The Great Christmas Bake-Off

Boy am I glad to be within touching distance of Christmas Eve. One cake left to bake and deliver and then it'll be time for Christmas Cocktails, sausage rolls and mince-pies with the family. Unbeknownst to the producers at the BBC, the Great Christmas Bake-Off has been taking place in my kitchen for the last few weeks. As the days progressed, the challenges grew, well, more challenging. I was contestant and judge all rolled into one. Depending on the day (or the hour frankly) I was either the calm, steady contestant, unflappable in the face of disaster, or the one who gets that slightly crazed look before rapidly descending into a frenzied panic as the tasks mount up. When in judging-mode, I was more Paul Hollywood than Mary Berry - a tough task-master and harsh critic. 

First came the legion of angels (yep, that's them lined up for their photo-op above) - iced gingerbread angel biscuits, with hand-painted golden halos. Angels made a return appearance the following weekend (more a host than a legion this time), along with a copse of Christmas Trees and a small flurry of Snowflakes. These featured the Christmas-Spiced Chocolate biscuits (i.e. chocolate gingerbread) that I had tried-out last month and proved very popular. 

In between, I've been busy rustling up batches of puddini, chocolate and peanut-butter cups, fudge and Christmas Tree Decoration biscuits. As someone who loves language (I am a word nerd and have been known to read the dictionary for fun), I started thinking about collective nouns. Looking at a table full of puddini truffles and cooling racks lined with biscuits, I wanted a word other than 'batch' to describe them (my mind is indeed a strange and wondrous place). Most of the collective nouns in the English language relate to animals or birds and some are fairly well-known (a herd of cattle for instance or a flock of seagulls) but some are brilliantly obscure and descriptive, often conjuring up amusing images - a congregation of alligators (all neatly dressed for mass), a gang of elk and a mob of emus (villains of the animal kingdom?), a bloat of hippopotamuses and a waddling of ducks (how apt). There are even some for us humans - a blush of boys, a draught of butlers, a hastiness of cooks and a superfluity of nuns - while right at the top of the heap is the pantheon of gods.

A twinkle of Tiny Christmas Cakes

So what then to call my myriad little Christmas confections? Perhaps a jolly of puddini truffles, a jingle of Christmas Tree decoration biscuits and a chime of chocolate and peanut-butter cups? I could bake a scent of gingerbread men and decorate a twinkle of Tiny Christmas Cakes. Much better than boring old 'batch' every time. The next time the phone rings, I can answer and say 'Sorry, can't talk, I'm in the middle of stirring up a bauble of fudge'. Festive collective nouns? Language is constantly evolving, so why not? 

On the subject of language, and more specifically words, I was playing with a new toy the other day - tiny little letter stamps that can be arranged on a rack to make whatever word you choose, which you then impress onto a biscuit before it's baked. In my defence, I was quite tired and brain-addled at the time, so working out which way the letters had to go was probably more of a challenge than it should have been (they're all back-to-front so that when impressed, they come out the right way). As a result, my planned Christmas star biscuit with 'star' written on it, became 'rats' ('Oh rats!' she cried when she realised what she had done). Not quite the traditional nativity scene eh? 'So the three wise men followed the Christmas rats to Bethlehem, where they found the Baby Jesus in the manger'. And on that note, I wish you a very merry, twinkly Christmas, rats and all.

Mrs Santa Claus

Groom & Bride iced biscuits

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, which I can only hope, since I have indeed been absent for a few weeks now. My world of crazy got even crazier, with baking and archaeology colliding, leaving me in a sad little heap on the floor (No.2 Sister talked me safely down off the ledge). I had an early order of puddini and gingerbread men to get ready last weekend, a large order of iced-biscuit wedding favours to make during the week and spreadsheets of archaeological sites and monuments to sort. I was firing on all cylinders until finally, my brain hurting from the academic work and my hands cramping from all the piped-icing detail, I reached this weekend. Oh the relief!

Not that all work here ceased. I wanted to get ahead with some of the Christmas order prep, but thankfully No.1 Sister appeared like an angel at my door to lend a much-needed hand. We made sugar-paste stars and crowns (now dry and ready to be sprayed with edible gold paint) and cut out lots of little Christmas tags. What with the extremely busy couple of weeks and the early batch of puddini-making bringing me firmly into festive mode, I am considering a name change to Mrs Santa Claus (without the physical festive upgrade to plump, grey-haired and red-cheeked please). I even had the able-assistance of a little elf in my workshop yesterday (a.k.a. my sister). But even Mrs Clause needs a break every now and again and while my plan for today is to relax, read the Sunday papers and recharge my batteries for the week ahead, already I can feel the cogs in my mind starting to turn, listing all of the things I really should be doing instead...the Christmas cakes need feeding ... biscuit dough to make ... Gingerbread men to get ready... next batch of puddini to prepare...

