Daring Bakers: Bakewell Tart

When I joined the Daring Bakers a year and a half ago, I was on the vanguard of a Daring Baker deluge. Because of being the 300th something member at the time, I was due to chose the month's recipe in around 2012. As numbers kept growing and newer members found out that due to the waiting list, their recipe-choosing turn was a legacy they would have to leave to their great-grandchildren, people began pairing up for recipe challenges.

Lucky for me, my good blog friend (and just friend all around) Jasmine had a more reasonable 2009 recipe challenge date, and invited me to share the month with her. We were both interested in doing something from another country and something that didn't just encourage people to take on a new skill but to look again at something they might never before have considered. I thought a recipe from my adopted country, Britain, might fall into that category.

British food still has a bad reputation (particularly in America and Australia...and probably other places too) that I think is due a lot to post-war rationing and deprivation but isn't really a deserved reputation any more. British food from the 1950s until the 1980s and 90s was rarely something worth seeking out, but modern British food has more than come into its own, drawing on traditions of using good quality fresh produce and a range of herbs and spices. I've become a British food convert and fight its corner whenever the fight is brought to me.

The Bakewell Tart, and English dessert from the 19th century, hasn't been changed much over the years since it hasn't needed to. You do have to like almond to stand a chance of liking the tart, but I've always appreciated the balance of sweet jam and spongey mild frangipane, crisp crust and soft topping, and how it can grow sweeter or milder depending on your tastes. A classic Bakewell Tart should have a cherry or strawberry filling, and though those are Mr A&N's favorite incarnations of the treat, I broke free a bit since Mr A&N wouldn't be able to share in the tart because of his diet restrictions. My jam element became a rhubarb, apple and ginger jam, another classic English dessert flavor that I thought might enjoy being introduced to its compatriot. Mr A&N called it a travesty against both the rhubarb and the tart, but since he doesn't have any say in this one, I shan't regard him.

Thanks for the recipe itself must go to Jasmine, who worked hard doing the testing and the tweaking, and only needed me to step in every so often and say 'yum'. I love the crust she's come up with and will use it whenever a shortcrust is needed, now. I also love how easy and adaptable the whole recipe is and it will now be a standard dessert for me to put on show. Thanks also to Ivonne and Lis for the massive undertaking and success of the Daring Bakers, and for all of you for joining in. I hope that you've (mostly) all enjoyed the tart as well, and at least used it as an opportunity to try out another classic British treat: to enjoy a slice of cake while having a nice sit down and a cup of tea.

Bakewell tart
Makes one 23cm (9” tart)
Prep time: less than 10 minutes (plus time for the individual elements)
Resting time: 15 minutes
Baking time: 30 minutes
Equipment needed: 23cm (9”) tart pan or pie tin (preferably with ridged edges), rolling pin

One quantity sweet shortcrust pastry (recipe follows)
Bench flour
250ml (1cup (8 US fl. oz)) jam or curd, warmed for spreadability
One quantity frangipane (recipe follows)
One handful blanched, flaked almonds

Assembling the tart
Place the chilled dough disc on a lightly floured surface. If it's overly cold, you will need to let it become acclimatised for about 15 minutes before you roll it out. Flour the rolling pin and roll the pastry to 5mm (1/4”) thickness, by rolling in one direction only (start from the centre and roll away from you), and turning the disc a quarter turn after each roll. When the pastry is to the desired size and thickness, transfer it to the tart pan, press in and trim the excess dough. Patch any holes, fissures or tears with trimmed bits. Chill in the freezer for 15 minutes.

Preheat oven to 200C/400F.

Remove shell from freezer, spread as even a layer as you can of jam onto the pastry base. Top with frangipane, spreading to cover the entire surface of the tart. Smooth the top and pop into the oven for 30 minutes. Five minutes before the tart is done, the top will be poofy and brownish. Remove from oven and strew flaked almonds on top and return to the heat for the last five minutes of baking.

The finished tart will have a golden crust and the frangipane will be tanned, poofy and a bit spongy-looking. Remove from the oven and cool on the counter. Serve warm, with crème fraîche, whipped cream or custard sauce if you wish.

When you slice into the tart, the almond paste will be firm, but slightly squidgy and the crust should be crisp but not tough.

Jasmine’s notes:
• If you cannot have nuts, you can try substituting Victoria sponge for the frangipane. It's a pretty popular popular cake, so you shouldn't have any troubles finding one in one of your cookbooks or through a Google search. That said, our dear Natalie at Gluten a Go Go has sourced some recipes and linked to them in the related alt.db thread.
• You can use whichever jam you wish, but if you choose something with a lot of seeds, such as raspberry or blackberry, you should sieve them out.
• The jam quantity can be anywhere from 60ml (1/4 cup) to 250ml (1cup), depending upon how “damp” and strongly flavoured your preserves are. I made it with the lesser quantity of home made strawberry jam, while Annemarie made it with the greater quantity of cherry jam; we both had fabulous results. If in doubt, just split the difference and spread 150ml (2/3cup) on the crust.
Annemarie’s notes:
• The excess shortcrust can be rolled out and cut into cookie-shapes (heck, it’s pretty darned close to a shortbread dough).

