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Nankaties

19th century

Something a little different for you this week, dear Reader, and something of a surprise, perhaps.

These are Nantakies: Indian shortbread biscuits that are still enjoyed today, mainly at Christmastime.

This particular recipe comes from a book printed in 1887 in Bombay (Mumbai) at the height of the British rule in India. It is one of many Indian cookery books in English that I have collected over the years and is freely available to download at The Internet Archive.

What first drew me to this shortbread recipe was the small number of ingredients when compared to modern recipes. Also, following on from my earlier shortbread investigations, I was curious to know how using 100% ‘rolong’ (semolina) as the flour ingredient would affect the taste and texture.

Initially, testing this recipe went poorly, because I used coarse semolina. Switching to finely ground semolina (found in my local orange supermarket under the brand name Natco) was a great improvement. It was still too sweet for my tastes, so I tinkered a little with the ratios and switched out regular butter for more appropriate clarified ghee.

In the UK, ghee can be found in supermarkets and smaller shops in distinctive green and gold tins. Once opened, they don’t require refrigeration and can be stored in a drawer/cupboard. However, I must impress upon you that not all tins of ghee are the same. The very best brand, in my humble opinion, is East End.

Opening this brand especially, releases an almost perfumed aroma that immediately sends you to a more exotic and fragrant place. I have not had the same experience with other tins of ghee – purchase them at your peril!

The result of the tweaks and changes made for  a wonderfully aromatic and decadent shortbread bite, needing no further flavouring. However, if you’d like to add a hint of cardamom or rosewater, I think it would be a delicious variation. The golden colour from the ghee remained during baking in the cool oven and I have added a gold dragee to the top of each one as an exotic but restrained decoration.

You will have noticed that there are two shades of biscuit in the above photograph. Spurred on by my success with the tweaked original, I also made a gluten-free version using ground rice instead of semolina, and accented the biscuits with a silver dragee. I used up most of my ground rice in doing so and when I went to buy more I was disappointed to find that my local shops no-longer stock ground rice as a matter of course: perhaps it’s viewed as old-fashioned. I would have thought it would be readily available, given its usefulness in gluten-free baking, but there are numerous shops online that stock it, so all it requires is a little forward planning.

I wanted small, neat biscuits and having persevered with hand rolling various sizes, I eventually found the perfect ‘mould’ in my tablespoon measuring spoon. It was a little fiddly to form the biscuits one by one, but well worth it in the end result.

Nankaties – 1887, Mumbai

Makes 12-20 biscuits, depending on size.

150g finely-ground semolina or ground rice if gluten-free
75g ghee
35g icing sugar

gold/silver dragees for decoration

  • Heat the oven to 150°C, 130°C Fan if baking the biscuits immediately. Otherwise, heat the oven just before removing the chilled biscuits from the fridge.
  • Put the ingredients into a food processor and blitz until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. It will have a texture of damp sand, and will hold together when pressed.
  • Tip out the mixture and shape your biscuits – either by hand rolling or by pressing it into a mould. If you choose the measuring tablespoon method mentioned above, I found it useful to use some plastic wrap/cling film to line the spoon, which made it very easy to remove the moulded biscuits without damaging them. Be sure to pack the mixture firmly in order for it to keep its shape during baking.
  • Arrange your biscuits on a baking sheet lined with parchment or a silpat mat.
  • Add the dragee decoration if using.
  • You can chill the biscuits in the fridge for 30 minutes before baking, if liked. It can help retain a neat shape, although I should point out that the biscuits in the photo above were not chilled before baking. If you want especially crisp edges to your biscuits, you can always neaten them once cold with a microblade grater.
  • Bake for 30-40 minutes until crisp. The colour won’t really change, due to the low temperature.
  • WARNING: the biscuits will be extremely delicate when hot. Leave them to cool on the baking sheet/tin until completely cold before moving them.
  • Store in an airtight tin.

Georgian Cross Buns

Yeast, 19th century, Bread

Reading a handwritten manuscript is very exciting: you never know what is just over the next page.

Lately I have been reading through the manuscripts held by the National Library of Scotland and alighted upon something rather unusual. It is a manuscript from a bakery, with appropriately large batch quantities. It is a fascinating peek into the variety of bakes and extras that formed the day to day offerings of a Georgian bakery.

The manuscript has been dated to 1827, which puts it slap-bang in the middle of the reign of George IV, but other than that, there appears to be no other identifying information. Now this might be looked upon as more than a little frustrating, however, being much more of a glass-half-full person, I usually see it as an opportunity for sleuthing, and seeing whether or not I can glean any more information from the pages within.

Firstly, I think the date is very well chosen, and I’m sure the Library of Scotland is nothing short of THRILLED at my approbation. This I deduced from the raising agents used in the recipes, which call either for yeast or volatile salts. Volatile salts are the precursor to baking powder, which was only a mere fifteen years away from being invented.

Another piece of information I noted gave me reason to believe that there may well be a Scottish link, aside from where the manuscript is currently held, is the use of ‘carvey’ for caraway seeds. In the 18th century, the word was in much greater use throughout the British Isles, but in the 19th century, it was retained mostly in Scotland. The one thing holding me back from declaring this a definite is the Englishness of the other recipes: Abernathy biscuits, Bath cakes and buns, Weymouth biscuits, Stratford cakes, Norwish biscuits, Isle of Wight cracknels…

The recipes themselves cover a wide range of items: biscuits, cakes, buns, jams and jellies, sweeties, custards, bread, muffins and cakes. I love this manuscript for its sheer uniqueness. I have a small but favourite collection of commercial baking books dating from around the turn of the 20th century, but I’ve not come across any other handwritten recipes of catering size quantities of this early age. Browsing for something for Easter, I came across this recipe for Buns for Shops or Cross Buns. Perfect!

But it came at a price. And the price was the spelling.

Oh my dears, the spelling.

I fully appreciate that spelling from 200 years ago is going to be a little quirky, but this… This is on a whole new level.

Cross Buns Manuscript Recipe, National Library Scotland

In case your cursive reading skills are a little rusty, allow me to transcribe the recipe for you, with the original spelling.

Bunds for shops or Cross Bunds
Fursttake 1″ of billed pertters smashed & stured into one Quort of alfmilk & worme warter & 1/4 ozns of volington salts & 1/2 ozns of Cours suger & alfa pinte of small beere yeast & robe that all throwe a sive & wisk into it a littell flor & put that way for sponge & when it is Quite ready take 1 1/2″ of coures suger & 1 1/4″ of butter & Corrents & gronde spiceses & 15 drops of lamon & fine cute Candy lamon pale & that all robed into 7″ of flor & make bayin the flor so O & pit in the spunge into it & make that into doy & moled oup ronde to sieses & Cut or Croossed with Croos so + & tined on grees tinds & well waish the tops all over with Eggs & milk & proved well & baked in a sharpe ovend & not backed too drey & bite of loaf suger put into the waish & waish the tops all over with it & toke of tinds & keep Drey & Claine.

The modern translation is as follows:

Buns for shops or Cross Buns
First take 1lb of boiled potatoes mashed & stirred into one Quart of half milk & warm water & ¼ oz of volatile salts & ½ oz of Coarse sugar & half a pint of small beer yeast & rub that all through a sieve & whisk into it a little flour & put that away for sponge & when it is Quite ready take 1½lb of coarse sugar & 1¼lb of butter & Currants & ground spices & 15 drops of lemon & fine cut Candied lemon peel & that all rubbed into 7lb of flour & make a bay in the flour so – O – & put the sponge into it & make that into dough & mould it up round to size & Cut or Cross with a Cross so + & put them on greased tins & well wash the tops all over with Eggs & milk & prove well & bake in a sharp oven & don’t bake too dry & add a bit of loaf sugar into the wash & wash the tops all over with it & take them off the tins & keep them Dry & Clean.

