The Unfortunate Lemon Meringue Dam Buster - Or 'Darling I Knew That Filling Was Too Sloppy'

I knew that filling was too sloppy, so why did I choose to pour it into my lovingly prepared, gluten free, blind baked, pastry case? Why did I choose to undertake my Daring Bakers Challenge on Nick's Birthday, on Fin's first day back at school, when I had a million and one other things on my mind? I guess you'll have to ask my therapist that question, because it beats me. I must secretly enjoy the breathless feeling of tumbling through a day, with a list in each hand, screaming, 'not now dear! I just have to do this one thing.....'

Back to the point. I give you dear readers an example of my humanity. As much as I would like you to believe me to be an infallible domestic goddess, I am not. The first step I'm told, is admitting it, so taking one day at a time, today I am not an infallible domestic goddess. Please say you still love me, tomorrow is a new day, I will bake again, just not today.

Anyway, our Daring Bakers challenge this month was Lemon Meringue Pie, that classic tooth rotter. The recipe comes from Wanda’s Pie in the Sky by Wanda Beaver (stop tittering, there's nothing amusing in that name), and you can find the original posted at The Canadian Baker by Jen , who hosted this month's challenge. 'Yay' shouted Nick and Fin in unison when they heard what was coming, and Nick proclaimed lemon meringue one of his favourite pies (actually I think he likes most of them, its pastry love). Thus fortified I set upon my task with enthusiasm. Pastry was made, rested and baked blind and waited patiently for the lemon curd. All good so far, tarts are a cinch aren't they?

Then came the filling, whisking a thick glue like mixture of cornstarch, sugar and water into which I added egg yolks, butter, lemon zest and juice and vanilla essence. Now I'm more of a fan of the Italian style filling which is just insanely lemony, with about twenty eggs and a kilo of lemons, or alternatively; the English style, which is more of an intense lemon custard with cream added to soothe the lemon bite. But this is the Daring Bakers Challenge and as much as one's fingers itch to depart from the printed recipe, it is not allowed and there is something comforting about following a recipe to the letter with no tampering. Still, I was having misgivings about this filling. It tasted good, but didn't really have the body I would like, and there was pints of the stuff oozing gelatinously and asking me what I was going to do with the leftovers.

I poured it into the shell and got on with the vanilla meringue, this time adjusting the recipe down to fit my 8" pie crust. The meringue grew thick, opaque and glossy, but in my warm kitchen, didn't quite want to go the last few feet to stiff peaks. I stretched the electric whisk cable as far as I could to open the kitchen window and whisked the night air into the meringue. Piling it carelessly onto the filling, I said a little prayer to the universe and hoped that the filling would somehow miraculously firm up in the oven. Yet I knew in my heart we were probably in for lemon soup with meringue islands. Hey Ho, I had Vietnamese Pho to make and my marrow bones had been boiling for three hours already, Fin needed supper and Nick would be home from work any minute for his birthday meal......................aaah

It browned quickly, was that a good thing? I'm not a big maker of meringue - it being basically pure sugar with a little egg thrown in; so I don't know how it's supposed to behave. I got it out after 25 minutes because it just didn't want to crisp any further. But it looked good and Fin jumped up and down with excitement to see such an outrageous desert emerge from the oven. He decided to cut out some rice paper letters to spell 'Nick' and plopped these on top of the meringue giving it a slightly unhinged look and crushing some of it in the process, and somehow coming away with a peice of meringue in his hand. No I don't know how that happened either.....

Because Fin really wanted a piece and the baby sitter was on the way already, I unmolded the pie as soon as it was lukewarm. One side of the pastry was drenched with lemon and looked decidedly unstable. I turned my back only for a minute and when I returned, the pie was breaking out of the shell and making a desperate bid for freedom. Fin ran up with a cup and caught the bits as they oozed over the edge of the cake stand, snuffling them up contentedly like a truffle pig. The only thing I could do was stem the flow with tin foil and scoop up a runny piece to offer Fin.

'Offer a piece to the baby sitter' said Nick, just before they arrived.

'Nick, I'd like to - but I don't think my pride could stand it'.

By the time we got back from the cinema the pie had set a little, so we tentatively cut a slice each from the side with still firm pastry, nestling a possibly unnecessary scoop of thick cream beside it. It was ok, a bit too sweet and nurseryish for me. But after a few drinks and a long film in a cold cinema we scooped it up happily and flopped into bed for a good night's sleep.

For other possibly more sucessful attempts at this recipe check out the Daring Bakers Blogroll where all my other merry daring baking chums are listed.

'Is That A Pea Cake?'

With that urge for spring still coursing through my veins, I remembered a recipe for something intensely green in my River Cafe Green cookbook, a pea torte. At supper, I got out the book and showed Nick the picture as an appetiser.

'You made that for our wedding, remember?' - Did I? I couldn't remember. We had a picnic in Brockwell Park after the ceremony. We tumbled, blinking, from the dark 1970's mahogany interior of the registry office, where the matronly registrar mispronounced my name, causing a nervous Nick to do the same; into the white July sun, spreading a blanket in that small green oasis, to begin our married life.

