MAB – Page 17 – Deja Food

Grant Loaf

If you’re going to bake your own bread, you could do worse than start with this one – it doesn’t require kneading, it only needs a very short, single rise, and you can have a batch of three loaves cooling on a rack in an hour and a half! The recipe has been around for almost 70 years – read on to find out more about it and its creator!

Heroines of Cooking: Doris Grant (1905-2003)

Tireless campaigner for healthy eating and the promotion of unadulterated foods, Doris Grant was a champion of fresh, natural ingredients and the minimal processing of food, and she maintained a running battle with major food companies in the UK for more than 60 years.

Almost crippled with arthritis in her youth, Doris found relief from her symptoms by following the food-combining diet of Dr. William Hay. With her health restored, Dr. Hay encouraged Doris to write her own book for the UK market, and thus began her publishing career. Alongside her many best-selling books, she is immortalised as the creator of The Grant Loaf.

Originally, The Grant Loaf was a mistake. While teaching herself to bake in the 1930s, it was several months before Doris realised she had not been kneading her bread dough. It didn’t seem to have made much of a difference to the loaves, and was a great deal easier and quicker than the traditional method, so she included her ‘mistake’ in her 1944 book Your Daily Bread. Here, with only a few adjustments, is that original recipe.

The dough ends up a lot wetter than traditional dough – so wet in fact, that kneading would be impossible if it weren’t already unnecessary. The bread itself is firm without being brick-like, and has a wonderfully nutty flavour as well as making great toast. I bake it in our house as our everyday bread, including sandwiches and packed lunches.

This recipe makes three loaves for two reasons:

It uses a whole bag of flour at once – no messy half-bags to clutter up your cupboards and spill over everything.
It makes sense, as well as efficient use of the oven, to cook more than one loaf at a time and the additional loaves can easily be frozen for use later.

The Grant Loaf

1.5 kg (1 bag) stone-ground wholemeal bread flour
2 sachets rapid-rise yeast
1 litre + 300ml warm water
25g salt
25g muscovado sugar (or any brown sugar, or honey)

Put the flour into a large bowl and place in a gentle oven to warm. It doesn’t much matter if you don’t warm it, but it does speed up the rising.
Put the sugar and salt into a large jug and add half the water. Stir to dissolve.
Grease the bread tins using cooking spray or oil.
Mix the yeast into the warmed flour and pour in the sugar/salt mixture, then add the rest of the water.
Stir until the flour is fully mixed in. This is probably easiest to do using your hands, but using a utensil works well, also. Personally, I use a large two-pronged wooden fork from an otherwise unused set of salad servers, because the prongs move easily through the wet mix. I regularly manage to whip up a batch of this bread without touching the mix with my hands at all! Remember: you’re only mixing, not kneading – so as soon as all the flour is incorporated, stop. The dough will be much more moist than traditional bread dough – more like a fruit cake mix or thick, badly-made porridge.
Spoon the dough into the bread tins, making sure it’s evenly divided – each tin should be approximately ¾ full. If you want to measure by weight, it’s approximately 950g per tin.
Set the tins on a baking sheet somewhere warm to rise by about 1/3, until the dough is just above the top of the tins and nicely rounded. It should take no more than 30 minutes. If, like me, you’re lucky enough to have a double oven, then put the baking sheet onto the shelf in the top oven while the main oven heats up. NB Don’t put the tins onto the floor of the top oven – even if they’re on a baking sheet – it will get too hot. Otherwise, anywhere warm and draft-free will do.
Preheat the oven to 200C, 180C Fan.
Bake for 30 minutes, then turn the baking sheet 180° and bake for a further 20 minutes for a total of 50 minutes.
Remove the tins from the oven and tip out the bread. Arrange the loaves on a wire rack.
Put the loaves back into the oven for 5 minutes to crisp up the crust.
Cool on the wire rack.

Variations: This method can also be used with brown bread flour, for a slightly lighter loaf.

