Plum and Ginger Cake (for plum chums)

Words are such funny things.  Just one word can contain such a myriad of meanings depending on its usage, context, user etc.  Take the word 'plum'.  To some the obvious link will be made with the gorgeous autumnal fruit with a misty bloom that dissipates with the lightest of strokes.  Others will immediately think of something agreeable, pleasant, undemanding or even comfy (according to my reliable online Thesaurus).

So when searching for a fitting end to two meals with two seperate but equally 'plum' and dear friends, and, given the plethora of cheap Victorias in the local shop, the obvious solution was a plum cake.

One quick skate through my burgeoning library of cookery bakes and a hurried stock-take of the cupboards later, I arrived at the following adaptation of Nigel Slater's 'wonderfully moist, fresh plum cake', using what I had to hand.  And, I confess, my irritating habit of tweaking every recipe I try.

Plum and Ginger Cake
150g unsalted butter, softened
75g unrefined caster sugar
75g demerera sugar
3 large eggs, beaten
75g plain flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1tsp ground ginger
100g ground almonds
50g chopped nuts (I used almonds)
4 nuggets of stem ginger, chopped
12-16 plums (depending on size)

1. Preheat the oven to 180C/gas 4.  Line the base of a 20cm square cake tin with baking parchment and grease the sides with butter.
2. Cream the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy.
3. Add the eggs slowly, adding a spoon or two of flour with each addition to avoid curdling.
4. Mix to combine then stir in remainder flour, baking powder and ground ginger.
5. Stir in the ground almonds, chopped nuts and the stem ginger.  Stir well but with a light hand.
6. Spoon the cake mixture into the cake tin and level the top.
7. Stone and quarter the plums.  Scatter as evenly as possible over the top of the cake mixture.
8. Pop the cake tin into the centre of the oven and cook for approximately 45 minutes or until a skewer emerges cleanly when inserted.
9. Leave to cool in the tin for 15 minutes then remove.

I divided the results into two pieces.  The first was taken as an after-dinner offering to the wonderfully accomplished cook (and reluctant blogger Xochitl) last night.  The remainder is to be post-lunch or afternoon tea treat for my darling friends Peter and Max in only a matter of hours.
Plum treats for plum friends.

Wilkinson Family Christmas Cake 2009

The last Sunday before Advent is traditionally known as 'Stir Up Sunday' whereby families return from church to stir sumptuous mixtures for Christmas puddings and cakes and make a wish for the New Year.  I'm not sure what making wishes has to do with organised religion, however, who am I to argue with hundreds of years of tradition.  And so this weekend sees me soaking dried fruits in brandy and grating nutmeg in readiness to bake the Wilkinson family Christmas cake.

As with the family fruit cake, the original recipe was I believe from Saint Delia, tweaked by my mother and has subsequently been jiggled with by yours truly.  Ensure that you have an afternoon or evening spare to stay at home as it's quite a lengthy process.  But hopefully well worth it.  Here is the recipe for this year's;

Wilkinson Family Christmas Cake

1lb 14oz mixed dried fruit (I used a mixture that included candied peel)

2oz glace cherries

100ml brandy

8oz plain flour

1/2tsp salt

1/2tsp freshly grated nutmeg

1/2tsp ground mixed spice

8oz unsalted butter, at room temperature

8oz soft brown/muscavado sugar

4 medium eggs

2oz blanched, lightly toasted almonds, roughly chopped

3tbsp thick cut marmalade

grated zest 1 unwaxed lemon

pared zest 1 unwaxed orange

8inch round cake tin, double lined and greased with a double layer of baking parchment around the outside of the tin, tied with string (see picture)

1. The night before you are going to bake, weigh out the dried fruit into a non metallic bowl, stir in the brandy, cover with a clean cloth and leave for 12 hours.
2. Preheat oven to 140C/gas mark 1.
3. Sift the flour, salt and spices.
4. Cream the butter and sugar until it is fluffy.
5. Beat the eggs in a separate bowl and add to the creamed butter at tablespoon at a time, stirring in a spoon of flour at the same time to avoid the mixture curdling.
6. Fold in the remainder flour then fold in the fruit, peel, chopped nuts, marmalade and fruit zests.
7. Spoon into the prepared cake tin and cover the top of the cake with a piece of greaseproof paper, leaving a hole the size of a 50 pence (this prevents the cake from burning).
8. Bake on the lowest shelf in the oven for a minimum of 4.5 hours.  It can take up to 45 minutes longer depending on your oven, dried fruit used etc so rely on the good old skewer test (insert a skewer - if it is clean upon removal, the cake is ready). Whatever happens, don't open the oven door for a peak until at least four hours are up!
9. Leave the cake to cool in the tin.  Remove the top paper, make a few small holes in the top of the cake with a skewer and drizzle in a little brandy.
10. When cool, wrap the cake in clean baking parchment, then foil and keep in an airtight tin.  'Feed' the cake with a spoon or three of brandy every few days.  The cake will keep for up to two months like this.

I have not posted a picture of the finished article as I'm aware that it will look remarkably similar to my previous post.  When it is suitably adorned with marzipan and icing in December (for the Wilkinson early Christmas) I'll pop an image up then.