As Nick talked, memories came drifting back like snatches of song on the wind. A friend of ours who lives on the Norfolk Fens once told us that he heard a voice and looked up thinking it was his wife, yet his wife was nowhere around. After scratching his head a bit, it occurred to him the voice must be a neighbour’s radio, only his nearest neighbour was a couple of miles away across the flat Fenland and that sound must have drifted unchallenged, all the way to his ears.

It came back in brief fragments, as memories do. I searched for the pea torte in my recollection of the day. Tiny Finley sitting on my sister's knee as she signed the register, the flowers on her boyfriend's shirt, the way the cream tasted in the shade of a tree, ah yes, the pea torte, creamy and herb scented with a salty Parmesan crisp to the crust! Images continued to surface; having just said yes to the man I love, silently holding hands on the train to Brighton whilst a raucous hen party whooped and screeched, lying on the beach in the early hours of the morning with the pier lights twinkling and the sound of the sea pulling up the shingle and letting it go again.

This morning I made my way to the greengrocers like a thirsty traveller. I filled my basket with; orange carrots, shiny, thin skinned clementines, bright waxy lemons, purple beets, sherbet pink rhubarb, fresh mint and basil and pearl white spring onions. The scent of basil and mint escaped from my bike panniers as I rode home with a dozen organic eggs and some cream nestling in there too.

This evening I set about making my pea torte. The spring onions sighed in the sizzling butter and the kitchen sang with the scent of freshly torn basil and mint. I poured the green mixture into a tin thickly buttered and strewn with Parmesan, scattering another handful over the top, to make that intensely savoury crust and gave it up to the heat of the oven.

In forty minutes it was done, the kitchen smelled of baked pesto as I unmolded the torte in front of Fin and his friend Immy. 'Is that a cake?' they both asked in unison - confused by the olfactory messages they were getting from the cheese. 'Well I guess it's a pea cake, try it and see what you think...'

And despite my misgivings about the acceptability of a green cake, studded most obviously with peas, they gobbled it up and Fin stole an extra piece of crust while I had my back turned.

I made it a little differently from the original recipe because I can't eat ricotta and there must be a typo somewhere because the recipe calls for 3 kilos of peas! 3 kilos to fit into an 8 inch sandwich tin! I used just a kilo and it was still too thick. But it was green and savoury, a chlorophyll hit for my winter white palate.

I'm going to tinker with the recipe a little and give it to you when its just right.

Part Time Lover

When we moved this time our lease said, 'no cats'. Sadly, we gave our borrowed, luxurious, affectionate, silver Burmese, 'Ratty' back to his rightful owner; our laps and hearts quietly mourning his absence.

It was late summer then and I often left the front door open in the evening to catch the last shafts of sun falling through to the kitchen. One day a cat stepped into the house through the open door, as though an invite was not needed. He was a large tabby tomcat, muscular and weighty, with torn ears and huge green eyes. He stood, pawing the ground as though overjoyed to be here, in this moment, in this house, with me. He struck up a rich rumbling purr and wandered about the kitchen pawing the ground with joy as he met the cabinets, chairs and my legs.

Sometime later I showed him out and closed the door. After that, whenever the door was open, he came to visit. Never less than thrilled to see me, an undemanding guest always. I found myself wondering where he was if a couple of days passed between visits. Although I enjoyed having him around, I knew I shouldn’t feed him, somehow that was over stepping the boundaries. He’d look elsewhere pretty soon wouldn’t he?

But he never did stop visiting. Now he comes to the door and asks to be let in, often spending a whole day in my company. When Nick was ill before Christmas, he lay on the sofa in the curl of Nick's legs and purred, for a whole afternoon. He's here now, relaxing in a shaft of sunlight on our sheepskins. If I leave the room, he greets me on my return and when he's ready to go home he simply walks to the front door and meows once with a meaningful look in my direction.

He is my guilty secret, my part time pet. I hope next door don't mind that I'm borrowing him. But I tell myself, I've done nothing wrong - it's only friendship after all.

I never fed him!

Longing For Light

Every January I find myself wanting to run away somewhere hot. The damp sky, uniformly grey and brooding even at nine thirty in the morning, is bereft of the strong light I'm craving. I sit at my desk in a pool of yellow light cast by the desk lamp and long to be somewhere that makes me squint. Where the air is so hot in the middle of the day, it catches in your throat like dust. Where the evenings are long, warm, and filled with the scent of spices or orange blossom. Never mind my carbon footprint, I want to jump on the next flight to Morocco and fill up my eyes with sky.

I know what to do when I get to feeling like this. I can't run away, so I just have to warm myself up the best I can. These are the things I intend to do to get myself nourished and firing on all cylinders:

Eat deep yellow foods: turmeric, squash, sweet potato, swede, carrots....

Make broths with bones and warming spices: star anise, cinnamon, ginger, chili, cayenne, black pepper, mint, paprika, lemongrass, cardamom....

