gluten-free – Deja Food

Apploffi Pie

Recipe inspiration can come from many quarters. The prompt for today’s recipe comes in the form of four words in a newspaper article over 20 years ago.

Back in March 2006, The Guardian published a piece by Ian Dowding entitled “I Invented Banoffi Pie”. Dowding then spends the rest of the article chronicling how he did NOT invent the classic pudding loved by millions, rather how it evolved from an original pie – Blum’s Coffee Toffee Pie – from the famous Blum’s Bakery and Restaurant in San Francisco in the 1940s.

The owner of the restaurant where Dowding was employed felt that the dessert needed a little something extra, so experiments were conducted introducing various ingredients, including fruit.

“Apple was quite good” is the phrase that set me experimenting. There was no recipe included, although I have found examples by other people out there which involve a simple substitution of apple for banana, but I felt the dish deserved something more to set it apart.

There were a number of points to ponder:

The base.
The caramel.
The fruit.
The cream topping.

The Base

The original Banoffi Pie recipe called for shortcrust pastry, whose plainness was just the foil needed against the richness of the filling. Could this be improved upon in some way? I’m a real fan of the original shortcrust pastry, especially my version using cornflour for a proportion of the flour, as it makes it fabulously crisp and dry, and it is a great foil against the very rich sweetness of the caramel and banana. But using apple is a whole different kettle of fish. Banana is a really strong flavour, and while apples are characterised as being crisp and juicy they’re not really strongly flavoured. So I started thinking about a different kind of base that might contribute to the mix a little more than plain pastry. Since salted caramel is very much a thing in recent times, leaning into the savoury seemed a promising direction. I was reminded of the saltine crust of the Atlantic Beach Pie that was all the rage back in 2014, decided to mix in some pretzels for extra crunch, and then make the whole crust gluten-free, because why not? The Italian company Schar produces a wide range of gluten-free products, many of which are available on UK supermarket shelves. I chose their Salti crackers, which are like a cross between a Ritz cracker and a Saltine, and their pretzels. Obviously, regular crackers/pretzels are fine too.

With the addition of a little salt, this was still pretty much a regular crumb crust, except I had a brainwave and opted to use browned butter. It turned a fairly straightforward crumb crust into a buttery, crunchy, salty, rubble-y, nutty delight that is just incredible against the caramel/apple/cream, and positively addictive on it’s own. Very autumnal and just the perfect pairing with all the other elements. I’m slightly obsessed with how good it is and am now thinking of all the other dishes I can use it with.

The Caramel

Classic. Not to be messed with. No notes.

That being said, you can choose whether to buy tins of caramel, or make your own, which is cheaper and less sweet than the tins of caramel. To make your own, put unopened tins of sweetened condensed milk into a slow cooker and add water to cover. Cook on Low for 8-10 hours. Switch off the slow cooker and leave to cool overnight. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES open a tin while it is hot. Buy your unbranded condensed milk from Aldi – other supermarkets seem to be carrying the (much more expensive) named brand only these days.

The Apple

Which apple to choose? There are so many, dessert and cooking types. Jazz apples are my current favourite dessert apple with a crisp, clean and juicy bite. Rough-skinned russet apples have an almost nutty flavour, and go great with a variety of cheeses. My number one pick of fresh apples, however, is Bramley apples – a British cooking apple that is pleasantly sharp and breaks down into billowy apple fluff when cooked. You could slice and use it raw, but the juice might become a problem if left for a while, not to mention the discolouration, so cooked apple is probably the best way to go here. If you prefer a dessert apple, consider using a little lemon juice to sharpen it. To help prevent the juice from weeping out of your cooked apple, you can thicken your pulp with a little cornflour.

Other Apple Options

I thought of this after finishing up all the taste testing and using up all my apples, but you could also use gelatine to set your pulp. Bloom it in water, either sheet or powder, and then add to your hot apple pulp and stir well until it melts and is well combined. Pour over your caramel.