Happy Christmas baking!

Failproof Family Fruitcake

I am somewhat appalled to see that I have allowed such a huge amount of time to lapse since my last post. It's not that I haven't baked, stirred, nibbled and sipped. More that I haven't taken as much pleasure in cooking, rarely bother to create anything exciting for myself and, I confess, my head space has been filled with coping with the changes that life tends to throw at one.

Today however something stirred within me. It is rather complicated and involves the acceptance of numerous changes and the excitement, rather than terror, that they have brought. More specifically though, I awoke early this morning to a howling gale and torrential rain and craved nothing more than to be enveloped in the comforting fug that is

created by the baking of a spiced fruit cake to be shared with family. A warming glow to dispel the chill of Autumn and wonderful aromas of nutmeg and ginger to counter those of damp leaves. And the knowledge that a cake still warm from the oven will be gratefully received by my sister and her family.

This is an inexcusably simple recipe for which I make no apology. Sometimes the simplest things in life really are the best, something I increasingly realise the older I get. In its original version I believe this cake hailed from Delia Smith however it has subsequently been tweaked by my mother and then by me. It has become the default Wilkinson fruit cake of choice and on a wet November day, the very tonic for every ill.

Wilkinson Fruit Cake (and no, that isn't my new nickname!).

10oz mixed dried fruit

2oz glace cherries

4oz muscavado or soft brown sugar

4oz unsalted butter, cut into cubes

1/4pt water

juice and zest 1 orange

1 medium egg

8oz self-raising flour*

1/4tsp each of ground nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger and mixed spice

1. Preheat oven to 150C/gas mark 2.5. Grease a 7" round cake tin.

2. Place fruit, cherries, sugar, butter, water, juice and zest in a saucepan and simmer slowly for 20 minutes.

3. Allow to cool then add the beaten egg. Stir in the flour and spices.

4. Turn into the cake tin and smooth the surface.

5. Bake in the middle of the oven for approximately 1.5 hours or until an inserted skewer comes out clean.

*if you only have plain flour, you can convert it into self-raising by adding 2-3 teaspoons of baking powder for every 250g/9oz plain flour used.

A Berry Pleasant Brunch

What does one conjure up for a bevvy of girls of varying ages for a late breakfast? Muffins of course! And for one particular big girl, a gluten-free berry special treat.....

Blueberry Muffins (12)

Dry Ingredients:

5oz caster sugar

9oz self-raising flour

1 tsp bicarbonate of soda

grated zest of a lemon

Wet Ingredients:

3oz unsalted butter, melted and cooled

2 large eggs, beaten

7fl oz milk (200ml)

1tsp lemon essence

150g blueberries

Heat oven to 180C fan/200C/Gas 6. Line a 12 hole muffin tin with paper cases (the cuter the better).

Combine dry ingredients in a bowl.

Mix the wet ingredients in a jug, pour into the dry and stir until just combined. Don't over mix else the muffins will be tough.

Gently fold in the blueberries.

Spoon the mixture into the cases and bake for 15-20 minutes until golden and firm. Cool on a rack.

Gluten Free Raspberry & Pink Pepper Muffins (also suitable for lactose intolerant) (makes 6)

90g rice flour

40g ground almonds

1tsp xanthum gum

1tsp gluten free baking powder

25g soya margarine

40g caster sugar

grated zest 1/2 lemon

1 egg

125ml milk (goats/rice/soya)

1tsp lemon essence

125g raspberries

1tbsp pink peppercorns

Preheat oven to 180C fan/200C/ Gas 6.

Sift flour, almonds, gum and baking powder into bowl and mix well (this is very important with gluten free flours). Add sugar and stir in lemon zest.

Melt margarine in a pan and leave to cool.

Whisk together egg, milk, lemon essence and cooled butter and pour into dry ingredients. Stir to combine. Fold in raspberries and pink peppercorns (I know it sounds weird, but trust me, it works!).

Spoon into muffin cases. Bake in oven for 20-25 minutes until golden and cooked through/

So, the little girls were replete, the bigger girls were happy and the token male looked content. A berry acceptable outcome.

Apples & Blackberries - Technology in a Cake

It is strange to think that for people born from 1990 onwards, their immediate thought when faced with the words 'apple' and 'blackberry' will most likely be of the latest ipod or mac and mobile communication device, rather than a shiny, crisp fruit and a cluster of tart berries.

I am somewhat of a techno phobe however an increase of time on the road forced me to join the 21st century and to succomb to the allures of the latest BlackBerry (free of charge I hasten to add thanks to hard bargaining). That was a month ago. I've dabbled with trying to make it pick up emails but each attempt has left the air blue and, on one occassion, witnessed me hurling the blessed device across the room.

So, when invited over to my lovely friends for Sunday lunch (one of whom just happens to be the rising star of the BBC on all things techie), I seized the opportunity to seek advice on the rotten handset. As a rather apt thank you, and contribution to lunch, I decided to make a cake on a vague techno theme - an apple and blackberry cake. With nuts. Because that's what the whole damned thing is slowly driving me.