Eat only small amounts of meat and only those that are warming: beef, lamb, game, liver, chicken....

Get outside and look at the sky, walk by the sea, cycle, stand on a cliff top and let the wind blow through me (making sure my kidneys are well wrapped of course!)

Drink teas that nourish my spleen, black tea, Green tea, rose tea, mint tea, fennel tea, lemon verbena, lemon balm and lime blossom. Sometimes I will sprinkle a little cinnamon in there or a splash of rosewater. I'll make hot chocolate with cinnamon and cayenne when we get home from school all wet and cold.

I'll ask for more hugs (a tired spleen needs touch), get down on the sheepskins and stretch my winter body, ask for a massage, rub a little rose essential oil into my pulse points and a drop of Clary sage on my pillow.

Finally, I will take the homeopathic remedy, Yellow and also Ceanothus. Remembering that spring is on its way. All I have to do is hang in here and enjoy the wait.

My Birthday Begins Yesterday

Yesterday on the way home from school I mentioned to Fin that I might make a cake - I've been thinking about a root cake, some sort of variation on a carrot cake - maybe parsnip and apple with chestnut flour or a beetroot, Teff cake, maybe a hazelnut sweet potato galette? Hmm.....

'Actually', said Fin, using one of his favourite words; another is recommend, as in 'I recommend that you should try homeopathy' to the hospital registrar when he had a brief stay. Needless to say, the registrar nearly fell off his chair.

Anyway, 'Actually, I was going to make a cake this afternoon' said Fin thoughtfully. 'A late birthday cake for daddy', whose birthday was indeed only a couple of weeks ago.

We stopped in at the health food shop to stock up on ingredients and there ensued a heated debate on what this cake was going to involve. Fin knew it was going to be lemon, almond and vanilla, with vanilla icing and 'happy birthday daddy' written across the top in something, but we couldn't work out what.

'Fin, that sounds like an awful lot of sugar in that cake, could we forgo the icing and use smarties for the letters?' - ah, no.

Not smarties, or date syrup, definitely not raisins, letters formed out of chocolate or a honey butter mixture than Fin is particularly fond of. By now the patient shop keeper’s smile was starting to crack around the edges, so we just got the cake ingredients and agreed to work it out at home.

Once home, I had to find a way of helping Fin that also allowed him to feel that he had both created the recipe and made it himself. I did this by continually asking him for confirmation. 'Fin, do you think I should add four ounces of ground almonds?', yes, 'and three eggs?' yes, yes that looks fine. And so he taught his Nana to suck eggs like a pro and was convinced that he had indeed summoned up this recipe from the depths of his cake knowledge, and popped it in the oven with a job well done smile; all on his own.

Twenty eight minutes later a golden sponge emerged from the oven, wafting it's vanilla scented fingers under our hungry noses. As it cooled I had an epiphany regarding the decoration. When Fin came in to finish his cake, I handed him a small sieve full of icing sugar and pointed to the magnetic letters scattered over the fridge.

I wasn't allowed to watch the next part; Fin insisting that Nick and I stand holding hands with our eyes shut while he arranged things on the table. So it was with complete surprise that I opened my eyes and saw that the cake said, 'haPPy BirtHdaY naOmi'.

Although my birthday isn't for another couple of months yet, I have been known to stretch it out almost that far. So we celebrated the early coming of my March birthday with Fin slicing straight into that dense, eggy, almondy, sponge. While I wiped away a happy birthday tear and thanked fate and the universe, for bringing me this beautiful family, flawed and wonderful, and utterly irreplaceable.



Finley's Moist Almond Sponge serves 8

This is great as a plain cake, but you could also add some lemon zest and drizzle over some lemon syrup or serve it with some baked fruit and a thin crème anglaise made with real vanilla.

Juice of 1 lemon
4 oz vegetable oil (I use organic rapeseed)
3 large eggs
4 oz fruit sugar
4 oz ground almonds
1 oz tapioca starch or cornflour
2 oz fine maize flour
1 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1/2 tsp xanthan gum (optional, but improves texture)
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Line an 8in sandwich tin with greaseproof paper. If you only have very shallow sided tins, go for a deep sided cake tin of the same diameter or you'll be cleaning the oven for weeks! Preheat the oven to 160C fan assisted - 170 without.

Put your mixing bowl on the scales and measure in 4 oz (in weight) of oil. Take off the scales and add the lemon juice, fruit sugar and eggs. Beat with a handheld electric whisk or old fashioned elbow grease version, until thick and creamy.

Sift all the dry ingredients into the bowl, pushing all the little balls of bicarb and cream of tartar through. Tip in the almond bits that won't go through and fold gently into the egg mix.

Pour into the prepared tin and bake for 25-30 minutes. Ours was perfect after 28. It should be tinged golden brown on the top, well risen and slightly springy to touch. Cool on a rack and sprinkle some icing sugar over the top or drench with a sharp lemon syrup, after piercing with a skewer all over.

'Go Ahead Honey It's Gluten Free!' - Teatime Treats

Just when you thought the blogosphere couldn't handle another food event, here I am hopefully proffering another for your participation.