Roast Haunch of Venison

17th century, Game

Mary Perrot, 1695

A haunch of venison is a glorious thing and very evocative of grand dining halls and long trestle tables of feasting lords and ladies. It’s also very straightforward to roast – you could simply follow the cooking times and temperatures for beef – but it is important to bear in mind that, venison is extremely lean in comparison, which means it can be prone to drying out if the heat is too harsh.

A great many of the old manuscript recipes I’ve read opt to slow-cook venison in wine and butter under a coarse paste of flour and water to keep all the moisture sealed within. However, I’ve selected this recipe because not only is it very straightforward, but you can also choose how elaborate you wish to make it: a simple, unadorned roast or embellished with a savoury herb stuffing.

I liked the two unusual details which address the potential problem of drying out your joint: brushing with beaten egg-white and then basting with cream. The egg-white seals the joint as it cooks and the cream contains just enough richness to keep the outsides moist, and then caramelise into a richly-flavoured sauce.

Roast Haunch of Venison

1 boneless haunch of venison
1 large egg-white
1 litre double cream

Stuffing
1 bunch mixed herbs – parsley, rosemary, thyme, winter savoury, pennyroyal, etc.
100g soft white breadcrumbs
50g fresh suet
5 anchovy fillets, rinsed and chopped finely
3 large yolks
salt
pepper

Mix the ingredients for the stuffing into a smooth paste and season with salt and pepper.
Unroll your venison and spread the stuffing mixture over the inside of the meat.
Re-roll your joint and tie firmly with butcher’ twine.
Weigh your stuffed joint and calculate the cooking time. If you like your venison medium-rare, then just 10 minutes per 500g is sufficient. For medium-well, you should calculate at 15 minutes for every 500g. For something inbetween, select something between these two times.
Whisk the egg-white and paint over the outside of the joint, making sure the whole surface is covered. The egg-white will cook quickly and form a protective seal, thereby helping the joint to retain moisture.
Put your joint onto a rack in a roasting tin. If you don’t have a meat rack, slice 2 or 3 onions in half and arrange, cut side down, in the middle of the tin. Arrange your joint on top of the onions.
Put your roasting tin into the oven and turn the heat to 200°C/180°C Fan, Gas Mark 6.
After 15 minutes, open the oven door and pour over the cream. Baste the joint every 15 minutes until done. If you have a thermometer, the internal temperature should range from 52°C (rare) to 60°C(medium).
Remove the joint and wrap in foil to rest for 20 minutes. Add a couple of tea towels or a hand towel for etra insulation if you think it might take longer to bring all the elements of your meal together.
Remove the onions, if using, and season the cream and meat juices left in the pan to make the sauce.

Ivory Cream

20th century, Pudding

A delicate cream of fresh bananas and orange set in a traditional mould for a classic and timeless pudding.

This recipe was found in a book published in the town where I live, back in the 1930s. I was drawn to the unusual combination of fruits and was curious how these two strong flavours would work together. The answer is ‘very well’ and the delicate colour of the set dessert is a genuinely attractive pale ivory. If you have any vintage glass or ceramic jelly moulds, then this is the ideal dessert to show them off.

Ivory Cream

4 leaves gelatine
5 large bananas
5tsp icing sugar
250ml double cream
juice and zest of 1 orange
150ml fresh squeezed orange juice
150ml water

To serve: whipped cream and orange zest curls

Soak the gelatine in water.
Mix the orange juice and water and warm over a low heat.
Add the bloomed gelatine and stir until melted. Set aside to cool.
Peel and mash the bananas thoroughly. Add the orange zest and juice.
Whisk the cream until thick, then fold in the bananas.
When the gelatine mixture has cooled, whisk into the banana cream mixture.
Rinse your jelly moulds with cold water, leaving them wet inside, then pour in the mixture.
Cover lightly with plastic film and chill in the fridge until set.
To turn out: Dip the moulds in hot water for a few seconds, to melt the surface gelatine, then turn out onto your serving dish.
Serve with whipped cream and orange curls to garnish.

