easy – Deja Food

Nankaties

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.

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.

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.

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.

Ouse Bridge Cakes

18th century, Bread, Small Cakes, Yeast

I love coming across a geographically-named recipe. It gives a place and time in which to ground the dish: Grasmere Gingerbread, Cornish Pasties, Chelsea Buns.

Almost better yet, is discovering a recipe that is also unknown today, having gone out of fashion or due to some other circumstance. Such is Ouse Bridge Cakes.

There’s practically no information available about these bakes. In “The Gentlewoman’s Kitchen” (1984), Peter Brears suggests Ouse Bridge Cakes are a yeast dough flavoured with mace, cloves and nutmeg and mixed with sugar and milk. In his book “Secret York” (2014), author Paul Chrystal writes:

“Ouse Bridge Cakes, known in the eighteenth century, a type of Yorkshire tea cake.”

And that’s pretty much it. Not much to go on at all.

Luckily, in my scouring of old manuscripts, I have turned up five, different, eighteenth-century Ouse Bridge Cake recipes. I reasoned that, within their pages lay an understanding of what constituted the original Ouse Bridge Cakes.

But first, a little history. The bridge over the River Ouse that this recipe refers refers to is in the city of York. Although there have been many bridges over the centuries, it is the fourth Ouse Bridge (1565–1810) which has been commemorated in these buns.

Old Ouse Bridge from the South. T.Taylor, 1806.

Just as with many city bridges of the time, the Ouse bridge was heavily built-up, its five arches supporting substantial buildings on both sides of it’s towering centre arch.

Old Ouse Bridge from the North. Attrib. Henry Cave (British 1779-1836)

With all this busyness on the bridge, it is likely that there were businesses too, and if not a baker’s shop, then almost certainly a stall or street hawkers. Just as Wood Street Cake (see Great British Bakes) took its name from the London street where it was made, Ouse Bridge Cakes take theirs from the place where they could be bought, if not actually baked.

As already mentioned, Ouse Bridge cakes were a spiced bun. But seeing as Yorkshire has quite a reputation for similar items – the most well-known being the Yorkshire Teacake (as with all tea cakes, best eaten toasted and buttered) – it occurred to me that there must be something to distinguish the Ouse Bridge cake from a host of other buns, and that something was probably its shape. A bun of a particular shape is instantly recognisabe – just look at modern Chelsea Buns and their square, spiralled form (which isn’t the original shape – but don’t get me started, see Great British Bakes (again)).

Luckily, there were two of the five recipes (yes, remember them? Back before the detour?) that held clues. The first was in a manuscrpt dating from the mid-eighteenth century, which suggested the dough be weighed out into 8oz (225g) pieces before being shaped.

Ouse Bridge Cakes recipe, MS3498, (1750-1900) Wellcome Collection.

The second piece of information was from a manuscript dated 1750, the last line of which reads “make it up round in ye middle”.

Ouse Bridge Cakes recipe from MS4645, (1750-1853), Wellcome Collection.

I spent a lot of time thinking about this, and decided it meant to shape it like a bagel/ring donut. I also asked online, and the feedback was that it might mean something cottage-loaf-esque, so I experimented with both shapes. I still think the ‘hole in the middle’ is a better fit for the description, but until more recipes are rediscovered, the jury will have to remain resolutely out.

Of course, it might well be that none of these five recipes are the definitive, perfect Ouse Bridge Cakes. Back in the day, even the moderately wealthy (such as the authors of these manuscripts) didn’t necessarily bake for themselves: practically everyone bought their bread from a baker. The recipes that we find in manuscripts are attempts to copy, on a smaller scale, something enjoyed elsewhere, so that they can be enjoyed in their own homes. The five recipes in the manuscripts were all different, yet there were some uniting features, as each author tried to recreate something they had only tasted. Firstly, all of them had currants, ranging from a spartan few ounces to almost half the total weight of the ingredients. All of them were flavoured with spices (nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, mace), but nutmeg was a common denominator amongst all five. All of them were enriched with milk and either butter or cream, and most had added sugar.

The recipe below is very much a Goldilocks version of them all. Neither too much nor too little of everything, because recipe testing revealed certain flaws in the versions that veered towards the extreme. The overly-fruited buns were heavy and close textured, and those buns with generous/excessive additions of butter and cream were reluctant to rise, with a rather greasy taste.

This version is moderately fruited, moderatly enriched and moderately spiced. Delicious warm from the oven, and even more so toasted, with slabs of cold, mature Cheddar cheese (it’s a taste sensation!).

Ouse Bridge Cakes

Each bun is formed from a generous 75g of dough, and I have scaled the quantities down to make a very modest seven buns per batch. Feel free to double the recipe as you see fit. The spicing is just a suggestion: change things up if you have a favourite mix.