This one's for all you gluten free gourmets out there, all you daring bakers who fancy the extra challenge of leaving the wheat, barley and rye flour in the cupboard and anyone else who would like to support my fledgeling food event.

The very first theme is 'Teatime Treats'; those tasty little morsels we bring out when folk drop round for morning coffee, the children come home from school or a maiden Aunt is visiting. From a buttered slice of the plainest Madeira cake to the fanciest pastel coloured macaron; teatime is for settling back with a smackerel of something fresh from the oven and enjoying some pleasant conversation.

The only restriction is that your recipe is gluten free, so let your hair down (actually, tie it back) and get baking!

Post about your entry on your own blog and email me the link and a photo (if possible) to naomidevlin at f2s dot com by Feb 21st. I will post the round up here on Feb 28th.

I look forward enormously to your contributions - anyone who would like to host another month, please let me know. x x x

This Cake Is Seriously Booja Booja!

As you know, there is very little that is too rich or dark for Finley; 87% cocoa chocolate - yummy, a spoonful of molasses - loving it, chocolate with clotted cream covered with molasses and chocolate sauce - bring it on! So when he coined a phrase to express the unusual circumstance of something being too rich for him, we were gobsmacked.

It happened one Christmas when a thoughtful friend had bought a box of Booja Booja truffles to share. You may have come across these award winning vegan truffles yourself - but for those of you that haven't, they are amazingly rich and boozy. I guess they substituted booze for cream and you don't hear any complaints from me! Anyway, the boozy element was just too much for Fin and he left half his truffle, with a hitherto unseen look of defeat at the hands of chocolate.

'What are those things called?' he asked as though they had personally offended him. 'Well they are Booja Booja truffles' we replied, secretly rather glad that Fin had taken against them. I provided a ginger oatcake in their place and Fin was satisfied.

I made this cake, some time later and Fin, unable to wait for it to cool, demanded to have some whilst still warm. It is definitely richer whilst warm - like a warm mousse cake. Half way through he said, 'mummy, this is too Booja Booja I'm going to leave it for later'.

This cake my friends, is a dense slab of almondy chocolate. The centre should stay soft and truffly, the top slightly crisp and crusty and the edge toothsome and cake-ish. It may sound bizarre, but if you have it with some softly whipped cream or Greek yogurt - it seems less rich! The intensity cradled in a soothing balm of creaminess. I like it as it is, served in small slices with a shot of Kahlua, an espresso or a pretty glass of Moroccan mint tea.

I have made it using fruit sugar which is easier on the body. If you want it to have more of a brownie crust you could use caster sugar and increase to 4oz and dust the top with icing sugar. Personally, I think we all need to think more about the amount of refined sugar we put into our bodies and so I give you my low impact, high density chocolate nirvana.......

Booja Booja Cake (6-8 slices)
3 oz organic butter
6 oz 70% cocoa fairtrade chocolate
3 large eggs separated
3 oz fruit sugar
2 oz ground almonds
1/2 oz fairtrade cocoa powder
1/2 oz cornflour
3/4 tsp cream of tartar
1/4 tsp bicarbonate of soda

Set the oven to 170C/gas mark 3. Butter and line the bottom of an 8inch/20cm sandwich tin with baking parchment.

Chop the chocolate roughly. Melt the butter, take off the heat and add the chocolate. Leave a few minutes to melt and then stir until smooth.

In a large bowl whisk the egg whites with a pinch of salt, the cream of tartar and the fruit sugar until billowy and marshmallow like - about thickness of softly whipped cream. I would advise doing this with an electric mixer, but if you fancy the exercise, by all means whisk by hand.

Beat the egg yolks gently into the melted chocolate one at a time and set aside. Sift the cocoa, ground almonds, cornflour and bicarb onto the egg whites and fold gently together with a metal spoon until just amalgamated. This should keep the maximum amount of air in the egg whites.

Pour the melted chocolate onto the egg white mixture, scraping everything in and fold gently again until just incorporated using a metal spoon. A few streaks of egg white will be fine.

Pour and scrape into the prepared tin and bake in the middle of the oven for 20-25 mins or until just springy to the touch, but still wobbles a little in the middle when you shake the tin. Don’t overcook as this cake is best when a little gooey in the middle. It may sink slightly out of the oven, but don’t dismay, it will still taste fantastic.

Cool in the tin and then refrigerate until completely cold, then you will be able to invert the cake and peel off the baking parchment. Return it to a serving plate and allow to come up to room temperature again. If you're not bothered about the paper, just allow to cool completely and remove carefully from the tin.

Sometimes a Girl Just Wants a Pat on the Back

I know you're out there reading, but I don't hear from you anymore. Remember people, I'm just a girl, standing in front of my readers asking them to comment once in a while. (For anyone not familiar with the saccharine Valium for the eyes that is the film, Notting Hill - that was a reference right there).

