Sunshine cake for midsummer

 I love Diana Henry's books - to read as much as to cook from. Here is an apricot and almond upside-down cake that tastes as good as it looks, as good as it smells, good enough that I keep my patience making the caramel. The recipe is from Food from Plenty, but is handily enough also available online.

Sweet, tart, fragrant, nutty cake, sunshine, fruit, and a good book and even another birthday can be bearable...

Surprising resolve

I'm not much of a new year person and don't really go in for resolutions, but this year I decided to set myself a task that seemed manageable, and it started at the turn of the year, so I can count myself amongst the lucky smug few who have reached mid-March with tested but hearty resolve. Actually, I set myself two resolutions, but the decision to dance at least a little bit every day doesn't have so much relevance to a cookery blog. What's up for a mention here is the idea to try a new recipe every week. It's not ground-breaking, but it's one way to get me working my way further through my cookbook/bookmarked recipe collection. I'm including new variations on old recipes - if it helps me experiment with my cooking then it can't be a bad thing.

It began well with a French treat (and a treat for a couple of French friends) of a galette des rois for Epiphany - though it turns out that Clotilde Dusoulier's addition of orange flower water was a (pleasant) surprise. (If you haven't visited Chocolate and Zucchini before, I would heartily recommend it.) January also meant Seville oranges; these were worked into this yoghurt cake recipe to give a St Clement's Cake of sorts (orange zest and a little juice in the batter, lemon curd mixed with orange juice used to fill the split cake). Lovely pink rhubarb and a recollection of a rhubarb and cornmeal cake in a Nigella book led to some delicious rhubarb cornmeal muffins - a tweaking of a couple of Susan Reimer recipes (cornbread and peach/rhubarb) to appetising effect. I can also recommend Dan Lepard's malt whisky ginger cake - though I'd be careful of inviting people round whilst it's cooking as it has quite an alcoholic whiff to it. Most of the new things I've made have been savoury, quite a lot of it simple new ways with vegetables - Jane Grigson's Vegetable book and Nigel Slater's Tender: volume I are great sources of inspiration. Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's Turkish bulgur and red lentil soup was very tasty - a bit of nostalgia for childhood moussaka that I think was evoked by the dried mint in melted butter.

So, the recipe-a-week plan is working. Now to sort out my photography...

Cake for a miserable afternoon

It's been a rough couple of weeks, but I received a timely reminder that baking can be a source of comfort beyond the consumption of its products. With that in mind, here is a long-loved recipe for what is probably my favourite comfort-food cake - though I'm always in danger of eating far more of it than is comfortable. The recipe comes from Sarah Brown's Vegetarian Kitchen (a book that's much less worthy - in the lentils, bean sprouts and sandals sense - than it first appears).

Cinnamon and Carrot Cake

1/2 lb (225g) plain wholemeal flour
1 tablespoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 tablespoon baking powder
4 oz (110g) butter
4 oz (110g) honey
4 oz (110g) sugar
1/2lb (225g) carrots, peeled and finely grated

Pre-heat oven to GM3 (170C/325F).
In a large bowl, mix together all the dry ingredients. In a saucepan, melt together the butter, honey and sugar, then stir this mixture into the dry ingredients. Stir in the carrots. Put the mixture into a well greased bread 1lb bread tin (though I usually use a 2lb tin - makes the cake go further and you get more of the crunchy top) and bake for 60-80 minutes until firm to the touch. Leave the cake in the tin for 10 minutes and then turn it out onto a cooling rack.

Fond memories of British Rail

As predicted, I've neglected this blog, but that's not to say I haven't been baking. Indeed, over Christmas and New Year I've spent many happy hours pottering about the kitchen, and here's a start in noting it down.

This gingerbread recipe is probably my most requested, and if I'm asked for it midwinter I can usually reel it off from memory - not that unusual, I'm sure, and I don't think people asking for recipes are in a position to judge the quirky memory skills of others. But I digress. This recipe comes from Linda Collister's Bread Book via Food from the Place Below and How to Eat. Collister herself tentatively attributes the recipe to British Rail. Whatever its origins, its cookbook pedigree should be inducement enough to give it a try...