225g flour
1 sachet fast-action yeast.
180ml milk
15g sugar
30g unsalted butter
60g currants
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground nutmeg
½ tsp ground cloves
½ tsp ground mace
1 large egg for glazing

Put the milk, sugar and butter in a pan and scald. IMPORTANT Scalding is when the milk almost boils, but not quite. Heat it until it bubbles around the edges (or in the middle if you have an induction hob), then remove from the heat and allow to cool down. Scalding milk breaks down the proteins, which will allow your buns to remain soft and yielding, even when cold. Using 100% unscalded milk in a dough recipe can lead to heaviness.
When the milk mixture has cooled to blood temperature, pour it into your mixing bowl.
Sift the flour, yeast and spices together and add to the milk mixture.
Knead the mixture by hand or on the lowest possible speed on your stand mixer for 10 minutes. increase speed to high for up to 2 minutes, or until the mixture comes together in a clean ball.
Add the currants and fold them in.
Cover the bowl with cling film. The milk, butter and sugar will make the dough slower to rise that a regular dough, so allow at least 90 minutes or until the dough has doubled in size.
Tip out the dough and divide into seven pieces, each of roughly 75 grams. There’s no need to get all aggressive and start punching it: it will naturally deflate with the turning out.
Shape the dough as you see fit. In addition to the two shapes mentioned above, you can also shape them into a regular teacake shape. NB: If you’re going for the cottage loaf shape, I recommend baking the shaped dough in cupcake tins, which really lets the dough ‘sit up’ and hold it’s shape. I used silicone baking trays rather than metal, to keep the dough from forming too crusty an outside.
Set aside to rise for 40 minutes.
When the dough has risen, whisk the egg and brush over the buns with a pastry brush.
Heat the oven to 180°C, 160°C Fan.
Bake the buns for 20 minutes, turning the baking trays/sheets after 10 minutes to ensure even baking.
When cooked and golden brown, transfer to a wire rack to cool.
Store in an airtight container at room temperature.

Dairy-Free Cream

17th century, 18th century, Pudding, Tracklements

Here is very useful recipe for those looking to avoid dairy products or even to just reduce the amount of fat in their diet. By whisking together some smooth jam and a couple of egg-whites, a deliciously light and frothy ‘cream’ can be created, for use as a finishing touch to trifles, puddings and pastries, or to enjoy by itself. The cream will be influenced by whatever flavour of jam you choose to use, but it doesn’t dominate at all. The above was made using seedless raspberry jam, and the subtlty of colour reflects the subtlty of flavour – a mere whisper on the palate. For an almost white ‘cream’ with a very faint flavour (if that suits your needs best), I can recommend making and using Christine Ferber’s Green Apple Jelly.

It is a surprisingly elegant solution for anyone with dietary restrictions, and dates from the cusp of the 17th and 18th centuries (circa 1700).

This particular recipe I found in a manuscript held by the Wellcome Collection in London, but I have also read variations in other manuscripts and locations. I am surprised tht it has fallen out of favour, for it is one of the simplest and easiest recipes I have adapted.

Well, I say adapted. In fact I have changed very little from the original instructions.

To Make Cream Without Milk, MS1804, dated circa 1700, Wellcome Collection.

The one detail I did change was to reduce the number of egg-whites from three to two, reasoning that the eggs we have nowadays are much larger than those of three hundred years ago.

Thanks to modern technology, we are also spared the two hours of hand whisking (with a spoon of all things!) required in order to achieve the light and fluffy outcome pictured above, and can achieve the same result with about 10 minutes of whisking with your kitchen gadget of choice.

The potential worry regarding the consumption of raw egg whites is eliminated by the convenience of being able to purchase pasteurised egg whites in a carton.

The finished whip will hold its shape for several hours, should the need arise, allowing you to prepare this well in advance of your entertaining needs. I decided to leave the whipped ‘cream’ out, to test it’s durability, and can confirm that after 5 hours, it was still (mostly) holding its shape, as can be seen below.

Furthermore, this recipe is customisable in that you can vary the flavour of the whip by using different jams/jellies. For the smoothest result, they should be clear and set. Alternately, you could make your own by gently warming and sieving the jam to remove the fruit pieces in the conserve or jam flavour that you require. Apple, apricot, redcurrant, cranberry, blueberry, blackcurrant, plum, damson, marmalade…the possibilities are endless!

Dairy-Free Cream

You can easily halve the recipe at first, to make a trial batch to see if you like it. However, this might be too small an amount for a stand mixer to get to grips with, so use a hand-held whisk instead.