Seedless Raspberry Jam

20th century, Preserves

If you make no other preserves this year, make this one.

I’m serious. If you were here, I’d grab your lapels and lean disconcertingly close to your face whilst muttering this assertion. Look at that colour! Now imagine that colour as a taste explosion on your tongue! It’s incredible! I’m using far too many exclamation marks!!! Help meee!!!!!!!!

*takes deep breath*

Anyhoo….

For years I thought I disliked raspberry jam. No, I did actually dislike it – because all I could focus on was the seeds. A few years ago I was given a huge bag of raspberries and decided to make some jam because we’d all eaten as much of the fresh fruit as we could. Since I was running a bit low on jars, I thought I’d reduce the volume a little by sieving out the seeds and wow – what a difference it made. Without the distraction of the seeds, it was just pure, unadulterated flavour. Astonishing! This is now my number one favourite preserve.

“But I can’t make jam!” I hear you cry. “Its all huge vats of boiling fruit…. mountains of sugar…pectin…setting point…hundreds of specialised sterilised jars…takes hours and hours….kitchens full of steam… and…and…and…”

To which I say, “Actually, not so much”.

Lets address possible objections one by one.

Huge vats of boiling fruit.
Its always puzzled me why, for the most part, jam recipes consist of vast quantities of fruit. Yes, I know it’s all about preserving nature’s bounty for the cold winter months, but if you’re new to jam-making, and possibly you’re not sure whether you’re actually going to like a recipe, investing in huge quantities of ingredients might seem a little daunting. And even if it turns out that you DO like the recipe, you then have huge quantities of jam to get into jars and make sure it doesn’t get mouldy. Then there’s the giant preserving pans required. Actually, that’s not true. Preserving pans are really just large versions of ordinary pans and they’re big because of all the huge quantities of fruit that most recipes call for. They’re also large because they need to provide a large surface area to help with the evaporation of excess liquid, which will eventually lead to a jam setting. If you’re working with a small amount of fruit, there’s no reason why a broad, regular pan won’t do just as good a job – a deep, 28cm frying pan, for example.

Mountains of sugar
Not all jam requires vast quantities of sugar – it all depends partly on the fruit and partly on personal taste. Sugar is what preserves the fruit, so there is a minimum level below which you should not stray if you want the results of all your hard work to last. Apart from that, its pretty much down to personal taste. I don’t have a sweet tooth, yet I love seedless raspberry jam.

Pectin
Pectin occurs in fruit in varying concentrations, and, together with some kind of acid, is what helps jam to set. If a fruit is low in pectin, you can either combine it with another fruit high in pectin or add a home or commercially produced pectin. The amount of pectin in a fruit decreases as it ripens, so the riper the fruit you’re using, the more likely you’ll need some additional pectin. Raspberries have a moderate amount of pectin, so if you use slightly under-ripe berries with a dash of lemon juice, you can probably get away without using any additional pectin at all. If in doubt, use preserving sugar which has pectin already added to it.

Setting point
This is the point where the concentration of sugar and pectin are such that, when cooled, a jam will set. This is the reason for (sometimes) prolonged boiling. The boiling causes excess water to evaporate, and this in turn means that the concentration of sugar in the mix increases. When enough water has evaporated, the jam sets. Traditionally this has been tested in several ways, but thanks to modern science, these days we can just use a thermometer. You can pick up a sugar thermometer for about £7.00, and it will have the setting point for jam marked at 105°C. Since water boils at 100°C, you can relax in the knowledge that all excess moisture will be evaporated by the time your jam reaches this temperature and your jam is going to set.