It was only when I came to write this recipe down that I realised I use a bastardised version - and that I use metric or imperial measures depending on the equipment I have to hand. So, I use the spicing and the metric measurements from the Place Below but always include the grated stem ginger suggested by Nigella (I don't bother weighing it, but use three pieces straight from the jar).

Gingerbread

225g (8oz) self-raising flour
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tbsp ground ginger
1 tsp cinnamon
grating of nutmeg
100g (4oz) butter
3 pieces/45g stem ginger
100g (4oz) light muscovado sugar
300ml (1/2 pint) milk
100g (4oz) treacle
100g (4oz) golden syrup
1 egg, beaten


Preheat oven to 180°C (GM4). Grease and line a 900g (2lb) loaf tin (or use a silicon mould and do neither - if using silicon bakeware, put a baking sheet in the oven and rest the mould on this when baking to help cook the bottom of the cake).
In a saucepan, dissolve the sugar in the milk; in another saucepan, melt together the syrup and the treacle. Let both cool to blood temperature (or thereabouts). In a large mixing bowl, mix the flour, bicarb and spices. Rub in the butter. Grate in the stem ginger. Mix in first the milk/sugar mixture, then the syrup/treacle mixture, then the egg. The mixture will have a batter-like consistency. Pour the mixture into the loaf tin. Bake for 45 mins to 1 hour or until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean. Wrap it in greaseproof paper and it'll keep in a cake tin for several days (willpower dependent).

A tidy recipe for fruit cake

Back to the Welsh recipes, and this is a classic: Bara Brith. However, as that basically means it's a recipe for fruit cake, I think its Welshness is a little spurious. Added to that, my recipe for it is out of a book. That's probably because I've only started eating fruit cake in the last couple of years - and I don't tend to cook things that I really don't like to eat (how can you taste test things if they're always going to taste bad to you?). But this is a very tasty, very easy recipe - and it fills the house with the smell of toffee. I should plug the book: Traditional teatime recipes by Jane Pettigrew. It's a National Trust book and it's full of recipes that make me nostalgic for things I've never eaten. Powerful stuff...

Bara Brith (900g/2lb loaf)

350g (12oz) mixed fruit
350ml (12 fl oz) tea
100g (4oz) butter
100g (4oz) light soft brown sugar
50ml (2 fl oz) milk
1 tbsp black treacle
225g (8oz) self-raising flour
1 tsp mixed spice
2 eggs, beaten

Soak the fruit in the tea overnight.
Grease and line a 900g (2lb) loaf tin.
Put the fruit, butter, sugar, milk and treacle in a pan (I like to use a large casserole so I can use it for all the mixing), bring to the boil and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and leave to cool.
Preheat the oven to 180°C (GM4).
Add the flour, mixed spice and beaten eggs to the fruit mix and beat well with a wooden spoon. Turn the mixture into the prepared tin and bake (just below the middle of the oven) for 1 to 1 1/4 hours until a skewer comes out clean. Remove from the oven and leave to cool in the tin for 15 minutes and to cool completely on a wire rack.

A recipe for bakestones

It seems only right that the first recipe on this blog is for bakestones - or Welsh cakes, in proper Saesneg. This recipe is the one my mother uses and the one she has passed on to me (together with the bakestone to cook them on).

Welsh cakes

8oz (225g) self-raising flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
4oz (125g) butter (or half butter, half lard)
3oz (75g) sugar
3oz (75g) currants (or raisins)
1 egg, beaten
milk (if needed)
pinch of mixed spice

In a large bowl, stir together the flour, baking powder and mixed spice. Rub in the butter. Add the sugar and the currants. Bind the mixture with the egg (and a little milk if necessary) to make a stiff dough. Roll out on a floured surface to about 1/4 inch thick and cut into 2 1/2 inch rounds. Bake on a moderately hot bakestone (or heavy frying pan or under a medium grill) for 3-5 mins each side (until patched golden brown). Sprinkle with sugar. Best served warm.