2 large egg whites (80ml)
225g seedless raspberry jam (or smooth jam/jelly of choice)

Put both ingredients into a bowl and whisk using a mixer, for about 10 minutes, until the mixture is thick and glossy and holds its shape.

Turkey Salmi

19th century, 21st Century, Main Meal, Savoury Pastry

This week I’d like to talk turkey and making champagne tastes on a beer budget.

Just look at that crisp, golden pastry and glossy, rich sauce covering the tender pieces of turkey!

Turkey is a staple on the festive dinner table, but the preference for the pale breast meat has seen the rise of the turkey crown. Since science has yet, one fervently hopes, to develop a limbless turkey, those extra bits don’t just disappear, but are still around to purchase and enjoy.

Actually, I have no idea what happens to the trimmed turkey wings – one of life’s great mysteries – but turkey legs are available in both drum and thigh formats, and should be snapped up whenever you see them because they are fantastic value for money, robustly flavoured and, treated properly, can make for delicious and relatively fuss-free meals.

A quick gallop around the aisles this week tells me that turkey thigh and turkey drumsticks are available in Sainsbury’s, Asda (drumstick only) and Tesco (thigh only). The Tesco thigh is the best value, at only £2.80/kg, but the Sainsbury’s drumstick (£3.30/kg) and thigh (£4.67/kg) and Asda’s drumstick (£3.71/kg) are also very budget friendly, especially when compared to other proteins.

I also took a look at what people out there on the t’Internet are doing with turkey drumsticks and thighs and long story short, not a lot. Both are almost exclusively roasted, and whilst knawing on a joint the size of your arm is certainly a look, here we’re going to be more concerned about taste, tenderness and the use of cutlery.

Rather than the harsh heat of the oven or the barbecue, the method I’m proposing is to use our old friend the slow cooker. A long, low, braise will render even the sturdiest of turkey legs tender and melt-in-the-mouth. And it is so EASY! Literally plonk in the turkey, slosh over some braising liquid, switch it on and you’re set for several hours. You can choose whatever stock you like for the braising, but the simplest and best, in my opinion, is beef stock. Using the jelly-like beef stock pots made up to double strength (so using only half the water), gives the turkey both flavouring and seasoning in one. Being strongly flavoured, the leg meat also flavours the stock in return, to give a fantastic base for gravy or, as we have here, a sauce.

This recipe is an adaptation of the numerous game bird salmis so favoured by the Victorians. You can serve the meat in the sauce over rice, noodles or potato snow¹, but my recommendation is for a puff pastry vol-au-vent case, to add a fantastic contrast in colour and texture.

In another tip gleaned from the history books, for the vol au vents you can use just a single roll to make six, large vol-au-vent cases. I used to buy two rolls of puff pastry, and cut the bases from one and the borders from another, but this way you can get both from a single roll. Simply cut out the centre of each base and re-roll it until it is as big as the border, then slide it under the pastry border and trim neatly.

Turkey Salmi

You can start this the day before and cook the turkey overnight, else cook on High for about 5 hours to eat the same day. You can also cook the pastry cases the day before and just warm them in the oven before serving.

For the Turkey
Bone-in turkey thigh and/or drumstick – however many will fit in your slow cooker
Rich beef stock pots x 6

1 sheet ready-rolled puff pastry
1 egg for glazing

For the Sauce
30g butter
1 small onion finely chopped
1 bay leaf
3 cloves
1 blade of mace
100g streaky bacon – chopped
200ml red wine (or red grape juice/pomegranate juice/more stock)
300ml beef turkey stock
1 heaped tbs cornflour mixed with a little cold water