Sweet shortcrust pastry

Prep time: 15-20 minutes
Resting time: 30 minutes (minimum)
Equipment needed: bowls, box grater, cling film

225g (8oz) all purpose flour
30g (1oz) sugar
2.5ml (½ tsp) salt
110g (4oz) unsalted butter, cold (frozen is better)
2 (2) egg yolks
2.5ml (½ tsp) almond extract (optional)
15-30ml (1-2 Tbsp) cold water

Sift together flour, sugar and salt. Grate butter into the flour mixture, using the large hole-side of a box grater. Using your finger tips only, and working very quickly, rub the fat into the flour until the mixture resembles bread crumbs. Set aside.

Lightly beat the egg yolks with the almond extract (if using) and quickly mix into the flour mixture. Keep mixing while dribbling in the water, only adding enough to form a cohesive and slightly sticky dough.

Form the dough into a disc, wrap in cling and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes

Jasmine’s notes:
• I make this using vanilla salt and vanilla sugar.
• If you wish, you can substitute the seeds of one vanilla bean, one teaspoon of vanilla paste or one teaspoon of vanilla extract for the almond extract

Frangipane

Prep time: 10-15 minutes
Equipment needed: bowls, hand mixer, rubber spatula

125g (4.5oz) unsalted butter, softened
125g (4.5oz) icing sugar
3 (3) eggs
2.5ml (½ tsp) almond extract
125g (4.5oz) ground almonds
30g (1oz) all purpose flour

Cream butter and sugar together for about a minute or until the mixture is primrose in colour and very fluffy. Scrape down the side of the bowl and add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. The batter may appear to curdle. In the words of Douglas Adams: Don’t panic. Really. It’ll be fine. After all three are in, pour in the almond extract and mix for about another 30 seconds and scrape down the sides again. With the beaters on, spoon in the ground nuts and the flour. Mix well. The mixture will be soft, keep its slightly curdled look (mostly from the almonds) and retain its pallid yellow colour.

Annemarie’s notes:
• Add another five minutes or more if you're grinding your own almonds or if you're mixing by hand (Heaven help you).

The June Daring Bakers' challenge was hosted by Jasmine of Confessions of a Cardamom Addict and Annemarie of Ambrosia and Nectar. They chose a Traditional (UK) Bakewell Tart... er... pudding that was inspired by a rich baking history dating back to the 1800's in England.

A Rather Adult Apple Crumble

One sign of the A&N life returning to a more familiar rhythm is that we had some friends around for food. Not only was it a treat for us, but a treat for Mark and Cath as well, as their baby boy was born 6 weeks after Baby A&N so life has been an adjustment for them too. There were a lot of firsts for all of us that day - first time we met baby Arthur, first menu we had to plan and cook around a baby's eat/sleep/play schedule, first time Arthur decided it was ok to smile at strangers. With all this newness, I felt justified in making a familiar dessert but with a slightly different - and adult - twist.

Introducing the apple crumble. The apple crumble is an improvement on the apple pie in one important way: it's easier to make. And while the apple pie crust is it's own delight of buttery goodness, the crumble topping, with the naughty addition of sugar, makes you feel as if you're eating your apple filling with warm cookies on top. Hardly a bad thing.

I used to make apple crumble much more often when we had two apple trees in the garden; the good tree (with the tasty apples) never gave much and it was a fight to wrestle away the one or two apples a season from the squrriels. The cooking apple tree belched out imperfect, rotten apple after rotten apple, but even with only 50% of those apples salvageable our friends (and ourselves) were kept in crumble until the winter. Though my crumble making abilities aren't as well honed as my brownie abilities (in which I can whip up a batch in less then 10 minutes, even at 11pm and *ahem* slightly worse for wear), I am mostly on auto-pilot when crumble time comes.

So to shake thinks up, I've introduced almonds, both in the form of the nut and of the liquor. The apples were gently sauteed in butter and ameretto before being baked, and whole almonds were whizzed up in the blender with the crumble topping, with a few more almond slivers thrown on top for good luck. You have to like almonds, then, to like this variation, but it was a rich and indulgent change on the norm, turning the cookie crumble topping into a nutty, adult treat. Enjoy with a bit of ice cream, and the knowledge that your kids will probably need a few years to come around to wanting second helpings. Again, hardly a bad thing.



