Winter Skies, Kitchen Aglow

It can be a bit of an effort to approach the statutory holidays of the new year with the same vigour one has on a workday morning, unless, of course, one is hosting friends and/or family for brunch and mimosas. I did not play host-like roles for any festivities pre or post-New Year's Day, for I knew that I would have too much of a good thing at the home of good friends' the night before (being hosted is always such a treat), and I did. But one must eat after such an evening, and in such a haze, needing sustenance for the day and others to come (festivities are known to continue through January 1), I often turn to eggs or bread, sometimes in combination.

A personal favourite at the start of any weekend or holiday morning is eggs benedict or croque monsieur. The former is more fiddly than the latter, requiring a hollandaise sauce to be made, so the decision to make croque monsieur was a simple one. Croque monsieur is the ultimate in simple Parisian snack food, for it is quite plainly a toasted ham and cheese sandwich (a croque madame is topped with a fried egg). As is particularly true for recipes that need but the fewest ingredients, the better the quality of bread, ham and cheese, the more satisfying the result. Your only choice for cheese is one between emmental and gruyère, both of which melt under the merest heat: emmental (or Swiss cheese, as it is known in New Zealand, Australia and North America) is a hard cheese of cow's milk that is nutty and slightly acidic; gruyère is made from cow's milk and is sweet but slightly salty (overall imparting a somewhat mineral quality to a dish). Both cheeses complement ham's salty notes.

Perhaps she did not have in mind those deservedly inflicted with a hangover, but Nigella Lawson's recipe for Croque Monsieur Bake is ingenious - everything is prepared the night before, so all one has to do is pre-heat an oven before throwing the waiting ingredients into it.

Croque Monsieur Bake
(from Nigella Lawson's Nigella Express)

6 slices light rye bread
75g Dijon mustard
6 slices and 4 tablespoons grated gruyère cheese
6 thin slices of ham
6 eggs
1 teaspoon salt
80ml/3 fl. oz milk

1) Make sandwiches in the traditional manner: spread each slice of bread with mustard, in between each sandwich go the cheese and ham. Cut in half, either straight down or on the diagonal.
2) Press sandwich halves snuggly into a baking dish.
3) In a bowl, whisk together the eggs, salt and milk.
4) Pour liquid over the sandwiches.
5) Cover with clingfilm and keep in the refrigerator overnight.
6) In the morning, preheat your oven to 200 C/400 F.
7) Remove baking dish from the fridge, dispose of the clingfilm, and sprinkle grated cheese over the top (along with a sprinling of Worcestershire sauce, if desired).
8) Bake in the oven for 25 minutes, by which time the egg will have cooked, the bread will have browned, and the cheese will have melted.

This is a great no-fuss way to start any morning, especially one in which stodgy food is a necessity to give one's stomach fortitude after the previous night's/early morning's boozing. Quite rich, there is easily enough to satisfy 4-6.

Later in the day, one might turn one's mind to something slightly sweet. This is not the right moment to go into the grand subject of The Mighty Cheesecake (we have hangovers and are suffering from the inevitable exhaustion that follows the rush to complete business before Christmas, remember?), on which many a book and treatise has been written; however, I will assert my general preference for baked cheesecakes in the style of Central and Eastern Europeans crossed with the Commonwealth and North American enjoyment of a biscuit base. In New Zealand we neither cook nor bake cheesecakes (generally), and often serve them with fruit atop or woven through. I dispense of the fruit, bake the cheesecake and always have a spicy biscuit base.

The following receipe is suitable for a 24cm/9" springform pan. Feel free to use your preferred cookies for the base. I like digestive biscuits, semi-sweet cookies made with wholemeal flour. When in the US, I use graham crackers as they are easier to find when I am not in the mood to make my own digestive biscuits - also, they are the closest approximation to digestive biscuits.

Cheesecake

For the base:

250g digestive biscuits, pulverised to fine crumbs
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1/2 teasponn cinnamon

1) Mix all ingredients together.
2) Press evenly into a springform pan, allowing it to come up the sides to form a shell around the cheesecake filling.
3) Place in the refrigerator for 30 minutes.

For the filling:

500g/1 lb cream cheese
1 tablespoon flour
1/2 cup sugar
4 eggs, separated
1/2 cup cream
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt

1) In a bowl, beat the cream cheese until it is soft.
2) Add flour and sugar, mix well.
3) Add the egg yolks, cream and vanilla extract, mix well.
4) In a separate bowl, combine egg whites and sugar until soft peaks are formed.
5) Fold egg whites into cream cheese mixture.

To complete:

biscuit base, as above,
filling, as above
3/4 cup sour cream
1/2 teaspoon vanilla bean paste (or vanilla extract)

1) Pre-heat oven to 200 C/400 F.
2) Pour filling into biscuit base.
3) Place springform pan into a roasting pan, add hot water, which is to come halfway-up the side of the springform pan (do not get any water into the cheesecake). Creating a bain marie prevents overcooking and keeps the cheesecake from rising and falling too dramatically, creating a smoother, more even-looking cheesecake.
4) Bake for 50 minutes.
5) While the cheesecake is baking, combine sour cream and vanilla extract.
6) Take cheesecake out of oven, spread sour cream mixture over surface of the cheesecake.
7) Bake for a further 10 minutes.

The addition of sour cream to the top (as opposed to folding it into the cream cheese itself) creates a foil to the richness of the cheesecake filling by supplying an overt tangy quality to it. I have a great love of sweet-sour combinations - this addition is also quite popular in the American northeast. I suppose this also acts as a metaphor for the year - to enjoy and accept the fullness and happiness of life, whilst also weathering its tangy, sour moments with as much grace as possible.

Today's results look quite spartan, and this is not without intention. This is a new year, after all. It is best to look forward, with renewed pleasure for life, learned from the previous year's experiences. This is going to be a great year for me, if for no other reason that for the fact that my angelheart Eric is moving to New Zealand.

Happy New Year!

Labels: Cheesecake, Croque Monsieur Bake, Holidays, New Year, Nigella Lawson, Summer

There are two walkways from different major arterial roads that lead down to my home nested in a valley between somewhat steep ridges. Opposite one of those walkways is house that has its territory marked with deciduous trees - Japanese maples. Their leaves begun to turn a gorgeous russet early last week. While most of the cookery book literature I read celebrates the new beginnings that are associated with Spring and Easter, in the Southern hemisphere, and particularly in New Zealand - practically at the bottom of the world - it is a time of reflection.

I do not recall many religious explanations for the way the world works as a child, but I have a vague recollection of Easter being presented to me as a time of renewal and cleansing. I remember looking out the large aluminium-framed windows of one of my primary school's prefabs to see nature seemingly on the verge of dying. It didn't make sense in my little six-year-old head, then: renewal. The cleansing bit I got - my memory is full of many wet childhood Easter weekends. Beyond that, I couldn't make the association, and so I didn't.

I do not know how the religious signifcance of Easter is reconciled through food in New Zealand. A reconciliation is surely required for all the various denominations of the various religions and faiths to show unity across the globe, is it not? In New Zealand, one does not eat the young Spring lamb, but rather those that are six months older (and more preferable to taste, in my mind). There are no delicate salad greens, but the beginnings of hardy greens. As for fruit, gone are most of the juicy Summer berries, but there is the very short fig season and the entry to three months of feijoa heaven. The figs, at least, can be worked into some Northern representation of the importance of Easter.

As an atheist adult, Easter is mainly a special time of year for those who work a regular week in New Zealand (or for anyone, really), as it is the only public holiday in which a day off work is tacked onto either side of the weekend - heck, even most of Auckland's stores are closed for large chunks of the holidays (some open on the two major days, Good Friday and Easter Sunday, and risk paying a fine or being prosecuted for it). Mostly, Easter allows for a relaxing getaway without having to use one's annual leave in order to enjoy the last of the Summer sun. Sometimes, Easter weather is pretty miserable, so having hot cross buns and hot chocolate is a good way to go. (Having said that, this weekend has been rather glorious.)