Put your turkey meat into your slow cooker.
Make up the beef stock with just 1.5 litres hot water. Make sure they have melted fully before adding to your slow cooker. If you need more liquid, just add water.
Turn the heat to LOW and cook for 8 hours-10 hours. Overnight is perfect. You can also cook on HIGH for about 5 hours if that suits your timings better.
When the meat is tender, lift the joints from the slow cooker (a large strainer spoon is helpful here, if you have it), and remove and discard the bones, skin, tendons and cartilage. Try and keep the meat in large pieces. Strain the stock through a sieve and set aside 300ml. Save/freeze the rest for other uses.
For the sauce:
- Melt the butter in a pan and add the onion, bacon and flavourings.
- Fry for 10 minutes over medium heat until the onions have begun to caramelise.
- Add the red wine, if using, and simmer for five minutes.
- Add the stock and let all simmer together for a further 10 minutes, allowing all the flavours to mingle.
- Optional: Strain through a fine-meshed sieve and return the liquid to the pan. The sauce in the photograph has been strained, and as such gives a really shiny and glossy finish. (I had the bacon and onion in some of the sauce later, on a baked potato. It was delicious.) But there’s nothing wrong with leaving the bacon and onion in the sauce (waste not, want not and all that) – the choice is yours.
- Taste the sauce and add salt and pepper as required.
- Add any flavouring sauces to your own taste. These include, but are not limited to, oyster sauce, Worcester sauce, Henderson’s Relish, Soy Sauce, Mirin, Shaoxing wine, anchovy essence, Hoisin sauce, Teryaki sauce, etc.
- When seasoned to your satisfaction, whisk in the cornflour mixture and slowly bring to the boil, stirring, until the sauce clears, thickens and becomes glossy.
- Reduce the heat to low and add the cooked turkey pieces.
- Serve over rice/noodles/riced potatoes, or keep warm while you bake the pastry cases.
For the pastry:
- Heat the oven to 220°C, 200°C Fan.
- Unroll the pastry and cut into 6 squares (lengthwise in half, then vertically in thirds to give 2 rows of 3)
- Cut out the centre of each square, leaving a 2cm-ish border.
- Roll out the middle pieces until they match the size of the borders.
- Dampen the edges of the now very thin, centre pieces and slide the borders on top. Trim the edges neatly. Prick over the bases with a fork to help keep them from rising during baking.
- Whisk the egg and paint it over the borders using a pastry brush. Try and keep the egg from dripping down the sides, as this will glue the layers together as it bakes and keep the pastry from rising to its fullest extent.
- Bake for 25-30 minutes until crisped, risen and golden, turning the baking sheet around halfway through.
- Cool on a wire rack. Once cold, store in an airtight container (if making ahead).
Spoon the warmed turkey and sauce into the baked pastry shell and serve.

¹ Baked or boiled potatoes put through a ricer into a bowl. The riced potato should be allowed to fall into the serving dish in a mound and then served immediately untouched by anything else, spoon or seasoning, to maintain the lightness. Great for dishes with a rich sauce or gravy such as this.

Damson Ice-Cream

21st Century, Pudding

The autumn months are almost upon us and it truly is the season of mellow fruitfulness.

First among equals is the damson, a fruit I have been familiar with my whole life. Damsons are small, oval, wild plums with a signature ‘bloom’. They are different to bullaces, a different wild plum which is more round and apple-shaped. It was only a few years ago that I learned that damsons aren’t universally known, rather they are concentrated in just a few counties, namely Shropshire, Worcestershire, Buckinghamshire, Cheshire and Westmorland.

Damsons are really tart – there’s no possibility of enjoying them raw – and make fabulous jams and chutneys. I particularly enjoy them in sweet dishes, because their sourness and tartness are a great foil against sugar and sweetness.

And so to this recipe. This is a fabulously simple recipe which makes beautifully soft and creamy ice-cream with just two main ingredients, plus flavouring, without the need for an ice-cream maker. This last point is especially useful if, like me, you lack worktop space. There is no need to repeatedly remove it from the freezer and stir to remove ice crystals, because they never form. You can literally mix it in minutes and freeze overnight and enjoy perfectly smooth, delicious ice-cream immediately.

The ice-cream recipes over on TimeToCookOnline include salted caramel and malt, both of which can be made with storecupboard ingredients, but I fancied adapting this recipe to use fresh fruit, and my freezer provided the ingredients. I had a bag of damsons that had been languishing there for probably three years, so their time to shine was long overdue.

The method can be used for any frozen, or indeed fresh, fruit. Most importantly, it is necessary to get rid of as much water from the fruit as possible, as it will form ice-crystals when frozen and ruin the smoothness of your ice-cream. The majority of this post will be on how you can achieve this, plus a short-cut or two.

Fruit Puree Method – Damsons

The flesh of a damson clings tightly to the stone, so the best way to separate the two is by cooking. Sweetened, stewed damsons were a regular simple pudding on the table during my childhood. One had to spoon the cooked fruit into your mouth, then discretely return the stone to the spoon and lay it on the rim of your dish. For ice-cream purposes, though, a puree is what is required.

Put 1kg (or more if liked) of damsons, fresh and rinsed or frozen, into a saucepan.
Add 3-4 tablespoons of water and cover with a lid.
Turn the heat to low and let the fruit gently steam/stew until soft.
Pour the fruit into a sieve over a large bowl and stir with a wooden spoon to separate the fruit pulp from the stones and skins. Use the back of a knife to regularly scrape the pulp from the underside of the sieve. Be warned, damson juice will stain, so wear an apron and wipe up any spills promptly, especially if you have a wooden worktop.
When all that remains in the sieve is stones and skins (which can be discarded), measure the fruit puree and add HALF the volume of puree in granulated sugar. e.g 4 cups of juice will need 2 cups of sugar.
Return the puree to the pan, add the sugar and stir to dissolve.
Simmer over a low-medium heat until it has reduced and thickened. This may take a while, depending on the volume of puree you’re working with. There’s a lot of pectin in damsons, so if you spoon a little onto a cold plate and it sets, it’s done.
What you should be left with is something of the consistency of runny honey.