Apple and Almond Crumble
I made mine in a 12x10 sized deep dish, but generally put it in a dish that gives you enough apples to have a good apple layer, and enough crumble to cover them all slightly generously

For the filling:

• 8 or so medium sized cooking (Bramley) apples (around 7 cups in volume)
• 1 1/2 Tbs flour
• 1/2 C / 100g sugar
• 2 tsp ground cinnamon
• 3 Tbsp / 40g butter
• 1/4 C / 60ml amaretto liquor

For the crumble topping

• 1C / 120g flour
• 2 Tbs / 30g almonds
• 3 Tbs / 30g jumbo oats
• 1/2 C / 100g sugar
• 1/2 C plus 1 Tbs / 125g butter, softened
• Optional: a handful of almond slivers

1. Pre-heat the oven to 175 C / 375 F.
2. Peel and core the apples, and slice them into thick, half-moon shaped chunks.
3. Toss the apples together with the flour, half cup of sugar and cinnamon and set aside for a good hour.
4. Once the apples have produced some juices, heat a frying pan (big enough to hold all the apples) on medium heat. Melt the butter and add in the amaretto liquor, and cook for a minute or so until the alcohol begins to burn off and reduce.
5. Add in the apples and the juices, and stir for a couple of minutes - remove from heat before the apples have softened and set aside.
6. In a blender, whizz together the flour, almonds, sugar, oats, and butter until it resembles coarse meal.
7. Empty the apples into a deep baking dish and spread out evenly.
8. Sprinkle the crumble mixture on top so that all the apples are covered, and press down gently but firmly. Sprinkle a handful of almond slivers on the top if so desired.
9. Bake for 30 minutes or so, until the crumble feels firm to the touch and is golden brown.

Pears Poached in Whiskey

The question I'm most asked by friends now (in a concerned manner) when we're out for a dinner is: do I miss not drinking in my pregnancy? Have I been having anything alcoholic to drink at all? The truth is, I've never been a big drinker and my desire for beer or wine has dropped down to almost nothing these days. So my taste for a tipple has nearly evaporated.

Except for whiskey. Whiskey was one of the first drinks I'd ever tasted; my father would have a tumbler each night and my kind offer to fetch the drink from the kitchen for him was so I could steal a few sips from the top. I confessed this to my mother recently and she refused to accept that a 10 year old would enjoy the taste. Oh but I had, and oh but I do.

To work a bit of whiskey into my diet but in a safe, alcohol-burned-off format, I poached pears in a pot of whiskey along with cinnamon and honey to round off the flavor. The color of the pear was less glorious and deeply jeweled than if I'd poached them in red wine, but it was the taste that I was after. The pears took on a gentle flavor of the poaching liquid, and the liquid itself created a wonderful syrup that when coupled with cream tasted so very good (yet so bad). Before reducing the syrup down, Mr A&N poured a glass of the liquid for me, mixed with a touch of cream, for my own style of white russian. I drank and I supped. The baby seemed content; perhaps my child was developing his own whiskey-palate.


Pears Poached in Whiskey
serves 6

• 6 pears, peeled
• About 6 C of water
• 150ml whiskey
• 1 1/2 sticks cinnamon
• 3-4 Tbs honey
• 2 extra Tbs honey or sugar
• Cream to pour over the top

(This does produce a lot of liquid. The liquid can be scaled down if you have a smaller pot to stand the pears in or if you want to poach the pears in batches)

1. If you are able to stand the pears up in the pot they'll be cooking in, first lop off a bit of their bottom so they can stand up. If the pears need laying down in order to fit, then the bottoms don't need lopping.
2. Combine the water, whiskey, cinnamon and honey in a large pot and bring to a boil.
3. Add the pears and simmer gently for about 20 minutes or until the pears are soft enough for a fork to go into them easily.
4. Remove the pears and set aside to cool slightly.
5. If using the large amount of liquid, spoon out about 3 ladle-fulls of the liquid into a smaller pot, add another 2 Tbs of honey/sugar and set to a vigorous boil. Keep boiling until the liquid is reduced and it turns syrup-y (15-20 minutes).
6. Serve with the syrup and a touch of cream poured over the pears.

Two Kinds of Sorbet

Our trip to France last month was filled with daily doses of dessert (naturally - we were on holiday). At least half the time we went to the effort of having a healthy dessert, and so would have sorbet. The other half of the time...we at like we were on holiday. But back to the sorbet: having it so easily available in so many flavors re-awakened the belief that fruit sorbet is one of the more miraculous sweet things one could hope to eat. Filled with fresh fruit and with little more to mar its healthiness than a sugar syrup, it comes close to being one of the rare non-naughty naughty foods.

