond the point of photography. So I sat on the floor and wistfully watched my cake bake through the glass door. I love watching things slowly rise, bubble and change - it's very calming.

I decided to try and take a photo, not expecting anything. And yet I really like the photos I took. (Here's a slightly more traditional snap of the one my mum made too). I love the suspense during the lingering wait as something bakes, the intoxicating smell. That's one of the best bits about baking and that's what I have tried to capture.

Chocolate Clunk Banana Cake
(adapted from Ultimate by Green & Blacks)

225g plain flour
1 and 1/4 tsp baking powder
pinch of salt
100g butter at room temperature
150g caster sugar
4 small very ripe bananas (or 2 large, 3 medium etc)
2 eggs, beaten
3 tbsp milk
100g dark chocolate - 70% to 85%

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Line a loaf tin. Sift the flour, baking powder and salt together. Cream the butter and sugar together until pale and fluffy. Mash the bananas up into a puree with a fork. Add the eggs, bananas and milk to the butter and beat. It will curdle and look horrid but don't worry.
Fold the flour into the batter. Fold in half the chocolate then transfer to the tin.

Sprinkle the rest of the chocolate over the top then press in lightly. Bake for 45 minutes to an hour or until a skewer comes out without any cake mix (will probably have a bit of melted chocolate!).

(Makes one loaf)

Passionfruit Fromage Blanc Bavarian

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Sat, 03 Dec 2011 19:45:00 +0000

I'd say I'm roughly 50% calm and 50% nervous.

My hands are calm as they carefully tuck yet another batch of pastry into a tart tin or as they guide a piping bag around now-familiar lines. My brain is calm as I write and re-write quantities and methods, stashing them in my memory.

My eye is nervous, flickering from lack of sleep. My stomach is nervous, intermittently releasing a butterfly.

This week marks my first set of exams at Le Cordon Bleu.

On Tuesday I have my practical exam. There are three exam dishes - I will have to pick an unseen token when I enter the room, which will tell me which dish I make. The possibilities are: the tarte aux citron, the coffee eclairs, the raspberry genoise. Now I tend to think about them in terms of my fears: the shrinking tart case, the fondant topping, underfolding my genoise and finding flour pockets.

On Friday I have my technical exam. I haven't really started learning for it as it's only 10% of my overall mark (compared to 45% on the practical exam - the other 45% has been the continual assessment in my practicals). By Wednesday morning I'll be squirreling away sugar temperatures, fat contents and more recipes.

Whatever happens in my exams, I've learnt a lot this term. I hadn't realised how much I've changed until I went home last weekend and made a few things for mum. I've picked up a lot of good habits, tips and techniques. I've also got far too used to having a kitchen porter to do my washing up...

In the past few weeks we've made a few bavarian creams to fill charlottes and so on. I thought I would try out a slightly modernized version I found in Tartine. My presentation wouldn't work at school but I fancied a casual look.

It's a subtle, light dessert and would be perfect for after a heavy meal. It's creamy but not rich. There's only a touch of sweetness so it feels almost refreshing - the best word I can think of to describe it is pure.

Passionfruit Fromage Blanc Bavarian
(adapted from Tartine by Elisabeth M. Prueitt and Chad Robertson)

50g pistachios, finely chopped
60ml cold water
50g granulated sugar
4 egg yolks
2 1/2 tsp powdered gelatine
30ml hot water
300g fromage blanc
375ml double cream
10ml lemon juice*
3 passionfruit
1 tbsp icing sugar (approx)

Line the sides of a 6" loose-bottomed tin with cling film (you could also use a wider tin, such as 7 or 8", and I would have used acetate to line if I had any so that it was totally smooth). Spread the pistachios in the bottom of the tin in an even layer.

Place 60ml of the water and the sugar into a small pan and heat until the sugar dissolves and you have a syrup. Pour into a round-bottomed bowl and leave to cool. Set a pan on the heat with a few inches of water that the bowl with the syrup will fit into without touching the water. Sprinkle the gelatine over 30ml of hot (not boiling) water to soften.

