Author: MAB

Floating Islands

Pudding, 17th century, 18th century

Confession Time: When it comes to recipe history, I’m afraid I’m bit of a “Well, actually…” person.

I’ll read some guff online about a recipe ‘backstory’, or some offhand comment not being sufficiently respectful of a British recipe, or even another country’s claim to something that originated in the UK and I really have to exercise great self control in order to refrain from leaving a comment beginning “Well, actually…”.

Then again, sometimes I just can’t help myself, and I’ll make a blog post, and so here we are at the dessert topic of Floating Islands.

The initial thing I take issue with, is Wikipedia’s assertion that “The earliest known English-language reference to a floating island is in The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy (1747)”. As will be shown below, the recipe is much older than that. What they probably meant was ‘first published in English’, because I have found a slew of manuscript recipes (OK, so it’s six. Is six a slew?) predating this claim, some stretching back well into the seventeenth century. Now you might quibble that manuscript recipes are not the same thing at all, and therefore don’t count, but these manuscripts have been dated, verified, digitised and made freely available online for over a decade, so *snaps fingers impatiently* get with it, Wikipedia.

The most delightful aspect of these early recipes is that they are much easier to make than the custard/poached meringue/caramel version of modern times.  For such a simple dessert, there’s a lot of stress involved in making a lump-free custard, making shaping and poaching meringues so that they look  neat and don’t collapse, making a caramel that doesn’t taste burnt, not to mention all the time it takes do do all of the above. Contrast this with, no exaggeration, if you have the ingredients to hand, you can serve up your dessert in 12 minutes – and that’s including 10 minutes of your kitchen gadget machine doing the whisking.

Floating Island recipe attributed to Lady Anne Cholmley (1637-1705), in MS3341, Wellcome Collection.

The earliest Floating Island recipe I have found dates from 1675, and is attributed to Lady Anne Cholmley (1637-1705). Lady Anne married Sir Hugh Cholmeley, 4th Baronet (1632 – 1688) in 1665, so this recipe attributed to her married name, appearing in a manuscript dated to 1675, fits the dating very well, and the “My Lady” honorific suggests the author was personally acquainted with Lady Anne herself.

As already mentioned, this recipe is very quick and easy to prepare: fresh currant juice, sugar, egg-white and a little gum dragon (gum tragacanth), whisked together and served floating on a dish of fresh cream. It is very similar to the Dairy-Free Cream already published on this blog. I particularly like the later annotation that “This way you can make of any other fruit a cream” at the bottom. Gum tragacanth is still used in recipes today, giving durability in decorative sugarwork. However, in this recipe, it is employed to give structure (due to the liquidity of the juice). I had some in the cupboard (because of course I did) and tried using it in the recipe, but compared to the other methods, it didn’t appear to have a significant effect. Plus you have the extra Faff™ of having to soak it overnight to make a paste before proceeding.

Mrs Tyndale’s Floating Island of codlings, circa 1690-1750, Ms V.a.680, Folger Shakespeare Library

Mrs Tyndale’s Floating Island recipe is dated a little later ( circa 1690-1750), and uses apple pulp of codlings (cooking apples) instead of the fruit juice.

Floating Island, from an anonymous manuscript, dated 1700, MS1811, Wellcome Collection.

This version, from a manuscript dated 1700, offers yet a third variation of Floating Islands: Raspberry and apple jelly is stirred into egg-white and left overnight. The following day it is whisked over hot water until thickened, and then served in spoonfuls on a dish of raw cream. This is how Dairy-Free Cream is made, and using fruit juice already sweetened and set into a jelly, rather than straight fruit juice, gives the resultant foam a much longer ‘shelf life’. As can be seen on the Dairy-Free Cream post, I left the whipped foam on the counter top – for SCIENCE! – and it holds it shape, albeit slightly deflated, for over five hours. Great if you need to prepare your dessert in advance.

Floating Island recipe from 1720, MS Wb.100, Folger Shakespeare Library

This recipe returns to the apple pulp version, albeit with a much smaller proportion of pulp. There’s proportionally rather a lot of sugar, but the addition of the lemon juice can balance that out. This version is leaning towards another classic British dessert, Apple Snow, an ethereal confection with which to treat any guests who have a sensitivity to dairy produce.

Molehill Cream or Floating Island recipe from the manuscript book of Mrs Frances Rawson, 1734, MS7747, Wellcome Collection

This particular recipe highlights one of the difficulties of old recipes – the names. Luckily, in this instance, the author has given us two names, one of which is Floating Island, but imagine if they had not? And this isn’t an isolated incident. The same recipe can be known by many different names all over the country. Conversely, the one name can refer to sometimes drastically differing dishes depending on location. In addition to all of the recipes listed here, other fruit/sugar/egg-white mixtures I’ve read have had the titles Irish Cream, Currant Cream, Spanish Butter, Blossom Cream and the very impressive The Rock For A Dessert (below). There are no  doubt many more variations out there, for what is essentially the same recipe.

The Rock for a Dessert recipe, a version of Floating Island using apple pulp, 1760, MS1813, Wellcome Collection

And finally, the last of the slew of pre-1747 Floating Island recipes, dating from 1741, is another apple-pulp-based version.

Floating Island recipe, 1741, Ms499, University of Leeds Library, Special Collections

It’s interesting to note that the ingredients have, in general, moved from currant juices and jellies in the 17th centuries, to fruit-pulp-based versions in the 18th centuries.

Choose Your Own Floating Island Adventure!

The best version of this fruity cloud delight is the one for which you have the ingredients to hand, so I thought I’d offer a few suggestions and then you can make an informed choice.

  • Egg-whites : You can use fresh, by all means – most people have eggs on hand, and all you need is a single large egg-white to make enough billowy clouds of fruit meringue to serve up to 8 people. The downside of this is that the lack of cooking might not be something everyone enjoys, plus you now have a solitary egg-yolk to keep/use. The solution is, of course, to use pasteurised eggwhites in a carton. Everyone’s happy and no pesky yolk to clutter up the fridge.
  • Sugar : White, granulated or caster sugar is my recommendation. It adds sweetness but without impacting the delicate pastel colour of the whipped mixture. Some of the above recipes add sugar to the cream, but I feel this is unnecessary, and the cool richness of, say, double cream is a great counterpoint to the ethereal nature of the whipped meringue.
  • Fruit juice vs fruit pulp : Both are delicious. The deciding factor to consider should be, how long until I serve it? If you are serving it immediately, then fruit juice is fine. When whipping up (no pun intended) the versions for the photos, I thought I’d make them all first, then photograph. But by the time I was on the third batch (so 15-20 minutes after finishing the first batch), the first batch was already collapsing. The fruit pulp gave the finished meringue more body, and a slightly longer standing ability.
  • Fruit jelly : If you need to have some time between making your dessert and serving it, using a fruit jelly is optimal – the juice has already been sweetened and set, and is therefore much better at holding it’s shape when whisked. You can also warm and then sieve jam.
  • Which fruit? : Honestly? Almost any. The main guideline here is that it should be tart/sharp. As can be seen in many of the recipe above, using lemon juice can add the necessary acidity if needed. Gooseberries, rhubarb, apricots (jam), and for jellies – all colours of currants, raspberries, quince, cooking apple, cranberry, pomegranate. Even though the meringue is sweetened with sugar, you still want to be able to taste a hint of sharpness.

Floating Islands

This recipe is a general guide, in that you can substitute whatever fruit/jam/jelly/juice you have. It makes a large volume, but it disappears in a puff, so you can serve giant portions to four, or more elegant servings to eight. Another idea I had that might appeal, would be a ‘flight’ of islands, each one flavoured differently, all floating on a sea of cream. Garnish with fresh fruit and berries if liked, but I must say, I prefer the simplicity of just fruit cloud and cream.

1 large/40ml egg white
100g/ml sharp fruit puree/juice/jelly/sieved jam
50g white sugar (omit if using jelly/jam)
Juice of half a lemon (optional)

To serve
Double cream
sugar (optional)
Fruit garnish (optional)

  • Put all of the ingredients, except the cream, into a bowl, or the bowl of a stand mixer and whisk for 10 minutes.
  • Sweeten the cream if liked.
  • Portion out the meringue onto your serving dishes and pour round the cream. Some of the recipes above say to pour the cream first, but having tried that myself, it makes it very difficult to then place the meringue neatly. Much better to add the meringue to the dry plate and then pour round the cream.
  • Garnish with fruit if liked.

 

Close-up images from the top picture.

    • With white currant juice.
    • Black currant juice.
    • Cranberry jelly. Yeah, don’t do this. I only tried it because I picked up cranberry jelly at the supermarket by mistake instead of redcurrant jelly (they were next to one another on the shelf). The colour was deep, but the flavour was just not there. Probably something to do with the gelling agents used in manufacture. Home-made cranberry jelly might be worth trying.
    • Bramley Apple pulp.