A third option would be to use Apple Butter, a favourite autumn preserve made mainly in the United States, which is already seasoned and spiced, and solid when cold. The apple flavour is much more rich and concentrated and is definitely something I would have chosen, had we not already scoffed all of the last batch I made.

The Cream

The unsweetened cream flavoured strongly with coffee was the original, classic recommendation. I was puzzled after reading the above article – and wasn’t sure if it was it supposed to go with the apple version as well. I had my doubts, so I decided to taste-test a number of flavouring options for the cream as follows:

- Coffee, (unsweetened) – Not a fan. I was going to go as far as ‘revolting’ but that seemed a bit harsh. For my palate, the bitterness just jars against the sharpness and freshness of the apple.
- Lemon (sweetened juice) – Had potential, as it goes well with apple, but it did not tie in with the caramel at all.
- Vanilla (unsweetened) – Pleasantly surprising. Having it unsweetened made it a little unusual, but it was great with both the apple and the caramel, and the sweetness of both more than made up for it.
- Unflavoured – I don’t know whether it was because all my flavouring thoughts had turned out to be less than a roaring success, but I decided to try just plain whipped cream – no flavourings, no sugar. And, ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. It was great with the apple, great with the caramel, and great with the brown butter base. Sometimes the simplest idea is the best.

So there we have it. A cracking autumnal variation on a classic crowd-pleaser whipped up from just a 4-word prompt!

Apploffi Pie

If you already have a favourite Banoffi Pie recipe, you can just swap out the banana for the cooked apple. However, I strongly recommend trying the brown butter cracker crust – it’s a taste sensation!

Use whatever tin/dish you prefer. I used a rectangular, loose-bottomed fluted tart tin. As in the picture, you want to aim for roughly the same depth for each of the layers – crumb/caramel/apple/cream – Mine is about 1.5cm.

Browned Butter Pretzel/cracker base

250g unsalted butter – divided
60g GF pretzels
90g GF Salti crackers
2tbs soft dark brown/muscovado sugar
½ tsp salt

Put the block of butter into a pan over a medium (level 5 on my induction hob) heat. You’re not going to use all of the browned butter, but it’s difficult to calculate how much fresh butter will make just the right amount of browned butter, because the water content of the butter isn’t set in stone. Much simpler to make a whole block into browned butter, use what you need and then you have delicious browned butter to use on other things.
Allow the butter to melt, and continue to heat, stirring occasionally. The milk solids will eventually start to turn brown and will release an amazing, nutty caramel aroma. This will take about 10-15 minutes. It will happen quicker if you raise the heat, but this will also speed up the browning, making the line between toasty brown and burnt very sudden.
Stir more frequently as the solids brown, and remove from the heat once they are sufficiently toasty.
Set aside to cool.
Prepare the tin you are going to use. I like to line the tin with foil to help remove the pie once set and ready to serve.
Put the pretzels, crackers, sugar and salt into a food processor and blitz to crumbs. NB if you’re using salted butter, reduce the salt to ¼ teaspoon.
Tip the crumb mixture into a bowl.
Stir your browned butter and measure out 75g. Save the rest to use on popcorn or to make more crumb mixture! NB Keep giving your butter a stir as it cools, so the delicious browned bits are mixed throughout – otherwise they will just all sink to the bottom.
If your butter has started to solidify, warm it with a brief zap in the microwave.
Stir the butter into the crumb mixture until well mixed. It should clump together if you press it firmly. Press the crumb into the bottom and sides of your tin. Use a flat-bottomed glass to get a smooth, compact finish on the bottom. Fingertips are probably best for the sides.
Heat your oven to 200°C, 180°C Fan.
Bake your crumb shell for 10 minutes, then set aside to cool. The baking will help solidify and firm up your tart shell.
Chill in the fridge until needed.

Caramel

1 tin sweetened condensed milk OR 1 tin caramel.