Yes, that first ingredient is boiled potatoes, and I will freely admit it took me a good half hour of pondering and saying the phrase out loud to myself in a frankly embarrassing number of accents in order to try and work out what it might be. Adding mashed, boiled potatoes to a bread recipe helps keep the resulting buns from drying out too quickly and keeps them pleasantly chewy. ‘Volington Salts’ makes me chuckle, because it sounds like the name of a Georgian Dandy.

The travails of translating the handwriting aside, there are two aspects of this recipe that I love. Firstly, it is the unusual (to modern palates) combination of spicings and flavourings. The recipe calls for both lemon essence and candied lemon peel as well as ‘mixed spices’. I’ve also made some biscuits from this book which called for cinnamon and lemon, and maybe its because this combination seemed so unusual to my 21st century palate, but to me they tasted Georgian. The ‘mixed spices’ gives you carte blanch to use whatever combination you like, but I’m going to recommend cinnamon and nutmeg, which were a popular combination for decades in the 17th and 18th centuries. The lemon flavouring, for some reason, I found problematic: liquid flavouring seemed to fade when baked, so I tried using finely grated fresh lemon zest, which also didn’t have quite the punch I was looking for. Perhaps a combination of the two will give the lemon burst I think these might need – but if we hang around for me to trial that, we’d miss Easter, so onwards!

Georgian Cross Buns

This is a 1/7th scale of the original recipe, and will make 18 x 60g buns. If this is a bit much, halve the recipe and divide the dough into 8 buns. Make a sponge if you feel inclined, but I went for mixing all together at once.

70g cooked mashed potatoes
100ml milk
100ml water
450g flour
7g sachet of fast action yeast
100g caster sugar
80g butter
1tsp ground cinnamon
1tsp ground nutmeg
1 tsp lemon flavouring and/or zest of 1 lemon
60g fine sliced candied lemon peel
125g currants

For the glaze
1 large egg
1/2 an eggshell of milk
2tbs caster sugar

  • Heat the milk and water to blood temperature.
  • Add the cooked potato and whisk together – a stick whisk works well to make the mixture smooth.
  • Put the flour, yeast, sugar, butter, spices and lemon flavouring(s) into a food processor and blitz until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.
  • Put the liquid mixture into a mixing bowl and add the dry mixture on top.
  • Knead for 10 minutes. Don’t be tempted to add more liquid – there’s moisture in the butter and the working of the dough will bring that out and make a dough that ‘cleans the bowl’.
  • When the dough has come together and is smooth and elastic, mix in the currants and lemon peel.
  • Cover the bowl with plastic and set aside in a warm place to double in size.  If your kitchen is on the cool side, use your oven: Turn the heat to 170°C/150°C Fan for TWO MINUTES ONLY, switch off, and place your bowl inside. Due to the enrichments of butter and sugar, this may take longer than normal, probably closer to 90 minutes.
  • Tip out the risen dough and gently deflate by pressing with the hands.
  • Divide your dough by weight: 60g makes a decent-sized bun, but go larger if you prefer a more substantial bun.
  • Roll the dough into a smooth ball, press flat with the palm of your hand, then arrange on a parchment-lined baking sheet at least 3cm apart.
  • Cover lightly with plastic and allow to rise a second time (30-45 minutes).
  • Heat the oven to 180°C, 160°C Fan.
  • When the buns are sufficiently risen, cut a cross into them. I find pressing (not rolling) a pizza wheel down into the buns is an ideal tool for this: it marks a deep cross, but doesn’t cut through the edges of the bun and cause them to split during baking. Alternatively, use the flat end of a spatula.
  • Whisk the egg and milk together, and glaze the buns by brushing the mixture over them using a pastry brush.
  • Bake for 15-20 minutes, depending on size. For the smaller 60g buns 15 minutes is fine. If your buns are larger, then leave them for 20 minutes. Turn the baking sheet around halfway though.
  • While the buns are baking, add 2tbs caster sugar to the remaining bun wash and stir to dissolve.
  • When the buns are baked and golden brown, remove from the oven and place the baking sheet on a rack. Brush the hot buns over with the sweetened bun wash. The heat of the buns will set the sweetened glaze, and your cross buns will cool with a lovely shine.
  • Remove the buns from the baking sheet when cool and store in an airtight container.
  • Serving suggestion: Delicious when freshly baked. When cooled, cut in half and toast both sides. Serve warm with butter and a sharp cheddar cheese.

Chipstead Churdles

20th century, Pastry, Savoury Pastry

I’ll be the first to admit that I love a good story behind a recipe. However, what winds me up no end are stories that have been made up to make a recipe appear more ‘authentic’ than it actually needs to be.

And so we have Chipstead Churdles. Chipstead is a small village in Surrey, southeast of Croyden. Churdle Pies are also claimed by Sussex, though I have yet to find any recipe predating this one.

These little triangular pasties are a pleasant way to enjoy the classic and flavoursome combination of liver and bacon, aside from the traditional grilling. As you’ve probably already surmised, they have also managed to develop quite a colourful, and largely fictitious, provenance. Touted online as ‘an ancient recipe’, ideal for the farm worker to stuff into his pocket as he headed out to the fields, no-one seems to know specifically where and when they date from, although I’ve read many a vague “…Seventeenth century…” claim.

Even without any provenance, neither the shape nor the style of the pies would appear to support this. These are tricorn-shaped pies – although easy to form, hardly the most robust nor the most practical of shapes – with the top being left open to be filled with a cheese and breadcrumb mixture (this crunchy topping being much more of a 20thC style). Any farm worker worth his salt would end up with a pocketful of crumbs within an hour.

No, in actual fact, the recipe actually originates in Doreen Fulleylove’s “Simple Country Fare” (1970). Now to me, that’s not that long ago – good gravy, I remember 1970 – but then I have to stop and remind myself that that is now over fifty years ago.

The Churdles name, however, can be traced back much further, all the way to the 1920s. In his fabulously-titled “Away Dull Cookery!” (1932), Earle Welby recorded an entertaining nonsense menu devised by the dramatist Henry Arthur Jones for his grandchildren. It is, perhaps, the greatest menu I have ever read, and I reproduce it below:

  • Pickled Trunnions
  • Filets of Poucher Bonne Femme
  • Baked Banbury Mush
  • Squibbles on Toast
  • Truffled Guffins
  • Boogoose Bordelause
  • Varicose Beans
  • Danderchits in Aspic
  • Wombles
  • Stuffed Spanish Crippets
  • Churdle Pie
  • Mulligatawny Fritters
  • Nostrum Roes à la Diable
  • Piblets
  • Trundleberry Gin

It’s on my ever-lengthening list of Things To Do to devise and make dishes for this menu.

But back to the Chipstead Churdles. It seems to me that a far more likely scenario would be for the name Churdle to have been borrowed to grace a heretofore unnamed but very toothsome pie. And there’s nothing wrong with that at all.