It's the right time of year to experiment with making sorbets, given all the fresh fruit on offer and the flavors they might make together. I'm currently having a bit of a love affair with watermelon, and since even I find it a bit of a challenge to work my way through 10 pounds of fruit, it has been given the sorbet treatment. I've also been missing the option of enjoying my Pimms O'Clock when the mood for something refreshing, fruity, and alcoholic overtakes me, so Pimms style sorbet has also been created.

I threw mint into both of them to make them that much more refreshing, and though they were slightly similar in taste the Pimms sorbet also had a bit of lemon and so a bit more tartness. I loved both and have happily convinced myself that I'm getting part of my 5 a day from eating them. I next want to experiment with canned and frozen fruit in the hope of extending the sorbet season beyond just the summer. I'll happily put on an extra woolen sweater in the winter if it means being able to eat such lovely frozen fruitiness.


Watermelon & Mint Sorbet, and Cucumber, Strawberry & Mint Sorbet (AKA, Pimms Sorbet)
each serves 4 dessert portions

Watermelon and Mint

• 125 g sugar
• 125 ml water
• about 2 pounds of watermelon (4 cups when cut up), diced de-seeded
• small handful of fresh mint

Cucumber, Strawberry and Mint

• 125 g sugar
• 125 ml water
• 1 medium cucumber, peeled and diced (about 2 cups when cut up)
• 1 package strawberries, green tops removed
• 1 handful of fresh mint
• juice of half a lemon

Method for both:

1. Dissolve the sugar in the water by heating it over a medium heat. Wait until the sugar is entirely dissolved, resisting the desire to stir but possibly swirling the pot if some of the sugar is being stubborn.
2. Remove the sugar syrup and cool down.
3. Put the fruit and mint leaves into a blender along with the cooled sugar syrup (and lemon juice, if following that recipe).
4. Blend the mixture for at least a minute, until everything is very smooth.
5. Pour into an ice cream maker and churn until frozen and smooth.

Prune and Armagnac Tart

When trying to find a dessert that would go well with our beef and prune tagine, I turned to my new favorite cookbook: A Year in My Kitchen by Skye Gyngell. Even though I have more cookbooks than it's possible to regularly cook from (I started a spreadsheet of the recipes I'd like to make, their key ingredients, and the books they're in. I managed to record all that for one of book), I have only 3 or 4 that I'll really turn to for inspiration, and Skye's book has already increased that number of core books to 4 or 5. Since the book is arranged seasonally, I optimisticly turned to 'spring' hoping I could speed the season toward me with my choice of recipe.


And so the prune and armagnac tart. This is a very classic French flavor combination, and I was still in a bit of a reverie from a friend's description earlier in the week of his home-made prune and armagnac ice cream. With prunes in the main course as well, I thought it would be a nice flavor arc through the meal. With two times the prunes initially needed, though, I actually had to go out and buy another packet of prunes - something I didn't think I'd be doing until I was in my 80's and afflicted by a certain sluggishness.


The prunes I bought were not pitted which turned out to be something of a poor choice since my hands were hunched in cutting and pitting position while covered in sticky prune goo for what felt like much longer than it was. My patience grew short, and I'm not known in the A&N household for being The Patron Saint of Patience to begin with. The pastry recipe for the tart was excellent - crispy, subtly sweet and nicely buttery, and kept well for a couple of days. The pastry combined well with the prunes, which tasted like a rich jam. Next time, I would probably double the almond mixture on top since I do like my almond topping and I didn't get much of the sense of the orange blossom water. Other than the torture of pitting the prunes, it was an easy but sophisticated dessert to make, and is very open to being tweaked with different flavors and combinations.



Both Pastry and Tart from Skye Gyngell's A Year in My Kitchen

Pastry

• 250g plan flour
• pinch salt
• 125g unsalted butter, shilled and cut into cubes
• 25g caster sugar
• 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
• finely grated zest of 1/2 lemon
• 1 egg
• 25-40 ml ice-cold water

1. Sift the flour and salt into a mound on a cool surface.
2. Scatter the butter, sugar, vanilla and lemon zest over the flour, then toss the ingredients together using a knife or pastry scraper.
3. make a hollow in the middle and add the egg and water and toss again.
4. Gather the dough close to you and, with the heel of your hand, work it away in a quick movement. Keep bringing the dough back to you and working it until it is evenly combined (don't worry if little bits of butter show through, it is important not to overwork the dough).
5. Once the dough has come together, continue to knead to a minute or so, very lightly.
6. Wrap the pastry in greaseproof paper and chill for 20 minutes (no longer or it will be difficult to roll).