Sugar Absorption Method – Fresh Apricots

This method is an adaptation of a jam-making method used by ‘The Jam Fairy’ Christine Ferber. I used it with fresh apricots which I spotted recently at a bargain £1 a punnet. It takes a little longer, but preserves the fresh flavour of the fruit.

Slice the apricots and remove the stones.
Score the inner flesh with a sharp knife, being careful not to cut too deeply – the skin should remain intact.
Lay your apricot halves side by side in a bowl in layers, flesh-side up.
When you can fit no more into the layer, cover generously with granulated sugar to a depth of about 1cm.
Continue layering and covering with sugar until all your fruit is in the bowl.
Cover with plastic wrap and set aside for 8-10 hours, or overnight. The sugar will draw out the juices in the apricots and in turn be drawn into the flesh of the fruit.
Tip the fruit and sugar mixture into a saucepan and heat very gently until all the sugar granules have dissolved. Stir occasionally.
When all the sugar is dissolved, bring the syrup to a boil, turn off the heat and cover the pan. Leave to stand until cool.
Drain the fruit from the syrup.
Remove the skins of the fruit. The heat of the syrup will have softened the skins as well as separating them from the apricot flesh. If you lift up each apricot half by pinching the skin at the back, it should pull away quite easily. It is likely to remain attached at the edges, in which case you can help things along by scraping the flesh away with a teaspoon. Put the flesh into a separate bowl. Discard the skins. You can keep the apricot flavoured syrup to use as a glaze for fruit tarts, buns etc.
Puree the flesh.
Taste, and add a little lemon juice to taste to sharpen the flavour, if liked.

Storecupboard Hacks

Tinned fruit in syrup has already been processed, so you could drain some tinned apricots/peaches/pears etc and puree the fruit. The flavour won’t be quite as fresh-tasting, but it’s much quicker and you can be feet up, waiting for your ice-cream to freeze in about 15 minutes.

Even quicker, you could substitute jam for the fruit. Use a good quality brand such as Bon Maman, which has compotes and conserves in a range of delicious flavours. How much you’ll need will depend on personal preferences, but I suggest starting with 300g and seeing how that goes. Warm the compote/conserve gently, then puree. You can always stir in extra as a ‘ripple’.

Damson Ice-cream

This damson ice-cream is the best ice-cream I have ever tasted. EVER. The intense sour/tartness of the fruit is a perfect foil to the intense sweetness of the condensed milk, and the result is smooth and rich and velvety, with a huge zing of ‘rippled’ damson. Gooseberries (perhaps with a dash of elderflower cordial) and rhubarb would also work well.

Despite the title, you can use this method to make any fruit ice-cream that takes your fancy. Because it was slightly runny, but intense in flavour, I used just 350ml of damson puree in the ice-cream, and another 150ml as ‘ripple’. The apricot puree was thicker, so I mixed in a full 500ml.

600ml chilled double cream
1 x 397g tin of sweetened condensed milk
500ml sweetened damson puree – divided

Put the cream and the condensed milk into the bowl of a mixer.
Add 350ml damson puree.
Whip the ingredients with a balloon whisk attachment until light and fluffy.
Pour into a suitable plastic container.
Add dollops of the remaining puree and swirl through with a knife.
Cover and freeze overnight.

Toad In The Hole

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

Toad In The Hole was a favourite dish of my childhood, and also one of the first dishes I made when I began cookery lessons at school, aged 11. Toad in the Hole is a traditional lunch or supper dish combining sausages and a standard Yorkshire Pudding batter.

The earliest mention attributed by the Oxford English Dictionary is 1787¹, but as the digitisation of old books increases, earlier mentions will no-doubt come to light. I’ve managed to find a few.

From 1762 we have a mention in the publication The Beauties of all the magazines selected, a kind of Readers Digest of its day, in an article describing an engraving by William Hogarth. The Hogarth print, published in 1761, is entitled The Five Orders of Perriwigs, and the magazine’s description of the first image (below) is as follows:

The first Capital discovers only a forehead, nose, lips, and one eye, the rest of the face is eclipsed by the Wig’s protuberance, and appears like a small piece of beef baked in a large pudding, vulgarly called, a Toad in a hole.