Chipstead Churdles

The savoury flavours of liver and bacon are here paired with mushroom, onion and sharp apple to make for a lighter and fresher mouthful.

shortcrust pastry

1 onion
30g unsalted butter
200g smoked back bacon, rind removed
200g lamb’s liver
60g mushrooms, chopped
1 small Bramley apple, peeled and finely chopped
2-3tbs chopped parsley
½tsp ground black pepper
½tsp salt

4tbs fresh breadcrumbs
4tbs finely grated strong cheddar cheese

1 large egg for glazing

  • Peel and chop the onion finely.
  • Melt the butter in a frying pan and add the onion. Fry gently for 8-10 minutes until softened and translucent.
  • Add the bacon and fry for a 1-2 minutes and then turn the slices over.
  • Add the liver and fry for 2 minutes, turning the slices over after 1 minute. This should cook the liver enough to remain pink in the centre. As it will be cooked again during the baking of the pies, you don’t want to overdo it at this stage.
  • Lift the meat from the pan and chop finely.
  • Scrape the cooked onion and butter into a bowl and add the chopped meat.
  • Stir in the mushrooms, apple, parsley and seasoning. Set aside.
  • Preheat the oven to 180°C/160°C Fan.
  • Roll out the pastry to a thickness of about 5mm.
  • Cut 8 circles of pastry 10-12cm in diameter. You can make 4 large pies, but the larger the pie, the more difficult the pastry is to handle.
  • Divide the filling into 8 and add one portion to the middle of each circle of pastry.
  • Damp the edges of the pastry with water.
  • Pinch the edges together to make a triangle base, folding the sides of the pastry inwards and pressing the edges together to make a three-cornered hat shape. Leave the middle of the pie open.
  • Mix the cheese and breadcrumbs and sprinkle one spoonful over the opening at the top of the pies, and transfer the pies to a baking sheet lined with baking parchment.
  • Whisk the egg with a tablespoon of water and use it to glaze the sides of the pies with a pastry brush.
  • Bake for 25-30 minutes until crisp and golden. Turn the baking sheet around after 15 minutes to help even the browning.
  • Cool on a wire rack.
  • Serve warm.

Carnival Fruit

17th century, 18th century

This recipe is such a delight. So simple, so eye-catching, and almost 400 years old.

It comes from one of my favourite manuscripts at The Wellcome Collection. Now I’ll freely admit I am very fickle with my favouritism, and I have been reminded this week of just how special this manuscript is, mainly due to a completely different manuscript I’ve been working on. I’m not going to name and shame it, but my dears… The handwriting. The spelling. Lets just say, I was sorely tested.

THIS manuscript, however, is an absolute delight. Straddling the 17th and 18th centuries, the handwriting is surprisingly modern: neat, well punctuated, with a pleasing layout, it is a joy to read, and I regularly have to remind myself just how old it actually is.

Carnival Fruit 1650-1750, MS8097, Wellcome Collection

The method used to ‘carnival’ fruit is to dip it into a clear caramel. Although I have used several different fruits in the top image, the fruit recommended in the recipe is ‘a Cheney Orange’ (China Orange), aka an eating orange (as opposed to a Seville bitter orange). Since oranges are in season during the winter months, I believe this is perfect dish to serve up during the festive season. Nowadays we have the luxury of fruit out of season, which can make for a very colourful display, however, some fruit are more suited than others. Very moist, juicy fruit such as strawberries and cherries (not pictured) will only last 2 hours before the shiny caramel coating starts to break down. Other fresh fruits such as grapes, physalis, blueberries, nuts and even dried fruit such as apricots will last 3 hours before starting to become sticky. Whilst you can do orange segments, I feel that against the scale of the other fruit, they’re a bit big, and that small orange segments (satsuma, mandarin, clementine and the like) would be more suitable.

A similar recipe in a slightly later manuscript, ‘Coromella’ 1805-1860, MS2203, Wellcome Collection

I have changed very little in this recipe: I’ve added some weights and measures, to help with getting the sugar to the correct stage and added a little liquid glucose to keep the caramel from crystallizing. I tried several times to go ‘old school’ with just sugar and water, but the caramel always crystallized too quickly to get more than just a few pieces dipped. Perhaps they used honey to help them out back then?

When choosing your fruits and nuts, it is important to consider how they are going to taste with the caramel. If you have a sweet tooth, then it gives you free rein to pick and choose almost anything. Personally, I would recommend choosing fruit that is slightly sharp, just to prevent an overload of sugar. The fruit also needs to be dry, so this rules out any fruit so large it needs to be sliced.

Choose your favourites from: green/red/black grapes, cherries, strawberries, raspberries, strings of redcurrants, blueberries, blackberries, physalis, dried apricots, walnuts, hazelnuts, pecans, almonds. If you have the patience to put individual pomegranate seeds on cocktail sticks and dip them, I think they would be delightful in both appearance and flavour.

The greatest amount of time for this recipe will involve preparing the fruits and nuts.

  • You can utilise the stalks on cherries and redcurrants, the papery coverings on physalis and the green stalks on strawberries to hold as you dip them in the caramel.
  • Most other fruits and nuts can be pierced with a wooden cocktail stick to prevent getting boiling caramel on your fingertips.
  • The recipe recommends using a thread to dip orange segments, and I must confess to not having tried this method. I opted instead to use the cocktail stick. If you can pierce the skin and avoid bursting any of the juice sacs inside, you’re onto a real winner.

To Carnival Fruit

For the caramel

400g granulated sugar
125ml water
60ml/4tbs/¼ cup glucose.

a selection of fresh fruits, berries and nuts

wooden cocktail sticks for dipping

a silicone mat or baking parchment

a sugar thermometer

  • Put the sugars and water into a small saucepan and set aside to begin dissolving while you prepare the fruit for dipping.
  • Use the wooden cocktail sticks to skewer the fruit and lay them neatly on a board or plate. If you’re using small orange segments, remove all the white pith. If you accidentally tear the skin of a segment, eat it – the juice will compromise the caramel.
  • Line a baking sheet with the silicone mat or baking parchment. This is for laying the dipped fruits on to cool. Although the dipping is straightforward, you will need to work fairly briskly in order to get all the fruit dipped before the caramel cools. If you can keep the pan on a very low heat while you dip your fruit, then this won’t be much of a problem. However, the heat will continue to cook the caramel, and it will become darker the longer it remains on the heat.
  • Arrange the prepared fruit and baking sheet so that they are easily to hand when the caramel is ready.
  • Heat the pan with the sugars in over a low heat until the granulated sugar has dissolved.
  • Increase the heat and cook until the syrup registers 150°C on a sugar thermometer. The syrup will be bubbling vigorously over the whole surface of the liquid.
  • Remove from the heat (or turn the heat down to the minimum, your choice), and begin dipping your fruits and nuts.
  • Tilt the pan so that the syrup is deep, and then one at a time, dip your fruit fully into the caramel and set on the silicone mat/parchment to cool. For fruit not on wooden sticks, be sure to keep your fingers well away from the caramel when dipping, as the caramel will burn, and stick to your skin and continue to burn, if it comes into contact.
  • The caramel needs only a minute or two to set, and then all that remains is to arrange it on your serving dish and serve. I went for a wooden board, as it’s plainness and natural material made for a great contrast against all the brightly coloured, shiny carnival fruit. To remove the wooden sticks, roll them between your thumb and forefinger – this will provide enough pressure to break the caramel surrounding them, thus making it easy to remove them.

Mince Pie Shortbread

20th century, 21st Century, Pastry

I seem to be on a bit of a shortbread obsession lately, but this is the last post on it for now, promise.

Today I have for you a combination of two festive treats: Mince Pies & Shortbread.

Back in the far off days of the 1980s, I had the distinct pleasure of discovering Jocelyn Dimbleby’s “Cooking for Christmas” – a slim paperback book of recipes, produced in association with Sainsbury’s. Amongst its pages I found Deluxe Mince Pies, a version of which I have had posted over on my other blog for over 12 years now. With their orange pastry and decadent cream cheese and mincemeat filling, if you’re only going to eat one mince pie during the season, it really should be those.

However, even I will admit that they are a bit of a faff and since they are best served warm, it does limit their accessibility. So recently, whilst experimenting with the butterscotch shortbread, I got to thinking whether I could make a mincemeat version, and from there it was just a hop and a skip to re-imagining Jocelyn’s recipe.

This recipe is also an adaptation of recipes I’ve already posted on here, which I love as an example of some real Lego™ thinking, taking two different recipes and smushing them together to create something new.