If you are catering for large number, you might want to use 2 tins, but in all honesty, the dish is so rich, one tin is enough for 8 servings.

As I’ve already mentioned, making your own caramel from sweetened condensed milk is both cheaper and better than buying it pre-made – the finished caramel is firmer and not as sweet. You do whatever suits your situation.
To recap making your own: put unopened tins (do several at once and keep the spares in the cupboard for EBS (Emergency Banoffi Situations)) of sweetened condensed milk into a slow cooker and add water to cover. Cook on Low for 8-10 hours. Switch off the slow cooker and leave the tins to cool overnight. And, just to belabour a safety point UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES open a tin while it is hot.
Warm your caramel gently in a pan so that it is easier to pour. As it warms, stir to remove lumps. If you are using your home-made caramel, which has a firm set, you might want to use an immersion blender or hand mixer to get rid of any lumps. Tins of ready-made caramel have a softer consistency.
Pour your smooth, warmed caramel over your chilled crumb shell. Spread it evenly and smooth over.
Cover with plastic wrap so that it touches the surface of the caramel and chill until required.

Apple Layer

300g OR 1 rounded cup of fresh apple pulp (made from 3 Bramley apples OR 5-6 dessert apples) OR apple butter

OPTIONAL: the juice and/or zest of one lemon to sharpen the pulp

EITHER 1tbs cornflour mixed with 1tbs water OR 2 tsp powdered gelatine OR 2 sheets gelatine

Put your apple pulp into a pan and heat through.
Taste your pulp and add the lemon zest/juice if liked.
If using cornflour…
- Mix the cornflour with the water until smooth.
- Stir the cornflour slurry into your warm apple pulp and cook for 1-2 minutes until the pulp thickens and no white from the slurry remains.
If using gelatine…
- Bloom your gelatine in water according to instructions.
- Add the bloomed gelatine to your heated apple pulp and stir thoroughly to combine.
If using apple butter, just warm it enough to make it pourable.
Pour your thickened apple over the caramel layer and spread smooth.
Cover your apple layer with plastic wrap and chill thoroughly in the fridge until set.

Cream Layer to finish

300ml chilled double/heavy cream
ground cinnamon to sprinkle

Whip the cream until it holds its shape.
Spread the whipped cream over the apple layer of your pie and swirl it artistically. Alternatively, just spread it like I did.
Sprinkle the top of your Apploffi Pie with ground cinnamon and serve.

Afghans

20th century

These biscuits are surprising. Surprisingly long-lived, surprisingly few ingredients readily available in your cupboards, and a surprisingly rich and addictive taste and texture. They’ve been around almost a century, and with that fact you immediately know they must have something special about them, because terrible recipes just don’t hang around. To illustrate this fact, allow me to introduce Ann Peckham’s Crimson Biscuits.

Crimson Biscuits from Ann Peckham’s The Complete English Cook (1767, p151)

Yes, these delightful beetroot confections were first printed in Ann Peckam’s The Complete English Cook, back in 1767, and, even the 18th century fervour for cookbook plagiarism couldn’t tempt anyone else to put it in with all the other stolen recipes. I know it’s a bad recipe because many years ago I made it. And even accounting for the differences in gastronomic tastes back then, I find it difficult to believe anyone ever found this appealing.

But back to Afghans.

I noted this recipe whilst flicking through one of my many Women’s Institute cookbooks, specifically Tea Time Treats (1980), published by the Yorkshire County Federation of Women’s Institutes. And it’s not the only book to have included this recipe, or at least a version of it. It can be found dotted through many recipe books, although, truth be told, not so much in recent years and I’m wondering if it has something to do with the name. I’ve pondered long and hard on whether there is something derogatory about the name and have come to the conclusion that, if there is, it is because you think there is. The Afghan biscuit originated in New Zealand in the 1930s and whilst there are a variety of theories on the origins of it’s name, I’m choosing to believe that the name comes from the appearance of the topping and biscuit together, which resembles to the traditional pakol hat worn by Afghani men and/or the biscuit alone symbolising the rugged Afghan landscape.