Apple, Blackberry & Pecan Cake

150g unsalted butter, softened

150g light brown muscovado sugar, plus a handful

150g self-raising sugar

1tsp ground cinnamon

3 eggs, beaten

2tbsp milk

2 eating apples, peeled, cored and cut into chunks

100g pecan nuts, chopped

100g blackberries

Pre-heat the oven to 180C / gas 4. Grease an 8'/20cm cake tin.

Cream the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy. Add the cinnamon to the flour then add a spoon of flour and a little of the egg to the creamed sugar and stir to combine. Repeat until egg and flour are all incorporated. Add the milk and stir.

Add the apple to the mixture (but save one handful) with the pecans and blackberries. Stir well.

Pour into the cake tin and level with a spatula. Scatter over the remaining apple and then sprinkle over a good handful of sugar (this makes a lovely glaze and fruity topping to the cake).

Bake in the oven for around 1hour (until a skewer can be inserted and comes out clean).

Slices were served after my friend's delicious lamb with dollops of creme fraiche. A bit of a success. Unlike the BlackBerry which is still a rather glamorous phone.

Apples and blackberries? They may work for some but I'll stick to communicating through my favourite medium. Food.

Moroccan Mouthfuls

Although I can't eat pastry (wretched gluten and dairy), I am always fascinated by the nutty delicacies that are served at the end of Middle Eastern meals. I watch my fellow diner's eyes roll skyward and listen to the appreciative murmurs that seep out of their every pore and think "if only I could have that effect." Culinary speaking, you understand.

And so I tried my hand at Claudia Roden's recipe for M'Hencha or Almond 'Snake'.
These coils of delight look incredible yet are deceptively easy to make, although a little time consuming. But soooo worth the effort if the resultant 'mmmmmm' factor is to be believed. One grateful recipient refused to believe that they were homemade - result!

Almond 'Snake'
(makes approximately 15)
For the filling:
750g ground almonds
500g caster sugar
1 tbsp ground cinnamon
100-125ml orange blossom water

For the pastry:
250g sheets of filo pastry
60g unsalted butter, melted
1 egg yolk mixed with water

Preheat the oven to 170 C / gas 3.
Mix all the filling ingredients together and knead them into a paste with your hands (this is great for your skin by the way!). Take lumps of the paste and roll between your palms into 'snakes' about 2cm thick.
Put a pile of filo sheets in front of you with the longer sides facing you.
Brush the top sheet of pastry with melted butter and place the fingers of almond paste along the length about 2cm in from the edge to make one long log of paste.
Roll the filo up over the filling into a long, thin cigar and tuck the ends in to stop it all squirting out.
Lift the roll onto a work surface and push gently in from both ends as if (according to Ms Roden) playing an accordion! Then gently curve into a coil so it resembles a snake. Repeat with the rest of the pastry.
Brush all the coils with the egg yolk and water glaze, pop on a baking sheet and cook in the middle of an oven for around 30 minutes until golden.
Let the snakes cool on the baking sheet and when cold, sprinkle with icing sugar.

Very rich and perfect with coffee or desert wine. Or both.

A Feast of Friendships

I wanted to not only anoint my new flat with a home warming party, but also to thank those girlfriends without whom I would not have survived the last few months of pain and hurt in one piece. A true feast of friendship.

Five women, all of whom are battling with their own problems and yet have found the time and the space in their hearts to cherish me at the time when I have most needed it. The least I could do was to cook a meal for them.

All of us are interested in food and like to taste different cuisines and I realised that I have eaten in Lebanese restaurants with each and every one and so I let the Lebanon flavour the dishes. As ever I tweaked recipes that I have digested to make them my own and conjured up the following:

Nigella Lawson's Aubergine Moussaka (veggie option)
Moroccan-ish Chicken
Green salad
Saffronjeweledd rice (white basmati cooked with saffron threads and dried cranberries, decorated with toasted flaked almonds and flat-leaf parsley)
Chocolate crusted lemon and cardamom tart

I promised to post the recipes for the first and the last of the above dishes and will include the chicken for good measure, purely because it is such a simple main course to create. The tart is rather time consuming but from the licking of lips and pleas for leftovers to take home for husbands/fiancees, I surmised that it have been worth the effort.

Aubergine Moussaka (serves four as a main course, six as a side dish)

500g aubergine (two decent sized vegetables), cut into 11/2 cm cubes
1 large onion, peeled and thinly sliced
10 small cloves garlic, peeled and thickly slivered
1 can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 ½ tbsp pomegranate molasses
500g tomatoes, peeled, seeded and quartered (do this before you embark on the rest of the recipe)
1 ½ tsp salt
½ tsp cinnamon or one stick
½ tsp ground allspice
200ml water
Pack of feta
Mint leaves

In a large pan, heat a good amount of oil and fry half of the aubergine until golden brown. Remove to a dish and repeat with the remainder aubergine.
Splash in some more oil and add the onion and garlic and fry until soft and pale.
Add the chickpeas, the molasses and return the aubergine to the pan. Add the tomatoes, sprinkle with the spices and add the water. Bring to the boil, cover and reduce to a simmer for around an hour.
Serve warm or cold, strewn with torn mint leaves and a crumbled pack of feta.