The shortbread here is standing in for the mince pie pastry, so the only thing I changed was to add some orange zest. The mincemeat is an adaptation of the guilt-free mincemeat, based on Hannah Glasse’s 1747 Lenten mince pie recipe. The potential problem here was whether it would hold together on top of the shortbread, so the slight tweak I made was to increase the quantity of dates, which break down into a sweet and sticky paste during the simmering of the fruit, and firm up when cooled. I increased the spices a little, to compensate for the mincemeat being eaten cold, which tends to dull their potency. I also used an egg-white wash over the top of the shortbread, which when briefly baked forms something of a barrier to keep the moisture from the mincemeat compromising the crispness of the shortbread. Finally, I decided to top things off with white chocolate flavoured with lemon zest, to mimic the cream cheese element of the original mince pies.

Baking a slab of shortbread is a lot more straightforward than battling with pastry and filling and fretting whether the lids are sealed properly and whether the bottoms are properly cooked, etc. Bonus: you can cut your shortbread into as many pieces of whatever size you like.

Mince Pie Shortbread

The Mincemeat

You can make this several days beforehand and store in the fridge, if liked. When required, to make it easier to then spread over the shortbread, put it into a pan, cover and heat on the lowest setting. You might want to add a little more liquid (apple juice/orange juice/brandy/sherry) to help it loosen up. The additional dates add to the sweetness, so if you don’t have a sweet tooth, you might want to substitute the apple juice for the juice of an extra orange or even lemon

50g currants
50g raisins – crimson raisins look pretty
50g sultanas
200g dates – finely chopped
25g candied orange peel
25g candied lemon peel
25g candied grapefruit or citron peel
35g dried cranberries
25g slivered almonds or flaked almonds – chopped
2tbs sherry
1tbs brandy
juice & grated rind of 1 orange
¼ tsp of ground ginger
¼ tsp of nutmeg,
¼ tsp of ground cinnamon
¼ tsp of mixed spice
¼ tsp of ground cloves

60-100ml apple juice or juice of 1 orange/lemon

  • Put the dried fruits into a small saucepan.
  • Cut the candied peel into small pieces with scissors and add to the pan with the spices. NB If you’re using your home-made candied peel that has been stored in syrup, then there’s no need to soften it in the saucepan – just stir it in with the nuts once the fruit has plumped.
  • Add the orange juice and zest, brandy, sherry and 60ml of apple juice (or the extra orange/lemon juice).
  • Stir gently to combine and set pan over the lowest possible heat.
  • Cover and let the mixture stew gently until all the liquid has been absorbed.
  • If the fruit isn’t as plumped and juicy as you would like, add a little more liquid.
  • The mixture should be moist, but with no liquid visible in the bottom.
  • When you’re happy with the consistency, stir through the almonds.

 

The Shortbread

Make whichever shortbread variation you prefer, regular or gluten-free.

60g soft brown sugar
120g unsalted butter, chilled
180g plain flour – or gluten-free flour
60g your choice of additional flour (rice flour, cornflour, cornmeal, semolina, etc)
¼ tsp salt
zest of 1-2 oranges, depending on size

1 egg-white for glazing

  • Line a small baking tin (18cm x 25cm) with baking parchment. Leave extra parchment overlapping the sides, to assist in moving the baked shortbread.
  • Heat the oven to 160°C, 140°C Fan.
  • Cut the butter into cubes and add to the bowl of a food processor fitted with a blade.
  • Add the remaining dry ingredients and zest to the butter and pulse briefly until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.
  • Tip the mixture onto the parchment, and press into an even layer.
  • Use a round skewer or cocktail stick to poke holes all over the surface of the slab of shortbread.
  • Bake the shortbread for 30 minutes, turning the tin around after 15 minutes to ensure even baking.
  • Once the shortbread is baked,
    • Remove the shortbread from the oven. Keep the oven on.
    • Whisk the egg white until frothy, then paint a layer onto the hot shortbread and return it to the oven for 3 minutes to set.
    • Remove the tin from the oven, switch off the heat and using a very thin bladed knife or (ideally, in my opinion) a metal dough scraper, cut the shortbread into pieces. I cut mine lengthwise in half, then across into fingers 2-3cm wide.
    • Return the tin to the cooling oven to cool.

The Topping

250g white chocolate
zest from 1 lemon

  • Break the chocolate into pieces and melt in a bowl either over simmering water, or by zapping in the microwave in short bursts.
  • Stir through the lemon zest.

To Assemble

  • Spread a layer of mincemeat over the cooled shortbread. I didn’t use all of the batch, only about 2/3, but if you’d prefer a thicker layer, have at it by all means.
  • Smooth over the top with a palette knife or similar.
  • Pour over the lemon-flavoured white chocolate and smooth over.
  • Put it in the fridge to set (optional – you can leave it on the worktop if you have the room).

To Divide

In a repeat of the instructions from Butterscotch Shortbread, here is how to ensure your slab of mince pie shortbread emerges in sharp and clean slices.

  • When you’re ready to portion it out, remove your slab of mince pie shortbread from the fridge and set it on the countertop. Leave it to come to room temperature. Trying to cut through the chocolate layer whilst chilled will just shatter it. If your shortbread cooled on the worktop, you can, if course, skip this step.
  • Take a clean cloth or a double layer of kitchen roll and lay it on top of the set chocolate.
  • Lay a cutting board on top of that, and carefully turn the whole slab over, so that once the tin and the baking parchment are removed, the shortbread is uppermost.
  • The lines from cutting the shortbread earlier should be clearly visible.
  • Slide your dough blade into the cuts in the shortbread, then press down sharply to cut through both the mincemeat and the chocolate layers in one clean movement.
  • Make sure you have cut – or rather re-cut – through all of the pieces before trying to move your mince pie shortbread.
  • Store your shortbread in an airtight container. Use a piece of parchment between layers to keep crumbs off your pristine chocolate finish.

Butterscotch Shortbread

21st Century, Biscuits

The deliciousness I have for you this week is something of a Lego™ recipe in that it started with A New Thing, which was exciting and delicious, but for which I had no use for at the time. However, if you then clip it together with two other things, Voila! A NEW New thing that VERY usable anytime, but especially as a delicious-mouth-filler-round-about-mid-morning-with-some-hot-strong-coffee-thankyousoverymuch.

OK, enough code-talking. The New Thing to which I refer is something that I found on the internet which is Whipped Caramel. A simple and straightforward combination of sugar, cream and butter which is whipped as it cools to incorporate air into the mixture, thus making it light and creamy. It holds it’s shape very well, making it an indulgent means of filling and topping cakes, large and small.

However, I must confess to taking issue with the name, because it’s not so much caramel as butterscotch. Because, and I don’t feel this is too much of an exaggeration, it has butter in it. I also think it has something to do with the incorporation of the air. It’s almost as if it tastes lighter. Anyway, I only mention this because if you’re expecting a caramel from a recipe and you end up with a butterscotch, it might throw a spanner in your recipe works. A delicious spanner, but a spanner nonetheless.

So there I was, with some delicious whipped butterscotch, and nothing to use it on, so I popped it in the fridge, reasoning that, if nothing else, I could determine how long it would last.

Well, as luck would have it, my daughter came home from school the very next day with news that the school’s Macmillan Coffee Morning was scheduled for the end of the week and she needed ALL the bakes. Also lucky was the fact that I’d just finished my mammoth shortbread testing session, so it was just a matter of thinking what to top it off with, found I had some white chocolate in the cupboard, and the Coffee Morning was saved!

I was pleased with the way that the white chocolate finished it all off, and the overall result is very similar to Millionaire’s Shortbread (Sidebar: the difference between Millionaire’s and Billionaire’s Shortbread is, apparently, Billionaire’s Shortbread has a little salt in the caramel – who knew!?) to look at. The butterscotch and white chocolate gives it a flavour combination which is both decidedly different, and rather moreish. Teamed with your favourite 1:2:4 shortbread, and you have a customised treat fit for bake sales, gifting or even just hiding away for your own special treat.