Prune and Armagnac Tart

• The pastry recipe above (already halved)
• 300g good quality prunes
• 30 g unsalted butter
• 2 eggs
• 120g caster sugar
• few drops vanilla extract
• 1 Tbsp orange flower water
• 5 Tbsp double cream
• 3 Tbsp ground almond
• 3 Tbsp armagnac (or brandy) to drizzle
• icing sugar, to dust
• creme fraiche, to serve

1. Roll out the pastry on a lightly floured surface to about 3mm/just over an inch thick.
2. Lift the pastry carefully and place over a 25cm/10 inch flan tin. Press the pastry into the sides and bottom of the tin, then use your rolling pin rolled on top to cut the excess pastry off.
3. Prick the base all over with a fork, then place in the fridge to rest for 30 minutes.
4. Preheat the oven to 180C / 375F.
5. If not already pitted, pit the prunes and place in a bowl. Cover with hot water and leave to soak for 10 minutes and then drain.
6. Melt the butter and allow to cool slightly.
7. When the half hour is up, line the pastry tin with greaseproof paper and fill with baking beans in order to blind-bake the pastry.
8. Bake for 15 minutes. Remove the beans and bake for another 5 or until the pastry is golden, then remove from the oven and allow to cool.
9. Increase the oven temperature to 190 / 390.
10. In a large bowl, combine the eggs, sugar, vanilla, orange flower water, cream, and almonds. Whisk together lightly until evenly blended, then stir in the melted butter.
11. Scatter the prunes evenly over the pastry base, then ladle the whisked egg mixture over the top.
12. Carefully place on the middle shelf of the oven and immediately turn the temperature back down to 180 / 375.
13. Bake for 25 - 30 minutes until the topping is golden brown on the surface and slightly wobbly in the center.
14. Remove from the oven, and while still warm drizzle with the armagnac.
15. When the armagnac is absorbed, lightly dust with icing sugar. Serve either warm or cold.

Blood Orange and Rosewater Sorbet

One of my more trusty restaurant companions, Amanda, has had to step down from her dining-out duties temporarily since she has more important matters to look after in the shape of her 3 month old son. Any time out together is precious, and in order to make things easier I travel across town to see her. It's hardly a chore to see a good friend, but in London traveling to different parts of town can be seen as a feat akin to traveling across the arctic with nothing but a chocolate bar and one spare pair of dry socks to keep you going.

"I'm going down to Hammersmith to see Amanda" I told one friend.
"What, tonight? You have to go to work tomorrow - are you going to stay overnight?"
Bravely, I would be returning home the same night. From east to west London and back east again, all within 24 hours. Amazing.

Matters are made more difficult by where I live, since London Transport has decided to exercise their right to disrupt your travel plans and is closing the tube line I need to get home by 10pm. Each night. Until November. Hooray.

Knowing that I was spending the evening out across town and had to get on the tube by a given time meant that we had to be efficient with our fun. We tried, and despite the two of us being the fastest takers that Mr A&N knows, fun took precedence and it was a rush to the tube. And so, with this evident pressure to get on the train and get home, what do I do? Why, my eye catches site of a small grocery store and I wander in like a loved-up fool, just to browse the shelves in case there's something marvelous in there.
\

And what happens but I do find a wonderful thing: essence of rose water and orange blossom water. I've had some wonderful cakes and desserts flavored with each of these things, and had intermittently tried to track some down for myself. They're both regular features of middle eastern cuisine, but cooking with floral essences was also used quite a lot in medieval european cooking. I'm intrigued by why once-common flavors fall out of fashion, and am looking forward to experimenting with them in my cooking.

One of Mr A&N's most memorable desserts was eaten at Moro, and combined rosewater and cardamom in an ice cream. Although it would be difficult to make ice cream without an ice cream maker, I turned to the Moro cookbook to see if there was any inspiration or guidance for how to use my prized flower waters. In there, I found a recipe for blood orange and rosewater sorbet, which appealed for it beautiful pink color and use of the short-seasoned blood oranges. It was a beautiful palate cleanser, hinting at spring things to come with the tang of citrus and the hint of the rose garden.

And the tube on that night? I leaped on the last train home, feeling ever so triumphant - until that tube stopped two stations away from home and declared it was going no further and we'd all have to find other ways home. Nuts.



Blood Orange and Rosewater Sorbet, from the Moro Cookbook

• 200g/7oz caster sugar
• 100-150ml/3½-5fl oz rosewater, to taste (I would tend toward the higher amount of rosewater, just so you can be sure to taste it)
  
• 600ml/1 pint blood orange juice
• ½ blood orange, zest only
• squeeze of lemon

1. Place the sugar and rosewater in a small saucepan over a low heat until the sugar has dissolved. Simmer for a couple of minutes until a thin syrup has formed. Allow to cool.
2. Add the syrup to the orange juice along with the zest and a squeeze of lemon, to taste.
3. Churn in an ice-cream machine, or place in the freezer, stirring the sorbet by hand every half-hour for the first two hours to prevent crystallisation.