The other mention is from several years earlier, 1749 to be exact, and is in the form of a footnote to some verse in a play².

In the eighteenth century, ‘Cant’ was secret language or jargon used by certain groups of people, such as gypseys, thieves and professional beggars, for the purposes of secrecy. In this context, it more likely to have been (slightly derogatory) slang. Together with the wig reference, the overall image is of a rather mean piece of meat being padded out to the point of almost being swallowed by a large, voluminous and above all, filling pudding.³

Nearly three hundred years later it is still a very budget friendly dish, as it can make a meal for 4 out of a pack of sausages and a few cupboard staples.

There are a couple of tips when making a Toad which can add both flavour and interest. I was taught to put the sausages in your baking/serving dish and put the dish into the heated oven for 10-15 minutes before adding in the batter. This allows the sausages to start cooking and (hopefully) develop a little bit of colour. Most importantly, however, it will allow the fat in the sausages to start to render, thereby greasing your dish, and thus you don’t need to add any additional fat.

The second is flavouring. Many people like to serve Toad In The Hole with gravy – onion gravy is popular. But not all people are gravy enthusiasts, and so another approach is to flavour the batter. Obviously salt and pepper are a given, but the addition of some fresh herbs can add some big punch flavours, especially if the sausages are also herbed. I think you can’t go wrong with the old “Scarborough Fair” mix of parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. As far as quantity, go by your own personal taste: a nice rounded teaspoon of fresh chopped, or half that if using dried is a reasonable amount to start with. Onion in some form is also another option. Pick your preferred strength from what I like to think of as an allium continuum: chives, spring onions, white/French, pink, shallots, red, brown, – and whether to add them raw, softened, browned or caramelised.

This version is time as well as budget friendly, as it cooks in the slow cooker. With only about five minutes work, you can then forget about it and be tucking into a crispy Toad in just two hours.

There are couple of important tips to using a slow cooker for your Toad In The Hole

To avoid a soggy Toad, you need to prevent the condensation that will form on your slow cooker lid from dripping back onto your Toad, so you need to trap – for want of a better word – some kitchen paper or a clean teatowel under the lid to absorb the moisture.
No peeking! Lifting the lid to check on progress will cause the heat to escape, which will adversely affect the cooking of your batter. I peeked several times when first trying this method, and the resulting Toad was decidedly ‘firm’. By not peeking throughout the whole two hours, the Toad had a much lighter crust. Admittedly not quite as puffed as an oven-baked Toad, but perfectly acceptable for such a hands-off approach. As a bonus, the bottom and sides get deliciously crisp and brown.
(Optional) Pre-cooking the sausages. You don’t have to do this, you can just plonk everything in at once, but I find a little colour on the sausages does wonders for the visual appeal of the finished dish. The cooking doesn’t have to be that long either. In a pan on a fairly high heat, they will take a little colour in about a minute (you only need to have colour on one side). Then you can arrange them coloured-side up in your slow cooker before pouring over the batter.

Toad In The Hole – Slow-cooker method

Caveat: I have a large slow cooker, for easy batch cooking, and I appreciate not everyone will have a slow cooker of a similar size. Smaller cookers will require some adjustment in either the quantity made and/or the length of cooking time. Do let me know how you go if you are making this in a small slow cooker.

Batter (based on a 17thC recipe)
2 large eggs
120g plain flour
220ml milk
salt and pepper
herbs (optional)
onions (optional)

12 chipolata sausages.

kitchen paper or clean teatowel

Turn on your slow cooker to High to heat up.
Colour one side of your sausages in a pan. Set aside.
Put the eggs, flour and milk into an appropriate container and whisk into a batter (I use a stick blender).
Season with salt and pepper.
Stir in your herbs and/or onion if using.
Brush the inside of your slow cooker with some of the sausage fat. Remember to include the sides for when the batter puffs up.
Arrange your sausages coloured side upwards. I like to use chipolata sausages because they cover the bottom of the slow cooker more densely than regular-sized sausages.
Gently pour the batter between the sausages, trying to keep them from rolling over, although it’s easy to turn them back if this does happen.
Lay a double-thickness of kitchen roll over the top of your slow cooker and clamp it in place with the lid.
Set a timer for 2 hours and NO PEEKING!
When the time is up, remove the Toad from the slow cooker to a dish or board, and cut into serving pieces.
Serve with salad and/or vegetables and/or gravy.
DejaFood: If you have any leftover Toad, it reheats well. Wrap in foil and put into a 200°C, 180°C Fan oven for 10 minutes.

¹ “Pudding-Pye-Doll, the dish called toad-in-a-hole, meat boiled in a crust. Norf.” Francis Grose · A provincial glossary, with a collection of local proverbs, and popular superstitions · 1st edition, 1787.