I'm not bucking my own tradition, though, for it is all I have left to tie me to the Easters of my past. Gone are the all the kids playing together in my cul-de-sac - families do not know/trust each other anymore. Gone is the novelty of the Easter Show (now usually seen as a lame excuse for a temporary amusement park). And with Easter occurring earlier, it seems, gone is the gloomy weather. Despite the change, I still find myself munching on chocolate and fig-filled hot cross buns, drinking homemade mochaccinos (without the steamed milk)...all the while watching The Sopranos.

Hot Cross Buns
(adapted from Nigella Lawson's Feast: Food That Celebrates Life)

See recipe from my post on Hot Cross Buns last year.

I made a few modifications:

I did not use any orange zest, but rather increased the amount of cardamom pods used to steep in the once-boiled milk. I halved the cinnamon and increased both the nutmeg and ginger. Most of the fruit used was dried figs. I substituted one egg for a couple of tablespoons of milk, as necessary to bind the ingredients together. Encased in half of the buns is one square of dark, bitter chocolate.

As you can see, I didn't bother with marking the crosses on the buns except for the indentations made with the back of a butter knife. Store-bought buns always have beautiful looking crosses, but I suspect the firmness is attained by using gelatine, which I prefer not to use except for the odd occasion of making jelly or panna cotta. And while mine are tiny and not heterogeneous in shape, they taste more grown up than the commercially-produced, timidly-spiced buns sold in stores. Further, the combination of fig and chocolate feels more grown up - I could have made these more contemporary, I suppose, by steeping the dried figs in lapsong suchong or earl grey tea and then shaping the balls into squares. Perhaps next year?

I do not profess to be a great drinker of hot chocolate, especially not virginal ones - I prefer it with coffee or a hint of brandy. What I do love is the romantic associations: Winter getaway to a chalet, a buffer to the coldest of polar southerlies beating against windows...However you make it, insist on using the best-quality chocolate you can lay your hands on, for it is the principal ingredient here. The following recipe serves two.

Stove-top Mochaccino
(Adapted from Tessa Kiros' Hot Chocolate in Apples for Jam)

3 rounded tablespoons ground coffee beans
1/2 cup water
2/3 cup chopped 70% cocoa-solid/bittersweet chocolate (Ms. Kiros suggests semisweet)
1 1/2 cups milk
1/2 cup (heavy) cream
1 teaspoon icing/confectioners' sugar
unsweetened cocoa powder or ground cinnamon to dust on top

1) In your coffee vessel, make a pot of coffee. I have a moka pot, and this small quantity of coffee takes almost seven minutes to make, to I suggest getting on with it first.
2) Over medium heat, bring the chocolate and milk to just below boiling point, at first stirring with a wooden spoon to ensure the chocolate fully melts and does not catch on the bottom of the saucepan, then whisk to ensure smoothness.
3) In a bowl, whisk together the cream and icing sugar until thick. Ms. Kiros advises not to make it stiff, but I like it to float like an island, cool and creamy gulps in between hot and dark ones.
4) Pour hot coffee and chocolate into cups, stir together.
5) Gently spoon the cream on top.
6) Sprinkle a small amount of cocoa powder or cinnamon on top, if you wish.

Labels: Chocolate, Easter, Figs, Hot Cross Buns, Nigella Lawson, Tessa Kiros

Many foodies and everyday cooks (those who only cook because one needs to eat) enjoy Nigella Lawson's approach to cooking. She is a great magpie, picking from many cuisines and adapting them to largely unfussy presentations for everyday cooking and great parties. I think that which makes her more successful than most tv cooks and chefs is that she has finely tuned her analytical abilities developed through her work as a literature and restaurant/food critic. As such, she is able to make any ingredient and, by extension, any dish approachable and appealing. Nigella Lawson is the "theme" for this month's Weekend Cookbook Challenge, hosted by Ani at Foodie Chickie.

La Lawson first came to my attention through her television show Nigella Bites. I hadn't heard of her before then, and I managed to catch her quite by accident when I was alone on a rainy night with nothing better to do. In fact, I was thinking of changing the channel, for preparing food was not my "thing" - my angelheart Eric was the cook in our family; I was the barman. Anyway, it didn't take long for me to get hooked. I got caught up in Nigella's energy, the way she talks directly to the camera, drawing her audience in, and by the swift and uncomplicated editing. Nigella Bites and all of Nigella's subsequent shows are contemporary and ride on La Lawson's sass, charm and heady, descriptive powers.

Okay, so it took me a few years to actually get around to trying any of her recipes, but Nigella planted the seed and many a mental note was taken - her encouragement and lack of airs made it all seem so easy. To Nigella, I am grateful for ingredients and foods that I now couldn't imagine my cooking and baking life without - principally sumac and vanilla extract.

Nigella Lawson's books capture her shows' same humour and vivacity, which are not easily translatable to text. What I also enjoy about the texts so much is her detailed explanations of combinations of ingredients, aromas and textures, clipped from other writers and from her own travels and experiences. That she has a great bibliography section at the back of each book is a wonderful bonus, a direction to further one's own culinary curiosities. From La Lawson's recommendations alone, I have found myself purchasing books by Claudia Roden, Beatrice Ojakangas, Elizabeth David, Simon Hopkinson, Patricia Wells and Nigel Slater.

The following recipe is taken from Nigella Lawson's first book, How to Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food, which I reviewed last year. And while she, too, has adapted this recipe (from Claudia Roden), I find it summarises her approach to food really well. La Lawson extracts all the goodness from every ingredient, and it is no different with the incorporation of chicken fat in this recipe, used to coat the pasta, best enjoyed hot. If you want a quick and tasty lunch, this is the way to go: chicken thighs instead of a roast chicken. The Venetian ghetto is conjured up with the pinenuts and sultanas, necessary ingredients for haroset.

Fettucine with Chicken from the Venetian Ghetto
(Adapted from Nigella Lawson's How to Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food)

2 large chicken thighs, bone in and skin on
extra virgin olive oil
salt
pepper
1/4 cup sultanas, soaked in warm water for 30 minutes
1/4 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted
fettucine, about 500g/1 lb
parsley

1) Cover the chicken thighs with olive oil, salt and pepper and start boiling a pot of water for the pasta.
2) Over a medium-high heat, pan-fry the chicken thighs - skin-side down first. It should take approximately 10-15 minutes for the thighs to be done, depending on their thickness.
3) When done, allow to become cool enough to handle. Ideally, this should be done about the time the pasta is ready to go into a pot of boiling, salted water.
4) Tear the chicken flesh from the bone either with your hands or two forks. Chop up the skin.
5) As the pasta nears completion, add the pinenuts and drained sultanas to the liquidised chicken fat and olive oil in the pan. Heat through over medium-low heat.
6) Drain pasta and immediately pour over the chicken fat, sultanas and pine nuts. Toss thoroughly.
7) Add the shredded chicken and sprinkle over with parsley.

This is incredibly comforting on a blowsy day like today. The inclusion of this recipe in Nigella Lawson's debut book is testament to her ability to create appealing and approachable food, showing off the best of each ingredient. The slickness of the oil-coated pasta is tempered by the sweet, juicy sultanas, the crunch of the toasted pinenuts and the freshness of the parsley. It took Nigella Lawson to teach me how so few ingredients are all it takes to make a good meal every day.

Labels: Chicken, Fettucine, Nigella Lawson, Weekend Cookbook Challenge

It is evident that I have to make a New Year's Resolution, even though we are already nearing the end of the new year's first month. You see, I have made a terrible mistake twice...and on the same day. I acted recklessly and baked cakes either by ignoring instructions or by not questioning them. Today's post is a lesson in rebellion and how wilful obliteration of time-honoured and tested principles will not yield light and fluffy cakes. Because you are infinitely more intelligent than I am, you will not do as I did and buck against your nature, which, for me, is to act with restraint and consideration - practically virtues in the world of baking.


The Resolution: just do as baking instructions say - no questions!

I wanted to surprise a beloved aunt with a birthday cake. I know, I'm terribly sweet. If only I could have lived out my day's goal of being nephew par excellence. I was in a bit of a tizz deciding what to bake...definitely something rich but also something unexpected. I am not really an online recipe-searcher, preferring instead to reach into my trove of cookery books and food magazines. I pulled out the magazines several days before the birthday celebration and got side-tracked re-reading articles and creating lists of restaurants to go to when I am next in the US. I decided looking through them was not a good idea and turned to the index of every cookery book I could get my hands on.

