Winter Skies, Kitchen Aglow

To my mum,
To my angelheart Eric's mom,
To Eric's sister who is a wonderful mommy,
To my friends who are mummies,
and to all mothers:

Happy Mother's Day.



I woke up very early this morning, so I could bake something for mum on this special day; I really wanted her to wake up to the smell of something comforting and warm. Also, this would be the first Mother's Day that I have baked for her.

Last night, again in bed with cookery books piled up around me, I was determined to find something that my mother would want to slather with butter, preferably a loaf of sorts. Mum does not have the sweetest tooth, so because I wanted to find something semi-sweet, a treat for her, the quest for something to bake for her actually proved be challenging (made more difficult by the gazillion cookery book pages to leaf through).

In the chapter entitled "From Hedgerow and Bog" of her cookery book for cold climes, Roast Figs, Sugar Snow, Diana Henry includes a dessert from a grand Swedish hotel, Hennickehammar. The dessert is a toasted ginger cake served with wine poached cranberries. I thought poached cranberries might be a bit much first thing in the morning, but the cake sounded promising because mum likes ginger. I could imagine that this would have the appealing aroma wafting from the oven to induce mum out of bed (after a sleep in, of course) and to the kitchen.

Ms. Henry says that after one day, the cake is crumbly enough to be toasted, which is how they serve it at Hennickehammar. I thought mum might like it right out of the oven, slathered with butter, to eat along with her morning cup of English Breakfast tea. Being the good son, milking as much affection as possible, I adapted the recipe for mostly sentimental reasons. Mum baked heaps when I was a kid. One of her staple additions to scones, sweet muffins, and breads was sultanas. So, to appeal to sweet childhood memories, I substituted the dried cranberries for sultanas. (Incidentally, Ms. Henry adapted the recipe too, switching out lingonberries for cranberries.) Consequently, I had the sultanas plump up in the juice from a freshly squeezed (Australian) orange instead of using that of a lemon, which works wonderfully for cranberries, I'm sure, but not for sultanas - at least to my mind.

Toasted Ginger Bread
(Adapted from Diana Henry's Roast Figs, Sugar Snow)

125g/4 1/2oz dried sultanas (or cranberries, lingonberries...)
juice of 1 orange (or lemon)
300g/10 1/2oz plain flour
200g/7oz light brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
60g/2 1/4oz butter, melted
200ml/7 fl oz milk
1 medium egg, beaten
icing sugar, to serve

1) Preheat the oven to 180 C/350 F, and butter and flour a 1kg/1lb 4oz loaf-tin.
2) Put the sultanas in a small saucepan and add the orange juice. Cover and bring to the boil, then let simmer until the sultanas have plumped up (approximately 15 minutes).
3) In a large bowl, mix the flour, sugar, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, and baking powder together, and create a well in the centre.
4) Pour the melted butter, milk, beaten egg, and sultanas with its juices into the well. Stir these wet ingredients together, gradually pulling in the dry ingredients on the outside into the well.
5) Pour the batter into the prepared loaf-tin and bake for 50 minutes, or until the cake is cooked at the centre.
6) Cool on a rack.

As you can see in the top photo, the cake has cracked, and I don't know if that is normal or not - I forgot to consult Tamasin's Kitchen Bible by Tamasin Day-Lewis beforehand. This cake has a splendidly warm ginger aroma. I merrily toasted for crispy edges and over which I sprinkled a light cloud of icing sugar. Mum, of course, went straight for the butter.

I love you, mum.

Labels: Cake, Diana Henry, Ginger