Tag: sweet

Irish Halloween Treats

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“apples are put in cakes for November night.”

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

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

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

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

Collected by Seamus Daly, Kilclooney, Co. Waterford6

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

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

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

Collected by Michael Collins, Woodcock Hill, Co. Clare8

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

 Cream Cake

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

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

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

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

Apple and Hazelnut Soda Cake

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

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

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

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

Griddle Scones

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Griddle Scones

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Marmalade Cake

20th century, Cakes, Large Cakes, Preserves

The recipe I have for you today comes from the classic and ever-reliable Be-Ro baking booklet.


My copy dates from somewhere between 1930 and 1950 (going on the fashions worn in the illustrations), and contains tried and tested recipes both for the everyday and special occasions.

I chose this recipe for a number of reasons:

  • It tastes absolutely delicious.
  • It’s a genuine store-cupboard cake, requiring everyday ingredients.
  • It is an excellent way to use up last year’s marmalade to make way for this year’s batch(es).
  • It is an excellent way to start making use of this year’s batch of marmalade, bursting with freshness.
  • It can be varied with whatever preserves you have on hand (within reason).

It being marmalade season, I have recently been preserving up a storm and entering some marmalades in the annual Marmalade Awards competition.

The method I used was extremely small-batch, but still provided me with more than the single jar required for each entry. Now, this year I entered six categories. I have six lots of extra marmalade. So I was KEENLY in the market for some way to increase marmalade consumption.

Enter the Be-Ro booklet and its recipe for Marmalade Cake with its short list of simple ingredients: flour, fat, sugar, marmalade, eggs, milk.

I’ve increased the amounts of each ingredient to 1.5 times the original quantities, because I had almost exactly that amount of Stork baking margarine in the fridge, and the first cake was so successful I made a second with a different marmalade and used butter, which was just as nice.

A square lime marmalade cake with two pieces cut off and displayed, on a wooden cutting board.

The first cake was made with lime marmalade (see above pic) and was very delicate in flavour and the cake was soft of crumb. The second cake was made with Seville Orange marmalade (see recipe for Dundee Marmalade here), and was just as delicious, possibly even more so. The striking difference was the aroma when the cake was cut – it was like a cloud of intense orange that wafted up. Amazing. I would venture that you could also substitute the marmalade for other jams or preserves, with the caveat that it should be one of the stronger and preferably tart-flavoured fruit: apricot, plum, damson, etc. because the sharpness of the fruit is a delicious contrast to the sweetness of the crumb.

This isn’t the flashiest, most exotic bake you’ll make, but it is easy and very fine-tasting and can be whipped up in about an hour start to finish from the contents of your cupboard/fridge.

Marmalade Cake

This is for the enlarged mix, and requires a 20cm square tin.

170g butter/Stork
170g sugar
170g marmalade
340g plain flour + 1tbs baking powder OR 340g self-raising flour
3 large eggs
80ml milk

  • Heat the oven to 170°C, 150°C Fan.
  • Grease and line a 20cm square tin with baking parchment.
  • Cream the fat and sugar together until light and fluffy.
  • Add the marmalade and mix thoroughly.
  • Sift together the baking powder and flour if using. Otherwise, sift the self-raising flour.
  • Whisk together the eggs and milk.
  • Alternately add these two ingredient mixtures to the mixture in the bowl, stirring, until everything is fully combined.
  • Pour the cake mixture into the prepared tin and smooth evenly.
  • Bake for a total of 45 minutes, turning the tin around after 25 minutes to ensure even baking.
  • Allow to cool for 10 minutes in the tin, then carefully transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
  • Store in an airtight container.

Gossiping Cakes

17th century, 18th century, Biscuits, Cakes, Large Cakes, Yeast

I have a confession to make. I chose these recipes because I loved the idea of women baking cakes specifically for having a get-together and swapping gossip. Alas, that’s not where these cakes originate, but the truth just as interesting.

As I’ve mentioned before, I have spent quite a considerable amount of time cataloguing household manuscripts that have been digitised by various libraries around the world. Obviously, there is going to be a certain degree of repetition of the most popular recipes, but there are also those that stand out as original either by name or by ingredient, etc. Whenever I come across such a recipe, I mark it in the spreadsheet with an asterisk, so when I’m looking back over the thousands of recipes, those asterisked ones are easily highlighted as worthy of a second look. And for the other type of recipes, such as the 200+ recipes simply entitled “A cake”, I’ll get to looking at you in all your (presumed) variety  soon, but to be blunt, you’re pretty low on the ToDo list.