Go on, make my day! (no, not a film reference - that film would be all wrong here)

Naomi x x x

My Life In Muffins

It was a wet, grey afternoon. Mud splashed up my boots as I cycled to school to collect Finley, hoping that he would be in the mood to be led gently home straight away, with no shilly shallying. We invited Spike home to play, so Fin excitedly declared that we would go to his favourite whole food shop and buy flapjacks for them both. Spike was bike-less, so as Fin set off out of the school gates he gamely trotted behind him jumping in all the puddles.

'Hang on!’ I shouted into the wind, 'we're going straight home remember!'

'Nope, we're buying flapjacks!' - looking at Spike for approval, 'flapjacks, flapjacks, flapjacks!’

Of course as Spike is the kind of gentle soul who likes to join in, soon they were both merrily chanting their new mantra as they splashed across the muddy field, 'flapjacks, flapjacks, flapjacks!’

'Wait!' I shouted, loudly enough to turn the heads of a group of mothers chatting under a tree.

Fin and Spike stopped and turned to look at me, the mothers stopped chatting to see what I was going to say. I'd better make this good thought I and cried, 'I'll make muffins!'

To my surprise they changed sides immediately, 'Yay! Muffins, mu-fins, muf-innns, mu-fins' all the way home.

So I got my pinny on and made these.

Date and Hazelnut Muffins (makes 12-14)
These muffins have no refined sugar in them, but dates pack a pretty hefty fructose punch - so treat with respect!

6 oz stoned dried dates
1 cup of water (american cup size)
2 tbs date syrup or agave syrup
6 oz butter
4 large eggs
4 oz ground almonds
2 oz cornflour
2 oz sorghum flour
2 oz whole hazelnuts
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1/2 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 tsp xantham gum
1 tsp vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 160C fan assisted or 175C if not. Fill a muffin tray with paper cases.

Chop the dates roughly and cook gently in the cup of water until soft - some lumps are fine. Off the heat add the butter in cubes to the pan and the date syrup too. Leave to melt, stirring occasionally and then add the vanilla extract. Allow to cool until lukewarm and beat in the eggs one at a time until smooth.

While the mixture is cooling, toast the hazelnuts in a dry pan on the stove over a gentle heat, shaking occasionally. When they have taken some colour and the skins are cracking off, grind them in a food processor until they resemble fine bread crumbs.

Sift the cornflour, sorghum, ground almonds, bicarb, cream of tartar and xantham gum into a bowl and tip in the ground hazelnuts. Pour in the date mixture and beat until smooth. Pour into the waiting muffin cases and bake for 20-25 minutes or until they feel slightly springy to the touch. Don't over bake or they will be dry, they continue cooking a little out of the oven too.

When the muffins came out of the oven Fin and Spike jumped up and down excitedly and made Homer Simpson style drooling noises. 'Lemmy-have-one-lemmy-have-one' urged Fin whilst dancing the Tarantella with impatience.

'No Fin, you know the drill - I have to photograph these first'. So Fin was allowed to touch the muffins to ensure they were real and then they waited patiently until I got a good shot.

When I let go the starting pistol with a small nod to Fin, I felt as though I should be holding a red cloak for them to charge at, whilst wearing some uncomfortably tight trousers. They cookie-monstered the first muffin and then retired to the kitchen table to do justice to another. Martha Stewart, eat your heart out!

A Decidedly Grown-Up Chocolate Muffin

Sunday afternoon. Nick was visiting his parents in Devon with Fin, and I had spent a weekend cooking with the lovely Joy, for the Bridport Arts Centre AGM. Working with Joy is fun, we chat and potter and laugh and at the end, a meal arrives. Some folks are just that easy to be with I guess, and she is one of them, like a really good rocking chair - only prettier.

Joy drove us home as day was leaving and night politely knocking at the door. I unloaded my pots and pans and walked into the empty house, knowing my boys would be back in a couple of hours. I had a novel that I was itching to sink into, but I also wanted a little something chocolaty and there was nothing of that description in the house. Besides, I have kind of sworn off refined sugar as a nod to the time old urge to cleanse, purge and renew, following the stodgy ways of the preceding season.

But hang on a minute. I had some muffin cases. I had some Green & Blacks cocoa. I had some ground almonds and eggs and half a cupboard full of various gluten free flours and some fruit based sweetening agents to boot. In less time than it would have taken for me to jump on my bike and attempt to find something gluten and dairy free in the garage shop, I was sitting with my novel in a warm kitchen, filled with the scent of chocolate muffins.

Night fell quietly. Clock hands shifting unwatched, as a heavy downpour of fat raindrops landed softly on the black windows. I sat contentedly reading my novel, whilst the dark muffins rose in their white paper cases. When they were done, I took them out and ate one straight away, still hot; blowing on it piece by piece, crumbs falling into the spine of my book. It was dark, moist, chocolaty and yet with a slight hint of fruitcake or even gingercake stickiness, from the date syrup. Me, I think dates and chocolate were made for each other, and these muffins were exactly right for a tired girl craving a little something cakey but not drenched in sugar.

When the boys tumbled in bringing the Dartmoor air with them, I met them with a smiling face and open arms. Oh, yes - and I hid those muffins.