Add the egg yolks to the syrup and combine. Place over the pan and whisk until thick and foamy (the ribbon stage - if you take the whisk out, the drips should stay on the surface before merging again) - this takes about 5-10 minutes. Once ready, whisk in the dissolved gelatine. Set the bowl into an ice bath (or sink of cold water) to cool, whisking every now and again (you need to be fairly quick with the next two tasks and keep an eye on it).

In another bowl, combine the fromage blanc and 75ml of the cream, whisking until smooth. Whisk the remaining 300ml of cream up to soft peaks.

Once the yolk mixture is starting to set, combine 1/3 of the yolks into the smooth fromage blanc mixture to lighten it. Fold the rest of the yolks in carefully. Fold in the lemon. Finally gently fold the cream into the mixture in two goes. Transfer to the prepared tin. Smooth the top and cover with cling film. Place into the fridge. Chill for at least 4 hours - overnight is best.

When you're ready to serve, scoop the passionfruit seeds out into a small saucepan. Add the icing sugar and warm slightly to dissolve the sugar. Test to see if you need more sugar.

Take the bavarian out of the fridge and unwrap the cling film. Ease it out of the tin (or snap open the springform) and peel away the plastic. Slide off the bottom onto a serving plate. Top with the passionfruit glaze.

*If you would like a stronger citrus flavour, add the zest of half a lemon or 1/4 of an orange - I wanted mine simple.

(Serves 10-12)

Porridge

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 10:57:00 +0000

You're probably looking a bit confused right now. Porridge, Emma? Really?

My friend Elly (of Nutmegs, Seven) recently wrote a wonderful article about porridge. It really inspired me and I've been eating porridge for breakfast ever since. She sells it well: it's healthy, cheap and delicious.

When I was a little girl, porridge was a great wintertime treat. On a special morning mum would stir up a pot of oats then we would eat it drowned in double cream and brown sugar. I hadn't even considered adding spices to the mix.

This new, sexy porridge is amazing - full of flavour. I've tried lots of combinations and toppings. Elly inspired me to roast plums with orange juice and stem ginger and spoon them on top and from there I've experimented. The only things I've tried that were a little off were roasted figs on top and lemon zest in the porridge itself.

Writing a recipe for porridge seems a little ridiculous but I've put a sort of rough guide below. You can use your own basic recipe but do try adding in some spices and playing with toppings - it's fantastic.

(Also, if you're interested - top is fresh blueberry & toasted pecan, then raisin & pear, bottom is apple & sultana.)

My Porridge

about 1/3 to 1/4 of a tumbler of porridge oats (I use a small Nutella glass)
roughly 2/3 to 3/4 of the same tumbler of a mixture of water and milk, about half-half
handful of dried fruit (raisins etc), blueberries, grated apple
good sprinkle of cinnamon and ground ginger
fresh grind of sea salt and of nutmeg
optional splash of vanilla extract or dab of paste
fruit to top - chopped pear/apple/banana/roasted plums etc etc
nuts to top, toasted - I love pecans
Spoonful of brown sugar to finish (could use honey, maple syrup, golden syrup etc etc)

Measure the oats in the cup, then toss them in the saucepan. Measure the milk and water in the same glass, then pour in. Add the dried fruit/blueberries, spices & flavourings and stir. Put over a low heat and stir occasionally as it thickens. While it cooks, make a cup of tea and chop fruits/toast nuts. When it's thick enough (this changes with my mood), pour into a bowl and sprinkle your toppings on.

(Makes one bowl)

Tarte aux Pommes

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 19:13:00 +0000

The moment I tasted the tart you see here, I danced around my kitchen in jubilation. I've been trying to recreate this recipe for almost as long as I've been cooking.

The tarte aux pommes at Chez Simon is legendary. It's a Verbier staple - I've eaten it every winter for 19 years.

I finally discovered the key a few days ago: cream (as in all good things). There's this wonderful touch of creaminess underneath the apples I couldn't work out. It's not a full layer - just a tiny touch that slightly curdles into the juices. I can't explain why this is so heavenly, but it is. You can use either double cream or sour cream.