The first recipe I found was this one, dated early 18th century (1738), at the Wellcome Collection.

Recipe for Goseping Cakes The Best Way, from the manuscript of Rebecca Tallamy, (1738), MS4759, Wellcome Collection

It appears to be a spiced variation of shortbread, and obviously one to make in quantity, because the yield of the recipe is over 100 biscuits. It’s demonstrating one of the many interpretations of the word ‘cake’, in this case meaning small, circular biscuits. The last line also caught my eye, because it recommends using equal quantities of butter and flour to make them “very good”.

Regular listeners will have read about my shortbread variation testing a few months ago, where the ratio of butter to flour can range from 1:3 to 1:2, so the assertion that 1:1 is the best, had me intrigued.

This recipe was very much on the back burner until I came across another recipe, similarly named, while indexing the digitised manuscripts at the National Library of Scotland.

Recipe for a Gossops Cake, from MS103093966.23, (1660-1699), National Library of Scotland

This recipe is in a manuscript older by almost a century (1660-1699), and differs in that it contains fruit, and is a large yeasted cake – exceedingly large, going by the peck/14lb/9kg of flour required – the term cake being used in this instance more akin to our modern usage.

To delve deeper into this mystery, I turned to the internet, and found the following passage:

Christening cake traditions, from “Remains of Gentilisme and Judaisme 1686-87”, John Aubrey, James Britten, 1881, p65

This threw up the question: What is a Gossiping? And so I went hunting in the Oxford English Dictionary which I learned that a Gossiping is  a christening, or christening feast, derived and corrupted from “Godsibb”, which is an old English word for Godparent.

Not entirely relevant, but interesting nontheless, the oldest usage of Godshib I found was over a thousand years ago in Sermo Lupi ad Anglos, or the Sermon of the Wolf to the English, a sermon given by Wulfstan II, Bishop of Worcester and Archbishop of York (d. 1023) in 1014:

“And godsibbas and godbearn to fela man forspilde wide gynd þas þeode toeacan oðran ealles to manegan þe man unscyldgige forfor ealles to wide.”

Trans: And too many godparents and godchildren have been killed widely through-out this nation, in addition to entirely too many other innocent people who have been destroy­ed entirely too widely.”

Later usages of the word referred to a gathering of women/midwives when a woman was in labour, and hence to the modern usage.

So with a history stretching back many centuries, the account of christening traditions at Wendlebury would appear to neatly explain the differences between our two recipes: a large cake was presented to the father – presumably for all his hard work in the proceedings *eyeroll* – and the smaller cakes were shared with the guests.

So let’s get on with some gosseping!

A Gossop’s Cake

This is a fruited, lightly spiced and yeast-raised cake. If you’re British, it’s like an enriched teacake: delicious fresh, delicious toasted, and delicious either way with butter and a slab of cheese (but better with toasted). I’ve scaled the recipe down to make for a modest sized cake, but you can always double the recipe if it turns out to be a favourite.

315g plain flour
135g raisins
25g caster sugar
1tsp ground nutmeg
1tsp ground cinnamon
1tsp ground ginger
50g unsalted butter
150ml single cream
100ml water
1½tsp rosewater
1 sachet fast-acting yeast

single cream to glaze

  • Plump the raisins: put the raisins in a saucepan and cover with water. Warm gently on a low heat for 10 minutes while the dough mixes. Strain and pat dry.
  • Sift together the flour, yeast, sugar and spices.
  • Put the butter, cream, water and rosewater into a small pan and warm gently over low heat just until the butter has melted.
  • Put all ingredients except the raisins into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the dough hook and mix on slow until the dough comes together, then continue to knead for 10 minutes until smooth.
  • Add in the plumped raisins and mix on slow to combine.
  • Grease and line a tall, 20cm cake tin, preferably loose bottomed, with parchment.
  • Form the dough into a smooth cake and place in the prepared tin.
  • Set aside to rise until doubled in size. The enrichments to the dough (cream/sugar/fruit) will impact the rise, which is why there is only a single rise for this cake, thus taking advantage of the initial vigorousness of the yeast.
  • Heat the oven to 190°C, 170°C Fan.
  • When the cake has risen, gently brush the surface with single cream, and bake for 30-40 minutes until well risen and golden brown.
  • Cool the cake for 10 minutes in the tin, then remove and set on a wire rack to cool completely.
  • Store in an airtight container.