The two earliest recipes cited by Wikipedia, come from The Timaru Herald, in late 1933 and early 1934 (below).

Earliest recipes for Afghans: Timaru Herald, Volume CXXXVII, Issue 19590, 9 September 1933, Page 3 (L) and Timaru Herald, Volume CXXXVIII, Issue 19883, 21 August 1934, Page 12 (R).

The earliest recipe I was able to find myself, and one which I am using in this post, appears in a 1941 edition of the New Zealand Journal of Agriculture (below).

Recipe for Afghans from The New Zealand Journal of Agriculture Vol. 62, Issue 4, April 15th, 1941 p304.

A notable ingredient – and there are only five – is cornflakes, which not only give each biscuit the aforementioned rugged appearance but also an amazing crunchy texture – which persists even when storing the biscuits in an airtight container. The biscuit mixture is also unusual in that it contains a greater quantity of butter than flour. However, it also contains a generous quantity of cocoa powder, which is very dry, despite being composed of 20% fat (and in many baking instances can be used as a substitute for flour on a 1:1 basis).

The recipes in The Timaru Herals also include a small propprtion of cornflour, thereby technically bumping the number of ingredients to six. I tried this variation, as I love the texture it brings in, say, Melting Moments, but it didn’t seem to add anything to the texture in this instance. The flavour of the biscuits came across as powdery and the texture seemed a little off – perhaps it was fighting with/against the already dry cocoa. Anyways, it was not for me – I feel the texture is best with just the cornflakes. Try it yourself (by removing 30g plain flour and adding 30g cornflour) if you’re intrigued.

Afghan biscuits with alternative topping ideas: Melted dark chocolate (L) and chocolate icing (R), each topped with half a walnut. A line of plain, unadorned biscuits in the middle.

Toppings

As can be seen from the early recipes, the traditional adornment for Afghans is chocolate icing and half a walnut. Rather unhelpfully, the early recipes fail to provide a suitable icing recipe, so I have gone in search of answers.

The Edmonds Cookbook, the iconic New Zealand publication (akin in stature to the BeRo booklet in the UK and early publisher of an Afghan biscuit recipe), suggests a buttercream made by mixing a large quantity of icing sugar, cocoa, a generous amount of butter and vanilla flavouring, with a couple of tablespoons of hot water. I tried this version and it was very pale and gritty from the cocoa powder. Cocoa really needs both liquid and heat in order to mix in properly.

Several modern Afghan recipes recommend plain, melted chocolate. Afghans are not an overly sweet biscuit, so I thought this version might be more of a success – the richness and smoothness as contrast to the biscuit itself, but it was not to be. There was actually too much texture contrast between the biscuit and the chocolate and they fought, rather than complimented each other. In addition, it needed a significant amount of chocolate in order for the half walnut to adhere.

After some experimentation, the best icing version came from an adaptation of the original buttercream. By using less butter and also melting it as well as using boiling water, the cocoa combined into a much smoother mixture. Easily spreadable and glossy, it sets once cooled, but with no loss of shine. The walnut attaches easily into the soft icing and is held firmly in place when it cools.

All this being said, I’m not entirely convinced that the biscuit actually needs any gilding at all. The richness of the butter content, the depth of the chocolate flavour and the texture of the cornflakes make for a much more substantial and interesting biscuit than normal. My recommendation would be to enjoy these biscuits unadorned, but if making for a special occasion/gifting, then add some glamour with the icing/walnut.

Afghan Biscuits

As already mentioned, these biscuits require only five cupboard staples. They are easily adapted to gluten-free by switching out the plain flour for a gluten-free one, but be sure to remember to add xanthan gum (guess what prompted me to mention this), otherwise they will just spread and pool together into one huge sheet (ask me how I know this will happen?). If this happens, just crumble it up and enjoy with a spoon, or over cereal/yogurt. Still delicious. Ask me how I know this 😀

Easiest method is to use a stand mixer, but hand-held/by hand is also fine.