Manchets

19th century, 20th century

Another two-for-one recipe for you this week, based on traditional regional recipes: Guildford Manchets and Lardy Buns, both from the county of Surrey.

Both of these recipes come from Elizabeth David’s classic English Bread and Yeast Cookery (1980). I’ve grouped them together because, with one slight difference, they are made the same way. Also, I like how they are related to two other recipes I’ve already published, from other countries.

According to Mrs David, the recipe for Guildford Manchets originates from “The Surrey Cookbook”, a collection of recipes gathered and published by the Women’s Institute in 1932. The Lardy Buns are listed immediately following, and so the inference is that these too come from Surrey. Whilst it is conceivable that these recipes stretch back into the 19th century, I think it would be a mistake to claim they are medieval in origin, just because they are called ‘manchets’. Yes, there were, of course, medieval manchets, but I’m not entirely sure these are them. I am reminded of the furore that occurred back in 2020 when an American researcher claimed the Cornish pasty was actually ‘invented’ in Devon – the audacity! – merely because he had found the word ‘pasty’ in a 17thC document in the Devon archives.  (Sidebar: I almost got a detached retina from the degree of eye-roll that bit of guff precipitated, especially given the fact that, for starters, the National Archives at Kew hold a document from 1296 that mentions “Simon Le Pasteymaker”.)

ANYHOO…

Both buns are made in the same way, by rolling in additional fat to plain bread dough, the only difference being that Guildford Manchets are made with a combination of lard and butter, and Lardy Buns are made solely with lard. The method is similar to that used to make flaky pastry: rolling out the dough, dotting over the fat, then folding and re-rolling, repeated three or four times. In times past, housewives could buy plain dough from the local baker, and use it for their own needs. It’s a shame that nowadays, the only non-standard purchase we are able to make from a bakery is fresh yeast.

Guildford Manchets

These two recipes are similar to two other traditional recipes I’ve already published. The Guildford Manchets bear a close resemblance to the Kouignettes, the small versions of Kouign Amann, except for the type of fat used and the lack of sugar. Whilst the ones I made for the photo are rolled round, a simpler method would be to cut the rolled dough into squares, fold the corners into the middle, and bake them in small foil baking tins. In Mrs David’s version of Lardy Buns, the use of cutters and the cross-hatching on the top make them very similar to Hungarian Pogácsa, minus the fresh dill. Lardy Buns are still made today, in a small village bakery in Surrey: “Celebration Cakes” in Cranleigh. They make them their own by poking two holes in the top, instead of using the cross-hatching. To my mind, it makes the baked buns look like the snouts of pigs (very cute and very appropriate, given the use of lard in their making).

Lardy Buns

In terms of flavour, the Lardy Buns are definitely on the savoury side, and pairs well with meats and cheeses. Fantastic for ‘breakfast sandwiches’, if that’s something you like. The insides, whilst bready-y, are layered and soft, and the outsides are crispy, like the crust of a pork pie.

The Guildford Manchets have a much richer flavour, thanks to the butter, and are crisp, but also slightly softer overall. More towards a flaky pastry texture. They are equally suited to both sweet and savoury toppings/fillings.

I’m going to combine the methods for both recipes. Best started the night before, the recipe below makes about a dozen (12) of each item. Re-rolling the offcuts from the Lardy Rolls won’t give you the same polished finish, but they will be just as tasty. Baker’s perks! No waste!

Manchets Two Ways

Makes 12 of each type of manchet. You can scale the recipe down by halving it, if you’d prefer to make just one. To make the dough easier to handle all the rolling and folding, chill overnight in the fridge (covered) after the first rise.

For the dough
600g strong white bread flour
1 sachet fast-action yeast
1 tsp salt
water to mix

For Guildford Manchets
60g lard, softened
60g butter, softened

For Lardy Buns
120g lard, softened

To glaze
whole milk

  • Mix the flour, yeast, salt and water (400-500ml, depending on the moisture content of your flour) into a dough.
  • Knead for 10 minutes until smooth, then cover and set aside to rise for 1 hour.
  • Tip out the dough and flatten with the palm of your hand. If you’re chilling the dough overnight, fold the dough into a neat rectangle, wrap in plastic and place in the fridge.
  • When ready to make up the rolls, if making the Guildford Manchets, mash the softened butter and lard together with a fork.
  • If you’re making both types of manchet, divide the dough in half and repeat the following with each half, using the different fats.
  • Roll out the dough into a long rectangle.
  • Dot one third of the fat over the top two-thirds of the dough.
  • Fold the bottom third of the dough upwards and the top third downwards. Turn the folded dough 90° to the left.
  • Repeat the rolling and folding two more times, until all the fat has been used.
  • Roll and fold the dough one final time, without adding any fat.
  • Roll the dough out into a rectangle about 2cm thick
  • For Guildford Manchets
    • Cut the dough into 12 squares.
    • Fold each corner into the middle, then repeat with the ‘inbetween’ edges, pinching them together firmly.
    • Turn the folded dough over, and roll under your cupped hand to form into a smooth ball.
    • Place on a baking sheet lined with parchment.
    • Alternatively, use mini foil pie tins like these, as used in this recipe, and simply fold in the four corners before dropping them into the foil tins. This will help preserve the layers by keeping the fat from running out of the dough and also reduce the possibility of the buns bursting at the seams. No need to cut the buns before baking is using this method.
  • For Lardy Buns
    • Use a small (5 or 6cm diameter) round cutter to cut out the buns.
    • Place on a baking sheet lined with parchment.
  • Set the buns aside to rise for 30 minutes.
  • Heat the oven to 220°C, 200°C Fan.
  • Brush the risen buns with milk, then cut a criss-cross of diamonds into the top of the Lardy Buns and a single deep cut across the top of the Guildford Manchets. OK, here’s the thing. The original instructions for the Guildford Manchets, as reproduced by Mrs David, were to ‘dock through the centre only’ – the logic of which is understandable –  it both lets out steam during baking and exposes the wonderful layers beneath. But as may be observed from the photo, it does also mean that the end result is a bit  ‘Georgia O’Keef’. If you don’t see it, then I urge you to remain in blissful ignorance – it’s probably for the best. Because as we have learned before, baking can be a bawdy business at times. *coughs awkwardly* Moving on…
  • Bake the buns for 20 minutes, turning the trays around after 10 minutes to give an even colouring.
  • Cool on a wire rack.
  • Best served warm.
  • Store in an airtight container.

 

Sticky Toffee Crumble

20th century

It struck me recently that I haven’t posted many pudding recipes of late – and this is a bit of a failing, because who doesn’t enjoy a nice pudding for breakfast at the end of a delicious meal? Consequently, I thought I’d pick a recipe from one of the books on my shelf, and so here we are with a tale of one recipe, two puddings. Two variations on classic British dishes that are sure to delight young and old.

Now – SPOILER ALERT! – I have a few cookbooks  and I must confess I have not read all of them cover to cover. So I’ve decided to make a concerted effort to dig into them more frequently, to hunt out the culinary gems that might be languishing inside.

My current selection is a slim paperback volume entitled “Party Treats: Ulster Home Cooking At It’s Best”. No author, no publication date (my guess would be 1980s/1990s), no introduction, in fact none of the conventions of a published book, it’s just straight into the recipes, no messing about.

In all honesty, some of the recipes leave a bit to be desired in terms of details: the lack of oven temperatures and timings in this book reminds me of the classic manuscript recipes of the 1700s which end with an airy “and so bake it”.

ANYHOO…

The recipe that caught my eye – because it was mentioned on the back cover – was Sticky Toffee Crumble. Quite piqued my interest, because I am a fiend for a good crumble, especially one including oats.

However, when I turned to the relevant page, what I found was a recipe for, essentially, Banoffi Pie Crumble. Not what I was looking for, but then again, nothing to be disappointed about either.

Sticky Toffee Crumble recipe, from Party Treats (Anon., date unknown)

I decided I was still going to try it, and just to make things interesting, make it gluten-free. I also substituted my own crumble topping recipe from this pie (also very delicious – you should go try this one as well!) and my favourite cornflour shortcrust pastry. Since I also renamed the recipe and added baking times and temperatures, I managed to replace practically everything in this recipe bar the initial inspiration. That’s just the way the pudding crumbles.

And it was everything I hoped, with added crumble! The dry crispness of the cornflour pastry is a fantastic contrast to the richness of the caramel filling, and the buttery saltiness of the crumble. The oats add great texture and the cooking of the bananas really intensifies their flavour. I experimented with the placement of the bananas, since the original Banoffi Pie called for them to be placed on top of the caramel, but beneath the caramel is definitely the way to go: as can be sen in the top picture, their colour and texture are preserved. Bananas placed on top of the caramel (and under the crumble) became dark and chewy – not altogether a bad thing – but having tasted both, the way stated in the original recipe is by far the best.