Together with a simple pastry, just-cooked apples and plenty of cinnamon and sugar, you have winter perfection. All you need is hot chocolate and a blustery wind to redden your cheeks. Sparkly snow optional.

Tarte aux Pommes
(inspired by Chez Simon's original, though I don't have his recipe)

For the pastry:
60g plain flour
1 tsp sugar
pinch salt
30g cold butter, cut into cubes
cold water to bind (about 1.5 tbsp)

For the filling:
1 tsp lemon juice
1-2 fairly tart apples, such as Granny Smith
1 tbsp granulated sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
2 tbsp double cream or sour cream

Sieve the flour, sugar and salt into a mixing bowl. Toss in the cubes of cold butter. Rub the butter into the flour using your fingers until the mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs. Add a tablespoon of water and use a blunt knife to combine with the crumbs. Add a dribble more water until the dough comes together into a ball (use your hands at the end). Squish into a disc, wrap in cling film and chill for at least 20 minutes.

When the pastry has chilled, roll it out on a lightly flour-dusted surface into a circle an inch larger than your tin (a shallow 8” tin is perfect) – there is enough dough but it will be thin. Drape the pastry over your rolling pin and place it into the tin. Press into the corners and sides. Leave to rest in the fridge for 10 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Trim the sides down to 2cm, press in again and prick the bottom all over with a fork. Then line with paper and pack tightly to the top with baking beans. Bake for 20 minutes or until the pastry is cooked except for a little dampness in the centre.

Place the lemon juice in a medium sized bowl and add a few inches of water. Peel the apples, placing them in the water as you go to stop browning. Half and quarter the apples and slice out the core. Thinly cut them lengthways into strips, so you have a pile of semi-circles – this is faster if you have a mandolin.

Turn the oven up to 220C/425F. Mix the sugar and cinnamon together in a small container. Spread the sour cream over the bottom of the pastry case in a thin layer. Drain the apple slices, then tart arranging them in the case – begin with a row down the middle, tightly overlapping them so you don’t see the cored middle. Continue to the bottom and then start another row, repeating until the case is covered.

Sprinkle evenly with the sugar mix and bake at the top of the oven for 10-15 minutes or until the apples are soft (and knife should easily go through them) and the pastry is lightly browned. Best eaten while it’s still warm with your hands, like a slice of pizza.

(Makes 6 slices)

How to bake a... Birthday Cake

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 18:04:00 +0000

The lovely Fiona Beckett recently asked me to write for her site Beyond Baked Beans. It's a wonderful resource full of cheap and easy recipes for students and anyone else on a budget. I'm going to be writing a series of posts on simple baking that can be done with a minimum of equipment. You read the little introduction here.

For this first post I decided to write about simple, crowd-pleasing birthday cakes. I want to make baking a cake for a friend or loved one possible for as many people as I can. There are four recipes - vanilla cake, chocolate cake, a cream cheese icing and a ganache.

You can read it here.

Clementine Ricotta Doughnuts

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 23:02:00 +0000

Why do we only hang chocolate shapes and cookies from garlands and trees? Why not doughnuts?

They already look like little wreaths, after all. Wouldn't it be a lovely addition to your autumnal table for a party? I'm always up for making dessert or a tea snack into a fun event in itself.

I threaded and knotted them onto a piece of raffia in a string, but you could also tie each one individually to a branch (a bit like the sweet cakes in this lovely tiger in a jar video). Or even your Christmas tree. (Apologies for the early use of the C-word, but I had to mention it...)

The book I adapted this recipe from, Doughnuts, is fabulous. I had no idea there were so many versions and creative options. These are cake doughnuts, so they're easy to make and very quick - no yeast involved.

The method for getting cake doughnuts into the oil without a fancy machine is so clever. You pipe them onto greased paper and then drop them into the oil on the paper, which then loosens and you can remove it. Forgive me if it is common knowledge, but I was fascinated.