200g butter – softened
85g soft dark brown sugar
180g plain flour (or GF flour with ½ tsp xanthan gum)
30g cocoa powder
85g cornflakes

Heat the oven to 180°C, 160°C Fan.
Sift the flour and cocoa together into a bowl.
Cream together the butter and the sugar until light and fluffy.
Add the cocoa/flour and mix until combined and resembling large crumbs.
Add in the cornflakes and mix briefly. The flakes will be crushed a little by the mixer attachment, so only mix until they are combined with the rest of the ingredients, and no longer. You want to still be able to see them, so don’t mix/crush them into powder.
Prepare two baking sheets by covering them with baking parchment.
Spoon or scoop dollops of the mixture onto the baking sheets. I use my small 4cm-ish diameter ice-cream scoop, which gives 26-28 portions, but you could use 2 spoons/forks and really lean in to the whole rugged appearance vibe.
Bake for 20 minutes, turning the baking sheets around after 10 minutes to ensure even baking.
Cool the biscuits on the tins and store in an airtight container once cold.

Fudgy Chocolate Icing

If you prefer to use melted chocolate for your biscuits, you will need approximately 200g. Otherwise, use the icing below.

200g icing sugar
25g cocoa
50g unsalted butter
30ml boiling water

walnut halves

Sift together the icing sugar and cocoa
Melt the butter, add the boiling water, and pour both into the cocoa/sugar mixture.
Stir vigorously with a spoon until the mixture comes together into a glossy paste.
Top each biscuit with a spoonful of icing and press a walnut half into the top.
Store in an airtight container once cooled and set.

Sticky Toffee Crumble

20th century

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

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

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

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

ANYHOO…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Banoffi Pie Crumble

Serves 4-8 people

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sticky Toffee Crumble

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

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

Crumble mixture (see above)

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

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

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

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

Apple Cream

18th century, Pudding

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

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

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

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

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

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

A word or two about the ingredients.

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

Apple Cream c.1725

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

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

2 x Hot Cross Buns

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

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

To Assemble

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

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

Onion Soup

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

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

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

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

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

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

White Onion Soup, circa 1820

Gluten-free.

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

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

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

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

salt and pepper
cream to taste (optional)

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

Late Stuart Onion Soup, circa 1700

Vegetarian. Gluten-free.

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

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

Creamy caramelised onion soup with fresh herbs

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

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

Martha Bradley’s Onion Soup with Vinegar, 1758

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slapan

20th century, Bread, Small Cakes, Sweet Pastry

I’ve been reading a lot of bakestone recipes lately, and, spoiler alert, if you like Welsh Cakes, then this recipe is about to become your new favourite.

This recipe comes from a small but delightful mid-20th century recipe book. “Croeso Cymreig: A Welsh Welcome”, originally published by the Wales Gas Board in the 1950s (mine is from 1957). I’ve seen a couple of editions on the second hand market (AbeBooks) for about £20, but more modern editions seem available for as little as £3. These newer editions are published by Gwasg Dinefwr Press or John Jones Press under the title “Recipes from Wales – 113 Traditional Welsh Recipes”. Alternatively, you can view a copy online for free at Archive.com.¹

One of the reasons why I like this book is that it includes several variations of the same recipe. Some of them have different cooking methods too, for example, there are three Teisen Lap (‘moist cake’) recipes that can be cooked in an oven, in a Dutch oven in front of the fire, or on a griddle.

Slapan originates in North Wales. The book contains two Slapan recipes – ordinary Slapan, and Slapan Sir Fon (Anglesey Slapan). The difference between the two seems to be that Slapan is made with mixed fruit, and Slapan Sir Fon is made with currants only. Doing some more reading, I found a third version – Slapan Dafydd (Saint David’s Slapan) – which is made with sultanas only.