All these positive points notwithstanding, it wasn’t the original Sticky Toffee Crumble, which had originally drawn me to this recipe.

So I set off on a hunt for a Sticky Toffee Pudding recipe that could be adapted to the crumble pudding of my imagination. I didn’t have to look far because I came across “The Flavour of Britain” (1978) edited by Kenneth Mitchell (available at The Internet Archive). Not because it is a best seller – I have no idea how successful it was – but because of the provenance of the recipe, in small text, at the bottom of the page:

Acknowledgement to: Sharrow Bay Country House Hotel, Lake Ullswater, Cumbria.

As some of you may know, the Sharrow Bay hotel was where Sticky Toffee Pudding (STP) was popularised in the 1970s by Francis Coulson and Robert Lee. Sidebar: the Wikipedia page claims the pudding was invented in Yorkshire in 1907, with no reference to back the claim, which is disappointing in several ways. Do better, Wikipedia.  As far as recipe provenance goes, this is pretty definitive, in my opinion, so it is the one I’m going with.

Now, aficionados  and experienced makers of STP will already be aware, the raw mix for the pudding is incredibly liquid, much more so than even a sponge cake batter, so adding crumble to the raw mixture is just not going to work. After a bit of experimentation, the solution is to add the crumble during baking, when the mixture has cooked enough to support it, but also while there’s still time enough for the crumble to bake through.

And so with all that, LET’S GET READY TO CRRRRUUMMMMBLLLLLE!!! (I am so sorry)

Banoffi Pie Crumble whole and sliced, showing the effect of baking on banana position: top slice with (pale) bananas under the caramel, bottom slice with (darker) bananas on top of the caramel.

Banoffi Pie Crumble

Serves 4-8 people

(In the UK) You can buy tins of Carnation Caramel (sweetened condensed milk transformed into the toffee filling) in the supermarket. I find it sweeter than the older, traditional method of making your own, and the set is not as firm unless well chilled in the fridge. Alternatively, you can make your own by putting tins of regular condensed milk into a slow cooker filled with water (enough to cover the tins well), and cooking on Low for 8-10 hours (I usually cook them overnight). NB DO NOT open tins until completely cooled.
Serving suggestion: Just to reinforce the origins in Banoffi Pie, you could serve this crumble, warm or cold, with the original topping of unsweetened whipped cream flavoured with espresso coffee powder, on the side.

I made 4 x 10cm square small-ish tarts. The resulting tarts were quite substantial and one tart would make a generous serving for 2 people, hence the range of serving portions suggested above.

Cornflour Shortcrust Pastry
60g cornflour
225g plain gluten-free flour (I used Doves Farm GF White Bread flour) [1]
140g butter
ice-cold water

  • Put all the dry ingredients into the bowl of a food processor and blitz until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.
  • Gradually add the water, one tablespoon at a time, until the mixture comes together in a ball.
  • Knead smooth, then roll out thinly (3-4mm).
  • Cut baking parchment to fit your tart tins.
  • Line your chosen tart tins, first with the parchment paper, then with the pastry, easing the pastry into the corners/sides.
  • Leave the excess pastry overhanging the sides and put the tart tins to rest in the fridge until required.

Crumble Mixture
30g butter
30g lard
30g light Muscovado sugar
90g Doves Farm gluten-free plain white flour
1/2 tsp xanthan gum
1/4 tsp of salt
60g gluten-free steel-rolled oats[2]

  • Put everything except the oats into a food processor and blitz briefly until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.
  • Pour the mixture into a bowl and add the oats. Stir to combine.
  • Set aside until required.

1 x 397ml tin sweetened condensed milk (OR a tin of Carnation caramel)
2-3 bananas

To Serve
300ml double cream
1-2 tsp espresso coffee powder

  • (The day before) Turn your condensed milk into caramel by cooking in a slow cooker for 8 hours. Allow to cool.
  • Make the shortcrust pastry as above.
  • Heat the oven to 200°C, 180°C Fan.
  • Retrieve the tart tins from the fridge and trim and crimp the edges.
  • Slice the bananas and arrange the slices in the bottom of the tart tins.
  • Open your tin of caramel and tip into a small pan. Warm gently (it makes it easier to spread).
  • Add just under 90g of caramel to each tart. Spread evenly over the bananas.
  • Spoon ¼ of the crumble mixture onto each tart.
  • Arrange the tins on a baking sheet and bake for 30 minutes, turning the tins around after 15 minutes to ensure even colouring.
  • Set aside to cool.
  • If liked, chill in the fridge once cooled, until required.
  • To Serve: Whisk together the double cream and the espresso powder and serve on the side.
Sticky Toffee Crumble

Sticky Toffee Crumble

I used a 20cm square tin for this. The recipe says it serves six, but when I measured out the dimensions for six servings, they were alarmingly large. Of course, serving numbers are just arbitrary numbers. With a spoon and a can-do attitude, referring to this as a ‘serves one’ recipe could prove just as valid. ANYHOO… What with the overarching sweetness, the addition of the crumble and the rich indulgence of the sauce, I’m going to recommend this as sufficient for 8-12 servings. Whether those servings are subsequently all consumed by the same individual is beyond my purview and we can gently lower the cone of discretion over the whole subject.

60g Stork margarine or softened butter
175g soft, dark brown sugar
1 large egg
200g Doves Farm gluten-free plain white flour
1tsp xanthan gum
1tsp baking powder
250ml water
175g pitted dates, cut into small cubes
1tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp vanilla extract

Crumble mixture (see above)

Toffee Sauce
150g unsalted butter
200g soft, dark brown sugar
100ml double cream
¼ tsp salt

  • Line a 20cm square tin with baking parchment.
  • Heat the oven to 180°C, 160°C Fan.
  • Pour the water into a small pan and bring to the boil.
  • Remove the pan from the heat and add the chopped dates, bicarbonate of soda and vanilla. Stir. Set aside to soften for 5 minutes.
  • Sift together the flour, xanthan gum, baking powder.
  • Put the fat, sugar and egg into a bowl and whisk until combined.
  • Add the flour mixture in two batches, stirring well until combined.
  • Add the date mixture – yes, including the water – and mix thoroughly. Get right to the bottom of the bowl with a spatula to ensure everything is fully combined.
  • Pour the mixture into your prepared tin.
  • Bake for 25 minutes.
  • After your cake has been baking for 25 minutes, lide the shelf with the tin on halfway out of the oven and sprinkle over the crumble mixture. Make sure it gets right to the edges/corners.
  • Gently slide the shelf back into the oven and bake for a further 20-25 minutes, until the cake is cooked through and the crumble on the top crisped and lightly browned.
  • Remove from the oven and set aside to cool slightly.
  • Mix the toffee sauce.
    • Put all of the ingredients into a small saucepan and heat gently, while stirring, until the butter has melted and the sugar dissolved.
    • Simmer over a gentle heat for 3-5 minutes until ready to serve.
  • Slice the cake into portions and serve with the sauce either poured over, or on the side.

 

[1] You can also use plain gluten-free plain flour, but be sure to check if it contains xanthan gum. Doves Farm Gluten Free Plain White Flour does not. You can add it yourself – 1 teaspoon for this quantity of flour. Xanthan gum is available in the gluten-free aisle of most supermarkets.

[2] I prefer the gluten-free oats sold in Morrison’s because they look like regular steel-rolled oats. Whatever process is involved in removing the gluten, it seems to take a very large toll on the gluten-free oats sold by other brands, and they come out looking very crumbly and ¾ of the way to flour. The Morrison’s GF oats look altogether prettier.

Easter Baking

17th century, 19th century

Two recipes for you this week, both of which are ancestors of recipes we still use today: a Good Friday Cake, and Easter Cakes. Both recipes come from manuscripts held by the National Library of Scotland.

Good Friday Cake recipe, from the manuscript of Dorothy Best, circa 1688, National Library of Scotland.

The Good Friday Cake is a yeasted saffron bun, lightly spiced and speckled with either currants or raisins. Links to our modern Hot Cross Buns are obvious. The use of saffron gives the cooked buns a wonderfully golden crust. The recipe doesn’t give an exact quantity of saffron, rather it suggest “two penny-worth”. In terms of translating this into a modern recipe, it’s probably better to go by the quantity of dough your working with to guide you.  I’ve scaled this recipe down to 1/14th scale, working with just 1lb/450g of flour. Consequently, I suggest just a pinch of saffron. Sidebar: in culinary terms, a pinch is usually the quantity of whatever you’re measuring that can be picked up using two fingers and your thumb. However, due to the strength/expense of saffron, the smaller finger-and-thumb pinch is all that is required here.