Just in the nick of time of I spoke to No.3 Sister, who has ordered me to expel all such thoughts from my mind and camp out on the sofa for the rest of the day. So the Tiny Christmas cakes can wait (that's them in the photo, fresh from the oven last month - it feels slightly wrong to be displaying them naked, without even their marzipan underwear on, but I promise, the next time you see them, they will be fully dressed) and so too can all of the other chores I could or should be doing. Given that it's the first of December and XmasFM is broadcasting live once more, I think it's time to stop and smell the roses (or the cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg). In the spirit of all things festive, I thought I'd also post a picture I took of the last piece of that chocolate gingerbread biscuit batch (now more aptly named the Christmas-Spiced Chocolate Biscuit). It's a Christmas tree shape and I was playing around with some icing to plan out a design for this year's Christmas biscuits. I hope it infects you with some of my Christmas spirit. Yes folks, it is indeed beginning to look alot like Christmas!

Big Biscuit Love

For a girl who, as a rule, doesn't really love biscuits, this weekend was an eye-opener. Yes, you are right in thinking that I bake and ice an awful lot of biscuits for someone who isn't too fond of them. I am an equal opportunity baker though and while I will take a cake or piece of chocolate over a biscuit any day, I am well aware that there are veritable hordes of biscuit lovers out there, for whom nothing else will do. I do love baking them, mind you - biscuit and cookie dough is quick to make and of course, being small means that they bake in no time at all.

You might think that the use of 'biscuit' vs. 'cookie' is simple word-play - and to an extent it is, in that an American would use cookie to describe our biscuits and vice versa - but there is a generally accepted technical difference (not always adhered to). Usually, biscuits are short and crisp (using no raising agent), compared with the softer, chewier texture of a cookie (which uses either baking powder or egg in the recipe). This is why a biscuit dough is often easier to roll and cut into shapes, which hold well during baking. A cookie dough, on the other hand, will usually spread and rise once it hits the heat of the oven - some of the doughs are quite soft and sticky, so you simply drop a ball or scoop of dough onto the baking tray and either press it lightly or just leave it to form its own shape as it bakes. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule and occasions when biscuit and cookie collide, so I'm never too pernickety about which word is used.

Getting back to my biscuity weekend, the cookie in the photo is one the few exceptions to my 'I don't love biscuits' stance. It's a recipe I have been baking for years (now that I think of it, I do believe this was the recipe that eased my coming-out to work colleagues - a box of these chocolate and peanut-butter cookies quickly outed my closet baker). They are really easy to make and a satisfying combination of crispy edge, slightly soft / chewy middle, salty peanut-butter, melting dark chocolate chips and the crunch of roughly chopped peanuts. I would be no friend at all if I didn't share this particular recipe, so I have typed it out below. And before you accuse me of a swift about-turn on my Choc/PB baking ban, these were a treat baked by No.1 Sister and presented with a cup of coffee when I went to visit on Saturday. Frankly, it would have been rude to say no and I am nothing if not a stickler for etiquette. Delicious.

From cookie to biscuit in less than 24 hours - yesterday I made a batch of gingerbread men and camels in preparation for the Christmas run (they now sit happily in the freezer, waiting patiently until it's time to be baked to order). Naturally, I baked a couple of off-cuts to taste-test the batch (one of the terrible trials of a baker's life). Again, delicious. But there was something even better. As an experiment, I decided to do a small, trial batch of chocolate gingerbread biscuits (substituting a small amount of cocoa for flour). I wasn't entirely sure how this would work - Would the cocoa overwhelm the gingerbread? Improve it? Chocolatey enough or just a background note in a regular gingerbread biscuit? No.3 Sister, who adores a ginger biscuit, would tell me not to mess with a good thing. She would see this as Dr Frankenstein making mischief in the lab and creating a monster hybrid - she's not a fan of Evil Chocolate (her words, not mine obviously). But as for me, I just had to give it go. The concept was too fabulous not to try (recipe below if you'd like a go too).