I adore clementines (and satsumas and tangerines - how are we meant to tell them apart?). I used to eat them by the bagful as a child. My beautiful old dog Silver loves them too. Probably partly because when she was a puppy I used to peel them and play 'one for you, one for me' with her (sharing my clementines was a gesture of great love).

Clementines are traditional stocking fillers here. One Christmas my belief in a certain someone was fatally wounded when I found a packet of clementines I had carefully marked with a pen so nobody else ate them at the end of my bed...

I bought my first bag of the winter a few days ago and so these doughnuts were born. I was going to show you a photo of the insides but I lost track of my thoughts while shooting and ate the halved one. Whoops. What can I say - they're rather moreish.

Clementine Ricotta Doughnuts
(adapted from Lara Ferroni's Doughnuts)

For the doughnuts:
120g plain flour
40g caster sugar
1 and 1/3 tsp baking powder
grating of fresh nutmeg
pinch of salt
zest of a clementine
2 eggs
150g ricotta
1/2 tsp vanilla
oil, to fry*

For the glaze:
50g icing sugar
1 tsp honey (to taste)
juice of 1 clementine (approx)

Sift the flour, baking powder, nutmeg, salt and sugar into a bowl. In another bowl whisk the zest, eggs, ricotta and vanilla together. Stir the wet ingredients into the dry until combine - try to not overmix, but you don't want lumps of flour. Scoop into a piping bag and set to one side.

Decide how many doughnuts you'll be able to fry at once (I could do two) and cut that number of 4" squares of greaseproof/parchment paper. Grease the squares with a little extra oil. Place a wad of kitchen towels to the side of your stove. In a heavy bottomed pot with a thermometer (deep-frying or sugar) heat approximately 2 inches of oil to 360F. Pipe circles on the greased paper of about 3 inches.

When the oil hits the right temperature, lower one upside down into the oil (check with one, then do more). The paper will start to loosen - take it out with some heatproof tongs. Cook until golden brown then turn and cook the other side. This only took about 45 seconds on each side for me. Remove with a slotted spoon to the kitchen paper. Repeat until you've used all the mixture.

Sieve the icing sugar into a medium bowl. Add the juice bit by bit until you have a paste, then add the honey. Finally adjust the consistency with more juice until you have a thin glaze. Dip the doughnuts into the glaze (either one side or both). Set onto a wire rack.

*I used sunflower oil but safflower, peanut or canola also would be good.

(makes about 12-15 doughnuts)

Queen of Puddings

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 10:48:00 +0000

Expectation is a funny thing.

It starts off from a rose-tinted idea in your mind. You call it a dream and think of how much lovlier your life will be when exams end or new adventures start. Some of these plans never come to fruition - the warm glow fades before it even happens and you turn to the next brightest flame.

It's not that reality is better or worse, just different.

I wonder why we can't keep that warm glow alive once it becomes reality. Maybe it's just that - reality cannot be perfect and there are always difficult or testing parts, however small. It feels so romantic to say and believe that you're following your dream, but I wonder if it is too much pressure. Maybe the only way to live is to try and focus on today rather than the future.

I couldn't decide which traditional pudding to make for this post, so I put it to the vote on facebook (I've also updated the page and added an album of black and white outtakes from posts). The choices were a baked custard tart (a.k.a. Henry IV's coronation dulcet - I nearly made this just because it mentions that Chaucer was at the feast), a Sussex pond pudding or this, the Queen of Puddings.

Jane Grigson describes the Queen of Puddings as "a pudding that deserves its name for the perfect combination of flavours and tastes, a most subtle and lovely way to end a meal".

How can a pudding live up to "perfect", to being the winner, to being deemed the "Queen"? It's just like an experience living up to the rosy 'dream' we have called it.

The pudding is definitely "lovely" and "subtle". The custard is warm and nubbly from the breadcrumbs (don't skimp on the vanilla and lemon zest as it brings it to life). The raspberry is only a hint, but it adds another layer of flavour. The meringue is pillowy like pavlova inside and crisp on the outside.