To give these muffins a little extra, Je ne sais quoi you could stir in some roughly chopped dark chocolate and a few chopped dates just before you spoon them into the cases.

Grown Up Chocolate Muffins (makes 12)
6oz organic butter
1/2 cup date syrup
2oz fruit sugar
4 medium free range eggs
2tsp molasses
1 tsp vanilla extract
2oz fairtrade cocoa
2oz sorghum flour
4oz ground almonds
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1/2 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 tsp xanthan gum

Looks like a long list of ingredients, but the only things you may struggle to find are date syrup and sorghum flour. You could substitute another fruit sugar based, liquid sweetener like agave syrup - although the taste will be less complex. For the flour, substitute, quinoa, brown rice, maize, teff - I don't know how it will turn out if you do, but that's half the fun ain't it?

Preheat the oven to 160C fan assisted, or 175C if not. Put 12 muffin cases in a bun tray.

Melt the butter gently and off the heat stir in the date syrup, molasses and finally, fruit sugar. Allow to cool just until lukewarm and then beat in the eggs and vanilla.

Sift the dry ingredients together, tip the last bits of almond in too, they won't go through the sieve. Stir the dry ingredients into the wet ones until combined and pour into the cases. If you prefer to spoon the mixture and like things to be just so, refrigerate the mixture for 10 minutes and it will firm up enough to be happily spooned tidily into the muffin cases.

Bake for 15-20 minutes until they feel firm to touch - you could test them with a skewer if you like. Don't overcook; they will be better even if a tiny bit in the centre is not cooked right through.

Cool on a rack for as long as you can resist them and then plunge right in, with a grown up drink of some sort on hand and an absorbing novel to sink into.

Sign Up For The Chicken Out Campaign Here

Click this link to sign up for Hugh Fearnley Wittingstall's campaign to better the lives of the chickens we eat.

Me, I only eat organic chicken if I can help it, having known some lovely chickens growing up. Of course, then I only wanted their eggs - being vegetarian. When I started eating meat again after over twenty years as a veggie, I couldn't countenance eating anything that hadn't had a good life. We were poor then too, but instead of buying cheap meat; I bought meat less frequently and often used it as an element of a dish rich with vegetables and maybe pulses. I might add some meatballs to a stew or use a little lamb on the bone to make a fragrant Persian dish. We ate eggs and fish and pulses to get our protein and saw meat as the icing on the cake.

Now we're not poor anymore, but I still view meat as part of a varied diet and not the mainstay. We buy the best we can afford and aim for variety, some rabbit and pheasant when in season, locally reared lamb, organic beef bones to make stock and maybe a tiny piece of fillet to add to the broth at the last minute and about once a fortnight, a lovely organic chicken, complete with neck and giblets for stock.

When you have seen a chicken scratching around in the grass under an open sky, or telling its mates very loudly that its just laid an egg, running down the field squawking, 'not now, I've got a headache' at a lecherous cockerel and when you have peered through the dark of the hen house and seen that beady eye cocked to one side, as you snatch another warm egg; its impossible not to have a certain amount of affection for chickens.

Because chickens are birds and not a crop to be grown and harvested. When you realise the sad, painful and pointless lives that battery farmed chickens live, I know you will think twice about tossing some cheap chicken breasts into a pan for supper and remember that chicken is a treat.

A once weekly or even fortnightly event that starts with maybe a roast bird on Sunday, followed by chicken salad on Monday and then mid week with a lip smacking chicken soup with the stock you made from the carcass and froze for such an occasion.

Cooking like this honours the bird that gave its life. Three meals from one bird! How can you eat those breasts and forgo the pleasure of a good stock or some crispy skin, or the caramelised bits in the bottom of the roasting pan?

Well I know you won't, because you care about food. So help raise awareness by signing up and helping those chooks that are subject to the ignorance of the masses who don't know and think they don't care.

Chicken recipes to follow.......

The Forgotten Art of Convalenscence

These days a dose of flu means a couple of days on the sofa feeling terrible, consuming as much lemsip max strength, boiled sugar cough sweets and as many other compatible painkillers as possible without sustaining permanent liver damage. After which time one is expected to get up and resume normal business whilst coughing alarmingly at anyone who comes near and looking a little bit sweaty and gothic.

In times past a dose of flu was potentially fatal and as such was regarded with proper respect by anyone unfortunate to contract it. Fevers were treated by sponging, caution was taken not to chill the patient with drafts and yet provide enough fresh air to the sick room, no food was taken whilst the fever was raging and nourishing broths were drunk during the long period of recovery.

The long period of recovery….

We modern souls have forgotten that a potent virus completely saps a person's strength, joy and ability to cope with the ordinary demands of everyday life. We need a period of cosseting following an assault on the system and yet we generally don't allow ourselves the time needed for recovery or restock our reserves in order to fight off the next virus we come into contact with.

So if you have been suffering over Christmas and find yourself feeling just a little flat and unable to return to your former bouncing self; you may just need a little cosseting to recover your spark.