The only changes I’ve made to the Whipped Caramel are a couple of suggestions for the method, which, due to the somewhat Faffy™ approach, will markedly reduce your chances of failure.

I am suggesting making a large batch here, mainly due to the Faff™ Factor, because you don’t want to end up having to go through it all again because it has been inhaled by your nearest and dearest. That said, you could make a batch of the caramel and just a regular batch of shortbread, and keep the extra in the fridge for later (it will keep a week at least).

Butterscotch Shortbread

There are three elements to this recipe: the shortbread, the whipped butterscotch and the white chocolate topping. I recommend that they are made in that order, or if you want to spread out the tasks, make the whipped butterscotch the day before.

The Shortbread

  • Make a batch of 1:2:4 shortbread.
    • For a small batch, that uses only half the quantity of whipped caramel, use a tin of size 18cm x 25cm.
    • For the large amount of butterscotch shortbread, I used a double batch of shortbread and a tin of dimensions 30cm x 22cm and bake for a total of 40 minutes, turning the tin around halfway through.
  • Take the cooked shortbread out of the oven and cut it to the size pieces you wish to serve your butterscotch shortbread. I cut fingers of dimensions approximately 3cm by 10cm. NB The finished shortbread is very rich, so smaller is better – with hindsight, a more reasonable size would have been 5cm x 3cm. Remember, you can always go back for another piece, but a too-large piece… well, let’s just say it IS possible to have too much of a good thing.
  •   Set the shortbread aside to cool, either in the cooling oven or on the worktop.

The Whipped Butterscotch

375g caster sugar
100ml water
100g unsalted butter cut into cubes
300ml double cream[1]

  • Add the sugar and water to a pan. A broad (frying) pan will help with moisture evaporation more than a saucepan. A non-stick pan for preference.
  • Stir the sugar and water together over low heat until dissolved. It is possible to skip using the water and just melt the sugar, but you then run the risk of burning the sugar, and once burnt, there’s no disguising the bitterness. And I know this because I did it myself. I was melting the sugar without water, and I thought I’d smelled a touch of burn, but ploughed on regardless. After going through all the whipping and cooling and more whipping, it was very disappointing to be able to taste the burn in the finished butterscotch. So making a syrup and evaporating the water is worth it for peace of mind and guaranteed success, and doesn’t lengthen the process by much.
  • Simmer the syrup to evaporate the water, and allow it to bubble until it has reached a golden caramel colour. Once all the water has evaporated, it will caramelise quickly, so keep a beady eye on it.
  • When the caramel has darkened to your liking, add in the butter and whisk it as it melts.
  • Add the cream and continue whisking over heat until combined – about 2 minutes.
  • Pour the butterscotch into a bowl and cool in the fridge for 20 minutes. It won’t be cold, but it will be much cooler than it was, and quicker than waiting for it to cool on the side.
  • Using a hand whisk, or a stand mixer, whisk the butterscotch for 1-2 minutes. The aim is to incorporate as much air into the butterscotch as it cools. It will thicken as it cools and the colour will become lighter.
  • Put the butterscotch bowl into the freezer and chill for 10 minutes, then whisk again. Each time you whisk, the butterscotch will thicken and get lighter again.
  • You can now use your whipped butterscotch, or keep it in the fridge until required.

To Assemble

400g white chocolate

  • If you’ve stored your whipped butterscotch in the fridge, you might want to give it an extra whisk, to make it easier to spread.
  • Spread the butterscotch over your shortbread in as thick a layer as you wish. I recommend erring on the side of caution, as it is very rich. Smooth over the surface and chill in the fridge while the chocolate is prepared. If you don’t use all your whipped butterscotch, you can store it in the fridge in a covered container. When needed, just whisk it briefly to get it to a suitable softness.
  • Break the chocolate into squares and melt – either over hot water or in 30 second intervals in the microwave. Stir the chocolate until fully melted, and then for 1-2 more minutes in order to cool it down: too hot, and it will start to melt the butterscotch and you won’t get a clean finish. Then again, a few swirls of butterscotch in the chocolate isn’t the end of the world by any means.
  • Take the shortbread and butterscotch slab out of the fridge and pour over the melted chocolate. Smooth it to an even layer using an offset spatula.
  • Return the tin to the fridge to set completely.

To Divide

Regular listeners will be aware of how much I love a clean, sharp slice. Even the humblest of recipes can become eye-catching with the cunning wielding of a sharp blade.

That said, I’ve found one of the best blades is one of these dough scrapers. The blade itself isn’t sharp, but it is super thin and can make an excellent and clean cut.

Here is how to ensure your slab of butterscotch shortbread emerges in sharp and clean slices.

  • Remove your slab of butterscotch shortbread from the fridge and set it on the countertop.
  • Take a clean cloth or a double layer of kitchen roll and lay it on top of the set chocolate.
  • Lay a cutting board on top of that, and carefully turn the whole slab over, so that once the baking parchment is removed, the shortbread is uppermost.
  • The lines from cutting the shortbread earlier after it was baked should be visible.
  • Slide your dough blade into the cuts in the shortbread, then press down sharply to cut through both the butterscotch and the chocolate in one clean movement.
  • Make sure you have cut – or rather re-cut – through all of the pieces before transferring your butterscotch shortbread to an airtight container. Use a piece of parchment between layers to keep crumbs off your pristine chocolate finish.
  • NB I recommend storing your butterscotch shortbread in an airtight container in the fridge, or failing that, somewhere cool, in order to preserve the clean, sharp edges of the butterscotch. Allow it to come to room temperature before serving.

[1] You can also use whipping cream, which will give a softer textured butterscotch, that might be more suitable for frosting/filling cakes/cupcakes.

Colcannon

18th century, 19th century, 20th century, 21st Century, Main Meal

There are many traditional foods associated with All Hallow’s Eve/Hallowe’en, November Night, but one which might be new (and deliciously simple to prepare), is the Irish potato dish of Colcannon.

Back in the beforetimes, when cakes of bairín breac were considered a luxury, people used to celebrate All Hallow’s Eve with a big pot of Colcannon. A ring was hidden in the depths of the creamy, mashed potatoes, and whoever ended up with it on their spoon, was said to be going to be the first to marry, within the next 12 months.

There aren’t many Irish cookery books of this time, so my favourite place to find accounts of the Irish food actually eaten by the population (as opposed to some publisher’s imagined scenario), is The School’s Collection at the National Folklore Collection, held at University College, Dublin. The Schools Project was an ambitious and wide-ranging collection of everything to do with Irish Folklore and Culture, gathered and recorded by school pupils between 1937 and 1939. More information about the project can be found here.

With information gathered from all across the country, it is fascinating to see both the common threads that bind the Irish people together, as well as discover the little differences that make each community unique. For instance, you might be aware of the popular Irish potato dish of Boxty, you might also be aware that it can be served in three different ways (loaf, dumplings, pan), but you might be surprised to learn that The Schools Collection contains over 150 different ways of making Boxty. I recently wrote a paper about this, the appendices of which, including the list of 150+ different ways of making Boxty, you can access here.

So it is, to a certain extent, with Colcannon. It also appears under the names Brúitín, Brúchin, Champ and Poundies, to name but a few. “No, no no!” I hear you exclaim, “Champ is its own thing! It’s made with spring onions!”

Well yes, but actually no.

It might actually be a Stampy/Boxty situation, where the same dish has different names, depending on the part of the country you come from. I shall be looking into this more soon.

Similarly, there can be interpretation as to what exactly the dish comprises. At it’s simplest, it is cooked potatoes, mashed with a little milk, pepper and salt, and served in a mound with a lump of butter in the middle. It is eaten by scooping some potato from around the edge and then dipping it in the growing pool of melted butter in the middle before consuming.