Ravioli, Ravioli Everywhere

A few weeks, back when I first dipped my toe into the beauteous pool of homemade pasta, I commented that we were looking forward to experimenting with ravioli but that we didn't feel prepared to take it on without having ravioli-making equipment. Several of you wrote in to encourage me to make the ravioli by hand and to share the results with you. Thanks everyone for that encouragement because I have listened, and have made not one but two (two!) types of ravioli I can now well you about.

Mr A&N's brother and his wife were off galavanting in New Zealand at Christmas and New Year, so we had them around for a post-holiday dinner and gawp at our kitchen on the first free weekend we all had. Rob and Fay are big food lovers themselves, so we had even more reason to come up with a good menu that validated their journey of an hour and a half around London to come see us. I thought long, I thought hard, and I had a brain wave: we'd have ravioli, both to start and end with. A savory Spanish ravioli with chorizo and manchego cheese for the first course, and a chocolate and hazelnut ravioli for dessert.

Like so many ideas that skirt the boundary between madness and genius, the average person wasn't sure if they were yet ready to embrace the concept of two types of ravioli at dinner. Mr A&N made a variety of faces all which communicated "No" with different levels of repugnance depending on what mood I caught him in. The chorizo ravioli he had little problem embracing, but he thought it would be all too much with the chocolate version. The tide was turned when I showed him a recipe on Epicurious for chocolate pasta and he finally understood that I wasn't just suggesting normal pasta with a chunk of chocolate bar in the center. With the approval of guests Rob and Fay (or was it just resignation...?) and the deliberate lack of any other dessert in the house, chocolate raviolis were on the menu as were the Spanish raviolis.

We first put Rob and Fay to work helping us make the meal (we know how to be good hosts). First to prepare would be the Spanish ravioli. The filling came from crumbled fresh chorizo sausages sauteed with chunks of manchego cheese and a bit of finely chopped onion and garlic. The sausages we bought weren't very strong with chorizo flavor, so we topped it up with a bit of saffron and sweet paprika. Trying to stuff the filling into our petite ravioli tray and emerge with lovely little sealed ravioli was a challenge too far, though. The pasta wouldn't seal and wouldn't lift out of the tray, and rather than risk losing more pasta/filling, we went freestyle and instead made large ravioli pressed together by hand. The four of us debated what to top the pasta with (simple tomato sauce and a saffron cream sauce were two leading contenders) but due to the very generous gift from Rob and Fay of both a black and a white truffle, we decided to share the bounty and dress the pasta in olive oil in which some of the black truffle had been sauteed. More on the white truffle another time.


The chocolate pasta was nowhere near as easy to handle as the normal pasta. It was much moister and less robust, and each time I tried to feed a batch through the thinnest setting on the pasta machine the dough was ripped into ribbons. Frustration levels ran high and I only succeeded in getting one of the six segments as thin as possible; the others stayed on the second-thinnest setting which didn't ruin it, but which did produce slightly more hearty rather than delicate pasta. It was filled with a dollop of nutella and a smattering of chopped hazelnuts, and topped with a chocolate and raspberry sauce.


The two ravioli were obviously very different to each other. The chorizo filling was a big hit and might make an appearance again on top of another pasta or as part of a Spanish lasagna. The pasta in the chocolate ravioli was very subtly chocolatey rather than tasting as if you'd just boiled up a Hershey bar; the sweet nutella filling and chocolate sauce topping balanced this out nicely, then. The main complaint about the chocolate pasta was that we didn't press some of the ravioli closed well enough and so there was at least one water-logged piece per eater. We realized when making them that they would be quite filling so we decided on three large ravioli per person and froze another dozen waiting-to-be-ravioli rectangles which we will happily fill with more sweet goodies the next evening we feel like being just a bit decadent and unpredictable.


As luck would have it, these nutella ravioli coincide with World Nutella Day, an effort by Michelle at Bleeding Espresso and Sarah at Ms Adventures in Italy to remind us all of the importance of this wonderful spread. It being Shrove Tuesday / Pancake day as well, I suggest we do as the French would and make a nice crepe with a smear of nutella to commemorate the occasion.


Chorizo Ravioli Filling
Makes enough for about 2 dozen large ravioli

• 1 small onion
• 1 clove garlic
• 3 fresh chorizo sausages
• about 120g machego cheese, cubed into 1/2 inch / 1 cm cubes
• Optional:
• small serving of saffron (about 10 strands)
• 1 tsp sweet paprika

1. Heat a frying pan over medium heat with a dash of olive oil.
2. Finely chop the onion and garlic and fry gently until the onions begin to soften.
3. Add the sausages and immediately start to crumble them with the stirring spoon (you may need to cut into the skins to do this).
4. Once the sausages are mostly cooked and coloring everything a bit red, add the cheese.
5. Allow the cheese to begin to soften but not to melt entirely. Taste the mixture and see if you need to add any additional saffron, paprika, salt, or pepper.