² A general history of the stage; (more particularly the Irish theatre) from its origin in Greece down to the present time. (1749), by William Rufus Chetwood, printed by E. Rider, for the author, and sold by Messrs. Ewing, Wilson, Esdall, and James, in Dublin, and Mr. Sullivan in Cork, Dublin, p183.

³ Sidebar: Hannah Glasse’s 1747 book The Art of Cookery contains a recipe for Pigeons In A Hole³, which is definitely a related dish:

The art of cookery, made plain and easy; which far exceeds any thing of the kind ever yet published. (1747), Hannah Glasse, printed for the author; and sold at Mrs. Ashburn’s, a China-Shop, London, p46.

Cream Toasts

21st Century

This is going to be the newest recipe on here, because I just made it up!

Well, not to claim all the credit – it is a Lego™ recipe in that I’ve cherry-picked a bit from here and a bit from there and brought it together into something absolutely delicious. As a bonus, it can be made with just a few storecupboard ingredients.

It struck me recently that there are no 21st century recipes here – indeed, there wasn’t even a 21st century category until I added one just now. I don’t want this blog to become a museum to British food, rather for it to be an ongoing celebration of British food that ranges across centuries, including this one.

This recipe pays homage to recipes that date back to Days of Yore (a very technical term in food history circles, which means quite a number of years ago!). Poor Knights of Windsor, Fried Cream, Fried Toasts and Pain Perdu are all similar dishes and all have long pedigrees in British food. Eggs, bread, sugar and cream, together with some spices and flavourings, sometimes even a splash of alcohol, have been tweaked and teased into subtly different, but equally enjoyable, dishes for centuries.

This recipe is also similar to several dishes ‘out there’ because, as we know, there’s nothing new under the sun. I’ve done some fairly rigorous searching and there isn’t anything out there exactly like this, but if I have missed something, be sure to let me know.

It was inspired by a dish I saw recently on television, specifically a caramelised French Toast, served in a restaurant in the Basque region in Spain: the smooth shiny, crisp outside a stark contrast with the soft, creamy insides. The local name for these fried milk toasts is Torrijas. Rather that slices, I decided to make toast fingers and roll them in panko breadcrumbs for contrasting crunch, because everything tastes better with crunch!

You can make simplified versions of this, according to your cupboard contents, but I’m just going to run through the method I used and the reasons behind it, so you can make your own decisions.

The Bread: Unsliced white bread. For a start, in these modern, health-conscious times, white bread is so NORTY, which makes it taste doubly delicious when used for a treat such as this. You can make your own, which has its advantages in that it holds up better during the soaking in the milk. However, a BOUGHTEN white loaf from the bakery retains its feather lightness incredibly, if you’re willing to be patient in the handling/preparation. It helps if you stale the bread a little before the soaking, as that will help keep it from falling apart. More on this below.

The Milk: A mixture of condensed milk and fresh milk gives both sweetness and richness. Also, keeping a tin on hand in the cupboard makes these an anytime snack. You could also mix your own combination of sugars and fresh cream/milk. Just ensure your mixture is fluid enough to soak into the bread.

The Flavourings. Whatever takes your fancy, really. I infused the milk with some citrus zest and then added a generous splash of vanilla and orange-flower water. It makes for a very creamy aroma, if that makes any sense.

The Coating: Breadcrumbs, Japanese Panko-style for preference. It forms a crisp, golden shell around the soft pillowy bread and looks very appetising when cooked and golden brown. My local supermarket (the orange one) has recently started selling large bags of panko breadcrumbs in the Japanese Foods section of the International Foods aisle. Great value for money and perfect for this recipe. Also, I prefer to use eggwhites for coating, as I believe it helps give crispness.

The Frying: Again, whatever takes your fancy. I used Indian ghee (clarified butter), as I didn’t want the milk solids from regular butter to catch in the pan and spoil the breadcrumb coating with dark flecks. You could also use oil, or even deep-fry them if you have a fryer. Alas, mine is currently filled with beef dripping, which is flavoursome for savoury dishes, but not so suitable for this sweet treat.