This cosseting can be self administered, so don't think I'm asking you to check in to a sanatorium, far from it. A few home remedies and well chosen herbs can set you right again.

Food and Drink:
Think clean, wholefood and leafy. Broths and soups are easily digested and comforting. That whole chicken soup thing - that ain't a myth you know! Add some ginger, a little chili and garlic to beef up their anti-microbal and mucous beating qualities. Stuff a handful of leaves into your mouth even if you can't face a meal; watercress is full of vitamin C and any dark leaf is packed with chlorophyll and folic acid.
Avoid dairy, refined sugar and alcohol as much as possible until your energy is back and your chest recovered. These will only produce extra mucous and sap your precious energy.

Herbs:
I'm not a herbalist and most of them taste foul and should be treated with care, by a qualified professional. However, herb teas and essential oils can be great for lifting your mood and shifting you in the right direction.

Teas:
Lemon balm is anti-depressant, thyme strengthens the lungs, lemon verbena is uplifting, ginger, mint and cinnamon are warming, adding a splash of rosewater is comforting, uplifting and warming too. Liquorice tea is great if you find yourself craving sugar and experiencing energy slumps, it also supports the lungs. Chamomile, orange blossom, rose petals and verbena make a delicious and comforting night time tea that will help you drift off and make the most of your beauty sleep.

Essential oils:
A steam inhalation is a great way to open up your chest and encourage healing. Use one or to drops of any of the following: eucalyptus is expectorant and anti-microbal, sandalwood or fennel are expectorants (help coughs become productive), thyme is good where there are signs of infection. A drop of clary sage essential oil in a teaspoon of vegetable oil can be massaged into the neck and shoulders to encourage a good night's sleep.

Homeopathic remedies:
Of course this is more my thing! Tissue salts are a great way to nourish the body after a virus. New Era make a combination (Combination B, for nervous exhaustion) that works really well in my experience, comprising; calc-phos 6x, ferrum-phos 6x and kali-phos 6x. This is a great catch all remedy for convalescence where you have got ill because you burnt out or were rushing around, as many of us do before Christmas. It supports the lungs, helps iron levels return to normal and sooths and supports the nerves.

Another great remedy is Phos-ac. People needing this will feel burnt out completely and just can't be bothered to do anything. They might be craving juice, juicy fruits and refreshing things like sorbet or ice-cream; or they may just be too darned wiped out to crave a thing. These people are generally bubbly and lively when well, so the difference can be a bit of a shock. Try a 30c and take it 3 times daily for about a week or until improvement. Stop taking the remedy when you can see a definate improvement and only resume taking it if there is a relapse. Don't take for more than 10 days without consulting a professional.

Remember, if you are worried about your condition, if it seems to be worsening or simply not improving or if you experience new symptoms - go see your doctor, homeopath or similar and get some qualified help.

Hope you feel better soon! Remember to take it easy, you're not a robot you know, you're just someone who needs a little TLC.

The Most Indulgent Hazelnut Semi-freddo

We had a pot of indecently rich un-pasteurised Modbury Farm cream in the fridge, hazelnuts in the cupboard and Frangelico on the booze shelf (yes we have one, how grown up are we?), I had one of those post viral epiphanies and knew I had to combine them all in an unctuous hazelnut ode to snow. Ok, so that might be putting too fine a point on it, an ode to snow - how camp is that? Not to mention the Frangelico. I just wanted cream and hazelnut praline and Italian meringue, having existed almost entirely on clementines and painkillers for a week. So I tied my hair back, rolled up my sleeves and got out the bain-marie. This baby was worth it and stayed soft scoop until the next day. Beyond that I can't vouch because it was hoovered up by Finley for breakfast, jealously guarding his bowl like a big cat with a kill.

Just in case anyone is feeling litigious; this desert is highly calorific and will not aid slimming as part of a calorie controlled diet, and furthermore, I cannot be held responsible for any violent action that occurs as a result of arguments over the last slice.

Hazelnut Semi-freddo serves 4 greedy / 6 modest souls

There are three parts to this desert, praline, Italian meringue and sweet cream. Once made they are simply folded together, piled casually into a lined loaf tin and frozen.

Praline:
150g hazelnuts
110g fair-trade caster sugar

Roast the hazelnuts in a 200c oven for about 6 minutes. Rub them in a clean tea towel to remove most of the skins, pour back onto the tray, go to the front door and blow the skins gently into the neighbours’ garden. If they don't seem quite roasted enough, give them another few minutes in the oven. Oil the tray and leave the nuts on it whole while you get on with the caramel.

Dissolve the sugar in 75ml of water over a medium heat and bring to the boil once dissolved. Boil steadily, stirring only occasionally, until the liquid turns a deep golden colour. Not too dark or it will taste burnt. Pour over the hazelnuts in the oiled tin and leave to cool before breaking up and grinding to a rough powder in a food processor. Set aside.