Oh Lord. The smell of Christmas and chocolate wafting from the oven was almost enough to make me swoon. As for the taste - words fail me, but 'Yum!' will do for now. This one is a keeper. It's not just the pairing of two of nature's firm friends - chocolate and ginger. The orange zest in the recipe (another fabulous flavour partner for chocolate) and the warmth of the background spices (cinnamon and a hint of nutmeg and cloves) all join together in happy matrimony with the cocoa and ginger. Whether it's an official polygamous marriage or just a big ol' hippy love-in, this biscuit is here to stay.
 

Malty goodness...

In a moment of sheer madness, I have decided to go cold turkey on the chocolate and peanut-butter combo. Well, OK, I will make an exception for a spot of Nutella and PB on toast every so often, but in terms of cake- and treat-making, I am abstaining. If there was a badge for this sort of thing (the kind that teetotallers wear perhaps?), I could pin in to my collar as a constant reminder to be good.

'But why?' I hear you cry. Why indeed. The fog of madness has yet to clear, but I am sure there's a good reason in there somewhere. Maybe it's a fear that one day, if I'm not careful, I might grow tired of it (surely not). Certainly, there's no harm in having a little break (last week's post made me realise I was somewhat obsessed); absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. In the meantime, I can enjoy baking something new (yes, that is the fabulous malt loaf you see in the picture) and get re-acquainted with some old favourites (Christmas baking here I come).

So on to more important things - the malt loaf. A very tasty treat indeed. If I had to describe it somehow, it's like tea-brack on speed. All the satisfyingly dense fruitiness of the tea-brack, with a kick of malty goodness thrown in to bring an element of comfort to the whole experience. There's something about the flavour of malt that makes me feel like I'm wrapped in a duvet, sitting in a big cosy armchair in front of a roaring fire. A cup of Ovaltine has the same effect, but is (obviously) limited in its application. The malt loaf on the other hand, keeps well for ages and is (most importantly) portable. It tasted just as good sitting in my car on a break from field-walking last week, as it did when I ate it in the more civilised surrounds of Mam's kitchen, with a cup of coffee to hand.

It's also incredibly easy to make - pretty much melt, stir and bake. I found the original recipe online, on the BBC Good Food website (a brilliant resource for recipes of all sorts by the way), but tweaked it a little, reducing the sugar and enriching it with a little butter (how can that be bad, as the Barefoot Contessa might say). For those of you who like to use Spelt flour - I tried it and it works wonderfully, though it produces a slightly more dense loaf. Mam and No.3 Sister preferred the Spelt version, though myself and No.1 Sister were fans of the regular flour loaf. If you want to try the Spelt flour option, simply replace the plain flour in the recipe with the same weight in Spelt. I've written the recipe out below, so fellow bakers, it's over to you.


Now just one teensy little confession before I go: I ate some M&Ms of the peanut variety today (I'm weak) and in a rather exciting moment, I found a doubler - a super-sized, siamese-twin peanut M&M. It's moments like this that make a day perfect.

My baking bucket list...

The more my time is squeezed by the daily grind, the longer my baking bucket list grows, with tempting pictures and recipes everywhere I turn. There must be a version of Murphy's Law for cakes - the less time I have for baking, the more new recipes I find to try. I'm playing a game of catch-up, to try to squeeze in as many trials as I can before the preparations for Christmas baking start to take over. So here are some of the rather irresistible treats I want to make before things get all festive and I find myself immersed in a fog of cinnamon, nutmeg and mixed spice:

1. Peanut-Butter Crispy Bars. I've come across these in a few places over the last few months. If Millionaire Shortbread and Chocolate Krispie Bars got together and had little baby bars, this would be them. The tempting picture comes from the Smitten Kitchen blog - I'm immediately thinking, a much thicker layer of krispie and a shallower peanut-butter caramel layer... 
2. Peanut-Butter Crispy Roll. A slight cheat this one, as it's essenitally a version of No.1. Instead of careful layers and neat squares, everything is mushed together, then allowed to set in a tray before being rolled up like a Swiss Roll and sliced (sometimes with a thin layer of choc spread over it before rolling, which looks very pretty when sliced). My sister tasted this at a party recently and loved it.
3. Chocolate Oatmeal Peanut-Butter Bars (picture above courtesy of Bakingdom blog). If I'm honest, it was the look of the topping on this that got me and the idea of the three main components together, which sounds fabulous. I've yet to be convinced by the biscuit-type base, but I'm sure if I put my Baking Cap on, I can find a way to make this work. 
4. I've realised as I compile this list, that I have a serious peanut-butter addiction - the top three items on the list being a variation on the choc & pb theme. (Perhaps I should re-name the blog 'Tales from a girl who loves peanut butter' - I have been known to snack on Crunchy P-B straight from the jar.) But there is one item that I've been longing to make for ages now and I finally got round to finding a recipe - it's not chocolate or peanut-butter (amazingly enough). It's a very simple malted loaf.