I chanced upon a previously unnoticed recipe for the Professor's Chocolate Cake in Beatrice Ojakangas' Scandinavian Feasts. Known as Professorin Suklaakakku in Finland and Professorns Chokladkaka in Sweden, Professor's Chocolate Cake is so-named because it is meant to appeal to "educated tastes." I suppose this comes from the density and gooey interior of the cake, different to traditional sponge-based cakes, which I turn to later in this post.

The first error rests with not clicking to the facts of the low amount of flour and the lack of baking powder. Somehow I had it in my mind that I would produce a generous-looking cake, overflowing with chocolate goodness - the properties of any respectful birthday cake. Alas, it was squat and more like a brownie than a cake. And this is how it was meant to turn out, I suppose. Perhaps directly translating it as a "cake" was a bit misleading, but I really should have thought about the ingredients and what they would produce before launching head-first (without brain) into it.

The Professor's Chocolate Cake (or Chocolate and Walnut Brownie)
(from Beatrice Ojakangas' Scandinavian Feasts)

180g/6oz 70% dark chocolate (recipe specifies semisweet)
170g/6oz unsalted butter
3/4 cup sugar
3 eggs, separated
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 chopped walnuts (filberts or pecans will also do)
1 tablespoon instant coffee
icing sugar, for garnish (optional)

1) Preheat oven to 180 C/350 F and prepare (butter and flour) a 23cm/9" springform cake pan.
2) In a small saucepan, melt chocolate, butter and sugar together, then set aside to cool.
3) In a stainless steel bowl, beat the egg whites until stiff (drier than soft peaks).
4) Stir egg yolks into the melted chocolate mixture.
5) Add flour, walnuts and coffee before folding in the egg whites.
6) Pour into the cake pan and bake for 35-40 minutes. This will be slightly gooey in the centre, so it will not completely pass the toothpick test, but you don't want the toothpick to come out all wet.
7) Once cooled, sift icing sugar over the "cake," if so desired.

In my mind I had concocted a gorgeous chocolate cake over which I was going to further celebrate with a ganache. You can imagine my surprise when a low-lying excuse of a cake came out of the oven. And after it had cooled down, it collapsed further. Bugger. Then the wheels turned and I realised I had been foolish to not look at the ratio of ingredients. Furthermore, the walnuts should have been more chopped, though not finely, for the "cake" did not easily cut into uniform wedges. If I had known that this would be a brownie, I would have been ecstatic with the result. The richness of the chocolate fills every mouthful; it is all things a brownie should be.

However, Professor's Chocolate Cake was not the birthday cake of my imagination, so, with some time still to spare, I set about baking something traditional: Victoria Sponge. These are the birthday cakes of my childhood. Soft, fluffy cakes with billowy cream and generous spoonfuls of delectable jam. I always preferred it to chocolate cake as a kid, a jam-connoisseur from way back. (Making jam is on my list of things "to do," but at the rate I'm going - disavowing conventional wisdom, the subject of this post - that should not happen until I have my sensible head back on again.)

A Victoria Sponge is a breeze to make providing you divide the batter into two pans, although Nigella Lawson does not say why this must be. This is no excuse, however, to put the batter into one pan. I have now been reminded that what happens with all cakes is that they collapse a bit as they cool down. Why this oft-witnessed act was effaced from memory at the time of my laziness, I do not know. I was acting as though I knew what I was doing, like I'd seen it all before. I also made a blunder with the flour, which is supposed to be self-rising flour. I just used all-purpose flour without adding 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder and 1/2 tablespoon of salt per cup of all-purpose flour to create a likeness. Finally, it seems that the idea of dividing the batter is so that it can rise as high as is possible given the little placed into each pan. The objective is to create a fluffy-as-can-be sponge. Not a cake.

A ganache was made with semisweet chocolate, as I had envisioned it for the Professor's Chocolate Cake, when in hindsight it should have been made of dark chocolate in order to create a greater and richer contrast to the "sponge." Also, I played with the ganache too much when I should have just let it melt without my help. I should only have whisked it once it had cooled and set up a bit (per Linda Carucci). Nigella was a bit vague there, probably because she had made it a million times with great success, although mine looks like hers does in the photo for her Boston Cream Pie. I have seen ganache made a million times with great success but had not made it myself...All I had witnessed, again, went out the window as I merrily went on with my whisk-happy self. I think the reason for leaving the ganache alone is to prevent the appearance of little air pockets that will get trapped and create an effect resembling a chip in a windscreen...As you see below, I had many a chip in the glass screen of my ganache.

Victoria Sponge
(from Nigella Lawson's How to Be a Domestic Goddess)

125g/8oz unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 eggs
1 1/3 cups self-rising cake flour (see above note if you only have all-purpose), sifted
2 tablespoons cornflour
(1 teaspoon baking powder, do not add this if you are making this with a food processor)
3-4 tablespoons milk
4 heaped tablespoons of jam (I used black cherry jam)
1/2 cup cream/heavy cream

1) Preheat oven to 180 C/350 F and prepare two 20cm/8" cake pans (best done, in this case, with the aid of parchment or wax paper).
2) Cream the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy, then add the vanilla extract.
3) Add one egg at a time, but between each egg add one tablespoon of flour.
4) Fold in the remainder of the flour and the cornflour until fully incorporated.
5) Add as much milk as necessary to bind to a dropping consistency.
6) Pour into prepared cake pans and level with a butter knife or palette knife/offset spatula.
7) Bake for approximately 25 minutes, when the cakes should be pulling away from the edges. The sponge will pass the "toothpick/skewer test."
8) Turn out of pans after sponges have rested on a wire rack for about ten minutes, then leave them to cool completely.
9) Once cooled, put the jam on the top of one of the sponges.
10) Whip the heavy cream until voluptuous and billowy, then scrape it out on top of the jam.
11) Top with the other sponge. You can sprinkle sugar on top, if you so please, or make a ganache.

Ganache
(from Nigella Lawson's How to Be a Domestic Goddess)

1/2 cup cream/heavy cream
1 teaspooon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon unsalted butter
150g/5oz semisweet chocolate (Ms. Lawson actually recommends dark/bittersweet), chopped into little pieces

1) Warm all of the ingredients in a saucepan over low heat.
2) Bring to the boil (bubbling around the edges; the chocolate should have melted by this point), then remove from the heat.
3) Whisk until smooth and thick.
4) Leave to cool before spooning over the Victoria Sponge. Don't let it set entirely because you need to pour it over the cake, but once it has been spooned over the cake you can let it set properly.

As you can see, my sponge did not fluff up (for lack of a better expression). This is not as I had hoped, but all fault rests on my unbalanced shoulders, tipping too much under the weight of my fallibility. Though delicious (what could not be with such glorious ingredients...especially the divine French black cherry jam), I am not content and vow to you that I will not act without reservation again. There is something to be said about thought and consideration, especially when it comes to baking. You really cannot just do as you please unless you understand the principles behind the methods of preparation. If an author does not give all the information, don't do as I did and just make it up. Stop and do some cross-referencing, or follow the recipes exactly.

Lessons learned.

Labels: Beatrice Ojakangas, Cake, Chocolate, Chocolate Brownie, Ganache, Nigella Lawson, Sponge Cake, Victoria Sponge, Walnuts

I thought that I was like most people, which is to say: I thought that I was a chocolate-lover. This year has taught me that I don't especially care for it in all forms, mostly because I don't think it is always accented enough. My angelheart Eric will tell you that I scoff chocolate biscuits (cookies) if they're around, and he'd be right. But that is only because they are in the pantry, from which I have taken many a biscuit. It's not a chocolate addiction, but a habit of snacking when I need a break from trying to read and write my thesis.