Hundreds of specialised sterilised jars
Hundreds? Really? I thought I was the one doing the histrionics here?? OK, so if you’re dealing with vast quantities of fruit and sugar, you’re going to need a lot of jars, but we’re not here, so we won’t. Calm down. When I was a child, jam was always bottled in Kilner jars, and these type of jars are still available today, with either a screw-down or clip-down lid and rubber ring to make the firm seal that is going to help keep your jam sweet and fresh. When I was at school, we learned how to make jam in ordinary jam jars and to seal the jars with waxed-paper discs, cellophane and rubber bands. There’s nothing wrong with using either of these methods, but each of them have drawbacks: Kilner jars are rather expensive and the waxed-disc method is tricky to get right, and getting it wrong means fuzzy jam. The solution is to re-use jars that would otherwise go into the recycle bin. Using a variety of jars means you can just use small jars to keep the jam fresh or offer as gifts. I find pesto jars particularly suitable: they hold a small amount and they have a freshness ‘button’ on the lid which can be re-set when you make jam. To remove labels, simply soak in hot, soapy water until they slip off. If the labels are a bit more stubborn, use a knife to scrape off the softened label and a scourer covered in washing up liquid to remove the glue. Use a range of sizes and shapes, large and small. If you have a dishwasher, then sterilising couldn’t be easier – pop the clean jars and lids in on a hot cycle. Leave the door closed until you’re ready to use them. In the oven, put jars and lids on a baking tray and slide into a cold oven. Turn the heat to 100°C for 30 minutes.

Hours and hours with kitchen full of steam
No. The beauty of this recipe is that it takes very little cooking time at all – 3-5 minutes at most. No water is added to the fruit, so there’s not much excess water to be got rid of, and the less a jam is cooked, the brighter the colour and the better the flavour.

So if that’s all settled, on with the recipe!

Seedless Raspberry Jam
1.2kg raspberries – slightly under-ripe if possible.
Approximately 1kg granulated or preserving sugar (see above)
Juice of 1 lemon (optional)

Equipment
1 oven-proof bowl
1 wide, deep pan
a fine-meshed sieve
Plastic bowl
wooden spoon
knife
sugar thermometer
A selection of jars and lids

Wash the jars and lids in hot, soapy water and arrange on a baking tray.
Put the raspberries into the oven-proof bowl.
Put the jars and raspberries into the oven and heat to 100°C for 30 minutes. This will both sterilise the jars and encourage the juice in the fruit to run and make the next stage easier.
Remove the raspberries from the oven. Leave the jars in the oven to keep warm and reduce the temperature to 80°C.
Weigh your bowl, write it down somewhere and put the sieve over the top of the bowl.
Pour the softened fruit and juice into a sieve and stir vigorously with a wooden spoon to extract as much juice and pulp as possible. NB It’s probably best to do this a small quantity at a time. You need to keep stirring/pressing until there is nothing left in the sieve but a solid mass of seeds. I won’t lie to you, this takes a while, but its well worth it. Keep scraping the sieved pulp off the bottom of the sieve with the back of the knife. Don’t use the spoon, as you might accidentally get some seeds fall into the pulp. Discard seeds.
When done, weigh the bowl again and subtract the bowl’s original weight to find the weight of the juice and pulp.
Add this and an equal weight of whatever sugar you are using to your large pan. NB Warming the sugar will make it dissolve more easily.
Over a very low heat, stir gently until all the sugar has dissolved.
Taste and add lemon juice if liked.
Turn heat to high and, using a sugar thermometer, heat rapidly to 105°C. NB This shouldn’t take long at all. Even if it’s not quite reached 105°C, remove from the heat after 5 minutes – prolonged boiling will ruin both flavour and colour.
Remove from heat and pour into warmed jars to within 1cm of the top. Seal immediately. As the jam and the air trapped in the jar cools, it will contract and eventually pull the ‘safety button’ on the lid back to it’s original position. After making a batch of jam I love sitting listening to the ‘bink!’ of the lids safely sealing in all that wonderful flavour.

Variation: Not much, except to say that you can easily scale this recipe up if you want to make a larger batch. Just be sure to use an equal weight of sugar to pulp and you can make this with any amount of fruit you like.

Cost: In season, as little as £1 per pound of finished jam.