Chocolate and Hazelnut Ravioli with a Chocolate Raspberry Sauce
Makes about 2 dozen large ravioli (3 ravioli were plenty per adult, so serves about 8)

The Dough (from Epicurious)

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/4 cup cocoa powder, plus more for dusting
• 3 tablespoons sugar
• Pinch of salt
• 3 large eggs

The Filling

• Nutella (you'll use 1/3 - 1/2 the jar if making all the ravioli)
• 100-125 g hazelnuts, roughly chopped

The Topping

• 100g of good quality dark, bittersweet chocolate
• 75g unsalted butter
• 2 tsp seedless raspberry jam

220g / 1C sugar for the boiling the ravioli

1. Prepare the pasta by sifting together the flour, cocoa powder, sugar and salt (either in a large bowl or on a clean and clear countertop)
2. Make a well in the middle of the dry ingredients and place the eggs into the center.
3. Using a fork, slowly incorporate the eggs with the dry ingredients until it is all combined.
4. Transfer the dough onto a lightly floured work surface (if it's not already on one) and gently knead for 3-4 minutes until the dough lightly springs back at the touch. You may need to add more flour to make less sticky.
5. Place in a owl with plastic wrap covering it and allow to sit for 30 minutes in the fridge.
6. When it is done resting, take the dough out and divide it into manageable sections (about 4 or 5) and start feeding it through your pasta machine from thickest to thinnest setting. Keep the rest of the unworked dough covered during this time. (Note: my pasta was still quite sticky and I had to dust it with flour in between each time I fed it through the machine).
7. Place each sheet of pasta on a lightly floured surface once done.
8. Cut the pasta into roughly 3 inch segments working lengthwise along the sheet. You should get about 6 segments per sheet.
9. To fill the pasta, add a small dollop of nutella (about 1/2 a tsp) to each segment, and top with a smattering of chopped hazelnuts.
10. Fold the pasta over, and seal well on the three open sides.
11. Bring about 8 cups of water to the boil, and add in the 1 cup of sugar.
12. Meanwhile, make the chocolate sauce by bringing some water to boil in either a double boiler or a medium sized pot. Place the chocolate and butter inside the top of the double boiler or in a metal bowl sitting on top of the pot with the boiling water.
13. Stir the chocolate and butter together until they're melted. Add the raspberry jam, stir well, and remove from heat.
14. In the large pot with the sugared water, add the ravioli once the water is boiling and the sugar dissolved. Cook for about 5 minutes.
15. Remove the ravioli with a slotted spoon and allow the water to drain from them.
16. Serve three ravioli per person, with the chocolate sauce drizzled (generously, depending on the sweet tooth) on top.

Lime Pie and a Non-Brush With Stardom

I recently had an email from a production company, telling me about a new cooking show they were filming. They were interested in having me on the show, they said; I would prepare a dish ahead of time, bring it with me, and when on the show could have a chance to talk about what I made (and a bit about myself as well) and might help the head chefs out in the kitchen.

Now I was in two minds - clearly I enjoy making my food and sharing it with people and this would be a huge venue for this, but my overriding thought was that this could be absolutely terrifying and, if nothing else, a good chance to appear a bumbling fool and weep abundant tears on television as I was made to chop an onion. Difficult, deciding whether or not to say yes.

But say yes I did, and I began the search for what recipe to make. I reasoned that it had to be something that a) traveled well b) wouldn't go rancid sitting under studio lights and c) would taste alright tepid since I'd have made it the day before. Many friends came up with excellent suggestions, but in the end I decided to make a lime pie with a ginger cookie crust from my Magnolia Bakery cookbook.

I had had it before, and wolfed the thing down in a matter of hours. It's midway between a cheesecake and custard, and the combination of the spicy/peppery ginger crust and the refreshing, citrusy lime is absolutely wonderful. It's also very easy to make (as long as your wrists hold out, juicing a dozen limes) and can be made into fun, individual-sized serving or into a large communal pie, depending on your preference.

And so on the appointed day, I showed up to work with my pie (packed in a cool bag to keep it fresh until the afternoon) so that I could take a half day off to go to the filming. I arrived at the studio, I introduced myself to the reception, and...nothing. For over an hour. When someone finally did come to speak to me, it was established that the production team had not only told me the wrong time to arrive, but they had also mixed up what day I would be there and had double booked me with someone else.