The reality is delicious, but it wasn't quite what I was expecting. It's no worse for that.

Time moves on. The dust settles, familiarity forms and habits are set into place. The next 'dream' or 'queen' recipe slips into the previous place, altered by your new experience. The cycle starts again, pushing you forward onto the next plan, the next idea.

I try to live for today, but my dreams and plans for the future are what drives me - striving for something gives me purpose in life. As with most things, a balance is probably the answer. To not wish the present away but hold onto those dreams. To anchor your feet but keep those brightly coloured balloons tightly wrapped around your hand, propelling you forwards.

Queen of Puddings
(adapted from Jane Grigson's English Food)

For the custard base:
75g fresh white breadcrumbs
zest of 2/3 lemon
2 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla paste or extract
300ml milk
30g unsalted butter, cubed
pinch of salt
2 egg yolks
1 heaped tbsp raspberry jam or jelly
1/2 tsp lemon juice

For the meringue:
2 egg whites
70g caster sugar (I used golden)

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. In a medium bowl combine the breadcrumbs, zest and sugar. Stir the milk, butter and salt in a medium saucepan and set over the heat. When the butter has melted into a golden film on the surface and the mixture is steaming but not boiling, pour it over the breadcrumbs. Mix together then let it stand for 10 minutes.

Beat the egg yolks into the breadcrumb mix with a spoon or spatula (not a whisk - you don't want to add air). Pour into a shallow ovenproof dish that holds approximately 750ml. Place into the oven and bake for about 20 minutes, or until the custard is set but still wibbles in the middle (you will be baking it again, so err on the side of underdone). Lower the oven to 150C/300F.

Warm the jam or jelly in a small saucepan with the lemon juice, stirring to combine. Sieve if you've using jam with seeds. Spread over the custard gently, being careful not to break the skin.

Whip the egg whites until they are firm and hold soft peaks. Sprinkle half the sugar over the top and whisk to combine. Repeat with the other half and then whip until stiff and satiny. Spoon the meringue on top of the jam and swirl, making sure it meets the sides of the dish. Place back in the oven and bake for about 25-30 minutes or until golden and crisp to the touch. Serve hot alone or with cream.

(Serves 3-4)

Ginger Root Bundt Cake

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 18:12:00 +0000

Today I had lunch at Dinner by Heston Blumenthal. I'm no restaurant critic but it was a truly wonderful meal.

The menu is full of surprises and combinations you wouldn't imagine. The infamous meat fruit is charming, incredibly realistic and delicious. I went with my friend Helen (it was our bon voyage lunch - she's about to go off on a long trip) and her main of chicken with cooked lettuces sounded a bit odd but oh my - I'll never question cooked lettuce again.

All of the dishes needed to be balanced on the fork. Eating one element alone often didn't quite work, but when you had a little of everything - BAM. The brown bread ice cream with salted butter caramel and malted yeast syrup (and a touch of apple and lemon) needed careful balancing. The most magical part of it was that every bite is different - each one a unique combination. It seemed to evolve as you ate.

I adored the Autumn tart - figs and blackberries with vanilla cream and blackcurrant and perfect pastry and biscuit ice cream. (I just can't stop raving. I should probably take a step away from the computer and calm down before I post, but I don't want to. You're just going to have to live with the barrage of delicious/mind-blowing/delighful/wonderful. And yes, if you're confused, I did have a starter and two puddings.)

As a final 'sweet taste' we were given tiny pots of Earl Grey ganache (made with a mixture of milk and dark chocolate) and a long finger of a shortbread-esque biscuit, flavoured with caraway seeds. I've never tasted a sucessful Earl Grey dessert before. I've never tasted caraway in a sweet dish before. Each element was delicious, but together? The combination totally blew me away. It seems so unlikely and difficult to imagine but they blended and enhanced each other perfectly.

This cake also works on an unusual-but-good combination. I chose the recipe because I was intrigued by the ingredients. Lots of treacle, sunflower oil, wholemeal flour, ginger, lots of raising agent and parsnip? As I was putting it together and baking it I was pretty unconvinced.