For the Easter Cakes, we revisit the eccentrically-spelled Bakery Book (my own nickname for it) dating from the early 19th century. Easter Cake recipes are still being made today, with modern variations including a range of spices and/or lemon zest. To avoid confusion, they are nowadays usually referred to as Easter Biscuits. As I’ve mentioned before, back in the day, the word ‘cake’ was used to refer to anything round and relatively flat in shape. I’ve read ‘cake’ recipes for sugar drops, lozenges, incense pellets, fruit drops, biscuits, buns, crackers, small cakes, large cakes and preserved herbs.

Easter Cakes recipe from an anonymous, hand-written commercial bakery book, dating from 1827, National Library of Scotland.

I’ve spent so much time reading handwritten manuscripts, and many laborious hours with this manuscript in particular, I can now read the above recipe at something resembling a ‘normal’ speed, but for anyone interested but deterred, I offer the following ‘translation’:

Easter Cakes for shops or for tables.
First, take 1½lb butter and 1½lb of coarse sugar rolled clear of lumps, and clean currants and finely sieved cinnamon, then rub that all fine into 4lb flour and then make a bay in the flour so and take ½oz volatile salts and dissolve it into a little milk and then pour that into it and enough milk for to wet that into a good stiff paste and roll that out into a thin thin sheets and cut them out round with tin cutters and crimp the edges of them all round so [diagram] and then put on very slightly-greased tins so far apart [diagram] and slightly wash the tops over with fine sieved loaf sugar and a little milk and bake in a sharp oven and stand on the tins until cold and keep dry and clean.

So! We meet again, Mr Volington Salts.

There are but a few tweaks of this recipe required in order to bring it into something usable by today’s standards.

  • Volatile salts (aka Baker’s Ammonia)  were used for aeration in the years before the invention of baking powder. During baking, the heat of the oven causes the ammonium carbonate/bicarbonate to decompose into ammonia, carbon dioxide, and water, providing both puff and crispness to baked goods, without any aftertaste. You can still buy it today (it is especially good for certain gingerbreads), although your kitchen should be well ventilated in order to disperse the ammonia properly. Substituting baking powder for the volatile salts is a straightforward swap.
  • We no longer need to smash out the lumps in our coarse sugar – Demerera sugar is an excellent substitute.
  • Cinnamon can easily be purchased finely ground and lump-free.
  • Hand crimping biscuits is no longer required and a fluted, round cutter will do the job in a fraction of the time.
  • Using parchment paper ensures your biscuits do not stick to the baking sheets and also reduces washing up afterwards.
  • Caster sugar can be used for the finely-sieved loaf sugar.

I hope you enjoy trying these two Easter resurrections from times past.

Good Friday Cake

Delicious sliced, toasted and spread with salted butter.

200ml milk
a pinch of saffron strands
1lb plain flour
50g unsalted butter
0.5 tsp ground cloves
0.5 tsp ground mace
100ml warm water
1 sachet fast-action yeast

35g raisins
35g currants

milk to glaze

  • Put the milk into a small pan with the saffron and bring to a simmer.
  • Remove from the heat, cover and allow to steep for 20 minutes.
  • Put the flour, butter, cloves, mace and yeast into a food processor and pulse until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.
  • Pour the saffron mixture and the water into the bowl of a stand mixer.
  • Add the flour mixture and knead for 10 minutes.
  • Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and allow to rise for 1 hour.
  • Tip out the risen dough and divide in half.
  • Flatten the dough and sprinkle over the dried fruit – currants in one half, raisins in the other.
  • Shape into rounds and flatten slightly. Each bun will be about 15cm in diameter.
  • Cover lightly with a cloth and set to rise for about 30 minutes.
  • Heat the oven to 180°C, 160°C Fan.
  • Cut a deep cross into the centre of each bun. Be sure not to cut through the edges. My dough scraper is just about the perfect width for this.
  • Brush the tops with milk and bake for 30-40 minutes, turning the tray around after 25 minutes to help even the colour.
  • Cool on a wire rack and store in an airtight container.

Easter Cakes

Makes about 35 biscuits.

I made these gluten-free with a mixture of gluten-free flour and xanthan gum. If you’re fine with gluten, just use regular plain flour.

225g gluten-free flour + ½ tsp xanthan gum
1 rounded tsp ground cinnamon
2 level tsp baking powder
85g unsalted butter
85g Demerera sugar
85g currants

milk to mix & glaze
caster sugar to sprinkle

  • Heat the oven to 180°C, 160°C Fan.
  • Put the flour, xanthan gum, cinnamon, baking powder and butter into the bowl of a food processor and pulse until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.
  • Tip the mixture into a bowl and add the currants and sugar.
  • Moisten with milk and stir until the mixture comes together into a dough.
  • Knead briefly and turn out onto a floured surface.
  • Roll out thinly (5mm) and cut into biscuits using a crimped, 5cm diameter cutter.
  • Lay the biscuits onto baking sheets lined with parchment paper.
  • Brush the tops with milk and lightly sprinkle with caster sugar.
  • Bake for 15-20 minutes or until the edges are a light golden brown, turning the tins around after 10 minutes to help even the colour.
  • Cool on the tins for 10 minutes, then finish cooling on a wire rack.
  • Store in an airtight container.

Pepper Gingerbread

17th century, 18th century, Cakes, Small Cakes

What’s this? Two posts in one week? Yes, I’m spoiling you. But it was something I came across when looking for recipes to celebrate Mothering Sunday, and just couldn’t resist.

To Make Gingerbread My Mother’s Way, c1675, MS7849, Wellcome Collection

Apart from the whole ‘Mother’ connection, I like that this recipe page is rather splattered and smudged, indicating that it was well loved, and it now proudly displays its battle-worn scars from many a baking day. The manuscript has been dated as circa 1675. Whilst this particular manuscript might well have been started around then, I’m no handwriting expert (I’ve just read thousands of recipes), but I’m thinking that this recipe is written is a more modern hand, so I’ve suggested both 17th and 18th centuries as suitable source dates.

This recipe require only the slightest tweak in order to bring it to a 21st century palate, namely switching the raising agent from barm to bicarbonate of soda. As mentioned numerous times in my writings, initially I like to bake recipes as they are written, as far as is possible. I also invariably reduce the quantities of ingredients, as recipes from times past tend to be on the large side, baking as they were for entire households: you don’t want to expend great expense on large quantities of ingredients only to find you have a complete dud of a recipe on your hands.

I’ve had to guesstimate ‘spoonful’ quantities for the spices and I must have been doing something right, because the first batch I made tasted delightful. The texture was what let it down: even using an entire sachet of fast-action yeast (which I suspect is much more sprightly than traditional barm) failed to make any noticeable impression on the soft gingerbread paste, and it clunked heavily onto the counter top when I turned it out of the tin. I suspect the weightiness of the treacle was just too much for the yeast to handle. However, adding just half a teaspoon of bicarbonate of soda produced a close-textured but pleasantly spongy result.

The spices are a fantastic, if rather unusual, mixture: ginger, caraway seeds, pepper and nutmeg. The overall flavour is definitely ginger, but it is also rounded out with hints of the other spices. Don’t skimp on the caraway seeds – for one batch I made I put less than the recipe indicated because I ran out, and the difference was noticeable and not as full-bodied as the original.

My final tweak was to add a shiny glaze, to really bring out the jewel-like colours of the candied peels. You can use a variety of sweet syrups and/or honey to achieve a great shine, but I like the gelatine glaze as it gives shine without stickiness, and you can store any excess glaze in the fridge for use with other things.

Pepper Gingerbread

This is, conveniently, a one-pot bake, as everything is gradually mixed together in a single saucepan before being turned into the tin for baking. I have used a small, low-sided pan, but a long, narrow tart tin would also do. If you’re not in the mood to make your own candied peel, you can buy large piece peel online.¹

150ml treacle
75g unsalted butter
75g soft, dark-brown sugar
1 large egg – beaten
1 tbs caraway seeds
1.5 tsp ground ginger
1.5 tsp grated nutmeg
0.5 tsp ground white pepper
0.5 tsp bicarbonate of soda
250g plain flour

Topping
2 quarters of candied lemon peel – sliced thinly
2 quarters candied orange peel – sliced thinly
1 medium piece candied citron – sliced thinly

Glaze (optional)
150ml water
50g caster sugar
1 sheet leaf gelatine

  • Line a shallow 18cm x 28cm baking tray with parchment paper.
  • Put the treacle, butter and sugar into a small pan and set over low heat (2) until the butter is melted.
  • Remove from the heat, stir, and set aside to cool to body temperature (you don’t want to cook the egg by having it too hot).
  • Whisk in the beaten egg.
  • Sift the spices, seeds, bicarb and flour together.
  • Add to the saucepan and stir until well combined, with no flour visible at all.
  • Pour the mixture into the parchment-lined pan and smooth over. The paste will be quite soft and will ‘settle’ into the pan on its own accord.
  • Heat the oven to 170°C, 150°C Fan.
  • Lay the thin strips of candied peel onto the top of the gingerbread. To reproduce the pattern in the top photograph, lay a ‘stripe’ of orange peel the length of the pan, then repeat with lemon and then again with citron. Repeat these stripes until the whole of the gingerbread is covered.
  • Bake the gingerbread for 25 minutes, turning the tin around halfway through.
  • Remove the gingerbread from the oven and brush with the gelatine glaze.
  • Allow to cool in the tin.