Moroccan-ish Chicken
(serves 4)
6 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
1tsp each salt and ground black pepper
1tsp ground ginger
½ tsp ground cumin
½ tsp paprika
1kg chicken thigh fillets (I remove as much fat as possible)
150ml freshly squeezed orange juice
Pared rind of one orange
150g organic dried apricots (organic ones are darker in colour as they aren't dried with sulphur dioxide)
¼ tsp saffron shreads
150ml sherry or white wine (whatever you have to hand)
3tbsp sherry vinegar
2tbsp oil
1 onion, peeled and finely sliced
3tbsp plain flour (I make a cornflour paste, being unable to eat wheat)
300ml chicken stock or bouillon
Two or three preserved lemons
Flat leaf parsley

Put the first five ingredients in a large bowl and mix well. Add the chicken, orange juice and rind and stir to ensure that the chicken is well covered. Chill for at least four hours or overnight.
Put the apricots, saffron, sherry or wine and vinegar in a bowl. Cover and leave to marinate at room for temperature for the same length of time as the chicken.
Heat the oil in a large casserole. Transfer the chicken (reserve the marinade) and brown over a high heat then remove. Add the onion and cook until soft (around five mins).
Add the flour, stir well and cook for one minute (or make a cornflour paste and add). Add the marinade, stock, the apricots with their soaking liquid and the preserved lemons. Stir and bring to the boil. Return the chicken to the pan and simmer.
Cover and either cook on the hob for around 30 minutes or in the oven at 180C for around 40 minutes.
Serve with chopped flat-leaf parsley.

Chocolate Crusted Lemon and Cardamom Tart
(serves approximately eight)
Pastry
175g plain flour
25g cocoa powder
Pinch of salt
25g icing sugar
125g unsalted butter, chilled and cubed
1 large egg yolk
2tbsp cold water

Filling
75g dark chocolate (the higher cocoa content the better), grated
3 unwaxed lemons
150g caster sugar
4 large eggs
150ml double cream (or a 142ml pot - for some reason it is not possible to buy 150ml)
Six cardamom pods, crushed to release the black seeds. Throw away the pods.
Icing sugar to serve

To make the pastry put the first five ingredients into a food processor and pulse until the mix resembles fine breadcrumbs. Don't over process - this is very short pastry!
Mix the egg with the water and add to the mixture to make a soft dough. Gather the pastry into a ball, flatten into a disc and wrap in clingfilm. Chill in the fridge for at least an hour.
Roll out the pastry (between two sheets of greaseproof paper is best) and line a 23cm (9 inch) tart tine with a removable base. Prick the pastry with a fork in several places and chill for at least two hours.
Preheat the oven to 200C/gas 6.
Line the pastry case with foil and baking beans, put on a baking sheet and bake blind for 15 mins. Remove the foil and beans and return to the oven for five minutes. Remove from the oven and sprinkle the grated chocolate over the base. Leave to cool. Reduce the oven temperature to 170C/gas 3.

To make the filling, finely grate the zest of the lemons into a bowl. Squeeze the juice from the lemons and add to the bowl with the sugar. Whisk until the sugar has dissolved then whisk in the eggs, cream and the cardamom pods until the mixture is smooth.
Pour the mixture into the cooled pastry case and carefully return to the middle of the oven. Bake for 30-35mins until just set. Remove from the oven and leave to cool completely on a wire rack before removing from the tin.
Dust with icing sugar and serve with a few raspberries for a contrast of flavours and colours.

Ginger Nuggets

My very good friend Goody recently let slip that she sometimes like to nibble ginger nuts whilst chilling out in front of the TV of an evening. A gorgeously domestic and indulgent picture but one with a few additives and other nasties. As a thank you for all her love and support, I resolved to knock her up a batch of my ginger nuggets and to christen my oven in the process.

This recipe is one that I’ve tweaked and reworked over the years until I think I’ve got these sparkly little gems just right. They are unbelievably easy to make and have been known to cure my eldest sister’s morning sickness.

Ginger Nuggets (makes approximately 16)
4oz plain flour
1 level tsp bicarbonate of soda
1- 2tsp ground ginger (according to personal taste)
2oz butter
2oz golden caster sugar
2oz golden syrup
1 knob of stem ginger in syrup, chopped finely
2-3 tbsp golden caster sugar - extra

Sift the flour, bicarb of soda and ginger into a mixing bowl.
Weigh the butter, sugar and syrup directly into a little saucepan – a good trick when measuring syrup is to run the spoon under a hot tap first and then the syrup glides off with ease.
Warm the saucepan over a gentle heat until the butter has melted and the mixture is runny without getting too hot. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry, add the chopped stem ginger and mix well to form a soft dough. Wrap in clingfilm in a long sausage shape and chill in the fridge for at least one hour.
Preheat the oven to 180C/gas 4. Unwrap the dough and slice into 16 pieces.
Put the extra sugar into a plastic food bag and toss each slice so that they are well coated in sugar. Arrange them on a baking sheet, leaving plenty of room for spreading. Flatten them a little with a palette knife.
Bake in the middle of your oven for 10 minutes, leave the biscuits on the tray for one minute and then transfer to a wire cooling rack.