Goseping Cakes The Best Way

I’ve opted for the proportions where butter = flour because, contrary to my expectations, it really did taste much better that with just half the amount of butter.

250g plain flour
250g unsalted butter
125g caster sugar
1tsp ground nutmeg
1tsp ground mace
1.5tsp rosewater
1 large egg yolk
30ml white wine

1tbs caster sugar for sprinkling

  • Put the dry ingredients into the bowl of a food processor.
  • Cube the butter and add to the dry ingredients.
  • Blitz the mixture a few times until it resembles breadcrumbs.
  • Whisk together the yolk, wine and rosewater.
  • Add the wet ingredients to the dry and blitz until the mixture comes together in a soft dough.
  • Line a 20cm square tin with parchment paper.
  • Turn the dough out onto parchment paper.
  • Press the dough out evenly and smooth over.
  • Chill in the freezer for 20 minutes.
  • Heat the oven to 160°C, 140°C Fan.
  • Poke holes all over the surface with a fork or using a cocktail stick, in the manner of shortbread.
  • Bake for 30 minutes, turning the tin around after 15 minutes to ensure even baking.
  • Remove from the oven and turn off the heat. Sprinkle the caster sugar over the hot shortbread.
  • Cut the shortbread into pieces using a thin bladed knife or metal dough scraper.
  • Return the tin to the cooling oven until cold, to ‘dry out’.
  • When cold, store in an airtight container.

Summer Ice-creams

20th century, 21st Century, Pudding

The brief green gooseberry season is upon us and their delicate but sharp taste is a wonderfully aromatic taste of summer. Reddish dessert gooseberries ripen later in the season, but the sharpness of the green is my preference. They’re a thorny bush, so be prepared for having multiple jabs in your hands. I picked some at a local Pick Your Own fruit farm. Top Tip: most berries conceal themselves on the undersides of branches, so always lift them up for maximum harvesting efficiency. If your local fruit farm doesn’t have PYO gooseberries (and many don’t, sadly) they can also sometimes be found in the freezer of your local Farm Shop.

After laying down a batch of my bi-annual batch of gooseberry vinegar (a doddle to make, but a year in the fermenting/clearing), I decided to make a batch of gooseberry ice-cream. As the owner of a tiny kitchen (2m x 3m), I have neither the counter/cupboard space for an ice-cream maker, nor the patience to keep stirring a semi-frozen mixture in order to break up the ice-crystals, so the ‘set it and forget it’ no-churn recipe employing sweetened condensed milk is pretty much a no-brainer in this household.

The method is practically the same as that given for Damson Ice-Cream from a couple of years ago: Mix most of a fruit puree into the cream/milk mixture, then ripple through a ribbon of the remaining puree and set in the freezer.

The means of obtaining your gooseberry puree is a little different than usual, mainly due to their water content, which will wreak icy-crystal havoc with your ice-cream if it is too high. Rather than simmer with water until they break down, the gooseberries are coddled in a closed vessel over simmering water. The result will be a clear-ish liquid (which can be poured off) and the fruit pulp, which is then used for the ice-cream. This approach preserves not only the colour, but also the flavour, as prolonged cooking and/or high heat impairs both.

The second recipe is my re-creation of an ice-cream I had several years ago in Yorkshire. It’s actually not really a summer ice-cream, because citrus isn’t really in season in July, but oranges are in the shops and marmalade is on the shelves, and I am in love with it, so here we are.

The bitterness of Seville oranges, just as the tartness of gooseberries, is the perfect pairing with this ice-cream method, because the condensed milk is SO sweet, it needs something sharp to cut through all that sugar. Interestingly, in developing this version, I did learn that there is such a thing as too much bitterness. An early version contained both the zest and juice of Seville oranges (which I keep in my freezer as frozen cubes for year-round zestiness), and while I liked the end result, it really leaned heavily into bitterness, so I had to dial it back somewhat. This version uses the zest of regular oranges and no juice, with the slivers of peel from the marmalade providing delicious pops of intense Seville bitterness, tempered with sugar.