There are subtle variations in both the liquid used (milk/buttermilk) and leavening agents (baking powder, bicarbonate of soda, and also a little of both), but essentially it is the same method for all: rub the butter into the flour, add the rest of the ingredients and bring together into a soft dough with the eggs and liquid. Spoonfuls of the dough are then cooked on a bakestone, turning halfway through. An important aspect of the appeal of these teatime dainties is the speed with which they can be brought to the table – not much more than 30 minutes from start to finish. Perfect for when company drops by unexpectedly.

Taste

So what are they like to eat? Really delicious, actually. I mentioned above that Slapan are similar to Welsh Cakes, and they are, but without any of the spicing of the latter. Also in contrast, they are very light. With all the love in the world, even Welsh Cake devotees must admit they’re decidedly firm in texture. The texture of Slapan is much closer to a scone, or a muffin, but decadently rich with butter. They are not overly sweet, the dried fruit contributing a lot, so there is relatively little sugar added. Slapan are best served warm from the pan, split and generously buttered. Crisp outsides give way to a soft, cake-like centre, and with lashings of delicious butter melting inside, it’s a surprisingly rich treat.

Equipment

You don’t need a bakestone to cook your Slapan, a non-stick pan and a heat source with serve just fine. Slapan are baked, not fried, so there is no need to grease the pan. The traditional method is to spoon the mixture onto the bakestone using two spoons, but I found my small ice-cream scoop² much easier to use, in addition to making small, delightful 2-bite Slapan.

Slapan

Each batch makes approximately 12 Slapan. If you’re using gluten-free flour, then you may need to add extra flour (see note below).

120g plain flour/gluten-free flour³
60g chilled butter – cubed
20g sugar (caster or soft brown)
¼ tsp salt
scant ½ tsp baking powder
30-50g mixed dried fruit/currants/sultanas
1 large egg
2-ish tbs milk

Put a non-stick pan onto a medium (number 5 on my 1-9 electric hob) heat and let it come to temperature while you mix up the dough. if you’re using gluten-free flour, you should delay this until the mixture half-rested.
Put the flour, butter, sugar, salt and baking powder into the bowl of a food processor and blitz until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.
Crack the egg into a mixing bowl and add milk for a total of 90ml of liquid. Whisk together well (I use a stick blender), then add the flour mixture and dried fruit.
Fold together until the mixture forms a smooth-ish dough. The consistency should be like that of a fruit cake, or mashed potatoes. Definitely too soft to roll out.
Using a small ice-cream scoop, or two spoons, drop the dough into the now hot pan. Drop them around the edge, rather than the middle, so that they don’t scorch. Cooking them all at once will make it tricky to turn over, so do two batches of six or seven.
Bake for 5 minutes. A light crust will form on the bottom of each heap.
Using two cocktail sticks, carefully turn each Slapan over.
Bake for a further 3-4 minutes until the underside is as browned as the top.
Cool on a wire rack.
Split, butter and serve warm.

Bonus Recipe: Christmas Slapan

Here’s my own take on a Slapan variation, seen top right in the photo – with the addition of candied peel, mixed spice and a splash of booze. Much quicker to rustle up than mince pies.

120g plain flour/gluten-free flour³
60g chilled butter – cubed
20g soft brown sugar
¼ tsp salt
scant ½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp mixed spice
15g candied lemon and orange peel, finely chopped
15g dried cranberries or barberries
20g dried currants
1 large egg
1 tbs brandy
1 tbs cream sherry/madeira

Method as above.

¹ You need to sign up to be able to borrow books, but it is free, no strings attached.

² A small ice-cream scoop of 4cm diameter, roughly 30ml volume.