Whilst they may not be the prettiest of biscuits, I'm assured that the taste more than compensates for their aesthetically challenging appearance!

Bish Bash Bosh Braai

Our much loved friend from South Africa has been intermittently staying with us and so we thought "what better excuse to have a party?" The work on our garden, already delayed by a week or so, was due to be completed that day and so an al fresco evening appeared to be a super June idea. The gardeners' (Bish, Bash and Bosh) perceptions of deadlines were rather at odds with ours however and so they were power washing the patio and hastily packing up (only to return again - twice) as the first guests arrived. M was wiping down chairs, J was frantically lighting the braai whilst I was hoovering up detruis from dust sheets.

"Glass of wine anyone?" Hell yes.

The mozzarella and tomato canapes were out, the chicken had been marinating all day, J's lamb burgers were good to go and I had a made a petit pois and cheese quiche and a blueberry cake to boot (J's favourite fruit so I couldn't resist), so let the eating commence!

Tomato, Honey and Mustard Madness (a marinade for 1kg of chicken pieces)
8 (yes 8!) tbsp tomato ketchup (only Heinz will do)
4 tbsp clear honey
2 tbsp worcestershire sauce
2 tbsp wholegrain mustard

Mix everything together, season to taste and pour over the chicken pieces. Roll the chicken around with abandon and leave to marinade for as long as you dare.

(I have never heard so many "hmmmms" of pleasure elicited from a marinade. J's dictum that ketchup is the secret ingredient in the recipe of happiness is once more proven to be true).

Petit Pois and Crumbly Cheese Tart (requires a 23cm round, 4cm deep flan dish)
Easy pastry;
8oz plain flour, sifted
4oz chilled unsalted butter, diced
1/2 tsp salt
1 medium egg, beaten

Filling; (and yes, it is!)
3oz petit pois, either fresh or defrosted frozen peas
6oz crumbly cheese (e.g. Lancashire or Wendsleydale)
200ml tub creme fraiche
2 medium eggs
100ml milk
bunch of chives, chopped plus two whole chive leaves

For the pastry;
Preheat the oven to 200C/gas 6. Tip the flour, butter and salt into a food processor and whiz briefly. Add the egg and blitz until small clumps form. Remove, form into a ball and wrap in clingfilm. Chill in the fridge for at least 30mins.
Roll the pastry out on a floured surface to fit the flan dish. Prick the base and chill for another 30mins.
Bake the pastry case blind for 15mins (i.e. pop some foil and baking beans/rice into the dish). Remove the foil and beans and bake for a further 5mins. Cool slightly and reduce the oven to 190C/gas 5.

Filling;
Scatter the peas over the pastry case and crumble the cheese on top. Whisk together the eggs, creme fraiche, milk, chopped chives and season. Pour over the peas and cheese and top with the remainding two chives (or more if you're feeling artistic). Bake for 30-35mins until the filling has puffed up and has a golden brown colour.

Blueberry and Almond Cake
(requires an 18-20cm round, loose-bottomed cake tin, greased and lined for ease of removal)
150g blueberries
125g self-raising flour
200g unsalted butter, softened
200g golden caster sugar
4 medium eggs, separated
1tsp almond extract
125g ground almonds
golf-sized ball of marzipan

Preheat oven to 180C.gas 4. Rinse the blueberries, pat dry and dredge in 1tsp of the flour.
Cream the butter and 175g of the sugar until pale and fluffy. Beat in the egg yolks (as ever, alternating with a spoon of flour to avoid curdling) and the almond extract. Gently stir in the flour.
Whisk the egg whites until soft peaks form and then gradually whisk in the remainding 25g sugar. Stir in the ground almonds.
Use a metal spoon to fold in a quarter of the whisked mixture into the creamed mixture then fold in the rest. Break the marzipan up and roll into little balls. Drop into the cake mixture and gently fold in. Spoon into the cake tin and level the surface.
Scatter the floured blueberries over the top and bake in the oven for approx 1 hour or until a skewer inserted into the centre, emerges clean.
Leave to cool in the tin for 10 mins and then turn out.

Serve with cream and a smile.

Hooray, Hooray the 1st of May

J has a variety of friends from all walks of life - from his school days thirty odd years ago through to those that he has acquired more recently. And of course there is one friendship that is nearly two years old and which has blossomed into something else, but that's the subject of an entirely different and personal blog.

As with any group of people whom have known each other for years, J's friends have a number of rituals that mark the passing of each year. Lives change, partners come and go, children swell the numbers and yet the essential rites of passage remain the same. One such event is the annual Pimms Party which signifies the official start of Summer. Hence, whatever the date of said party, 'Hooray Hooray the 1st of May, outdoor sex beings today' is the huzzah of choice. (No, I don't really understand the whole thing either).