Glaze
While the gingerbread is baking,

  • Bloom the sheet of gelatine in water.
  • Put the sugar and water into a small pan and stir over medium heat until the sugar is dissolved.
  • Remove from the heat and add the bloomed gelatine. Stir until melted.

Cutting the gingerbread into bars:

¹ Websites I have used for orange and lemon caps include Wholefoods Online and Wilton Wholefoods. Citron is rather tricky. I made some a while ago, buying the fresh fruit from My Exotic Fruits, and still have some left, but it seems that sourcing it in Europe might be the only way to buy it ready-made nowadays. You could just use orange and lemon, or make some using grapefruit/pomelo peel.

Apple Cream

18th century, Pudding

Recently, I was browsing my collection of manuscript recipes, looking for something suitable for the upcoming Mothers Day, also known as Mothering Sunday.

I have already posted about the original Simnel Cake, which has more recently morphed into a marzipan-layered fruit cake. But to be honest, my reaction to thoughts of doing anything with marzipan is, pretty much as it has always been:

Blanche from The Golden Girls sighing heavily.

I know it’s very much a part of traditional baked goods in the UK, but exposure to the neon-yellow, heavily almond-flavoured monstrosity of my youth has left its scars. Some day I shall get around to rehabilitating my taste-buds, but for now, to paraphrase the words of Syrio Forel: What do we say to things with marzipan? Not today.

So I decided to go another way and make something that many manuscript authors decide is important enough to be recorded in their book: a recipe from their own mother. The recipes they wish to preserve are many and varied, ranging from jams and marmalades, custards, pastry, cheesecakes and puddings, to spiced meats, possets, biscuits, cakes and more.

Handwritten recipe for Apple Cream, from a manuscript dated circa 1725, MS1343, at the Wellcome Collection
Apple Cream, circa 1725, MS1343, Wellcome Collection

This recipe from Deborah Branch’s manuscript, dates from 1725, the early years of the Hanoverian Era. It is a simple recipe, with arguably just three ingredients, and it suggests to me that it is a treasured childhood memory: Cooked apples, bread, custard. It is served cold, and can be assembled just before serving, if more suited to your circumstances. The textures play a large part in the enjoyment of this recipe: the firm, coldness of the cooked apple, the lightness of the cream and the crunch of the toasted bread are very ‘toothsome’, as they used to say. The recipe suggests assembling and then chilling, however this will impact the crispness of the toasted bread, so I would recommend making and chilling everything, then assembling when required.

A word or two about the ingredients.

  • Apples: I’ve tried this recipe with both Bramley cooking apples and (Cox’s) eating apples. Both are good in different ways. The Bramleys are much bigger (so fewer are needed) and are less prone to holding their shape. Time the cooking just right and they have a fantastic texture, soft on the outside and firm yet still cooked in the centre, but even if they tip over into fluff, their flavour is still wonderful, especially if you’ve used either light or dark brown sugar. Eating apples hold their shape much better and are a great contrast against the crisp bread and creamy custard. Personally, I prefer to use Bramley apples – their sharpness is a great contrast against the sweetness of the toasted buns and cream.
  • Bread: the original recipe just calls for ‘slices of bread’ to act as a base, but this didn’t seem to offer much, especially not in texture. I recently read a recipe for a trifle that had the bread toasted, and I thought that sounded much more exciting (yes, dearest gentle reader, I really did just admit to toast sounding exciting. Hey, I live in the wilds of the countryside, we gotta take our entertainment where we can!). You can tinker with this recipe merely by changing the bread you choose – airy sourdough,  an enriched brioche, even dark rye bread or malt loaf. I chose to go with spiced hot cross buns, as a nod to the Easter season in general, and I can highly recommend this option.
  • Cream/Custard: despite the title, the cream proved to be a rich custard made with egg yolks and cream. I’m always pondering the type of cream they mean in old recipes, because here in the 21st century we’re rather spoiled for choice. But you can use the same tweaks here as for the bread option: I used single/pouring cream, but you could enrich it by switching to whipping, double, extra thick or even clotted for a real indulgence. The ‘set’ wasn’t very firm – and I liked that – but if you prefer a set to your custard cream, just add a rounded teaspoon of cornflour (mixed to a slurry with milk) to the eggs and sugar.

Apple Cream c.1725

This recipe can be customised to both your liking and your needs. I offer the following quantities as a guide to serving four people, but the quantities of each can be doubled for large appetites/extra portions.

Bramley Apples x 2 ( ½ an apple per person)
OR
Eating/Dessert Apples x 4 (1 apple per person)
4 tbs sugar – caster, light or dark brown

2 x Hot Cross Buns

300ml single cream
3 large egg yolks
1-2 tbs caster sugar – or more to your taste
flavouring – 1tsp rosewater/orange flower water/vanilla/lemon zest – or other
1 rounded tsp cornflour & milk to mix (optional)

  • Cook the apples: Peel the apples and cut into halves. Remove the cores. Sprinkle over sugar to your taste. About 1tbs per half-apple.
  • Add the apple halves to a pan with a lid (preferably a glass one so you can easily keep an eye on the apples as they cook.
  • Sprinkle 1tsp water per apple into the pan, just to keep the sugar from scorching until the juices start to run.
  • Cover the pan and turn the heat to low (4 on my hob).
  • Allow the apples to poach gently until just cooked through – for Bramley Apples about 15 minutes, eating apples will be closer to 20 minutes.
  • Switch off the heat and allow the apples to cool in the pan. When cold, transfer them and any juice to a dish and chill in the fridge until required.
  • Toast the bread. Tear your buns/bread into small pieces and spread out on a baking sheet.
  • Toast the bread under the grill until crisped and turning brown at the edges.
  • Cool on the baking sheet and when cold, transfer to a ziplock bag or airtight container until needed.
  • Prepare the cream. Pour the cream into a small saucepan and bring to a gentle simmer – when the edges are just bubbling.
  • While the cream is heating, whisk the yolks with the sugar. If you’re using cornflour, add the slurry now.
  • Pour the scalded cream onto the yolks, whisking, then return the mixture to the pan.
  • Whisk the custard over medium heat until it has thickened. Take care it doesn’t boil, as it will turn the cream grainy.
  • Remove from the heat, stir through your flavouring and set aside. If not assembling immediately, cover the surface with plastic wrap to prevent a skin forming.

To Assemble

You can make this recipe in a large trifle bowl, but I think individual servings are much more attractive.

  • Cover the base of your dish with toasted bread/buns. If your bread has softened put it into the oven to crisp it up. Alternatively, prep and chill the cream and apples beforehand and toast the bread just before serving.
  • Arrange your cooked apples (or apple fluff if your Bramleys went a bit too far) over the toast. Drizzle any juices over as well.
  • Spoon your custard cream over the apples. I like to leave gaps here and there to allow the other ingredients to peep through.
  • Top with chopped/flaked nuts, sugar crystals, candied fruit or whipped cream as liked.

 

Onion Soup

17th century, 18th century, 19th century, soup

There’s nothing quite like a hearty soup for filling and warming you up on a brisk winter’s day. I’m patriotic for British food and deep down I must confess being a little resentful of the popularity of French Onion Soup. Nothing against the French, but recently, I starting pondering why we don’t have a decent British Onion Soup? After all, onions have been part of our food landscape for over 1500 years, brought by the Romans, presumably because our native alliums did not, pardon the pun, cut the mustard.

So I leapt, gazelle-like, to my collection of handwritten manuscripts to see what was occurring back in the day, and found many an onion soup, if not alive and kicking, then robustly chopped and simmering for many a decade.

I have selected three such soups for your delectation today, each of them delicious (obvs), each of them different in subtle, surprising ways. In deference to modern eating habits, one is vegan, one is vegetarian and one is whipped up with an unashamedly meaty stock.

Feel free to serve your onion soup with whatever garnishes take your fancy: crusty bread, cheesy croutons, spring onions/chives, grated cheese…

Which ever you choose, I hope you’ll enjoy warming yourself up with some/all of them .

White Onion Soup, circa 1820

Gluten-free.