Italian Meringue
3 medium free range egg whites
110g fair-trade caster sugar

Place the egg whites and sugar in a scrupulously clean bowl over gently simmering water (or in a bain-marie) and stir constantly until piping hot and almost steaming. When you dip your finger in it should feel hotter than blood temp, but not burn your finger. This takes about 10-15 minutes and it pays to take it slowly so you don't overcook the egg and end up with Californian omelette. Put the radio on and relax while you stir.

When the whites are piping hot take the bowl off the heat and whisk immediately with a hand held mixer until the meringue is cool, shiny and stands in stiff peaks. Set aside.

Sweet Cream
250ml the best double (heavy) cream you can find
75-100ml Frangelico or other hazelnut liqueur

Decide how much booze you want to add and whip the cream and liqueur until softly floppy. Don't over whip or the semi-freddo will be stiff and buttery. Fold this mixture gently into the meringue until just combined. Sprinkle in the praline and fold in with a couple of strokes, leaving it streaked through the mixture.

Line a small loaf tin or similar sized vessel with Clingfilm and spoon in the mixture, levelling it gently before putting it in the freezer for at least 4 hours, but preferably a few more to give it a chance to firm up properly. When you are ready to eat it, invert the loaf tin over a serving plate and peel off the cling film before slicing. Serve with little cups of espresso or a drizzle of Kaluha. If you really want to play up the hazelnut theme, some hazelnut sables would provide a lovely contrast to the richness of the semi-freddo.

Retro Recipe Challenge #10 - The Recipe Round-Up

Well folks, this round up was supposed to appear at the end of December - but you may remember that I was still breaking into a light sweat just thinking about getting out of my pyjamas and not at all up to the challenge of condensing the wonderful contributions I received from all you enthusiastic food bloggers out there. However, my convalescence is drawing to a close and I find my fingers are up to the task once more, so here goes....

I am not going to give extensive references for all the books and recipes that I was sent - I'll just provide you with a link to the post and an appetiser for what might be contained there, so you can go get the info if you like.


First up is Rose from You Say Tomahto, I Say Tomayto. She chose Snow White as her inspiration for a gorgeous looking apple pie that made me salivate for a piece of that pastry.



Next came Gretchen from Canela Y Camino, who went back to the delightful Peter Rabbit for a dense Irish style bread containing molasses - and you already know my feelings about molasses. I discovered that it can be swallowed by the spoonful as a folk remedy for a cough whilst I had flu. Still cleaning up the black smudges all over the kitchen.....


Lizanne of Bits N Bites turned to Sherlock Holmes for inspiration and found a recipe for Mrs Hudson's biscuits. Her post is full of interesting references and the biscuits look just the thing for nibbling with a cup of Earl Grey, what, what!


Courtney of Coco Cooks went straight to that old Dickens favourite, A Christmas Carol, and chose Plum Pudding as her challenge. Although Christmas is behind us, there's so much rum in those puddings I think they'll easily keep till next year if you make them now!


Melynda of The Things That Make Us Happy Make Us Wise gives us a host of references to penny buns in children’s literature - as if we needed convincing to wolf down one of these shiny topped fluffy treats!


Michelle of Culinography chose The Gingerbread Man and gave it a twist by making 'un-gingerbread', flavoured with butterscotch; for anyone out there who fancies chomping the head off one of those bad boys, but doesn't like a cookie that bites back. Me, I think ginger and molasses go together like bread and butter, or cookies and cream or erm, pomegranates and rosewater. But I know my palate likes anything dark and spicy and most kids prefer to walk on the mild side.


Mary of Shazam In The Kitchen chose a fantastic sounding book, 'Lafcadio - The Lion Who Shot Back' about a circus lion who puts the boot firmly on the other foot and terrifies a haughty Maitre D' into bringing him a whole platter of marshmallows. The drawings are gorgeous and so are Mary's snowy marshmallows.


Dolores of Culinary Curiosity went back to the woods and Laura Ingalls', Little House on the Prairie. She even managed to go to the Little House Cookbook for a mouth wateringly salty popcorn recipe and discovered that 21st century America is a fan of the microwave where popcorn is concerned. Well done Dolores, for reminding us that something so simple can be so good.




Karen of There's A Veggie in My Cake went to, 'The Bee Tree’; a book that looks like it came from my own childhood. Beautiful Eastern European illustrations, tell the story of a family hunt for some honeycomb which is then enjoyed back at home with some baking powder biscuits -scones to you and me. It's a gorgeous post, well worth a visit.


Brittany, The Pie Lady went to another childhood favourite of mine, author of Winnie The Pooh, A A Milne and his book of poems, When We Were Very Young. She chose the rice pudding that made Mary Jane so unhappy, knowing full well that the rest of us would happily eat it every day with no complaints. Charmingly presented as it is in that tea-cup, I could even manage a soupcon for breakfast. One question Brittany - is that a chive flower on the pudding? Maybe that's what Mary Jane was complaining about?




Finally, I almost forgot my own contrbution, Lazy Jack's ginger cake: famous for the excessive use of molasses that caused Nick to swoon like a regency belle and call for his smelling salts.

I hope you enjoy perusing these lovely posts, and thank you to every one who took part. I look forward to the next retro challenge - see you there!