³ I’ve made this recipe with two different gluten-free flours. Schar’s Baking/Patisserie flour (red bag) contains a thickener (guar gum), and so the recipe took the same quantity of flour as regular flour. Dove’s Farm Freee gluten-free flour contains no thickener, and they recommend adding xantham gum when using. I didn’t have any, so I ended up adding more flour (60g in 2 batches of 30g) and allowed it to sit a while (20 minutes) to allow the excess liquid to be absorbed.

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.

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 coarse cornmeal
¼ tsp salt
a little caster sugar for sprinkling

Make and bake as above.

Vegan Lemon Curd

20th century, Preserves

This is a recipe from May Byron’s Rations Book (1918). Rationing during the WW2 is well known, but it was also introduced during the last year of the first world war. Confession time: I’ve changed the title of this recipe from the original. The original recipe is for Lemon Curd Without Eggs, which would have been a concern back then through food rationing. In this day and age, it is mainly be a dietary choice, so I have opted for the (nowadays) clearer and more succinct term, ‘vegan.’

It also has a lot of other things going for it, like being fat free, dairy-free, gluten-free and coconut-free. There are lots of vegan lemon curd recipes out there, but the vast majority seem to employ some kind of fat and many of them also include coconut cream to give body to the finished result and turmeric for colour.

This recipe has none of that, because the main ingredient in this recipe is swede. Yes, swede the vegetable. Also known as rutabaga, or ‘neeps’ if you’re in Scotland (shortened from Swedish Turnips, in case you were wondering). A mild-flavoured root vegetable, it adds body and also colour to the lemon curd. A little sugar, lemon-zest and juice and a gentle thickening with arrowroot, and you have a gloriously golden preserve to spread on your toast, fill your cakes and tarts and drizzle over ice-cream.

It doesn’t have to be arrowroot – although I do like the quick and ‘gentle’ set it has, and it’s ability to go clear when it’s setting qualities have ‘activated’. When cold, its not as firm/rubbery as other thickening agents. You could alternatively use cornflour, tapioca flour, sago, ground rice, etc. These last two were also in the original, but the sago needs to be soaked overnight and then cooked until translucent, and the ground rice made for a slight graininess, all of which takes away the spontenaiety. More cooking might have addressed the texture issue, but any prolonged cooking you run the risk of losing the fresh lemon flavour of the juice and zest.

And the flavour is the best thing about this recipe. It’s bright and fresh without any cloying richness from butter or eggs. It’s practically health-food!

This method could also be used for other citrus/fruit curds.

Vegan Lemon Curd

Makes about 250ml.

225g swede – peeled and diced small
85g caster sugar
zest and juice of 2 lemons
pinch of salt
15g arrowroot

Simmer the swede in boiling water until tender (15-20 minutes).
Drain and return to the warm pan. Turn off the heat and allow the excess moisture from the swede to evaporate.
Puree the swede. Because it is a small amount, it can be done in a spice grinder or small liquidiser. It is important for the texture to use something with offset blades – that is, blades pointing in different directions – to ensure a smooth puree. A food processor, with it’s flat blades spinning in just one plane, won’t chop things finely enough. Spare a thought for May Byron’s original readers, who had to press the cooked swede through a sieve.
Add some lemon juice to make the pureeing easier.
Return the puree to the cleaned pan and add any remaining lemon juice, the zest, the sugar and the salt.
Mix the arrowroot with a tablespoon of cold water and pour into the pan.
Heat gently, stirring, until thickened (4-5 minutes) and you can no-longer see the whiteness of the arrowroot mixture.
Pour into a clean jar and store in the fridge.

Dutch Macaroons

19th century, 20th century, Biscuits

Macaroons have been a favourite British treat for centuries. Their form, shapes and flavours might have changed over the years, but they basically remain a mixture of sugar, ground nuts and egg white.