A Georgian White Onion Soup, circa 1820, MS7854, Wellcome Collection

This recipe caught my eye first and foremost because it is the first recipe in an anonymous, early 19thC manuscript. I like to imagine the author excitedly beginning a new recipe collection and what’s their first choice? Boom! White Onion Soup! I, not unreasonably, assumed this would be a banger of a recipe. I was also intrigued because of it’s title – specifying ‘white’ – unlike the majority of the onion soup recipes. It isn’t in reference to a specific type of onion, so I thought maybe it was for something cream or milk-based, thus resulting in a light-coloured soup. Turns out, it is quite the opposite, as the cooking liquid is made from two very meaty stocks of lamb and beef, and the onions are initially simmered with some lean ham/bacon. After much thought, I’ve come to the conclusion that ‘white’ refers to how the onions are treated, i.e. not browned or coloured. In each white onion soup recipe I found, the onions were either gently stewed in butter or initially parboiled in water. Cream was added at the end, as is recommended in this recipe, but having tasted this soup both before and after the addition of cream, my recommendation is to omit it altogether: the mix of meat broths give a light and delicate flavour that is as savoury as it is surprising, given its dark colouring. It is deliciously complex.

A bowl of onion soup, showing chopped onion in a dark meat broth
White Onion Soup with meat broth

For the stock
2 strong beef stock pots/cubes
2 lamb stock pots/cubes
1 blade of mace
3 whole cloves
1 tbs black peppercorns
2 litres water

800g brown onions
120g unsalted butter
½ gammon steak or  120g lean back bacon

salt and pepper
cream to taste (optional)

  • Put the ingredients for the stock into a large saucepan.
  • Bring gently to a boil, stirring until the stock pots have dissolved, then turn down the heat  and simmer, uncovered, for about an hour, or until reduced to 1.5 litres.
  • While the stock is simmering, peel and chop the onions finely.
  • Melt the butter in a pan and add the onions and gammon/bacon and toss to coat.
  • Cook the onions in the butter over a low heat, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent. Stir to keep them from catching any colour.
  • When the stock is ready, strain out the solids and return the stock to the saucepan.
  • Remove the gammon from the pan, then add the softened onions and butter to the stock.
  • Simmer the soup for 10-15 minutes, then taste and adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper. Since the stock pots are already quite heavily salted, you may not need anything further.
  • Chop the gammon/bacon finely and return to the soup if liked, or use it elsewhere (sandwich, salad, omelette, etc).
  • Serve hot, with cream if preferred.

Late Stuart Onion Soup, circa 1700

Vegetarian. Gluten-free.

Late Stuart Onion Soup, circa 1700, MS1811, Wellcome Collection

This onion soup is about a century older than the one above, and is the kind of recipe I love in that it gives several options when making it to tailor it to your own personal tastes. I do love multi-purpose recipes! This is a recipe where the onions are browned/caramelised, and you can feel free to decide how dark to take them, according to your personal preference. The recipe actually calls for them to be ‘blackish’, which I think is a bit far, but certainly they should be brown and maybe a little dark on the edges also.

I love the addition of the fresh herbs in the cooking liquid, adding a real savoury note to the soup. This recipe also suggests ways in which the soup can be enriched, either by the addition of milk or broth for the cooking liquid, but only either one or the other, never both together. Adding milk to hot liquids can be tricky, because it is prone to curdling if you take your eye off the pan for a second and the soup gets too hot. One solution would be to use double cream, as the additional fat content helps to prevent curdling, but this might prove too rich for some palates. I recommend using a small can of evaporated milk: its caramel notes being very complimentary to the browned onions, and also much less likely to curdle.

Creamy caramelised onion soup with fresh herbs

800g onions
1 level tsp salt
125g unsalted butter
1200ml cold water
3 sprigs fresh thyme + more to garnish
12 stalks fresh parsley + more to garnish
EITHER evaporated milk – 1 small tin (170ml) or to taste from a large tin (410ml) OR 500ml beef stock
black pepper to taste

  • Peel and slice the onions into semi-circles.
  • Melt the butter in a large pan, preferably non-stick
  • Add the onions and cook slowly over a medium-low (6 of 9) heat, stirring occasionally, until browned to your liking. This will take a while, probably 30 minutes or more. Sprinkling the onions with the salt will help draw out their moisture and speed up the browning process a little.
  • When the onions are browned to your liking, add the water, thyme and parsley.
  • Simmer with the herbs for 20-30 minutes. NB Fresh thyme can be quite potent, so check along the way how your soup is tasting – you might want to fish out the thyme stalks sooner rather than later.
  • Add your enrichment liquids – either evaporated milk or beef stock – and heat through.
  • Taste and adjust the seasoning to your palate.
  • Serve.

Martha Bradley’s Onion Soup with Vinegar, 1758

Vegan. Vegetarian. Dairy-free. Gluten-free*.

This onion soup recipe is the most surprising of the three. I have adjusted it slightly in order to make it vegan (oil for butter), but that’s not what is surprising.

No, the surprising part is the flavour: bold and hearty with a real punch of richness and then brightness brought by the vinegar. I looked up this rather unusual combination, and found several versions, some of which were entitled “Drunk Soup” and emphasized the restorative properties of such a soup when recovering from over-indulgence: the sweetness of the onions providing restorative energy to the body and the vinegar providing balance to the fat/richness.

Another unusual aspect is the use of another soup to give body to the onion soup. ‘Pease soup’ is made from dried peas, not fresh garden peas, and is usually simmered with a ham hock in the making to give a thick and hearty soup. Obviously that wouldn’t do if I was to keep this recipe vegan, so not having any dried peas to hand, I opted for a tin of lentil soup, reasoning that both peas and lentils are farinaceous in texture and also vegan. I figured I could switch things around later if the recipe showed promise. However, it made for such an extraordinary soup I had absolutely no notes, so the recipe neither needed nor got any further tweaks.

It is my favourite of all three soups and epitomises why old British recipes are worthy of perseverance: this recipe was just tucked away in a relatively unknown, mid-eighteenth century book and it turns out to be a classic.

Martha Bradley's Onion Soup with Vinegar, "The British Housewife" 1758
Martha Bradley’s Onion Soup with Vinegar, “The British Housewife” 1758

600g brown onions
2tbs vegetable oil
2 level tbs cornflour
salt and pepper to taste
1 x 400g tin Heinz Lentil Soup*(See note [1] below)
1-2tbs vinegar (your choice of type)

  • Peel and slice the onions either in half moons or vertically.
  • Add the vegetable oil to a large pan and tip in the onions.
  • Stir the onions over a medium-low heat (6 of 9) until softened and browned. Again, you can take the browning to whatever degree you like, but a mid-brown will take about 30 minutes.
  • Add the cornflour and stir in. Cook for a couple of minutes.
  • Open the tin of soup and pour into a bowl. Fill the tin with water and add it to the bowl. Use a stick blender to puree the mixture smooth, then pour the blended and diluted soup into the onion mixture.
  • Stir the soup/onion mixture. It will thicken quite quickly. Decide whether the soup is thick enough or too thick for your tastes. Add another soup-tin of water to dilute it, if liked.
  • Add vinegar of your choice. This can be any kind of vinegar: white, distilled, rice, sherry, malt, wine, cider, balsamic – whatever you have to hand. I would caution you to add a teaspoon at a time and stir it in thoroughly before tasting and adding more. A relatively mild white balsamic might require the full two tablespoons, but distilled vinegar merely a teaspoon or two.
  • Heat through and serve.

 

 

 

[1] Heinz Lentil Soup is vegan, even though it only says Vegetarian on the tin. It contains wheat flour (presumably for thickening purposes), making it not strictly gluten-free. I have developed some sensitivity to gluten, and yet I experienced no adverse effects, which leads me to assume it is only there in trace quantities. Not everyone is the same, so in order to keep this strictly gluten-free, I recommend making your own lentil/split-pea soup. My suggestion is for using yellow split peas due to their colour (a better match to the caramelised onions than green peas – although I could be wrong. Let me know!), dried black Carlin peas or even dried white beans/peas.

Stuffing Loaf

20th century, 21st Century

This recipe might be my finest creation since The Ploughman’s Loaf!

If the name of the blog weren’t already a huge clue, I am a big fan of leftovers, and the bigger the occasion, the greater my happiness.

Because however wonderful the celebratory meal, opening the fridge the next day to an array of already-cooked food requiring only a little reheating – or in the best cases, none at all – is a thing of beauty.

Boxing Day is arguably the Christmas Day of deja food, with the greatest selection of food possibilities. The simplest way to sample these delights is the humble sandwich: a little turkey or chicken, a little ham, a little cranberry, some stuffing…

But the problem with all these little bits here and there is that before long, you’re quickly headed towards a sandwich of Dagwood proportions.

In addition, I love some texture to my sandwiches – the popularity of adding crisps to sandwiches in the UK is well acknowledged. In traditional roast dinners, the stuffing is frequently the star on the plate: crunchy on top, soft underneath, and packed with savoury flavour. However, as a deja food, it loses much of its appeal, being rather bulky and in texture, veering towards the claggy.