To explain - I love Maltana (yes, the one that you buy in the supermarket, that is so incredibly more-ish that I have to ban it from my shopping trolley), but I wanted to find a non-yeast, quick version that was just as satisfying. This is partly because my sister (who loves Maltana as much as I do) currently has a ban on yeast and also because the yeast version is, naturally, more time-consuming. Delayed gratification? Not when it comes to me and malty-goodness. 

The recipe I found (on BBC Good Food - pictured above) appears for all the world to be a tea-brack that has been given an injection of malt (and of course, tea-brack is fabulously quick and easy to make). It comes with a 'good for you' tag, because of the lack of butter or other fat in the recipe, though the amount of sugar (of the refined and dried fruit variety) certainly makes up for that. I can't wait to see if this loaf can compare to a fabulous Maltana. I might just eschew the chocolate and peanut butter for a week or two and put this one to the top of the bucket list. Weekend baking here I come.

Dairy goodness

Meringue roulade with strawberries and lovely cream 

My feelings towards cattle are conflicted (not the opening statement you were expecting I'm sure).On the one hand, I very much dislike them (Oh let me count the ways). If you've never stood nose to nose with a cow or bullock (never mind an actual bull - yikes!), I have to tell you that they are bigger, smellier and more menacing than you would imagine (yes, menacing - I've definitely had some give me the evil eye). Farmers are always telling me 'not to worry, sure they won't touch you'. But what does that mean exactly? What do they mean by 'touch'?  It certainly doesn't mean that they won't rock right on up to you at an awkward gallop, jostling with their bovine buddies and climbing up on each other to see who can get closest to you (no, I didn't know they could do that either). Generally, at this point (if possible) I head for the nearest cattle wire and hop quickly over it before the herd arrive (all very calmly as you can imagine; not a moment of panic). Meanwhile, the herd gather as close as is bovinely possibly, snorting and drooling and doing other things that I won't mention on a baking blog. Lovely. 

So why am I conflicted? Well, I do love a nice steak every now and then, or a spicy chilli con carne or a warming beef stew in the winter (hello cow meat). Most important, though, are the fabulous and versatile dairy products. I adore milk, butter, yoghurt and cheese in their natural state and of course, they are used in an infinite number of cakes, desserts and confectionary to delicious effect. Irish dairy products are rightly considered some of the best in the world, which is of course, down to cattle grazing their days away in our lovely green fields. Most people think that the recent growth of artisan cheese in this country is something new, remembering the choice of either cheddar or the 'cheese' spreads and slices of our youth (Easi-Singles anyone?). The Irish annals (records kept by monks from the early medieval period onwards), however, mention over 400 different types of cheese and milk products in Ireland. Cattle were the currency of the day and the bigger your herd, the greater your wealth and position. Clearly, we lost our way sometime over the last 1600 years, descending from such dizzy, dairy heights to become purveyors of processed cheese and margarine. 

Having said that, one of my most treasured food memories from childhood was being first to pop open the foil disc on top of the milk bottle, so that I could have the creamy top on my cornflakes. (Melted butter on toast was another favourite.) So processed cheese and margarine aside, the potential for greatness was always there in the raw product. And aren't we lucky? Fudge would not be quite so fabulous without milk and butter. Chocolate fudge (butter) icing, cheesecake, shortbread, rice pudding, anything containing cream... more sweet things than my poor little brain could list and all of them rely on really good quality dairy products to be at their best (like the lovely strawberry meringue roulade made by No.1 Sister that features in today's photos). I guess this means that I should be grateful for the countless cattle that glare and snort at me in the fields when I'm out and about. Sigh. I'll just need to be quicker on my feet to avoid getting too close!