Many accounts of Colcannon have additional items of flavouring added. “A bit of greenery” is probably the easiest way to describe a large proportion of them, which include young (spring) onion, chives, nettles, leeks, shredded cooked cabbage or kale, parsley, regular onions.

The accompaniments can be anything you enjoy, but traditionally they include: sweet milk, buttermilk or sowans to drink, and crisp, crunchy oat bread (oatcakes) to use as a scoop.

I was delighted to find just how old the dish of Colcannon is: there’s mention of it back in the eighteenth century. William Ellis (1750) includes a recipe for an “Irish Country Dish” in his The Country Housewife’s Family Companion, p366.

And Welsh diarist William Bulkeley (1691-1751), whose diaries are kept at Bangor University, mentions dining on “Coel Callen” at Halloween in 1735, whilst on a trip to Ireland.

Even earlier, a poem published in Dublin in 1723, speaks of what certainly seems to be a dish of Colcannon being prepared for a wedding feast.

From “Mendico-hymen seu, tuphlo-pero-gamia. The beggar’s match. Translated from the Latin.”, W. Thompson, printed by Tho. Hume, for Jer. and Sil. Pepyat, Dublin, 1723.

Colcannon

This is more of a guideline than hard-and-fast recipe. Use quantities to your own personal needs and taste.

potatoes
greenery 
milk
salt & pepper
butter

ring (optional)

  • Cook your potatoes. The method doesn’t really matter: boil or bake. The important detail is to mash them smooth whilst hot. I use a ricer to make sure all lumps have been dealt with, but you can also press them through a coarse sieve or use some elbow grease and a masher utensil.
  • Smooth out the mixture by adding milk. NB Use hot milk, otherwise you run the risk of cooling down your potatoes too much. If you’re using any kind of onion, you might like to simmer them in milk for 10 minutes to both flavour the milk and reduce the harshness of the onions themselves. Strain out the onions, keeping the warm milk for mixing, and chop the onions finely – or to your taste. Cover and keep hot while the greens are prepared.
  • Add your greens – this may be in the form of herbs (chives/parsley) green onions/spring onions/cibol/leeks, Savoy cabbage, spring greens, kale, sweetheart cabbage, white cabbage, Brussels sprouts, spinach, nettles, etc. The cabbage and/or leeks should be shredded to your liking (fine/coarse) and blanched/steamed for five minutes. Add sufficient to your own personal taste.
  • When everything is piping hot, serve your Colcannon in a large communal dish, with a generous amount of butter in a hollow in the centre, and hand round spoons for all. Don’t forget to pop a ring  into the mix before serving, if matrimony is in your plans.

Shortbread Variations

19th century, 20th century, 21st Century

This week’s recipe subject came about, as it increasingly does of late, with a casual thought when looking for something else.

Behold this recipe from Mary Jewry, editor of Warne’s Model Cookery and Housekeeping Book (1868). The first thing that caught my eye, and got me thinking, was the proportions of the ingredients. Nowadays, a proportion of 1:2:3 (of sugar, butter and flour) is touted by many as traditional, but here was a proportion of 1:2:4. Also of interest was the addition of ground almonds to add texture, whereas modern purist recipes staunchly abide by the ‘rule of three’ (i.e. no additions, especially not caraway comfits and citron). Lastly, there was the cooking temperature – a slow oven – which is different to the short sharp bake at high temperature in use today.

I resolved to put these variations to the test, but then the addition of the almonds got me thinking some more: what else has been added to traditional shortbread, and to what end? The answer turned out to be: quite a bit. I ended up baking twelve batches of 1:2:4 shortbread, each with a different ingredient making up 1/4 of the flour component, and performing a giant taste test to see which was, for me, the ultimate combination. And here’s a key point: it’s all down to personal taste. What I might find delightful, others may find not to their taste. I’m hoping that by presenting a wide range of options, you too may find your ultimate shortbread recipe.

Here are the choices I made:

  • Sugar: I chose to use soft light brown. This was to give a more rounded flavour to the shortbread. White caster (superfine) sugar is sweet, but only that – rather one note.
  • Butter: unsalted, but with a small quantity of salt added. I had made some shortbread recently, and used salted butter, and the shortbread was delicious, but the finishing lick of saltiness might be an acquired taste. I tried another batch with unsalted butter, and this proved less popular, so for the run of test batches I resolved to split the difference and use unsalted butter, with just a quarter teaspoon of salt.
  • Flour: regular, unbranded white plain flour. After baking a control batch using 100% flour, the remaining batches each had 1 part of the flour component as a different ingredient. These comprised: ground almonds, rice flour, ground rice, cornflour, ground almonds, semolina, fine cornmeal and coarse cornmeal (caveat: I was unable to find any coarse cornmeal, and used polenta instead).

The Results

There are several outcomes from this mammoth bake and taste test. (Top image, Shortbread Variations: From the left, classic (butter, sugar, flour), then baked with: cornflour, rice flour, semolina, ground rice, ground almonds, polenta).

  • The ‘flours’ – these can be divided into two groups, the powders and the granules. Both affect the texture of the finished shortbread.
    • The powders include cornflour, rice flour, fine cornmeal (and possibly by extension, arrowroot, potato starch). The effects of using these powder-fine flours is to make the texture of the shortbread crisp and ‘melt in the mouth’.
    • The granules include ground almonds, ground rice, semolina, coarse cornmeal, polenta. The  effects of using these granules is to make the shortbread both crisp and crumbly. They create a thin, outside ‘crust’ and inside deliciously friable and crumbly. Ground almonds obviously bring a nuttiness to the cooked shortbread, which, if it’s your favourite, could be intensified by using ground hazelnuts. The polenta/cornmeal versions also baked to a gorgeous golden colour.
  • The long, slow baking allows the shortbread to cook though thoroughly. Sometimes I have had shortbread where the outsides are cooked, but the insides moist, dense and almost doughy. This method of cooking eliminates that.
  • To further improve the texture of the shortbread, it was returned to the oven to cool, to ensure all moisture is eliminated. The shortbread should not be stored until completely cold.
  • A number of gluten-free batches were made, although fewer that those using regular flour. I have always had good results by substituting Doves Farm gluten-free flour on a 1-for-1 basis, and so it proved here. NB Gluten-free shortbread is extremely delicate when freshly baked, and will need a very careful approach (see below). However, if my advice is followed, once cooled they will be much more sturdy.

Gluten-free shortbread variations: classic, ground rice, fine cornmeal, polenta

To summarise: All the shortbread versions were delicious, and unless you line them up side by side like I did, it is unlikely that you would be able to rate one over another, It’s really almost splitting hairs to rank them – everyone’s personal taste is different – so I won’t. One observation of mine, which you are free to discard, is that, for my tastes, the shortbreads were a little sweet, so in my perfect recipe (below), I reduced the amount of sugar to just 45g – it’s practically health food! With the sprinkling of sugar on the top, it made for the perfect amount of sweetness.

People with gluten sensitivity: At the risk of stating the obvious, almost all of the flours can be enjoyed – rice flour, corn flour, ground rice, fine corn meal, coarse cornmeal/polenta, ground almonds, ground hazelnuts – and as already mentioned, probably arrowroot and potato starch as well. A gentle reminder that the one exception is semolina. SEMOLINA is made from durum wheat and is NOT GLUTEN-FREE.