The recipe I have here is the solution, and is so simple, I’m surprised it hasn’t occurred to me before: instead of breadcrumbs in the stuffing, put the stuffing flavourings into the bread. The bread can then be toasted for a sandwich and provide crunch and taste without the resulting sandwich requiring the unhinging of one’s jaw.

This recipe is based on my Traditional Stuffing recipe, although you can also use it as a basis for making a loaf from your own family stuffing recipes. To my lovely American readers, I hope you’ll enjoy saving money by making sandwiches at home with this bread on the day after Thanksgiving, instead of joining the wrestling matches at the Black Friday sales.

A toasted Stuffing Loaf sandwich with cold chicken, ham and cranberry sauce

Stuffing Loaf

When cooked, this loaf will be a lot heavier than your regular white loaf – after all, it will have an additional half a kilo of onions in it – but provided you let it have sufficient rising times, the crumb will be open and moist (see top photo).

500g onions
60ml vegetable oil
salt and pepper
1 tbs  each dried “Scarborough Fair” herbs, i.e. parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme
1 tbs chicken bouillon powder (optional)
2 sachets fast action yeast
600g strong white bread flour
500ml warm water

  • Peel and chop the onions into 2cm squares.
  • Add the oil to a pan and set over medium-low heat (4 on a 1-9 scale).
  • Add the onions and toss in the oil to coat.
  • Sprinkle with 1tsp of salt to help draw out the moisture.
  • Cook gently until the onions are softened but not coloured, stirring occasionally  – about 15-20 minutes.
  • Season with pepper and sprinkle in the dried herbs and stir to mix in. Cook for another 2 minutes, then remove from the heat and set aside.
  • Mix the bouillon (if using), yeast and flour together.
  • In a large bowl – stand mixer or other – pour in the warm water and add the onion mixture.
  • Add the flour mixture and knead into a dough – around 10 minutes.
  • Cover the bowl with plastic and set in a warm place to rise for at least 1 hour, probably a little longer, until doubled in size.
  • Tip the risen dough out onto a floured work surface and form into a loaf shape.
  • Drop the dough into a large (1kg/2lb) greased loaf tin. Dust the top with flour and lightly cover with plastic. The dough will fill the tin to about 3/4 of its height.
  • Set the loaf aside to rise for at least 30 minutes.
  • Heat the oven to 220°C, 200°C Fan.
  • Arrange the oven shelves so that there is a solid shelf below the rack shelf.
  • Fill a cup with water.
  • When the loaf has risen (and nicely rounded above the edge of the tin), move it into the oven and onto the rack shelf.
  • Pour the cup of water onto the solid shelf and close the oven. The steam will help the formation of the crust.
  • Bake for 30 minutes.
  • Turn the loaf tin around and bake for another 20 minutes.
  • Remove the loaf from the tin and return it to the oven on the rack shelf and bake without the tin for 10 minutes to crisp the crust.
  • Remove the loaf from the oven and cool on a wire rack.
A hot toasted Stuffing Loaf sandwich with chicken and gravy

The Day After Sandwich

Whether it’s Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter or just your regular Sunday roast, The Day After Sandwich made with Stuffing Loaf is a delicious treat. Obviously, you can make a sandwich any way you like, but I thought I’d offer a couple of suggestions with special reference to using your stuffing loaf.

  • Toast the bread: You’ll get the best stuffing flavour from the bread if its toasted, but here’s my recommendation – ONLY TOAST ONE SIDE OF EACH SLICE. This will give a nice crunch to the outsides and a good contrast with the softness of the filling. Toast both sides by all means, but I found that a bit too crunchy (tho’ that’s probably because I cut the slices thin – approx 1cm).
    Now my kitchen has a minuscule amount of counter space, so I don’t have room for a toaster. Consequently, when I want to make toast, I use the oven grill, so it’s easy for me to only toast one side (move rack to highest level, put in cold, turn on grill setting, 8 minutes). If you have a toaster with a nice wide opening, you can put two slices in together, and then only the outer sides will get toasted.
  • Preparing the inside of the bread/toast. Another of the great choices you can make is to have either a hot or cold filling. I recommend spreading the insides of your bread/toast slices with mayonnaise if planning a cold sandwich, and butter if going for a hot sandwich.
  • For a hot sandwich, warm some slices of chicken/turkey in  gravy and spoon generously into your sandwich.
  • For a cold sandwich, arrange slices of turkey/chicken/ham or a combination, and add a teaspoon of cranberry sauce.

Irish Halloween Treats

19th century, 20th century, Bread, Cakes, Large Cakes, Small Cakes

There are several Halloween traditions around these isles, but arguably the strongest traditions abide in Ireland.

Several years ago, I discovered online a trove of fascinating Irish social history at the National Folklore Collection. This project is the digitisation of thousands of essays written by Irish schoolchildren and teachers from over 5000 primary schools in the Irish Free State, between the years 1937-1939. These social history essays contain information gleaned from parents and grandparents, and give a fascinating insight into hearth and home stretching back to famine times in the nineteenth century. This amazing resource is searchable on an abundance subjects, but of course the food essays are going to be my main interest.

If you’d like a deep-dive into just how much information is available to explore, my paper “The Boxty Paradox: Everything, Everywhere, All At Once” can be downloaded from the Books and Writing page. One thing that became aparrent during the research of that paper was just how bleak the food choices of so many families were. Consequently, the celebratory foods might seem to us rather plain. However, they can also demonstrate an appreciation for, if not the finer things in life, then life’s simple pleasures.

“Hallowe’en was a great night among the Irish people long ago and they looked forward to it for many weeks. All the boys and girls would gather together in one house and they would have great feasting & merrymaking.”

Collected by Annie Fallon from Mr John Harley, Farmhill, Co. Mayo1

The Halloween/November’s Night/Oidhche Shamhna foods most mentioned are barn brack/bairín breac – a ‘speckled loaf’ originally of caraway seeds, but more recently dried fruit – boxty, apples and nuts.

“In this locality the popular food at Halloween are apples, nuts, and boxty, also dumplings of many kinds.”

Collected by Mrs A. Montgomery from Mrs Kelly, Corr, Co. Cavan2

According to many accounts, the Halloween barn brack was saved up for and bought from a bakery. These cakes were baked containing a ring, and whoever got the piece of cake with the ring was supposed to get married within a year.

“Halloweve night falls on the last night of October. On that day my mother goes to town and she buys apples, nuts and a barn-brack. “

Collected by Jerard Jordan from Mrs Gara, Tivannagh, Co. Roscommon.3

Alternately, during hard times, a soda cake would be baked at home either on the griddle or inside a bastible (lidded pot). The most coveted cake was baked with sour cream, but apples and hazelnuts could also be added.

“apples are put in cakes for November night.”

Collected by Tommy Kelleher from Mrs Margaret Kelleher, Mullaghroe South, Co. Cork4

“The cream cake was a soda cake with plenty of cream in it and baked in the griddle.”

Collected by Beití Ní Dhomhnaill from Mrs Ashe, teacher, Dún Beag5

“On special occasions … a cream cake was made. Cream was mixed through the milk when mixing the dough. Currants, sugar and raisins were also put in the cream cake to make it rich and sweet.”

Collected by Seamus Daly, Kilclooney, Co. Waterford6

“On festive occasions a special cake was baked of such ingredients as flour, eggs, sour cream and a little sugar.”

Collected by Mary Jones from Mr M. Jones, Bruree, Co. Limerick7

“… cream cakes were made. These were made thin, but otherwise were made in the same way as ordinary soda cake.”

Collected by Michael Collins, Woodcock Hill, Co. Clare8

The recipes this week are two versions of soda cake mentioned in accounts in The Schools Collection: the cream cake and a fruit cake. According to the written accounts, the cream cake was considered the pinnacle of social delicacies, in numerous accounts warranting special mention. The fruit soda cake has more oblique mentions, but is absolutely symbolic of the foods enjoyed at Halloween. You can, of course, choose to add apples and nuts to the cream cake, if liked.

 Cream Cake

In the 19th century in Ireland, white flour was expensive, so if wheat flour was used at all, in most households it was wholemeal. I’ve opted for a less dense mixture of white and brown. Choose your own variation.

If you’d like to add apples and nuts to your cream cake, use the proportions in the recipe below, and reduce the sugar to 50g.