Both of these ice-creams will need to be removed from the freezer for 20-30 minutes before serving, in order to soften.

Gooseberry Ice-Cream

I have left the gooseberries without sugar, as there is more than enough sweetness with the condensed milk. Feel free to add some sugar if you feel they need it.

500g green gooseberries

1 x 397g tin of sweetened condensed milk
600ml double cream

  • Put the gooseberries in a lidded pan without any additional water and set it inside a larger pan. Add water until the larger pan is half filled. Heat over medium high heat until the water is simmering and coddle the gooseberries until soft. if you don’t have suitable pans to do this, you can put them into a casserole with a close-fitting lid and bake in the oven at 170°C, 150°C Fan. for 20-30 minutes.
  • Tip the coddled gooseberries into a sieve over a bowl and allow the clear liquid to drain through. Set the liquid aside.
  • Rub the gooseberry pulp through the sieve until all that remains are the seeds. Discard the seeds and set the pulp aside to cool.
  • Put the condensed milk and double cream into a bowl and whisk together until light and billowly.
  • Fold through 3/4 of the gooseberry pulp until well combined.
  • Spoon the ice-cream mixture into containers and then stir through the remaining puree in a ripple.
  • Cover and freeze at least overnight before serving.
  • Waste not, want not: You can add sugar to the clear gooseberry liquid and simmer it down to a syrup to pour over your ice-cream.
  • Bonus: Add a splash of elderflower cordial to taste to the puree, but beware of adding too much liquid.

Marmalade Cheesecake Ice-Cream

There is a slight difference in the method of this ice-cream, in order to get the cream cheese fully incorporated with the other ingredients. There’s no added sugar, as the condensed milk add more than enough. The amount of marmalade you’ll need will depend very much on the whatever marmalade you are using. I used a jar of my Dundee Marmalade, which is quite peel-heavy, so I only needed one jar.  Top Tip: An efficient way to get your marmalade shreds separated from your marmalade jelly, tip your jar(s) of marmalade into a pan and warm it gently until the jelly liquefies, then pour it through a sieve over a bowl. The jelly can then be poured back into the jar(s) for use later. Cut your shreds into smaller pieces if liked.

100g of orange shreds from your favourite marmalade – about half a cup.

zest of 3 oranges
330g cream cheese, Philadelphia for preference – at room temperature
1 x 397g tin of sweetened condensed milk
600ml double cream

  • Put the orange zest and cream cheese into a bowl and whisk until smooth.
  • Pour in the condensed milk and whisk again until smooth.
  • Add the double cream and whisk until light and billowy.
  • Stir through the marmalade shreds.
  • Spoon the ice-cream mixture into containers.
  • Cover and freeze at least overnight before serving.

Serving suggestion

To emulate a regular cheesecake, serve with some crisp/crunchy biscuits – Digestive biscuits/Graham crackers are a favourite. I used amaretti in the picture because that’s what I had, and regular readers will know we don’t make special trips to the supermarket for just one ingredient.

Mince Pie Shortbread

20th century, 21st Century, Pastry

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mince Pie Shortbread

The Mincemeat

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

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

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

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

 

The Shortbread

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

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

1 egg-white for glazing

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

The Topping

250g white chocolate
zest from 1 lemon

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

To Assemble

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

To Divide

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

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

Butterscotch Shortbread

21st Century, Biscuits

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Butterscotch Shortbread

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

The Shortbread

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

The Whipped Butterscotch

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

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

To Assemble

400g white chocolate

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

To Divide

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

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

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

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

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

Improving Strawberries

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

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

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

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

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

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

To Confit strawberries

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

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

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

Strawberry Scones

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

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

100g drained, confit strawberries.

Milk for glazing
sugar to sprinkle (optional)

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

Strawberry Croissant Mille Feuille

You know when you have stale croissants lying around?

…

*crickets*

…

Of course not. No-one does.

HOWEVER!

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

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

To thicken liquid with Arrowroot

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

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

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

To Assemble

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

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

  • Stack the layers together and serve.

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

Russian Toffee

19th century, 20th century

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

But anyhoo…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Russian Toffee

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

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

200g dark chocolate (optional)

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