Yet I liked the first slice. The second? Even more. It just keeps on growing on me. I can only really describe it as dark gingerbread with a nutty taste. The drizzle adds a lovely contrast. It's perfect with a cup of tea and a book (I'm currently addicted to an Icelandic Saga to the point that I missed my tube stop this morning because I was so entranced).

Ginger Root Bundt Cake
(adapted from Short & Sweet by Dan Lepard)

For the cake:
2 eggs
100g dark brown sugar
100g black treacle
150ml sunflower oil
150g parsnip, roughly grated*
4 chunks of stem ginger, chopped
75g plain flour
75g plain wholemeal flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
2 tsp ground ginger

For the drizzle:
50g icing sugar
juice of 1/2 lemon (approx)
finely grated rind of 1/4 lemon

Carefully grease a bundt pan with butter and dust with flour, making sure you get into the cracks and don't forget the central funnel (you can also use a normal 20cm round cake tin - line it with greaseproof paper). Preheat the oven to 180C (160C fan).

Separate one of the eggs and set aside the white. Place the yolk and the other egg into the bowl of a stand mixer with the dark brown sugar and whip for 5 minutes - the mixture should be paler and have increased in volume. Add the treacle and oil and whip again until smooth and fully combined. Add the parsnip and ginger and stir to combine. Sieve in the flour, wholemeal flour, baking power, bicarbonate of soda and ground ginger and fold in. Finally whisk the remaining egg white to soft peak and gently fold into the mixture.

Spoon into the prepared tin and bake for 25-30 minutes, or until a skewer can be inserted into the middle and come out clean or with a few small crumbs. Turn out immediately and let the cake drop down from the pan in its own time (a little boiling water can be poured onto a towel to place underneath the rack if you like - the steam seems to help it unmould).

While the cake cools, sieve the icing sugar into a small bowl. Finely grate the lemon into the bowl. Add the juice litle by little until you have a smooth icing that dribbles off the spoon. Place the cooled cake onto a plate. Either drizzle onto the cake with a spoon or place in a small piping bag.

*Dan suggests you can also use swedes or turnips. You can also use 100% wholemeal flour instead of a mixture.

(10-12 slices)

Toffee Apples

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 15:23:00 +0000

Instead of Halloween, I associate toffee apples with Bonfire/Firework/Guy Fawkes Night, on the 5th November.

I remember the first time I ate one, as a little girl of five. I had just started school and they were hosting a bonfire party in a field nearby. Though my memory is a little fuzzy, I remember the darkness, the sparking catherine wheel, the heat of the fire and the incredible sweetness of a toffee apple. I rarely ate sweets as a child - the apple is one of the few instances I can remember.

Usually you combine caramel flavours with mellow cooked apple - tarte tatin, for instance. Yet when you combine it with a fresh autumn apple, full of juice and zing, something special happens. You get an interplay between sour and sweet, chewy and crisp, juice and stickiness, health and decadence.

I find balance in taste so fascinating - all the different ways of combining the types of flavour and texture we can detect, all the subtle touches that can take something from nice to divine.

Toffee Apples
(adapted from Tartine by Elisabeth M. Prueitt and Chad Robertson)

8-9 small apples (5-6 big)
bamboo kebab sticks or lollipop sticks
60g dark brown sugar
50g granulated sugar
60g unsalted butter
75ml double cream
45g golden syrup
1 tbsp maple syrup
1/4 tsp vanilla extract
pinch sea salt

Cover a baking tray with foil and butter with a bit of butter (or oil). Cut up the bamboo sticks and push them into the apples, making sure you don't pierce the bottom of the apple. Sit near the stove.

Place all the remaining ingredients in a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan. Set over a medium-high heat and stir together. Keep heating until you reach 235F, stirring as you go. When it gets to the right temperature take the pan off the heat. Stir occasionally as it cools. When it hits 180F, dip the first apple, holding it by the stick and swirling it around. Let excess caramel drip off and then place onto the baking sheet.

Let the apples cool on the side then keep uncovered in the fridge.