In its least overworked form, which is to say melted with cream and formed into a truffle, chocolate can satisfy me. But I think that my favourite use of chocolate is in a cake or pudding. I love it to be rich in chocolate goodness and never diluted of flavour. Too many flavourings are a bad thing in my books when it comes to cooking with chocolate - and though I am sad to say it, I don't often go in for fancy truffles that incoporate every ingredient under the sun (I might however be attempted to try some of Vosges' delights, following the review by Garrett of Vanilla Garlic). I find that even a small amount of freshly ground coffee heightens the flavour of the chocolate. And I am a sucker for pairing brandy with chocolate. (I'm sure, by now, you have seen that brandy is my preferred plonk with which to bake and cook.)

You can melt chocolate on a stovetop or in a microwave. If you are going to use your stovetop, a double-boiler will need to be constructed out of a saucepan and a non-reactive bowl. Bring water in the saucepan to a boil then turn down to simmer. Place a bowl over the saucepan, into which is placed the chocolate. The bottom of the bowl should never touch the water. Chocolate melts at 30 C/95 F but burns, splits and cannot be used if it reaches or surpasses a temperature of 50 C/120 F.

Dense Chocolate Cake
(Adapted from Nigella Lawson's How To Be A Domestic Goddess)

225g/1 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 2/3 cups brown sugar
2 large eggs, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
120g bittersweet (70%) chocolate, melted
1 tablespoon coffee, freshly ground
1 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
1 cup boiling water
1 tablespoon brandy

1) Preheat oven to 190 C/375 F.
2) Butter and line your baking vessel. A 23 x 13cm/9 x 5" loaf pan is ideal. I used a 24cm/9" springform cake pan. I have one loaf pan, which is half the dimensions, and I didn't not want to halve the recipe for fear of seeming miserly. I couldn't think quickly enough as to what I would do with the remainder of the batter, save for eating it (I'm not above eating raw egg and flour - goodness only knows how often I ate the biscuit dough when mum wasn't looking), hence the springform pan. Place baking vessel on a lined baking sheet in case there is a bit of spillage.
3) Cream the butter and sugar until fluffy.
4) Beat eggs in well.
5) Fold in the melted and slightly cooled chocolate until blended, but do not overbeat because there is still more folding to come.
6) Combine coffee, flour and bicarbonate of soda.
7) Add flour and bicarb mix by the spoonful to the chocolate mix alternately with a spoonful of boiling water. This takes a while to do, folding with each addition, but it only requires patience, not technical prowess.
8) Stir in the brandy.
9) The batter will have the appearance of swamp mud - that is to say, it will look quite liquid.
10) Pour into prepared baking vessel.
11) Bake for 30 minutes, then turn the temperature down to 163 C/325 F to bake for a further 15 minutes.
12) The loaf will not pass a skewer test, for it is meant to be quite damp in the centre, but the outside should look done.
13) Cool completely on a rack before opening the springform pan or turning it out, if in a loaf pan.

If using a loaf pan, the cake will sink in the middle because it is damp in the centre. The photo to the left should give you an indication of that. However, the top is fairly crisp, adding a textural contrast to the interior. As much as I love brandy, any more would have been overkill; one tablespoon is enough for the cake to be slightly boozy, making it acceptable to eat before cocktail hour.

Labels: Afternoon Tea, Cake, Chocolate, Chocolate Cake, Coffee, Nigella Lawson

I am aware that today's recipe may not be the most inspiring because I am making yet another tart. Yes, another tart recipe. Well, what can I say? It is Saturday. Though not suffering from an alcohol-induced hang-over (those days are very few and far between, anyway), I am suffering one from too much reading. I just don't want to think anymore. And the best lunch time meal I can make without thinking is a tart.

Having said that, I cannot leave well alone any recipe, even if it is a simple one of onions or leeks, so I am keen to share any success from my tinkering.

Today there are a few sources of inspiration. Primarily I am motivated by the Caramelised Onion and Anchovy Tart that features in this month's Donna Hay Magazine. I am slowly developing a liking for anchovies, the salty fishes that augment a roast of lamb with savoury depth or that gives heads of garlic roasted in olive oil an edge of nuttiness (see my Bagna Cauda). I just didn't have any on hand, and, because I wanted to relax in the kitchen for a bit, I was inclined to make my own pastry - just not a puff pastry, which is what the Donna Hay recipe uses. I also thought making the caramelised onions more complex with the inclusion of a herb, as in Suzanne Goin's Saffron Onions, and with the addition of alcohol, like Tamasin Day-Lewis' sherry-sozzled adaptation of the Markwicks' Blue Cheese and Tart with Red Onion Marmalade in The Art of the Tart: Savory and Sweet.

For the pastry, remember to start off with fridge-cold flour and butter, and also keep a cup of iced water to hand. As for the marscapone cheese and heavy cream that are used to make the "cheese topping," they lend incredible richness and smoothness. A mild, melting cheese ensures that the topping remains velvety and is not overpowering, for the caramelised onions should take centre stage here.

Rich Shortcrust Pastry
(from Nigella Lawson's How To Eat: Pleasures and Principles of Good Food)

5oz/140g flour, sifted
2 1/2oz/70g unsalted butter, cut up into small cubes
1 tablespoon orange juice (or lemon juice)
1 egg
1 pinch salt
black pepper, freshly ground
iced water, might not be necessary

1) In a bowl, rub together the flour and butter with the tips of your fingers until a granular consistency is reached.
2) Separate the egg. You can choose whether to keep the whites or not, for they can optionally be used after the pastry has baked blind.
3) To the egg yolk, lightly beat in the orange juice, salt, and pepper - one or two cranks from the pepper mill should suffice.
4) Mix egg and flour mixtures together with hands (mixing in one direction) or wooden spoon. You want the mixture to cohere into a ball. If it does not seem to be coming together, add **one** tablespoon of iced water at a time. You may not need any, but if you do need it, be careful not to add too much because you'll end up with a wet mess and the damage will be done - unless, of course, you want to pour out the excess and add in a bit more flour, but that is a gamble, and I wouldn't recommend it.
5) Once a ball has been formed, create a flat disc, and cover in cling-film. Refrigerate for 30 minutes.
6) Bring pastry out of the fridge and let rest for 5-10 minutes, to allow flexibility.
7) Preheat oven to 390 F/200 C.
8) Put pastry on a floured surface. Roll it out with a floured rolling pin, turning the pastry after each pass of the rolling pin to ensure it doesn't stick to your surface. Roll it out so it can fit into a prepared (that is to say, buttered and floured) 9 or 10" tart shell.
9) Allow to sit in tart shell in fridge for 15 minutes.
10) Cover pastry with parchment paper onto which put baking beans (this is to weight down the pastry, so it doesn't rise and bubble during the initial baking process).
11) Bake for 15 minutes.
12) Remove parchment paper and beans. Prick base with tines of fork and then dab egg whites over the surface to give a crispy result, if you kept the whites, that is.
13) Bake for a further 5 minutes.

Caramelised Onions
(Adapted from Tamasin Day-Lewis' The Art of the Tart: Savory and Sweet)

2 tablespoons olive oil
2oz/60g unsalted butter
2 medium onions, sliced thinly
1 small red onion, sliced thinly
1 1/2 tablespoons thyme (or as you prefer)
a pinch each of sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 pinch sugar
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
2 1/2 tablespoons brandy

1) In a skillet over medium heat, combine the olive oil and butter.
2) When the butter has melted, throw in the onions and thyme, followed by the salt, pepper, and sugar. Stir frequently, coating the onion slices in the oil and butter. Cook the slices down until quite feeble, approximately 25 minutes.
3) Stir in red wine vinegar and brandy. Once the alcohol has evaporated, remove from the heat.

Caramelised Onion Tart

Baked tart shell, as above
Caramelised onions, as above
1/4 cup marscapone cheese
1/4 cup heavy/double cream
1 cup grated Cheddar cheese, or whatever cheese you prefer
a pinch each of sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

1) Preheat oven to 390 F/200 C.
2) In a bowl, combine marscapone and cream until smooth, then add cheese, and a pinch each of salt and pepper.
3) Layer the onion over the base of the tart shell.
4) Pour the marscapone mixture over the onions.
5) Bake until golden, approximately 15 minutes.