The Recipe

60g soft brown sugar
120g unsalted butter, chilled
180g plain flour – or gluten-free flour
60g your choice of additional flour
¼ tsp salt
a little caster sugar for sprinkling

  • Line a small baking tin (18cm x 25cm) with baking parchment. Leave extra parchment overlapping the sides, to assist in moving the baked shortbread.
  • Heat the oven to 160°C, 140°C Fan.
  • Cut the butter into cubes and add to the bowl of a food processor fitted with a blade.
  • Add the remaining ingredients to the butter and pulse briefly until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.
  • Tip the mixture onto the parchment, and press into an even layer.
  • Use a round skewer to poke holes all over the surface of the slab of shortbread.
  • Use the tines of a fork to mark the shortbread along the long edges of the tin.
  • Bake the shortbread for 30 minutes, turning the tin around after 15 minutes to ensure even baking.
  • Once the shortbread is baked, there are additional steps you need to take in order to make your shortbread the very best,
    • Remove the shortbread from the oven. Keep the oven on.
    • Sprinkle the surface of the shortbread with a little caster sugar.
    • Using a very thin bladed knife or (ideally, in my opinion, a metal dough scraper), cut the shortbread into pieces. I cut mine lengthwise in half, then across into fingers 3cm wide.
    • Allow to cool in the tin for 15 minutes.
    • Gently slide the parchment out of the tin and onto a baking sheet. Smooth out the parchment.
    • Using the dough scraper (or palette knife turned sideways), ease the shortbread pieces apart to leave a 5mm gap in-between. You want to gently push them apart, not try and slide anything underneath, because the shortbread will break. NB The gluten-free shortbread will be EXTREMELY delicate, take extra care at this point.
    • Return the shortbread to the oven, switch the oven off and leave to cool until both oven and shortbread are completely cold. I baked most batches in the evening and let the shortbread cool overnight. If baking during the day, it will take between 3-4 hours.
    • When completely cold, transfer the shortbread to an airtight container to store.

Bonus

On a personal level, I discovered that I much preferred the gluten-free shortbread made with the grains, specifically cornmeal, the texture being surprisingly moreish. I think the natural sweetness of maize and the greatness of the flavour when pairing with butter is a significant contribution. To this end, I decided to make one more batch, with cornmeal, and some raw butter (made from unpasteurised milk). In the 19th century all butter was raw butter, so I reasoned that this would be even more authentic (I had brought some raw butter back from France this summer). To cut a long, rambling story short – it was amazing. If you have the opportunity to get your hands on some raw butter made from unpasteurized milk, do it, and then make shortbread. It’s sublime. It is possible to get raw butter in the UK, but it is more expensive than regular, and in the current cost of living crunch, it might not be your number one priority. However, if you fancy treating yourself, then Sainsbury’s stocks Isigny Sainte-Mère salted raw butter, whilst Ocado has both salted and unsalted (doux).

My Perfect Shortbread

45g soft brown sugar
120g raw butter made from unpasteurized milk, chilled
180g plain white gluten-free flour
60g cornmeal
¼ tsp salt
a little caster sugar for sprinkling

Make and bake as above.

Improving Strawberries

20th century, 21st Century, Pastry, Small Cakes

On a recent holiday in France I had some wonderful strawberries: heady, aromatic and bursting with flavour.¹

Still a bit mesmerised, two punnets of strawberries were one of the first things I bought when we got back. Alas, compared to the French ones, they were decidedly underwhelming. I know it’s late in the season for strawberries, but even so, a great disappointment.

Since we now have the luxury of strawberries year-round, I thought I’d bring you this method of not only rescuing below-par strawberries, but also demonstrating how you can use them in a couple of recipes, as well as enjoying them in their new and improved, glow-up form.

The method is very simple, too. Cut up your strawberries and sprinkle them with a little sugar – NOT icing sugar, because it contains an anti-caking agent. Use white caster or granulated. The sugar will gradually draw out the juices from the strawberries, which will in turn absorb some of the sugar.

You can enjoy them as is, and luxuriate in their much improved flavour, or you can use them in other things. Below I have two suggestions – a strawberry scone and in a mille feuille made from stale croissants.

To Confit strawberries

I’ve gone back and forth quite a bit to come up with a term for this method and, to be honest, I’m not entirely happy with ‘confit’, because to confit something generally involves the use of heat to cook the items, which this patently doesn’t. However ‘macerating’ wasn’y really suitable either, because that involves adding liquid, and here the liquid comes from the fruit itself. If someone can find a word that fits better, do please leave a comment.

strawberries
caster or granulated sugar – 1tbs per 100g strawberries

  • Remove the green stalks and leaves from the strawberries and cut each one into 6-8 pieces, depending on size.
  • Put the cut strawberries into a bowl and sprinkle over the sugar.
  • Turn the berries over gently so that the sugar is distributed evenly.
  • Cover with plastic and set somewhere cool. I prefer to keep them at room temperature rather than chilled, at least in the initial stages as I believe it produces a better overall flavour, but keep in the fridge if you prefer.
  • Gently stir occasionally.
  • Allow your strawberries to macerate for up to 24 hours. The longer you leave them, the more juice will be drawn out. After about 24 hours, the  strawberries will be practically floating in a light syrup and their flavour will be deliciously intense.
  • You can choose when to eat/use your strawberries. For the two recipes below I used berries that had been macerating for 24 hours.

Strawberry Scones

Fresh strawberries release too much juice to be included in regular scones, but by using confit strawberries, you can get all the concentrated flavour and still maintain the integrity of your scones. This recipe is based on that of Mrs McNab (19thC farmer’s wife from Ballater, Scotland – see Great British Bakes). It makes 8 scones. It is deliberately unsweetened, as I believe the plainness of the scone dough highlights the flavour of the strawberry pieces much better than a sweet dough. You might disagree, and that’s fine. You can add 30g of sugar to the mixture before baking if you like, or sprinkle some sugar over the hot scones after baking (as in the picture).

225g plain flour
2tsp baking powder, or 1 tsp cream of tartar, ½ tsp bicarbonate of soda.
½ tsp salt
30g unsalted butter
1 large egg
60ml plain yogurt
60ml milk

100g drained, confit strawberries.

Milk for glazing
sugar to sprinkle (optional)

  • Heat the oven to 220°C, 200°C Fan.
  • Put the flour, powder(s), salt, butter, sugar if using, and egg into the bowl of a food processor fitted with a blade and blitz until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.
  • Tip the mixture into a bowl.
  • Add the drained strawberries and fold in.
  • Mix the yogurt and milk together until smooth.
  • Fold in the yogurt mixture little by little, ideally with a round-ended knife. NB Do NOT slosh it in all at once. You may not need all of the liquid, especially if the strawberries are juicy. You want just enough liquid to bring the dough together.
  • NB The faster you do the shaping/cutting/getting the scones in the oven, the more they will rise.
  • Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and pat into a circle about 4cm thick. NB Don’t roll it with a rolling pin, you’ll just squash out all the lift from the raising agents.
  • Using a dough scraper or thin-bladed knife, cut the disk of dough into eight triangles. They will look small, but they will rise splendidly in the oven.
  • Transfer the triangles to a parchment covered baking sheet and brush over with milk to glaze.
  • Bake for 15 minutes, turning the baking sheet around after 10 minutes to ensure even colouring.
  • Remove from the oven and sprinkle caster sugar over the hot scones if liked.
  • Transfer to a wire rack to cool.
  • Enjoy warm as is, or with butter or cream.

Strawberry Croissant Mille Feuille

You know when you have stale croissants lying around?

…

*crickets*

…

Of course not. No-one does.

HOWEVER!

The thought “What if…” did cross my mind over the aforementioned holidays, and that led me to thinking about how they might be used in a new and exciting way. The idea is related to the puff pastry more traditionally used insofar as I brought back some delicious French butter with the intention of making a batch, and now I’m procrastinating like mad because, although delicious, it’s SUCH A FAFF™! Bonus: You can use gluten-free croissants (Schar is one brand I have tried – find them in the freezer section of your local supermarket).