D and P were the generous hosts of this year's party and it was an opportunity to christen their new garden. Or it would have been had the heavens not decided to pour forth their scorn with a soaking of drizzle accompanied by a chilly wind. Not exactly garden party conditions. However, in true British spirit, that which singles us out as the only nation curious (and some would say mad) enough to picnic outdoors, come hell or high water, the party continued. In the kitchen. Where all parties end up gravitating regardless of where they commence. (Does this happen the world over or is that also a British trait?)

For me each season has a distinct taste and texture. Winter is the time for long, slow cooking that allows flavours to marry and to develop into rich and soothing casseroles with their soothing smoothness. The season for the deep, red fruit flavours of old vine Grenache and Syrah.

Spring is synonymous with the new season of fresh greens; asparagus, spring cabbage, onions, purple flowered broccoli and the welcome tart relief of forced rhubarb. And of course, Summer with its berries, bursting with colour that bleeds onto one's fingers and stains one's lips with their unctuous juices. With fresh crisp salads, silky goats cheese and the chilled grassy flavours of French Sauvignon Blanc.

But there is one combination of flavours, other than the obvious strawberries and cream, that typifies an English summer for me; that of gooseberries and elderflower. I only have to hear the very words and images of cricket whites and village greens fill my mind.

So the obvious contribution to the ultimate Pimms party had to be an elderflower and gooseberry sponge cake. I cannot recall from whence this recipe came as I found it amongst my treasure trove of 'must make' clippings, amassed over the past few years. However from the smeared plates and happy grins, I surmised that it hit the summery nail on the head.

Gooseberry and Elderflower Cake
225g unsalted butter, softened
200g golden caster sugar
4 medium eggs, beaten mixed with
4 tbsp elderflower cordial
225g self-raising flour

Filling
142ml pot double cream
2tbsp elderflower cordial
5tbsp gooseberry conserve
icing sugar

Preheat the oven to 180C/gas 4. Grease 2 x 20cm sandwich tins and line the bottoms with baking parchment.
Cream the butter and sugar. Add the egg and cordial mixture a little at a time with a spoonful or so of the flour (this prevents dreaded curdling). Stir in the rest of the flour and gently combine. The mixture should easily plop off the spoon when tapped - if necessary add a touch more cordial to soften.
Spoon equal amounts of the mixture into the cake tins and level. Put on the middle shelf of the oven and bake for 20-25 mins until the cakes are springy to the touch and have a beautiful golden hue. Allow the cakes to rest in the tins for five mins and then turn out onto wire racks. Peel of the baking paper when cool.

For the filling;
When ready to serve, whip the cream until it forms soft peaks (boyfriends come in very handy at this stage) and stir in the cordial. Spread the top of one cake with the gooseberry jam and then top with the cream. Sandwich the cakes together and then dust with icing sugar.

Note: if traveling with the cake, assemble it upon arrival - we learnt the hard way and oh my, is gooseberry jam slippery!

Oh and the outdoor sex? Not in 10 degrees centigrade with a howling gale. Nature's answer to birth control.

Lemon Fairies to the Rescue

The past few weeks have been something of a whirlwind in some ways, but also the creation of a mountain out of a molehill, the combined result of which has been a dirth of blogging. A weekend at home however has enabled me to breathe, relax and to create.

So far the spring has not only awoken nature but seems to have breathed life into my social life, which although is incredibly fun and interesting, is also at times exhausting. I have caught up on and cemented friendships, watched new ones develop and blossom and have spent time with family, both mine and J's. In the past month alone we have stayed in the Home Counties, Hamburg and France and ever occasion, every meeting of friends has conjured up a plethora of emotions.

I have let myself become crowded by what needn't be, but what has at times become, the 'serious' side of life; my consultancy business, the search for a house, the start of a new French class, tax returns (actually I think that anyone would find that one troubling at the best of times), the hunt for a specific outfit (how on earth can the thought of new shoes become stressful?!) and a recurrent bout of stomach problems. It sounds silly but I have not had the headspace (such a loathsome phrase and yet so accurate) to write, to relax, to cook.

Yet I am fortunate enough to have been reminded that life is too short to worry constantly and that a crowded mind can not be a creative one. And so this weekend I took a deep breath, had some fun and let the baking tins edge their way out of the cupboard.........

When asked which fancies he would like to munch on this week, J replied "fairy cakes" and so I was more than happy to oblige. Upon reflection I think that he would rather have demolished a chocolate cake or a sticky cherry confection, however J sensed that I would have more fun decorating and icing the little fairy sweeties. What a wonderful man he is. As my spirits felt lifted I decided to lighten the air with the aroma of lemons and so made these

Lemon Cupcakes (makes 12)
125 soft unsalted butter
125 caster sugar
125 self-raising sugar
2 eggs
1/2 tsp lemon extract (or limoncello - I'm determined to use it up!)
zest of one unwaxed lemon
1 - 1/2 tbsp milk

Preheat the oven to 200C and line a 12-bun tin with paper cases.
Cream the butter with the sugar and then add by stages, a spoon of sieved flour, a spoon of egg, flour, egg etc until the ingredients have combined (doing this gradually ensures against the dreaded curdling).
Add the lemon extract and the zest. Add a little milk as necessary for a flowing texture - so that it drops easily from the mixing spoon when tapped.
Spoon evenly into the paper cases.
Bake in the middle of the oven for up to 20 minutes or golden brown in colour and springy to the touch. Remove from the oven and transfer onto a wire rack as soon as they have cooled sufficiently to the touch.