Foodie heaven

I was watching a documentary recently about the life of Myrtle Allen, the doyenne of fabulous Irish food and the matriarch of Ballymaloe House. It was a fascinating story of one woman's determination to source and cook good, wholesome, seasonal Irish food, be it for family, friends or paying customers in her restaurant. Myrtle Allen - and the Ballymaloe restaurant and cookery school - has had an incredible effect on the food scene in Ireland over the last 50 years. There is certainly much to be grateful for, with the increasing availability of Irish artisanal foods, farmer's markets and wonderful places to eat and browse (hello Avoca!). I ate in a cafe / deli last weekend in Killarney (Wholesome Fayre), after a long walk in the National Park, which was wonderful from its delicious food (a chocolate cake to rival my own), right down to its Irish craft beer menu. It makes me so happy to find places like that, but then of course, it only increases the gloom that descends when you come across a bad eatery.

In spite of the progress that's been made, it can still be incredibly hard to get really fabulous food in the various towns and villages around the country. As an archaeologist who has wandered the length and breadth of Ireland for work, I can safely say that Foodie Heaven it is not. Granted, I'm a dyed-in-the-wool city girl who loves her coffee and I get very grumpy when I can't get a decent cup of the stuff everywhere I go (apologies to all you tea-drinkers out there, but tea is no good - makes me nauseous). I'm also, admittedly, rather fussy about my food (in case you hadn't noticed). Now don't get me wrong, when I say 'fabulous food', I don't mean haute cuisine or anything too clever or fussy, I simply mean good, seasonal ingredients that are cooked well. I'd be quite happy with a toasted sandwich for lunch, if it's on fresh, non-factory-made bread, with some Irish cheese and maybe some baked ham and chutney (without an 'anything that was in the fridge' salad and the ubiquitous raw red onion on the side, thank you very much). Fabulous doesn't have to mean complicated and using local, seasonal and Irish artisanal products can only be a good thing for everyone involved.


It was with these thoughts that I sat down with all of my baking books to search for something lovely to make for Mam's birthday a couple of weeks ago. I knew that luscious and decadent cakes or desserts would not be on the menu - Mam might nibble on the odd piece of chocolate cake if it's offered (albeit after scraping most of the icing off - I know!!), but as I've mentioned before, it's really not her cup of tea (so to speak - though she does like tea, by the way). So I went back to basics and thought about something seasonal, using fruit - yummy crumble, warm from the oven? - that you could also serve on a pretty platter and stick in a candle or two for the birthday celebration (not fruit crumble then). Happily, I came across a promising recipe for a fruit crumble cake, from a book called 'Weekend Baking' by Sarah Randall (if you'd like to try it, the recipe is below). It was only after I'd made the cake (perfect recipe and result) that I read her bio at the back and discovered that she has worked with Delia Smith for years, developing recipes for her books and TV programmes.

It's a very moreish cake, with a sponge base, topped with blackcurrant jam, raspberries and a lovely, nutty crumble. The sponge base stays very moist and light, thanks to the mix of flour and polenta and the addition of Greek yoghurt, and although both sponge and crumble are sweet, this is off-set by the tart jam and berries. In fact, the cake proved such a success that I had a phone call from her yesterday, looking for the recipe so that she could make it (she had a rare yearning for something sweet). Fortunately for me, I'm heading up there this evening and (hopefully) there should be some left-over. If all goes to plan, I'll be working off a big slice of crumble cake tomorrow, when I'm out field-walking once more (with perhaps a slice to nibble on as I go!).

Peanut-Butter Fudge, Take 2

I have spent the last 10 days mulling over the failed peanut-butter fudge attempt and planning another go. My archaeological world has continued apace and so my fudge-related musings have been squeezed into days filled with old maps and historical research at my desk. Occasionally, I was called upon to do some field-walking, so I pondered as I trudged across pastures, climbing field-gates and fending off curious cattle. (For those of you now wondering what on earth 'field-walking' is, it is exactly what it sounds like, but all the while keeping an eagle-eye out for archaeological sites or monuments. Not quite the treasure hunts of Indiana Jones I'll grant you, but boy can those cattle give you a run for your money - give me Nazis or head-hunting cannibals any day.) Anyway, back to the more important hunt for a successful peanut-butter fudge recipe! 