The sweet aroma coming from the oven will let you know when this elegantly luscious tart is ready. The first flavour to appear, at least on my tastebuds, is the brandy-coated onions, then the cheese, and finally the thyme. The pastry is incredibly buttery and flaky, adding to the richness of the contents of the tart shell. Feel free to do without the adornments of thyme, but a student must glamourise his or her life from time to time, however simply. This is an easy and fulfilling lunch for any season, and it might be a recipe I keep tinkering with over the next two months when I seek refuge from Master's thesis-induced fatigue.

This post is being submitted to Sarina at Trini Gourmet, who is hosting this month's Hay Hay, It's Donna Day.

Post script Go here for the Hay, Hay, It's Donna Day # 15 round-up.

Labels: Hay Hay It's Donna Day, Nigella Lawson, Onions, Tamasin Day-Lewis, Tart

This month's Weekend Cookbook Challenge, started and maintained by Sara at one of my daily blog addictions - i like to cook - is being hosted by Paige at chef-girl.net. The instructions are just as I like them: loose - make a dish of any description to pair with a DVD of a movie or tv show. It didn't take me long to decide what to watch because MGM recently reissued a double-billing: Jean de Florette and Manon of the Spring.

These two Marcel Pagnol novels were adapted for the screen by Claude Berri, who also directed the films, and Gérard Brach. They are cautionary tales with biblical undertones that are set against the backdrop of what is often today still regarded as paradise: Provence.

This, however, is not the Provence most of us know. Its endless golden, rolling hills - often the epitome of Summer - are, here, the setting for greed, captured in the landscape through drought and unabating heat. In Jean de Florette, Gérard Dépardieu, playing the titular role of the hunchback, arrives in the provençale countryside with his loyal wife and adventurous daughter, after having inherited a large plot of land with a water source. What he doesn't know is that the spring has been sealed by his neighbours, the dim-witted though single-minded Ugolin (Daniel Auteuil) and avaricious entrepreneur César Soubeyran (exquisitely portrayed by Simone Signoret's husband, the elegant Yves Montand). The neighbours help the well-intentioned tax collector-cum-organic farmer to his ruin with the expectation of purchasing his land for their carnation venture. Manon des Sources sees Jean's daughter, Manon (portrayed by then ingénue, now international film star, Emmanuelle Béart) exacting vengeance on the conspirators.

This isn't meant to put you off your food, of course, for the landscapes are stunning, as are the village scenes: the farmers gathering in sunlit cafés despairing at their poor harvests, afternoon pastis under the shade of leafy trees, the gentlemen playing pétanque in the town square...In this oppressive Californian heat, and I proffer in any temperature, it is easy to be romanced by the azures and yellow ochres of la vie provençale.

The location of the source of life, as in the Garden of Eden, is amongst life-affirming trees. In this case, it is the fig tree. To eat while watching this film, I, thus, offer baked figs. This, to my mind, is the best way to have figs if one is to do anything to them - that is to say, not have them right off the tree. My usual additions to this Nigella Lawson recipe are a tart berry - this time red currants - and thyme (though, today, I couldn't find any in the fridge or on the spice rack; if you happen to have some, chuck in a tablespoon of fresh thyme or half a tablespoon of dried thyme). My substitution, as seems to be typical this Summer, is pistachios for almonds.

Broiled Figs
(Closely following Nigella Lawson's Forever Summer, in which they are described as Figs for A Thousand and One Nights)

12 Turkish or Mission figs (if medium-to-large, otherwise add more, as I did)
1/4 cup/55g unsalted butter
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon vanilla sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons rosewater
1 1/2 teaspoons orange-flower water
4 stems red currants
2 1/4 cups/510g mascarpone cheese
1/2 cup slivered almonds, toasted

1) Quarter the figs without pushing your paring knife through the base of each fig. The key is to leave them open-mouthed. Place them cosily in a baking dish that can withstand the heat of the broiler.
2) Melt butter in a saucepan before adding the cinnamon, sugar, and garden-scented waters. Stir to combine and pour over the figs.
3) Pull red currants from their stems with the tines of a fork and scatter over the figs.
4) Fire up the broiler, and once it is fierce, put the figs under it and blister them for a few minutes.
5) Serve figs with a dollop of mascarpone and strew with almonds.

Not only does this capture the heat of Provence, where figs are abundant, but its magical properties, by way of the waters, lift one on the cloudless skies of Summer. This is the perfect dish to which one should watch the exquisite Jean de Florette and Manon of the Spring. After the viewing, knock back a pastis and contemplate the philosophical debates addressed in these films.

Labels: Figs, Nigella Lawson, Weekend Cookbook Challenge

In 2005 Waitrose released a list of the top ten most useful cookery books, which was compiled by a group of respected chefs and cooks, most of whom had experience with writing cookery books. They left Nigella Lawson's seminal text, How To Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food, off the list, citing that it had not yet stood the test of time. However, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's The River Cottage Meat Book is fourth on the list and was published a good six years after La Lawson's book - clearly, his single-subject focus and trendy concern for the provenance of meat enraptured the panelists. I am not complaining about his presence on the list, of course, but I don't think I am alone out there in feeling that How To Eat is not only a useful and reliable cookery book, but in the nine years it has been on the shelves, it has saved my generation from would-only-be restaurant and takeout patrons. And I speak from experience, you understand.

How To Eat was the first cookery book my angelheart Eric and I received. It was a gift from the sassy sauciere queen Lily, who was also in the habit of watching Nigella Lawson's television programme, Nigella Bites, with us in 2000. There was something very mesmerising about the manner in which this sensible, efficient, and hilarious woman went about cooking. She made me think I could do it. Me? No, really...me? At that stage in my life, I was young, cosmopolitan, and had no sense to save money. Also, having not decided where to live yet, Eric and I were with my parents, and we decided to spend most nights out - that is, at restaurants, not cooking at home. It was only on nights home alone and, certainly when we had our own home, that I actually started paying attention to cooking seriously.

You don't have to be serious about cooking to have and use How To Eat. Think of it not only as literature, for those who would rather read than cook, but as a wise (and wise-cracking) friend, for everything you need and may be curious to know is revealed, confessionally, as if over a glass of wine, within 500-odd pages. Now, there are no overly technical passages on methods, so if you want that sort of cooking assistance, you need to refer to other sources; however, La Lawson's voice is clear and present through the method of each recipe, making you feel proficient in whatever recipe you choose to follow. In fact, La Lawson does not see the hundreds of recipes as ingredients and methods, but as a "conversation" she might be having with her readers. This very subjective perspective is greatly appealing and is part of Nigella Lawson's long-standing charm amongst the public - those who tout her abilities more than those in the professional circuit. Beyond the tone of the writing, the layout of How To Eat is organized by useful chapters (Basics, Etc, Cooking in Advance, One & Two, Fast Food, Weekend Lunch, Dinner, Low Fat, and Feeding Babies & Small Children) in addition to providing weight and temperature conversion tables, a purveyors' guide, and a complete bibliography.

In the Basics, Etc chapter, you will find that La Lawson not only provides information on how to achieve the classics (such as how to make mayonnaise, various sauces - hollandaise, bearnaise, and bechamel - and stock - chicken and vegetable), but she does it her way, insisting that time-honoured traditions are only as good as one's personal tastes. She often simplifies these dishes (not dumbing them down, though) for the home cook who often has little time and many demands. You may not need to ever make all of these, but if you want to dress up a steak, for example, there is a sauce to go with, other than a standard pan sauce, for which she has recipes aplenty peppered throughout the book. This first chapter is worth the price of the book alone, arming you with the skills to make pastry and custard, through to advice on how to roast chicken, make madeleines, and produce the perfect ice cream - in fact, she calls it The World's Best Chocolate Ice-Cream, and it is a recipe of Marcella Hazan's which is made in the usual way before adding a hit of luxury and depth: a custard base without vanilla into which is folded melted chocolate (I have used 100% before, which is too bitter; 70% was met - and continues to meet - with more success), cocoa powder and caramel - the wow factor, lending complex smokiness to the ice cream. I have never tasted a chocolate ice-cream that is better, and I can't agree more with its placement in the Basics, Etc chapter. Obviously, you need to know how to make this, and she also offers sincere advice to heed regarding what to keep in your fridge, freezer, and pantry.