450g plain flour/wholemeal/brown/mixture
1tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp salt
2 large eggs
85g sugar – caster, light/dark brown – your choice
300ml sour cream
100ml milk

  • Prepare your baking tin(s). You can, of course, bake your soda cake freeform, but a tin is also fine. My tin of preference is a 24cm shallow square tin, but you can also choose smaller tins or indeed choose to bake them in a pan on the ob over medium-low heat. If using a tin, line with baking parchment.
  • Heat the oven to 200°C, 180°C Fan. If using the hob, put a non-stick pan over medium-low heat (4 on a 1-9 scale) and allow to heat thoroughly.
  • Put the flour(s), soda, salt, sugar and eggs into a food processor and blitz briefly until well combined.
  • Tip the mixture into a large bowl.
  • Mix the milk and cream together until smooth, then add to the dry ingredients bit by bit. NB You might not need all of the milk mixture, as it will depend on the amount of moisture already in the flour and eggs. You want a soft dough, so a little extra is fine, but not enough moisture will lead to a dense loaf too stiff to rise.
  • When your dough is fully combined, tip out onto a floured surface.
    • For soda farls to cook on the hob, divide the dough into two, and lightly shape each half into rounds. Gently pat down until 4cm in height. Using a dough scraper or similar, cut each round into six or eight triangles.
    • For a large loaf, shape into a round and transfer to your prepared tin. Cut a deep cross in the top to assist in even cooking. If you have any of the cream mixture left, you can brush it over the top of your loaf as a glaze.
  • To cook your cream cake(s)
    • For a large loaf, bake for 45-50 minutes, turning the oven half-way through to ensure even baking.
    • For cream farls, bake gently in your pan for around 10 minutes each side, turning carefully when the first side is toasted and lightly browned.
  • Cool briefy on a wire rack and serve warm with plenty of good butter.

Apple and Hazelnut Soda Cake

Apples and nuts were central to the feasting at Halloween and this sweet soda cake is rich with both kinds of autumnal bounty. Enjoy warm from the oven or toasted, with a generous spreading of good butter. I’ve chosen to use Bramley cooking apples, as they break down into fluff when cooked.

100g whole unblanched hazelnuts
450g plain flour
1tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp salt
50g sugar – caster, granulated, Demerera, light/dark brown – your choice
2 Bramley Apples – or 500-600g of similar cooking/sharp apples
200ml plain yogurt
200ml whole milk

  • Prepare your baking tin. My tin of preference is a 24cm shallow square tin. Line with baking parchment.
  • Heat the oven to 200°C, 180°C Fan.
  • Put the hazelnuts onto a baking tin and bake for 10 minutes until lightly browned and toasty. You can remove the skins by rubbing the nuts in a clean cloth, but I prefer to leave them as is.
  • Put the flour, salt, sugar and soda into a bowl and whisk together.
  • Peel and core your apples, and chop into 2cm pieces. Add the chopped apple and nuts to your dry ingredients and mix.
  • Whisk together the yogurt and milk, then gradually add to the rest of the ingredients. I find it best to stir the liquid through with a round-ended knife, which is less rough than a larger utensil. You might not need all of the liquid as the apples will contribute to the moisture of the mix.
  • Tip out your dough and shape lightly into a round. Transfer the dough to your baking tin, and cut a deep cross in the top to facilitate even baking.
  • Bake for 50-60 minutes until risen and browned, turning the tin around after 30 minutes.
  • Cool briefly on a wire rack and enjoy warm or toasted with lots of good butter.

1 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0096, Page 84
2The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0982, Page 233
3 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0234, Page 307
4 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0359, Page 144.
5 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0626, Page 350.
6 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0654, Page 447.
7The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0498, Page 131
8 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0598, Page 249

Griddle Scones

19th century, 20th century, Bread, Small Cakes, Yeast

Following on from the Slapan last time, I have another bakestone recipe for you – Griddle Scones!

I love a scone. I willfully and shamelessly pronounce it ‘skon’ too – even though I know the etymology dictates that it should rightfully be pronounced ‘sk-ohhh-n’, because that brings images to mind of little finger outstretched and pretensions of grandeur, so I just prefer the short, humble sound of ‘skon’. Fight me.

Traditional scones are absolutely the easiest and best thing to whip up when presented with an Entertaining Emergency™. You can be serving up a batch of fragrant and hot scones in about 30 minutes – and that includes 15 minutes of baking!

Griddle scones are not that kind of scone – the time required is closer to 3.5 hours, start to finish. “Why would I bother waiting around for all that time when I can have some oven scones in just 30 minutes?” I hear you ask. I’m afraid I have no quick response, but for the fact that if you were to make these, you would then have your answer.

So do you like eating soft, billowy clouds? Because making griddle scones is how you get to eat sweet, billowy, buttery clouds. The yeast dough is enriched with double-strength milk, butter, eggs and sugar, and therefore it requires much longer to prove – 2 hours in the first instance. So while it’s a relatively long time, it’s not a hands-on commitment. The second rise can be up to an hour, but I recommend starting cooking half the dough after about 40 minutes – mainly because if, like me, you don’t actually possess a griddle, but do possess a rather nice non-stick pan, you can cook the first half of the dough easily, with plenty of room for manoeuvering the scones when turning them over. I have tried cooking the whole dough all at once, and it was very tricksy – plus the scones expand upwards quite considerably during baking, which was also not helpful in a confined pan space.

If you’re a fan of muffins then, aside from the extended rising time, this method is pretty much the same, but with one subtle difference. The enrichments of butter, sugar and egg mean that the cooked dough remains incredibly soft. Even when browned, the outsides of these scones never approaches anything remotely close to crusty. The sides of the scones are particularly delicate, and as supple as skin. In enjoying them, we must be mindful of Hannah Glasse’s advice when referring to muffins, in that they must be split/pulled apart, for to use a knife on them when hot, is to squish down the cloud of dough to something claggy and leaden. The best approach I have found is to use a serrated knife to just break the skin of the scone on the sides, then use the tines of two forks to pull the scones apart. You don’t have to use forks, of course, you can just pull them apart – but I must be lacking a bit of skill there, because I always seem to end up with one pillowy side and one thin and somewhat meagre side, and thus reduce the overall eating experience by half.

Griddle scones go back to the 19th century, but this recipe is scaled down and adapted from an absolute classic of griddle/bakestone cookery, “Morning and Hot Plate Goods” by John Boyd (undated, but thought to be 1946-ish) – a veritable cornucopia of commercial recipes from the offices of The British Baker. He calls them fermented scones, but I’ve opted for the more easily understood Griddle Scones.

Griddle Scones

This recipe has the unusual ingredient of ‘double strength’ milk, which is water mixed with twice the usual quantity of milk powder. I use whole milk powder, because that’s what I have in the cupboard, but skimmed milk powder, which might be easier to find, would be fine as well.

145ml water
30g whole milk powder
scant ½ tsp salt
45g unsalted butter
45g caster sugar
1 large egg – beaten
260g plain flour
1 sachet fast action yeast

  • Put the water, milk powder, salt, butter and sugar in a small saucepan and stir over low heat until the butter melts and the sugar is dissolved. Cool to blood temperature, whisk in the egg, then pour into a bowl. Add the remaining ingredients to the bowl and stir until combined. The dough will be very soft and moist.
  • Cover the bowl with plastic, or a cloth, and set aside to rise for 2 hours.
  • Gently tip out the dough onto a floured surface and divide it into two (roughly 270g each). Shape each half into a circle, and pat down gently until it is 2-3cm thick.
  • Using a dough scraper or similar, cut each round into triangular farls. These can be as few as four or as many as eight.
    The sizes of scone you get whether cutting your round into (L->R) four, six or eight.

    I think six farls is probably the happy medium, unless you’re serving teeny scones for afternoon tea, in which case go with the eight.

  • Slide the farls apart from one another, so that they have room to rise, and cover lightly with a cloth.
  • Leave to rise for 30-40 minutes.
  • Put a non-stick pan on medium-low heat (4 on my hob) and allow it to heat through. This will take about 5 minutes. You want the pan to be evenly hot throughout, otherwise your scones will cook unevenly. No need to grease the pan.
  • Cook your first batch of scones. NB: As you move each scone into the pan TURN IT OVER and cook the top first. By cooking the rounded, risen ‘top’ first, and the already-flat bottom second, your scones will have a much neater shape. Not turning them over will make your finished scones rather misshapen. Still delicious, but not at their best to look at. Spread them out, avoiding the centre of the pan as it will be the hottest. Cook for 4-5 minutes until browned on the bottom, then carefully turn them over and cook until both sides are evenly coloured. Don’t worry if you turned them too early, you can flip them again once the second side is done.They will continue to rise with the heat of the pan, and will become almost wobbly, so try and turn them over in one fluid motion and then don’t touch them until they have cooked for a further four minutes. To check for done-ness, lightly rest a finger on the top of a scone and try to move it gently from side to side: if there’s no longer any wobble, the scone is cooked.  
  • Cool on a wire rack.
  • To serve: If not eating immediately, when time to serve, warm the scones in the oven. Use a serrated knife to break the ‘skin’ on the sides of each scone, then pull apart either by hand or by using the tines of two forks. Butter generously and enjoy.