Peanut-butter fudge, Take 2

Most of the recipes that I came across were American (it seems to have been a popular fudge flavour there for a long time - plenty of 'Grandma's PB Fudge' and the like) and they all used an awful lot of sugar (American recipes for cakes, desserts and confectionery are often far sweeter than their equivalent on this side of the ocean). I knew from my first attempt that I would need to start from scratch, perhaps using my own vanilla fudge recipe (which is quite different), adding a similar amount of peanut-butter as used in the American recipe and taking it from there, adjusting if necessary. And so it went. I made the vanilla fudge as usual, but with a scoop of peanut-butter added in at the start (all of the recipes I've seen add it at the end but I hoped to squeeze extra flavour out of it). I also decided to increase my sugar content slightly - against my better judgement - since every other recipe I've seen (including one or two British ones) used at least twice my quantity of sugar. At the end of the process, I added in some chopped, salted peanuts, to add extra crunch, a bit more saltiness and a fresher peanut flavour.

I am happy to report that this batch of fudge was not only edible (vast improvement on the first attempt) but also pretty delicious, if still a bit sweet (I should have trusted my instinct and not increased the sugar content at all). I think it could do with one more trial without the extra sugar, just to be sure, but No.1 Sister who bought the original peanut-butter fudge in Doolin (and unwittingly started this whole trial), tells me that mine is nicer than the original (aren't sisters great?). I'm off out for some more field-walking tomorrow, so the remainder of the fudge will come in handy to pep us up when our legs are weary. Once that's gone, I can justify making a new batch to do a final recipe test - the perfect peanut-butter fudge is almost within tasting distance...

Preview of coming attractions

Not much time today to write about my latest baking adventures unfortunately - this is more like a trailer at the cinema, with a sneak peek of delicious things to come. All of a sudden, everything is happening at once. Normally, I meander along happily juggling my role as a dedicated follower of cake / baking, with my archaeologist alter ego (not quite Indiana Jones but it can be fun all the same). Lately though, the archaeology has taken over, leaving me scrabbling to catch up. The sweet stuff hasn't completely lost out though - my sister returned from a mini-break in the west (more of that later) with some absolutely amazing peanut-butter fudge. Suffice to say, I've spent every waking non-archaeology moment thinking about it, researching recipes and even trialling one of them (tooth-achingly sugary and the PB flavour was lost - back to the drawing board). So next time I'm writing I will hopefully have been able replicate the fabulous fudge from Doolin, which stars in this week's photo. Stay tuned!

Out of the closet

I've just watched the first episode of the new, fourth series of The Great British Bake Off. As a rule I don't watch reality TV - not because I'm taking the moral high ground but just because I find it awfully boring - so this is pretty much the only reality show I watch. I didn't even tune in for the first series, as I assumed it was more of the same - catty judges, annoying presenters, cringe-inducing contestants, bitter competition and a set-up

Chocolate fudge cake

designed to constantly ratchet up the tension level. Then one day while channel-hopping, I stopped on what turned out to be episode 2 of the second series. Before I knew it, I was hooked. The presenters, Mel and Sue, are both lovely and also funny (without being annoying and too try-hard). The judges are the wonderful Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood (while Mr Hollywood is ostensibly the 'baddie', he's actually quite fair). All in all, it's a big ol' baking love-in. The contestants love baking, everyone involved loves cake and while things can get a bit tense, the general feeling is one of friendly competition rather than a fight to win at all costs. (If you ask me, I think it's all the cake being eaten - the sweet stuff neutralises any potential nastiness).

The popularity of the show over the last few years has grown immeasurably and has coincided with a rise in the popularity of baking. The fact that more people are baking at home may have something to do with the recession - less money, more time perhaps, though it's also true that when life gets tough, we often seek comfort in the familiar and certain tastes can evoke memories of happier times. Whether or not it caused the renewed interest in baking, The Great British Bake Off has most definitely sustained it and caused it to spread like wild fire. As recently as two years ago, I had to source most of my cake decorating supplies online from the UK. Now, there are new shops popping up all over Dublin and even my local Home Store + More has carved out a substantial section of the shop especially for baking and decorating apparatus. 

Now don't get me wrong, I think it's brilliant that more people are willing to give baking a go (more lovely cake to go round), but I'm finding it a bit strange that baking is suddenly 'cool'. As someone who has always baked, I can tell you that there was nothing cool about admitting to your teenage peers that you had spent the weekend baking buns and making a really yummy Scandinavian Apple Charlotte for dessert. Back in the late 80s, it didn't have quite the same cachet as say, going to a disco / sneaking into a bar / hanging out with boys. So I maintained a closeted baking existence, revealing my strange predilection for cake-making only to close friends and family. Things didn't improve terribly in the early 90s, but I didn't notice as I was too busy with college, living abroad and generally having a good time, to do much baking anyway. By the early noughties, I was baking regularly once more and even, occasionally, outing myself to work colleagues - some left-over chocolate and peanut-butter cookies here, a few slices of gingerbread there. Finally, circa 2005, I made and brought in a whole chocolate fudge cake to work, to celebrate the birthday of a colleague who is also a very good friend of mine. There was no escaping it, I was now firmly out of the closet (or should that be out of the baking press?) and I have never looked back. So I'm out and I'm proud - my name is Clare and I love baking. 