(For 8-9 small apples)

Caramel Popcorn

noreply@blogger.com (Poires au Chocolat) — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 11:11:00 +0000

While I was making this popcorn, I had a documentary playing on my laptop: Origins of Us - Guts, a BBC program about the evolution of humans. This episode focused on how our diet shaped our evolution. I won't go into the details (and I'm sure some of you don't agree with some of the theories) but a few of the ideas they pulled out of the science were interesting in a wider sense.

One of their conclusions: it was cooking that made us human.

There is something so elemental about preparing food to eat and nourishing yourself, day after day. The pleasure from eating a hot meal when you're hungry runs very deep.

As someone interested in preparing food, the idea that cooking and not just eating is fundamental to our existence is attractive and makes sense - but I suspect to others it might not. Making food by hand is no longer a key element of many lives and that is a choice we are all free to make - after all, they say it made us human, not that it makes us human. I find joy and satisfaction in the kitchen and in preparing three simple meals a day, but that is me. It's not my place to say if it is right or wrong that as a culture we've shifted away from preparing food ourselves, but I can say that I feel that it is an important part of my life and I am lucky enough to have the resources and time to do so.

The program also touched on the importance of sharing food in forming and sustaining relationships. Now I cook mainly for myself (I share out my baking as much as I can, but I cook alone - I need to get some dinner parties going), I miss the feeling of sharing out something I have made and feeding friends.

So once my popcorn had cooled, I split it up, put it in plastic bags, wrapped them in brown paper and posted them to the people I miss being being sat around the dinner table with. I'm hoping they won't receive a packet of dust & that this post won't have ruined the surprise. I wish I could have sent something savoury and hearty, like a big lasagne, but sadly it doesn't post well.

Popping popcorn is incredibly satisfying, especially in a pan instead of a microwave - I really recommend it. I can see myself making lots of simpler batches of buttered popcorn when the mood strikes.

My pan didn't have a lid so I suspended a frying pan over the top. I had to essentially hug the pan to keep things in place. The suspense as I stood there waiting for the kernels to start popping was hilarious - I had no idea if they would get through the gap, or what force they would have when they hit the lid.

I looked at quite a few recipes for the caramel part but Molly's interested me most. I changed the corn syrup for golden syrup. The baking dries everything out and gives a great crunch. Don't skip the salt, though you could reduce it if you like.

The best part is that this popcorn truly tastes of deep caramel, not just sugar. It's rich, slightly smoky, a bit salty and quite addictive.

Caramel Popcorn
(Adapted from Orangette and Simply Recipes)

For the corn:
3 tbsp peanut/canola/sunflower oil
75g popping corn

For the caramel:
180g brown sugar
70ml golden syrup
90g unsalted butter
2 tbsp water
2 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1/2 tsp fleur de sel

Grease a big mixing bowl lightly. Place the oil into a big pan (it needs to have a lid, or something you can use as a lid). Heat over medium high heat. When it's warmed, add 3-4 kernels into the oil and cover. Once they pop, sprinkle the remaining kernels into the pan in an even layer and cover again. Take off the heat and count 30 seconds. Return to the heat. Once they start to pop, shake gently side to side. Keep the lid down but try to leave a little gap/hole so that some steam is let out. Once the popping has died down to less than once a second, take the lid off and tip all the popped kernels into the big bowl.

Preheat the oven to 120C/250F. Line a tin with some parchment paper. Put the sugar, syrup, butter and water together in a medium saucepan. Place over medium-high heat. Once the butter is melted, whisk together. Keep heating until it reaches 120C/250F then remove from the heat and quickly whisk in the vanilla. Finally add the bicarbonate and whisk in again - it will foam up a little and look dull instead of shiny. Pour over the popcorn in the greased bowl and use a spatula to fold it all in and combine.

Tip out onto the baking sheet. Sprinkle with the fleur de sel and fold lightly through. Bake in the oven for 40 minutes, turning at 20 minutes. Cool.

(Makes a big bowlful - I couldn't possibly say how many people it serves!)