Easy! Then have enormous fun decorating them with whatever silly fripperies you have to hand. I can never resist the urge to make baby pink, soft blue and white icing and to use a mixture of hundreds and thousands (J's favourite), crystallised violet sprinkles and sugar flowers.

Bun Fight en France – les gateaux de fées

My parents moved to Angouleme in France a few weeks ago, having retired and sold up in the UK and built a house from scratch not far from Limoges. At first I did wonder if they were in danger of losing their marbles, but then I soon realised that to follow one's dreams, to make a new start later in one's life and in a new country, takes enormous courage. I am full of admiration for them. Plus I can't wait to stay with them and to faire les achats in the local market. My fingers are itching at the thought of fondling juicy red tomatoes, plucking out plump ripe plums and stroking fronds of lettuce leaves.

Any initial concerns I had about my parents being embraced by the local community were swept aside very soon after their arrival. A Sunday evening telephone conversation revealed that they had (hic) just returned from a five hour lunch (hic), hosted by the Mayor of Lessac for all people of retirement age in the area, whether they be French or English (and no, not a timeshare or retirement sales guerrilla was in sight). A terrific number of dishes had been consumed, bottles upon bottles of wine and the local marc had been appreciated and then my father had driven (slowly) home. Only in France. Oh yes, they are well on their way to becoming locals.

Although Angouleme is far from being an English enclave, there must be a fair smattering of 'les rostbifs' as the convivial Mayor has invited the ladies to whip up a collection of traditional British cakes for his mid-May fete. Upon hearing this my mind was filled with visions of an Anglo-Franco bake-off. A war of the whisks. A veritable competition of confectionery where bread and butter pudding is to be challenged by clafoutis des cerises. Where Dorset apple cake will be pitched against tarte aux pommes. Lemon drizzle cake versus madelaines. Treacle tart against financier aux raisins. Victoria sponge versus far aux pruneaux.

Having convinced her fellow bakers that her scones have a striking resemblance to rock cakes, the good old fashioned fairy cake is to be my mother's weapon of choice. Deceptively innocent in appearance, these little beauties are bound to charm the French judges into submission. Especially when they are nestled in pretty paper cases and are decorated with the sweetest of sugary flowers - just a few of the essentials that I have been asked to deliver on my forthcoming trick (apparently these little items are very hard to come by in the local shops whilst they are in abundance in London cookery shops. The upper hand will be gained on aesthetics alone I feel).

So, although my mother has her own tried and tested recipe for 'les gateaux de fees', I thought that I would post mine here. The use of almonds gives these little morsels a lovely dampness without robbing them off airiness, as befits a cake of fairy qualities. Even the hardest of hearts tend to melt a little when faced with these little puffs of pixie dust.

Almond Fairy Cakes makes 12
100g unsalted butter, softened
100g caster sugar
pinch of salt
1tsp almond essence
2 medium size eggs, lightly beaten
25g plain flour
100g ground almonds
2tbsp milk

Preheat the oven to 180 C/gas 4 and arrange 12 pretty paper cake cases in a bun tray.
Beat the butter, sugar and salt together until light and fluffy.
Add the eggs, flour, almonds, almond essence and milk and mix well. The cake batter should be of a consistency that drops easily from the spoon. Add a tiny bit more milk if necessary but go steady.
Divide the mixture between the 12 cases and flatten the tops with a spoon.
Bake for 20 minutes or until the cakes have risen and are of a golden colour. They should bounce back when lightly pressed.
Transfer to a wire rack and leave until cold.
Decorate with icing of your choice (I like to use fondant icing for these flavoured with lemon juice) and with sugary flowers or other such fripperies.

Bonne chance Maman.

Chocolate Compulsion Cake

Ralph, my brother-in-law to be (note to self - must bake wedding cakes next weekend) has a very serious chocolate habit.

I agree with Chloe Doutre-Roussel of Fortnum & Mason fame that quality chocolate is best tasted first thing in the morning whilst one's tastebuds are at their freshest and frequently have a square or two of something devilishly dark before elevenses. I somehow suspect however that this is not the motivation for Ralph's early morning chocolate consumption.

Ralph adores an instant 'hit' and if chocolate is in the house, what better time is there to partake than when he wakes up? That way his addiction for the day is satisfied. He has yet to stay with J and myself and I am not sure that he would be able to cope with my cache of dark, sensuous bars that pour out of various chocolate cupboards or the store of chocolate that J keeps in one of the vegetable drawers in the fridge (and yes I know that this is by no means an ideal way to keep chocolate and yet J is resolute that he prefers his chunks cold. He also likes to delude himself that as cacao beans grow on trees and he keeps his goodies in a vegetable compartment, that every bite counts towards his five fruit and veg count a day. Hmmmmm.).