Using a croissant reduces the Faff to almost non-existant levels and provides another opportunity to use the strawberries prepares above – this time using the juice as well. Slicing, toasting and then bruléeing the croissants will give both crunch and shine. The last two things needed for our croissant mille feuille are Brulée Sugar and some whipped cream.

To thicken liquid with Arrowroot

Why arrowroot, you may be asking? Well, it thickens and turns clear when heated, but unlike cornflour, when cooled it does not go ‘gloopy’ as such, rather it forms a loose jelly-like texture that clings wonderfully to the fruit (see top photo) making it bright and glossy, and doesn’t form a skin.

For each 80ml of liquid/syrup, use 1tsp arrowroot, or 1 tablespoon per 250ml.

  • Mix your arrowroot with an equal quantity of cold water until smooth.
  • Add the arrowroot slurry to your syrup and heat gently, stirring all the while.
  • NB Do not boil the mixture. High heat will break down the thickening properties. Remove from the heat when thickened and clear.
  • Stir in your strawberries and chill until required.

To Assemble

  • Slice your croissant(s) into three, horizontally.
  • Toast the slices lightly on both sides. Be careful, they will take less time to toast than regular bread, due to the higher fat content.
  • Dust the slices thickly with brulée sugar, then either grill them or use a blow torch to melt the sugar. The sugar will melt quickly, so keep an eye. Allow to cool, so that the sugar hardens.

  • To serve: pipe a rim of cream around the edge of the bottom two layers, and fill the middle with your strawberries in thickened juice.

  • Stack the layers together and serve.

¹ From the Calais Cité Europe Carrefour near the Tunnel, which I can highly recommend for all those last minute foodie purchases on your way home. If you’re interested in growing your own, the variety I recommend is Charlotte.

Russian Toffee

19th century, 20th century

This is a recipe that I’ve had on my ‘To Do’ list for years. I first came across it in an old, spiral-bound, Women’s Institute cookery book. Over the years I’ve seen many different versions, some with sour cream, some from the 19th century are made with “Swiss Milk” (the equivalent of modern condensed milk – although just to be confusing, some recipes sometimes list “unsweetened Swiss Milk”, thus making it equivalent to evaporated milk). It would be interesting to see how these recipes compare in texture to the classic fudge recipe posted elsewhere on this site.

But anyhoo…

From “The Art of Sweetmaking” by Beatrice Manders, L. Thorne & Co., London, 1901, pp31/2

This version, from 1901,  uses red currant jelly, which gives the toffee a lovely reddish tinge and a delicious tang of sharpness against the sweetness from all the sugar. Redcurrants are about to come into season, and this recipe might be useful to either use up last year’s jelly or make use of this year’s fresh batch. Alternately, you can just buy red currant jelly in the supermarket.

I deliberately chose this version because it dates to the height of Russian Toffee popularity, and I find it funny that the writer sees fit to include finger-wagging admonishment to take care to make it properly and not over-cook it, all the while failing to give proper instructions on how to do just that.

So! Let us talk about the intricacies of toffee making.

In short, there aren’t any. It is fundamentally about heating your sugar mixture to a particular temperature point in order to achieve a certain texture when it cools down. This is done by heating until sufficient moisture has evaporated, which will result in the sugar reaching a high-enough temperature.

The difficulty for our Victorian ancestors and earlier was, a lack of sufficiently detailed thermometers with which to aid their efforts. That’s not to say that sugar confectionery was unheard of in earlier times. Quite the opposite, in fact. Confectioners in Times of Yore™ devised a visual scale to judge the heat of the sugar solution, and divided it into six levels, each with their own particular uses: smooth, pearled, blown, feathered, cracked and caramel. Francis Massialot’s “The Court and Country Cook” (1702) goes into detail across several pages describing the physical and visual cues of each stage.

Luckily for modern cooks, there are digital thermometers which can eliminate much of the guesswork. The difficulty lies in ensuring that the whole of your batch of boiling sugar has reached the correct temperature, hence the need to keep your mixture well stirred. Care must also be taken, if using a probe thermometer, not to accidentally touch the tip against the bottom of the pan, which will register as several degrees higher than the sugar itself.

All that remains is to decide on the consistency you wish to enjoy your toffee. You can take it to whatever degree you prefer. I have made this specific recipe four times, taking each batch to a different temperature and each has its pluses and minuses. Its up to you which you choose.

  • 120°C – toffee is soft and chewy at room temperature.
  • 130°C – toffee is firmer but still chewy. Thin sheets will bend easily.
  • 140°C – toffee is hard at room temperature, but will soften in the mouth and become chewy.
  • 150°C – toffee is brittle at room temperature, will eventually soften in the mouth and become chewy.

Personally, I prefer the last two: for toffee to consume as is I like to take it to 150°C; for toffee to use in other recipes, since it will have further heating in the oven, I prefer to take it to just 140°C.

One final point, toffee is hygroscopic. It loves to absorb moisture. As soon as it is cooled, you should pack it in an airtight container. A plastic ziplock bag might lack visual appeal, but it is marvellous for keeping your toffee shiny and free of stickiness for days on end. Alternatively, you can choose to either wrap your toffee pieces in waxed paper or cover your toffee in chocolate to prolong its shelf life.

Russian Toffee

This is just a half batch of the original recipe, and still makes a sizeable slab. I have elected to interpret ‘loaf sugar’ as soft, light brown sugar, for added flavour. After a few trial runs, I opted to omit the vanilla as it wasn’t adding anything to the flavour, and actually impairing the redcurrant flavour coming through. You could vary this recipe by using similar quantities of other sharp fruit jellies such as cranberry, black currant, quince or apple.

225g soft light brown sugar
115g unsalted butter
100g red currant jelly
150g double cream

200g dark chocolate (optional)

  • Line an edged baking pan with baking parchment. I used a pan 30cm x 22cm and it was more than large enough.
  • Add all ingredients to a pan and heat gently until the butter and jelly have melted and the sugar dissolved. A wide pan (like a frying pan) is better than a tall (saucepan) pan, as the greater surface area facilitates evaporation.
  • Increase the heat slightly (I suggest level 6 on a 1-9 scale) and stir gently but continuously until the mixture boiled for several minutes and has thickened slightly.
  • Check with a thermometer (if using a frying pan, you may need to tilt it in order to get an accurate reading of the sugar mixture temperature), and remove from the heat when your sugar mixture has reached your chosen temperature.
  • Pour the mixture onto the baking parchment in your prepared pan and allow to cool. NB If you wish to mark out your toffee into squares like in the top picture, don’t let it cool longer than 8 minutes before doing so, otherwise it will have set too firmly.
  • To mark out your toffee, lightly butter the blade of a long, straight-bladed knife and press down firmly into the toffee. About 1.5cm squares is a good size. The knife won’t easily cut all the way through, but will make strong enough marks so that it is easy to break into pieces when cooled.
  • After 20 minutes of cooling, cover the pan with cling film, or slide the whole thing, pan and all, into a large ziplock bag, and leave to cool completely (both Sainsbury’s & Tesco sell XL ziplock bags that are ideal for this).
  • If you’re planning to enjoy your toffee as is, then, once completely cold, you can give it a sharp tap on the counter and it should break into pieces quite easily. Be sure to transfer it to an airtight container to keep it free of stickiness.
  • If you’d like to cover it with chocolate, you can temper it relatively quickly and easily by using the seeding method and 200g of the chocolate of choice. I used dark chocolate. Also, Instead of dipping pieces individually, which is a Faff™, I opted to brush the tempered chocolate over the whole sheet, on both sides, then break into pieces once the chocolate had set and cooled. It doesn’t cover the toffee completely, but enough to keep it from dissolving into a sticky mess, and the contrast between the bitterness of the chocolate with the sweetness of the toffee and the tang of the redcurrants is delightful.