Cream Toasts

These quantities will make several servings, so if you’re not going to use it up all at once, keep the extra milk in the fridge for later use.

white loaf of bread

280ml milk – whole, skimmed, whatever you have
zest of 1 lemon
1tsp orange flower water (optional)
1tsp vanilla flavouring (optional)
1 tin sweetened condensed milk (397ml)

eggwhites for coating
panko breadcrumbs for coating
ghee, butter or oil for frying

sharp, seedless jam (raspberry/redcurrant/cranberry) or coulis to serve

Remove the crusts from the loaf and set aside for crust sandwiches.
Cut the bread ino 3cm slices, then cut each slice into 3 x 3cm fingers. Arrange the bread fingers on a wire cooling rack to stale for about an hour. This can be done beforehand.
Put the milk into a small pan and add the lemon zest.
Bring to a gentle boil and turn off the heat.
Cover and allow to infuse for 30 minutes.
Strain out the lemon zest (if you prefer, I didn’t) and mix in the condensed milk and other flavourings until well combined. Set aside.
Pour a little of the milk mixture into a plastic box.
Arrange the slightly stale bread fingers in the box, then pour over the rest of the milk mixture. Leave to soak for 5 minutes.
Carefully turn the bread fingers over and allow to soak for another 5 minutes.
Drain off the excess milk and put the plastic box into the fridge – uncovered – for an hour or two. This will allow the outside of the bread fingers to dry a little. If you’re wanting to make these for breakfast you can do everything up to this point the night before, and then continue in the morning. If leaving overnight, cover the box lightly in cling film so that it doesn’t dry out too much.
When ready to cook, pour some eggwhite into a plastic box and the panko breadcrumbs onto a shallow tray.
Whisk the eggwhites briefly until frothy.
Carefully take each soaked bread finger and coat with eggwhite. Since they will be rather delicate, I usually drop them into the eggwhite one by one and then shake the box from side to side and get the eggwhite to wash over them that way.
Lift out and let the excess eggwhite drain off, then lay them in the panko breadcrumbs.
Pat the panko onto the bread fingers until thoroughly coated.
Set aside onto a plate until ready to be cooked.
Heat the fat you are using in a small pan on medium heat. I use 6 on a scale of 1-9. If you use a small pan and can make your fat/oil 2cm deep, you’ll only need to turn your cream toasts once. If it’s shallower, you may need to fry each side individually.
Fry 3 or 4 fingers in the pan at a time. Cook until the panko coating is crisp and golden.
While they are cooking, set out a wire cooling rack, with a sheet of kitchen roll underneath it.
When cooked, transfer the now golden brown toasts to the wire rack and allow to drain.
Serve warm with a pot of jam/coulis for dipping.

Bonus recipe – Crispy Eggy Bread

This same method can be used to jazz-up a personal favourite of mine – Eggy Bread. This is a savoury version of egg-soaked bread, and one which I enjoyed for breakfast as a child and still do to this day.

This recipe is more easily scaled than the one above, as it can be made in a per-person quantity.

The home-made loaf I made suited this recipe better than store bought.

Crispy Eggy Bread for One

1 x 3cm thick slice of white bread
1 large egg
salt and pepper to taste

eggwhites for coating
panko breadcrumbs for coating
ghee, butter or oil for frying

tomato ketchup to serve

Remove the crusts from the loaf and cut into 3 x 3cm fingers. Arrange the bread fingers on a wire cooling rack to stale for about an hour. This can be done beforehand.
Whisk the egg vigorously, then pass through a sieve to make sure the white and the yolk are fully mixed.
Season egg with salt and pepper to taste.
Pour a little of the egg mixture into a plastic box.
Arrange the slightly stale bread fingers in the box, then pour over the rest of the egg mixture. Leave to soak for 5 minutes.
Carefully turn the bread fingers over and allow to soak for another 5 minutes.
Put the plastic box into the fridge – uncovered – for an hour or two.. This will allow the outside of the bread fingers to dry a little. If you’re wanting to make these for breakfast you can do everything up to this point the night before, and then continue in the morning. If leaving overnight, cover the box lightly in cling film so that it doesn’t dry out too much.
When ready to cook, pour some eggwhite into a plastic box and the panko breadcrumbs onto a shallow tray.
Whisk the eggwhites briefly until frothy.
Carefully take each soaked bread finger and coat with eggwhite. Since they will be rather delicate, I usually drop them into the eggwhite one by one and then shake the box from side to side and get the eggwhite to wash over them that way.
Lift out and let the excess eggwhite drain off, then lay them in the panko breadcrumbs.
Set aside onto a plate until ready to be cooked.
Heat the fat you are using in a small pan on medium heat. I use 6 on a scale of 1-9. If you use a small pan and can make your fat/oil 2cm deep, you’ll only need to turn your eggy bread fingers once. If it’s shallower, you may need to fry each side individually.
Fry the fingers in the pan until the panko coating is crisp and golden.
While they are cooking, set out a wire cooling rack, with a sheet of kitchen roll underneath it.
When cooked, transfer the now golden brown toasts to the wire rack and allow to drain.
Serve warm with a pot of tomato ketchup for dipping.