Anyway, back to Ralph. Knowing that he adores all things chocolatey and homemade and yet also knowing that I am feeding his habit, I cannot help myself from making a chocolate fridge cake whenever I go and stay with Ralph and my sister (and the new addition to the family, my little nephew Otto). And sure enough, the sticky confectionery mysteriously decreases in size with every morning that passes......

And so I make no apologies for producing yet another version of the timeless classic that is chocolate fridge cake. After all, if the proof of the pudding is in the eating, then I need look no further than my future brother-in-law for an endorsement of this particular version.

Chocolate Compulsion Cake
125g unsalted butter
75g golden syrup
200g dark chocolate, broken into pieces
1 egg
1 large cookie, broken into chunks (I used one of those doughy, shop bought ones that resemble a cow pat - oddly they fit the bill perfectly! It weighed around 75g)
50g pecans, roughly broken
50g dried fruit (I used chopped dried prunes which added a lovely chewy depth)
50g glace cherries, plus four for topping

Line a 20cm x 8cm loaf tin with cling film.
Gently melt the butter and syrup in a small pan and bring it to a gentle boil. (A tip to measuring golden syrup is to use a metal spoon that you have just run under the hot tap - the syrup glides off the spoon with ease. Also pop your pan on the scales and measure the syrup straight into it - saves on the washing up).
Melt the chocolate in a heatproof bowl over a pan of simmering water. When liquid, remove from the heat (taking care not to scald yourself in the process), add the butter and syrup mixture and stir well to incorporate.
Beat the egg slowly and continuously into the hot chocolate mixture.
Add the broken cookie, the nuts, fruit and 50g of the glace cherries.
Mix well and then pour into the prepared tin, smoothing the top as you go. Dot the remainder cherries evenly along the length of the tin and leave to set in the fridge for at least four hours.
When you want to serve the cake, it should come out of the tin as easily as a ten pound note from a wallet. Slice or cut into chunks.

Super served with coffee after dinner. Or if you cannot wait that long, with a smoothie for breakfast. Why prolong the anticipation when it could be satisfied immediately? Enjoy.

Baking Therapy

I have long found great comfort in baking; from the collating of ingredients, the creaming of butter and sugar to anticipating the satisfaction gained from turning out a light and fluffy cake. It is a kind of everyday alchemy that cannot be beaten for its soothing qualities. And yet I never realised that it could also teach one a salutary lesson about confidence and not taking oneself quite so seriously.

I had oodles of chocolate and so a choccie cake of some description seemed the obvious solution to the question of what to take to friends (as well as wine, clearly). I chanced across Nigella Lawson's recipe for a chocolate orange cake but I have to admit what really sold me was that it involved marmalade. Probably not the content of many people's guilty secrets but here goes....... I have a deep-seated passion for this orangey, orgasmic sweetness, the gooier the better with so much peel that there's barely any room in-between for the amber nectar. I could blame my mother - she craved marmalade sandwiches (aka Paddington Bear) when pregnant and I'm convinced that the sticky, sweet stuff is in my blood.

I don't often buy marmalade as, once opened, a jar mysteriously evaporates within days, however when I saw that Nigella's recipe would use 3/4 a jar, my tastebuds prickled with anticipation. So, with apologies to the mighty Nigella, here is the recipe, tweaked slightly.

Chocolate Orange Cake

125g unsalted butter

100g dark chocolate, broken up (I used Barry Callebaut couverture pellets)

300g medium-cut marmalade (make it a good one!)

150g unrefined caster sugar

pinch of salt

2 eggs, beaten

150g self raising flour

slug of Grand Marnier

Preheat the oven to 180C/gas 4. Butter and flour an 8inch round cake tin.

Melt the butter in a pan over a low heat. When it's liquid, stir in the chocolate and when softened, take the pan off the heat and stir until the butter and choc make a smooth, melted mixture. Add the marmalade, sugar, salt, eggs and a generous slug of Grand Marnier. Stir until well mixed and then beat in the flour, bit by bit. Pour into the cake tin and pop in the oven for approximately one hour or until a skewer comes out clean when poked into the cake. Cool in the pan for 15mins and then turn out.

Now comes the lesson. The cake was baked and it slid out of the tin with ease however when I tried to prise away the base, disaster fell and the cake split down the middle - a yawning chocolate chasm which sent me into despair. I was a complete failure. Call it tiredness (call it stupid if you will) but my fragile culinary confidence was shattered.

Desperate to avoid the evidence of my failings I escaped the flat and walked.......and walked. As ever, my clearest thinking is always done in the fresh air and I finally realised what a Charlie I was being. The day before I'd attended a civil ceremony where over 100 guests had tucked into a three-tiered, brandy-laced cake made by my own fair hand. Not exactly the work of a complete cooking chump. Good grief. I'm sure even Saint Delia has been exasperated by the odd sunken souffle or the occasional curdled mayonnaise.

Heartened by such thoughts I skipped to the grocery shop to buy some plump oranges and creme fraiche and lo, a new dessert was born - choc orange surprise.

So that is the rather long-winded explanation of how baking taught me to have a little faith in my own abilities, that the glass (indeed the marmalade pot) is not half empty and that with a bit of creativity, a collapsed cake can be spirited into a chorus of 'mmmmm' from friends.