Cooking In Advance offers recipes for those occasions when you have guests over and making numerous dishes at the last minute is the fast track to the nearest institution for the emotionally fragile. This chapter allows you to experiment and play - and if nothing works out, no one needs to know. Of course some food benefits from being cooked in advance, allowed to rest, and then reheated, such as soups and stews, like Italian Broth and Chicken and Chick Pea Tagine. La Lawson expresses the virtures of and offers assistance on planning for all these occasions.

For Nigella Lawson, the beauty of cooking for one is not sheer indulgence, though that is not a cardinal sin, but experimentation. Of course, some of us have compliant partners on whose tastebuds we can experiment. My angelheart Eric, fortunately, is most accomodating and is usually as curious as I am. I understand not everyone is that lucky, but what I know from La Lawson is that when you have guests over, it is not best to choose to make something wildly different and out of left-field. Best to try it on your own. In One & Two, I have been meaning to try the Duck with Pomegranate forever, but those of you who are foodies know well how this refrain goes and always have sticky page-markers on hand. Of course, this chapter is not replete with risk-taking ventures; there are extensions of well-known dishes, too, that have been amped up. La Lawson's Kale with Chorizo and Poached Egg simply amps up a Salade Lyonnaise by substituting the frisee for kale (which, in itself could be considered adventurous, but when cooked as tender as possible and stripped from the thick stems, it is like spinach but with less furry residue on your tongue) and the lardons for chorizo. The poached egg remains intact and acts to temper the spicy chorizo.

In Fast Food, Nigella Lawson points out a few things to consider for fast-cooking success, such as the preparation and overall cooking time, and that one must never take short-cuts with food that needs to cook longer. Cook only with ingredients that are supposed to be or can be cooked quickly. I have to say that this chapter is a sentimental favourite, for it contains the recipes I first used for Baked Figs (though her recipe in Forever Summer is infinitely better and provided the platform for the version my angelheart Eric and I now use) and for the famous Seven-Minute Steamed Chocolate Pudding, which friends still ask me to make, though I haven't for a couple of years actually (not to say I couldn't in a snap, for the pages in the book are chocolate-smudged, each smear a reminder of the times I relied on this page). I also love this chapter for introducing me to interesting spices to which added to meat, for example the Lamb with Garlicky Tahina and Cinnamon-Hot Rack of Lamb.

Weekend Food is one of the larger chapters in the book, celebrating the downtime of urbanites. Meals are often at lunchtime, for it is the more relaxed period for socialising around food. This is not to say that lunch is an after-thought but that menus can be simpler - the focus is on sharing time with friends, not embarking on culinary perfection. Menus are provided for these relaxed and intimate affairs as they are for grander feasts, for every now and then one just wants to have a dinner party, which is further explored in the following chapter, Dinner. In this chapter, though, some dishes require advance preparation and others just need to relax and hang around a bit. Though there are many favourites, the menu that most gets me drooling is the Spring-scented Lunch, which consists of: Tarragon French Roast Chicken; Leeks, Rice, Peas and Mangetouts; and Lemon Pie. This is an elegant menu, full of clean flavours. What I also greatly appreciate in this text are not only the musings peppered throughout the book (whether it be on the classic British Sunday roast, the virtues of salsa verde, or the best method for soft and crispy duck), but the extolling of recipes from previously-published cookery books as sources of inspiration. La Lawson gives credit to her inspirational references and then explains why she has changed things and what you might be interested in experimenting with, for example, the above-mentioned Lemon Pie is adapted from Norma McMillan's In A Shaker's Kitchen. Instead of macerating slices of lemons with the pith on, La Lawson removes them, preventing people from leaving the bitter rubble on the side of their plates. She also suggests topping it with a meringue, with indications on how to do so.

Personally, I am a sucker for menus; I love the time that has been taken to consider the relationship between each of the courses. So much of my re-reading of this book has been focussed on the Weekend Food and Dinner chapters - they are well-marked (and stained). The courses in the Dinner chapter may be more intensive and slightly more formal than the ones in the preceding chapter, but they are mood-enhancing, tangible yet atmospheric, and, above all, inspirational. Try this Early-Autumn Dinner on for size: Guacamole with Paprika-Toasted Potato Skins, Cod Wrapped in Ham and served with Sage and Onion Lentils, followed by Hazelnut Cake with a Redcurrant and Peach Salad. There is a harmony of the turning deciduous colours, starting with the pine-green skins of the guacamole, ending with the browns and reds of the cake and salad, the comforting hues of Autumn.

The Low Fat chapter restocks the fridge, freezer, and pantry with, obviously, low-fat alternatives. Not all flavour is to be done away with, for La Lawson eats big portions of low fat food and small portions of higher calorific food in order to maintain interest in eating while she is dieting. This chapter is broken into segments: Templefood (food with cleansing properties, such as Aromatic Chilli Beef Noodle Soup and Salmon Marinated in Den Miso), Salad Dressings (such as Roast Garlic and Lemon Dressing, which uses a healthy amount of vermouth), The Statutory Cook-and-Freeze-Ahead Section (this encourages you to always have low-fat and satisfying dishes on hand, which will hopefully prevent unhealthy snacking, like Vegetable Curry in Vegetable Sauce), and Pudding (the key tip is to not make high calorie desserts in low fat alternatives, for depravation may set it, so instead try her various ideas on what to do with fruit, and always keep a bar of chocolate handy, for small pieces to munch on from time to time).

When I first reached the chapter for Feeding Babies & Small Children, I skipped it. Children didn't feature on my path then, and for the moment I don't have any paternalistic urges, though my angelheart Eric does - but I don't need to invite you to witness our domestic differences on this important decision. There is a little baby-weaning chart and there is a mantra in this chapter: expose your children to everything. I suppose this is so they have appreciation for all foods as they get older and may prevent over-pickiness. There are a few recipes that appeal to me - and I mean, me, not my fictional children: Courgette Frittata, Veal, Liver and Bacon Mince Pie (apparently La Lawson has not found a child that dislikes this pie even though it contains liver), and Digestive Biscuits (these are hardy wheaten cookies that I grew up with, for they are my father's favourite cookie; it's great to have a recipe for them should I ever hanker for them and not be in New Zealand or any other part of the Commonwealth). Parents who are looking for standard dishes with a twist might find this chapter quite compelling.

Perhaps this is a biased review, for we have had this book for years, and it is a sentimental favourite. I do, however, hope the above hand-holding through the contents of the book more than suggests its utility. As is typical of Nigella Lawson's diplomatic manner, there are suggestions of what pairs well together and offerings of alternatives that encourage the reader to veer from her path. Additionally, there are dishes to create and summon for every occassion. If all else fails, there is, of course, her famously comforting and inspiring prose. Her voice, omniscient and encouraging, ensured my first forays into the previously-intimidating territory of the kitchen were successful. Because her recipes are drawn from years of experience and from all over the globe, I was willingly initiated along roads which up until then were unconsidered. Because of How To Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food), I discovered Claudia Roden and Paula Wolfert, and I have been set upon a path, still being laid, towards discovering my own palate, all the while being able to entertain for my nearest and dearest. I am confident this book will inspire you, too.