These colourful specimens come from Harris & Borella’s All About Biscuits (c1900), a commercial handbook for the Victorian/Edwardian baker. Unlike the modern preoccupation with a relatively small number of shapes made from a seemingly standard recipe, this book boasts over fifty different macaroon recipes, many of which can be further varied in terms of both colour and flavour and thereby increasing the variety close to a hundred. I think we are missing out on enjoying so much variety by focusing on inconsequentialities such as getting the perfect ‘foot’ on a plain, round macaron – as if that impacts how it tastes. I plan on returning to this chapter in this book on a regular basis, so stay tuned for more macaroon delights!

These miniature biscuits are just three centimetres in length and about two wide, and the two complimentary flavours are sandwiched together to give a tiny but elegant treat. They aren’t actually sandwiched with anything – their innate stickiness when removed from the baking parchment is enough to join them together, meaning the flavours can be savoured without additional distraction.

There’s nothing stopping you from having a filling, of course – seedless raspberry jam or redcurrant jelly for a burst of sharpness, a white or dark chocolate ganache for richness – but it would be like gilding the lily.

These macaroons get their distinctive form by allowing them to dry a little after piping, then just before baking, cutting through the paper-thin skin that has formed, into the moist mixture beneath. This forces the biscuits to expand in this one place during baking as the egg-white cooks. Whilst each one may vary slightly in the degree to which it expands, there’s much greater uniformity and less likelihood of lop-sidedness. The result is a batch where all the biscuits are much more similar, yet still retaining an organic, freestyle quality. The effect is very striking – much more preferable to the regimented uniformity of the modern, frequently machine-made style – and yet so simple to achieve. The original instructions suggest a sharp knife for this task, but I recommend using a baker’s lame (lah-may) or a single razor blade, in order to get a perfectly clean and sharp incision.

Dutch Macaroons

This is, to a large extent, a proportional recipe, so you can scale it up or down to your requirements. It calls for two parts sugar to one part ground almonds, with one egg-white for every 150g of almond/sugar mixture.

100g ground almonds
200g caster sugar
sufficient egg-whites to mix (about 80ml/2 large)
vanilla extract
raspberry flavouring
claret food colouring

Cut a piece of baking parchment to fit your baking sheet, and mark up a grid as below, of dimensions 2cm by 3cm. Turn the parchment over (so your macaroons won’t pick up any marks from the pen/pencil) and lay onto your baking sheet. Have ready two piping bags fitted with a 5mm plain nozzle. If you have disposable bags, you can just snip the end to 5mm.
Select two mixing bowls, one of which will be used over simmering water. The other bowl will need to be heated with hot water until required.
Set a pan of water to heat to a simmer.
Put the sugar and almonds into one of the bowls and gradually whisk in sufficient egg white to make a mixture that will run slightly.
Put the pan over the simmering water and whisk vigorously, either using a balloon whisk or with an electric whisk until the mixture is just hot enough for a finger to bear.
Remove the bowl from the heat.
Empty and dry the second bowl and pour half of the mixture into it.
Add vanilla flavouring to one mixture, and raspberry flavouring to the other, together with enough colouring to make a rich magenta (the colour will fade a little during baking.
Pour the mixtures into separate piping bags and pipe oval macaroons 2cm by 3cm in alternate squares in your grid.
Set aside until a thin sin has formed. The original recipe suggested overnight, but if this is inconvenient, a workaround would be to set your oven to 170°C/150°C Fan for one minute, then turn it off and put the baking sheet into the just-warm oven. Check after 1 hour, and if the skin hasn’t formed, repeat and leave for another hour.
When ready to bake, remove the baking sheet from the oven and heat it to 170°C, 150°C Fan.
Using a lame/razor blade, slice through the skin of each macaroon vertially down the centre.
Bake for ten minutes, turning the baking heet around after five minutes to ensure even colouring.
Allow to cool on the sheet.
When cold, wet the work surface and slide the baking parchment onto it. After a few minutes the macaroons should lift off easily and you can sandwich them together with one macaroon of each colour. If you’re using fillings, you might like to join the same colours together. Go wild.