I was, to put it mildly, annoyed: to have gone through the time and effort of thinking about what to make, to have taken time off work, and to have been treated shoddily. But I have practiced my best zen breathing and have let it all go. I don't really mind not having had a brush with 15 seconds of cookery show semi-greatness, and the pie was still just as good as I remembered with people in the studio happily hoovering it up when I armed them with spoons and pushed them toward it. At least it saved me from eating the whole thing on my own this time.



Lime Pie with Gingersnap Crust, from the Magnolia Bakery Cookbook

• 1 1/2 C finely crushed ginger biscuits (approx 1 200 g package with 1-2 more ginger biscuits and 1-2 hobnobs crushed in, for good measure or for slightly larger-than-9 inch pie dishes)
• 1/4 C / 60 g butter, melted
• 1 C lime juice (approx 12 limes)
• 6 egg yolks
• 21 oz / 600 g sweetened condensed milk
• 1 Tbs freshly grated lime zest

1. Pre-heat oven to 160 C / 325 F
2. Combine well the melted butter and the crushed cookies
3. Press the buttery crumbs into a 9-inch pie dish
4. Bake the crust for 10 minutes and then allow to rest
5. Combine the lime juice, egg yolks, and condensed milk, either using an electric mixer on low or mixing well by hand
6. Stir in the lime zest, and taste for tartness; if too sweet, juice a few more lines and stir in
7. Pour the lime mixture into the crust and bake 25-30 minutes until the middle is set
8. Allow to cool for around 20 minutes, then refrigerate for at least 2 hours before serving

Summer Pudding

I had Sunday lunch at The Marquess Tavern again, with some friends I had previously converted to their beefy wonderment. I was very happy to see they still had their summer pudding on the menu. After all that beef, this seemed the obvious dessert to have, the closest approaching-healthy counter-balance there was.I love the way the bread in the summer pudding is chewy without being sodden full of the berry juices. The berries themselves were mostly currants and fruits of the forest, reflecting what is seasonal. It was wonderfully tangy, and the whipped cream on the side helped to balance it nicely. I hope to go berry picking at the end of this week, and aside from jam-making, summer pudding-making is top of my list for what to do with the bounty.

Caramel Burn and Peachy Ending

I have suffered my worst kitchen injury since taking the bread knife to some slippery zucchini in a kitchen-full of flatmates vying for counter-top space. The result was a sliced zucchini as well as a lost bit of the tip of my pinky. This time, my pointer finger was the victim. Last night, in making caramel to top a spontaneous dessert, I burnt a patch of my skin while testing whether or not the caramel was cool enough to eat (which, note, it wasn’t. Nor was it cool enough to touch). I have of course shared the picture of the aftermath as a warning to the rest of you not to touch caramel when it’s still liquid - that white patch is the skin from the burnt part of the finger, all bunched up in a pile. How curious.The sautéed ameretto peaches with hardened caramel fared much better than my finger, the fine caramel filigree proving a nice crunching counterpoint to the warm, soft peaches beneath. It was a very quick and tasty dish, perfect for the peaches which were getting a little too soft, and a nice treat for us who rarely splash out in the dessert direction. Because I feel a bit bad about sharing a mildly-icky picture of a gimpy finger, I've balanced that with a picture of two nice fuzzy peaches, pre setting them alight.

Sautéed Ameretto Peaches with Hardened Caramel
Serves 2

• 2 ripe peaches
• 1 Tbsp butter
• ¼ C amaretto liqueur
• ¼ cup demerara sugar
• Vanilla ice cream (optional)
  

1. Slice the peach in half, going from top to bottom, and carefully remove the pit
2. Cut the peach into thick rings, getting about 3 rings per half-peach
3. Heat a pan to medium heat, and add the butter
4. Once the foam from the bubbling butter has subsided, add the peach rings.
5. Push the rings around gently so as to coat but not break them up
6. Sautee for around 3-4 minutes, until the peach juice has combined with the butter to create a thickened looking sauce
7. Add half the quantity of ameretto. Remove pan from heat and swirl ameretto around so it combines thoroughly with the peachy buttery juices.
8. Return pan to heat for a few seconds, then add the rest of the ameretto. Again remove from heat, and swirl until thoroughly combined with the peachy juices.
9. Return to heat for half a minute, then turn off heat and set aside.
10. To make the caramel, heat a separate pan until hot.
11. Add in the sugar, spreading it out so it forms an even layer.
12. Let the sugar melt naturally under the heat. Monitor the melting of the sugar, taking care that it doesn’t burn.
13. Remove from heat when all sugar is melted – should take around 3-5 minutes.
14. Divide the peaches and their juices into two serving bowls.
15. Using a spoon, drizzle the caramel on top (taking care NOT TO TOUCH IT with your fingers). Make quick back-and-forth flicking motions with your wrist if you want to create a spun sugar/filigree effect with the caramel.
16. Top with ice cream if you’re feeling even more indulgent