Chicken with Morels
(from the chapter One & Two of Nigella Lawson's How To Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food)

15g/ 1/4oz dried morels
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon olive oil
4 chicken thighs
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
2 tablespoons Marsala
1/2 stock cube (porcini or chicken)
1-2 tablespoons mascarpone

1) Place the morels in a measuring jug and pour hot (but not boiling) water over them, but no more than 200ml/6.7 fl. oz. Leave for 30 minutes.
2) Into a skillet, melt the butter and add the olive oil, then place the chicken thighs in, skin-side down. Make sure this is a skillet that has a lid, which will come into play later.
3) Remove the chicken thighs to a plate, skin-side up, when the skins are golden brown.
4) Over medium-heat and in the same skillet in which the thighs were browned, cook the onion and garlic.
5) Drain the morels, reserving the liquid, which you are to strain into a small saucepan. Heat the saucepan and keep the morel liquid hot.
6) Check the morels for any grit, then add them to the onion and garlic.
7) Put the chicken thighs back into the skillet, this time skin-side up, and add the Marsala.
8) Into the saucepan with the morel liquor, add the portion of stock cube and dissolve. Pour into the skillet with the thighs and cook until the thighs have cooked through, approximately 20-25 mintues.
9) Remove thighs to a warm plate and reduce the sauce, for which you can decide to remove the morels or keep them in the skillet. Push them to a side of the skillet away from the dominant hot spot if you keep them in the skillet, as I did.
10) Ladle out any fat before turning up the heat to high to reduce the sauce.
11) Stop when you have as much sauce as you like - generally, enough to coat the chicken thighs with a little for the merest hint of a pool. Turn off the heat.
12) Stir in the mascarpone. I only added 1 tablespoon, which provided enough creaminess for my tastes. You might like to add another. I also added a little more Marsala, following Nigella's suggestive lead.
13) Put the chicken thighs back into the skillet to cover with the sauce and then produce onto a plate, which you can fleck with finely chopped parsley.

For those who know me, this dish would evoke gasps as I usually detest mushrooms - don't ask me how many varieties I have tried. Though I am not fond of the texture of the morels - more for my angelheart Eric, then - I loved the morel poaching liquor. It was mildly sweet and without unusual earthy pungency, which I know some people happen to like. Immensely pleasurable and a cinch to make. Served wonderfully with brown rice and spinach sauted in olive oil and garlic.

Labels: Book Review, Chicken, Nigella Lawson

I don't know where your cookery books are, but - more often than not - my cookery books are in piles on a sofa, on a bedside table, or in the kitchen. It was with great satisfaction to put them all on the bookshelf, for my good friend, the talented and quick-witted Susan at The Well-Seasoned Cook, tagged me to participate in a meme that is meant to showcase seven randomly selected cookery books. How one randomly chooses from books piled up in two houses that are in two different countries is a bit of a problem because it eliminates some possibly whacky combinations. On the other hand, at least I don't have to get all of my cookery books into one room before randomly selecting seven of them. That presents a methodological issue anyway, for pile-making is not necessarily amenable to random selection on account of stabilising the piles by putting the largest on the bottom, thereby eliminating some books on account of where in the pile they fall. Instead of following any scientific method for random sampling (taking statistics papers at university has its upside), I went for an artistic approach. I went to the lounge, where the grand bookcase is, and just grabbed seven cookery books. I didn't really look or think - a blur of book spines passed before my eyes.

This is what I came up with:

Field Guide to Herbs and Spices by Aliza Green - A compact book that gives information on the general description of, season for, purchase information about, and storage ideas for all the herbs and spices you can think of - and then some. There are recipes, too, though not many for main courses. There are photos of the herbs and spices in their various forms and recipes for spice mixtures also. If it wasn't for this book, which my angelheart Eric came across, we would not have fallen in love with allspice and would not have made Green's recipe that features this unique spice in a vinaigry Jamaican Jerk-Spice Chicken. The information is dense and broad - if you ever wanted to make Moroccan majoun, which requires cannabis, there is a recipe for you, or if paprika is more your thing, try Ms. Green's Hazelnut Romesco Sauce. It is a handy and easy-to-use go-to book.

Sunday Suppers at Lucques: Seasonal Recipes from Market to Table by Suzanne Goin with Teri Gelber - Well, you have already seen some of my results from using this book with the Sweet Cherry Compote and the Braised Chicken with Saffron Onions. Largely informed by her Southern French proclivities, this chef creates rich and tasty dishes with seasonal Californian produce. The chapters are divided by season and the content for each is divised by menus, preceding which are details on what to look out for at farmers' markets. This book taught me how to make good use of the Long Beach and Santa Monica farmers' markets, and every time I flip through the book, there is a new recipe I want to try, like her kabocha squash and fennel soup. The menus make you feel sophisticated, but, more importantly, they teach you how to combine and highlight different flavors.

How to Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food by Nigella Lawson - This is the British cookery book that defined a generation and got the kitchen shy X-generation into the kitchen. With her gift for prose, making even the lengthiest recipe seem achievable, Ms. Lawson writes like your best friend - full of advice and tongue-in-cheek laughs, she is there for you every step of the way. This is the first cookery book my angelheart Eric and I received - from the sassy sauciere queen Lily - and the first thing I made was the 7-Minute Steamed Chocolate Pudding, which was made in a microwave (I was a kitchen virgin, after all) and taught me that not only was chocolate messy to cook with but I might actually enjoy myself in the kitchen. The next baby step I took was in the salad direction, Chestnut and Pancetta Salad. There are classic recipes, seasonal menus, tips for entertaining and pantry-filling success. If not within grasp in the kitchen, this book is found on the bedside table. A must have. Really.

Cooking School Secrets for Real World Cooks by Linda Carucci - When I first started cooking at home, I thought I had best learn some of the principles to cooking. I didn't want to burn the house down, and I didn't ever want to serve inedible food. Though recipes tell one what to do, they don't often say why one should do it. This book is packed with cooking methodologies, "recipe secrets" (such as how to make the perfect hard-cooked eggs, which cream cheese is best for cheesecakes, and how to make the perfect risotto, to name a few) and information on how to make the most of your palate, kitchen equipment, and produce. Dense and interesting reading for those with inquiring minds.

Eat This Book: Cooking with Global Fresh Flavors by Tyler Florence - I am indebted to this man for his Roasted Chicken Stuffed with Lemon and Herbs. This is the method that really works well for me and my angelheart Eric, though we have since changed the citrus and herbs out for others that we prefer and we use less oil. I know that 'roast chicken' are fighting words in the world of cooking, but this recipe is a great introduction for those who don't know how or are afraid to make one - this is indeed the very recipe I taught to my galpal, the cocktail-swilling and sparkling Sarah. Otherwise, the book features largely Chinese-inspired twists on food, with forays into the territories of Argentina, Spain, India, and Mexico, to name a few. This is the go-to book for big flavors, whether you're making sauces, spice mixtures, vegetables, poultry, meat, seafood, or dessert. Mr. Florence's Curried Cauliflower with Chickpeas and Tomatoes and Argentinian Gaucho Steak (which first introduced me and my angelheart Eric to chimichurri) are swoon-worthy.

Mexican Everyday by Rick Bayless with Deann Groen Bayless - In California, the Mexican food is great, but this book is designed to show that there is more to this cuisine than pork burritos and guacamole, though I happen to love both. Mr. Bayless' recipes constitute the great Mexican food found predominantly away from the tourist traps. There is an excellent introduction to Mexican ingredients, and his "riffs" peppered throughout the book provide good alternative methods or ingredients to his recipes. I cooked a lot from this book last Summer, particularly when my good friend, the cocktail-swilling and sparkling Sarah stayed with my angelheart Eric and I for one month - and her view of Mexican food was transformed. Mine has been, too. I have had incredible and repeated success with Sinaloan Grilled Roadside Whole Chicken with Knob Onions and Roasted Tomatillo Salsa .

The Book of Jewish Food: An Odyssey From Samarkand to New York With More Than 800 Ashkenazi and Sephardi Recipes by Claudia Roden - This book is a carefully documented text that examines various aspects of Jewish life all over the world - from history (the 'discovery' of Jews in China), to cultural insights (how gefilte fish came about), to recipes (including an account of bagels). The recipes are divided into two sections: first presenting Ashkenazi recipes, then those Sephardi. This is not a book for those who need photos, though there are black and white stills of people (as opposed to food). Ms. Roden's prose is engaging and precise, painting a better and more erudite picture than any photo could. This is the book I use for Chicken Stock and Knaidlach, and there are hundreds more incredibly interesting recipes (from Plum Soup to Lokshen Kugel to Trieste Yeast Roll) to follow. This book will expand your culinary repertoire whilst giving you superlative cultural insight.

This is a really fun meme for foodies, who are usually known for constantly reading cookery books. I have decided to pass the baton to:

Freya at Writing At the Kitchen Table
Cenk at Cafe Fernando
Jasmine at Confessions of a Cardamom Addict
Pille at Nami-nami
Sara at i like to cook
Emma at The Laughing Gastronome
Joe at Culinary in the Country

Labels: Aliza Green, Claudia Roden, Linda Carucci, Nigella Lawson, Rick Bayless, Suzanne Goin, Tyler Florence

I cannot tell you how much I look forward to Easter every year only so I can eat these sweet buns. Even as a child I would choose to eat these over chocolate. Although there are many good commercial versions around, they are "seasonal", and I have eaten all the bags of buns I froze (!).



I cannot wait until Easter next year to have them again, so I decided to make my own, tradition be damned.

I am purposefully dipping into the Nigella pool this month, having long had all of her books but not made enough use of them. My source for hot cross buns is La Lawson's Feast: Food That Celebrates Life, a fabulous and densely-packed cookery book that covers appropriate dishes for festive celebrations, traditional, sentimental, and in-between. I only veered from her list of ingredients three times: I couldn't locate cardamom pods before making the buns, so I decided to forego them as an ingredient altogether (I have since found them!); in place of bread flour, which Ms. Lawson insists upon, I used all-purpose flour, adding an extra tablespoon per cup for the extra gluten; and I substituted icing sugar for superfine sugar.

Hot Cross Buns
(from Nigella Lawson's Feast: Food That Celebrates Life

For the dough:
2/3 cup milk
57g/2oz butter
zest of an orange
1 clove
3 cups and 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour (or 3 cups bread flour)
7.5g/1/4oz active dry yeast
3/4 cup mixed dried fruit (I used apple, pineapple, sultanas, apricot, and peach)
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg, freshly grated
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1 egg

For the crosses:
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/2 tablespoon icing sugar
2 tablespoons water

For the glaze:
1 tablespoon icing sugar
1 tablespoon boiling water

The procedure seems long but no step is very difficult, unless you're a wuss when it comes to kneading (in which case I hope you have an electric mixer with a dough hook):

1) Heat the milk, butter, orange zest, and clove (and three split cardamom pods, if using) until scalding point. Take off the heat, cover, and leave to infuse. 2) Dump into a bowl and mix together the flour, yeast, dried fruit and spices, and stir together.
3) When the aromatic milk has cooled down to 37 C/98.6 F, take out the clove (and cardamom pods), beat in the egg, then mix into the dry ingredients.
4) On a floured surface knead the dough by hand, or in an electric mixer, knead with a dough hook. Stop when the dough is silky and like elastic, though it will not be entirely smooth because of the dried fruit (Ms. Lawson's logical input).
5) Form dough into a ball, then place it in a buttered bowl. You can cover it with cling-film and pop it in the fridge over night, or you can cover it with a kitchen towel and leave in a warm place for 1 - 1 1/2 hours.
6) Bring dough to room temperature if removing it from fridge.
7) Punch down the dough and knead on a floured surface until smooth and elastic, as before.
8) Make around sixteen buns. I did this by dividing the dough first into halves, each half into half again (quarters), then each quarter into half once more (eighths), and finally each eighth in half (sixteenths). Sorry for the lame math, but it is easier than figuring it out one-by-one and the resulting size of each ball is more or less equivalent.
9) Snugly fit the buns on a baking tray covered with parchment paper.
10) Preheat oven to 200 C/425 F.
11) With the back of knife, imprint a cross on each bun, cover with a kitchen towel, and leave to prove for 45 minutes.
12) Make an egg wash and brush the buns with it.

To make the crosses:
1) Make a smooth and thick paste by mixing together the flour, sugar, and water in a small bowl.
2) Use a spoon to dribble the paste into the cross-shaped indentations on the buns.

Bake the buns for 15-20 minutes. To ensure buns are baked, pierce a skewer or toothpick into the centre of a chosen bun, and if it comes out clean, the baking is done. The buns should be fragrant by then (the nose knows...).

To make the glaze:
1) Mix icing sugar and boiling water together, ensuring a smooth consistency.
2) Brush onto the hot buns, rendering them glossy and sweeter.

You cannot beat the aroma that comes out of the oven. The fluffy interior is alive with spicy, sweet goodness (the hint of ginger is always dizzying to me). They are incredible once cooled and reheated in the microwave, for they are more easily halved to be spread with the jam or preserves of your choice, but they are just amazing slathered with butter or eaten plain (as I often have them). After a few more attempts, my hot cross buns will look perfect for Easter 2008!

Labels: Bread, Buns, Easter, Holidays, Hot Cross Buns, Nigella Lawson

Somewhere along the way, Nigella Lawson's fairy cakes have become the benchmark to which we in the food blogging community compare our cupcakes. Most of us have made La Lawson's version. I'm convinced the cover of her How To Be a Domestic Goddess is responsible - a solitary vanilla cupcake upon which sits a delicate candied flower, probably a blogger's definition of a pretty baked good.

For the longest time, and years before now, my breakfast consisted of a blueberry muffin and a long black (a double espresso with extra hot water). I have not found any authoritative take on the difference between a muffin and a cupcake. My copy of Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook is in the US, and this would probably serve as the most definitive text on the subject I own. The internet hasn't been much help. And, being of English extraction, there is no entry in the Larousse tomes. In all the recipes I have had a squiz at, there is no marked ratio of flour to butter that distinguishes them, both can call on rising agents, nuts, and fruit. So, why is it that when we see them, we know the difference? I come to the quick conclusion that cupcakes are cute little cakes that are smaller than the size of your palm (unless you're a baby or have really tiny palms) whereas muffins are stockier little cakes about the size of your palm and possibly bigger - especially if those "markets" specialising in selling bulk items have anything to say about it.

Though I no longer get breakfast on the go, or at least I have not done so for years, I have reinstituted afternoon tea, an important and necessary part of my day. This is when I have a small slice of cake or, now, a sweet cupcake to get me through often braindead hours of 3-5pm.

The following recipe makes 12 cupcakes. If you do not have self-rising cake flour, sift together 3/4 cup of all purpose flour, 1 teaspoon of baking powder and 1/8 teaspoon of salt.

Fairy Cakes
(from Nigella Lawson's How To Be a Domestic Goddess)

1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
7 tablespoons sugar
2 eggs
3/4 cup self-rising cake flour
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2-3 tablespoons milk

1) Preheat the oven to 200 C/400 F and line a 12-cup muffin pan with paper baking cups.
2) Cream the butter and sugar.
3) Gently beat in the vanilla.
4) Gently beat in the eggs on at a time and in between each add a tablespoon of flour.
5) Fold in the rest of the flour.
6) Add the milk by the tablespoon to bring to a soft constitution, suitable for dropping into the muffin cups.
7) Pour the mixture into each of the 12 muffin cups, filling them up equally, usually about halfway.
8) Bake for 15-20 minutes, by which stage the cupcakes should be cooked and golden on top. To see if the cupcakes are done, insert a toothpick through the top of a cupcake to the middle, and if it comes out clean, remove the muffin pan from the oven.
9) Allow cupcakes to cool on a wire rack as soon as you can manage to remove the baking cups from the muffin tray.

Cream Cheese Icing
(Adapted from Nigella Lawson's How To Be a Domestic Goddess)

1/2 cup cream cheese
1 2/3 cups icing sugar
1-2 teaspoons orange juice

1) Beat the cream cheese and icing sugar together until smooth and soft.
2) Mix in 1 teaspoon of orange juice and taste. If you want more juice, feel free to add another teaspoon, as I did.

To assemble: Smear the icing on the cupcakes with a butter knife. I typically do without adornments, but abandon yourself to the impulses of decorating if you so desire.

I know you are sick of the webcam photos, but there are only 5 more weeks until I am reunited with my baby (my angelheart Eric has custody of our digital camera). If I got too close to the cupcake, the texture was even blurrier than it is in this photo. I tried. The cupcakes are tasty, with a hint of vanilla. The icing has a slight tang, offsetting the mild sweetness in the cupcake. I might add a vanilla bean and grapefruit juice next time.

Labels: Afternoon Tea, Cake, cupcakes, Fairy cakes, Nigella Lawson