Just desserts

Lovely, lovely Tiramisu. It was my brother's favourite dessert and I must confess to being somewhat partial to a piece myself. I was eating this rather tasty serving of Tiramisu on holidays last week and it got me thinking about desserts. You may not be surprised to read that I'm the kind of girl who goes straight to the dessert section of the menu as soon as it's handed to me. Whether or not a fabulous dessert awaits me at the end of the meal will inform my choice of main course and will often rule out a starter (there's rarely room for all three in my tummy unfortunately). If the dessert menu is very promising, I might even decide to have a light main course to save room for the sweet stuff.

 

Dessert is something quite special and although cake can be (and often is) served as the sweet ending to a meal, the two are really very different. To me, cake (that being everything from the tiny Madeleine to a luscious chocolate fudge cake) is a brilliant all-rounder - it works for morning coffee, afternoon tea, picnics, celebrations, commiserations, as a morsel swiped from the cake box as you pass through the kitchen, as a general meal replacement (or is that just me?)... So yes, we've established that cake is simply fabulous, but it can seem, at times, a little bit weighty at the end of a meal (fruitcake for dessert anyone?). Although the lighter, moussier variety of cakes can make a lovely dessert, some of the best desserts are the no-bake confections. This is fabulous when you want to impress with something deliciously home-made at the end of a dinner, but you're slightly scared of baking.

 

Take the wonderful Tiramisu - no oven action at all. Normally, I'm a stickler for making every component of a dish myself, where possible, but when it comes to Tiramisu, a packet of sponge fingers straight from the supermarket shelves is just what you need. These are otherwise known as Lady Finger biscuits, Boudoir biscuits (as I always knew them as a child), or Savoiardi biscuits if you want to be all Italian about it. You absolutely could make the sponge fingers yourself, but it's completely unnecessary for this dish. The biscuits are simply soaked in some lovely liquor and coffee and layered with a creamy mascarpone mixture, before being sprinkled with cocoa or grated chocolate and chilled in the fridge. It's both incredibly luscious and deceptively light all at the same time.

 

When it comes to no-bake desserts, however, sometimes the simplest ideas are the most successful, especially when you're stuck for time. On one such occasion, I had No.1 Sister over for a girlie evening and hadn't had time to bake or make anything spectacular. Instead, I toasted some coconut flakes that I had sitting in the press. Just stick them on a baking tray in a hot oven and watch them like a hawk - it only takes a few minutes and it's one of life's certainties that they will burn to a crisp as soon as you take your beady eye off them (flaked or nibbed almonds / hazelnuts would work too by the way). Then I made a very simple chocolate sauce, which takes mere moments to make (recipe below). I spooned some (not home-made) vanilla ice-cream into bowls, poured over the warm chocolate sauce and scattered the toasted coconut over the top. It was so delicious that I had it for dessert again the following evening and the one after that too (I had to use up the left-over chocoate sauce and coconut of course). If memory serves, the original serving was at the weekend, but the subsequent indulgences strayed into the working week. Dessert on a school night - ah the extravagance of youth!

Worth its weight in gold

Lovely, lovely cocoa

I was reading an article in a glossy magazine, written by a clutter-loving journalist, about an extreme minimalist (I'm still on holidays and working my way through a pile of glossies). The minimalist lady is dedicated to reducing the amount of waste she produces and she even makes her own cosmetics, toiletries and household cleaners from natural products. Very admirable. I found myself feeling guilty and thinking that I should be more considered about what I buy versus what I really need. Then I reached the part of the article that described using cocoa powder as a bronzer on the legs and burnt almond powder as kohl for the eyes... My brain went into immediate revolt. So aghast was I, that I physically recoiled from the magazine and could read no further. What a phenomenal waste of cocoa!! 

Now there's nothing at all wrong with applying a bit of fake tan if your pale skin upsets you, though I don't go there myself - too lazy and inept in the application (Oompa Loompa anyone?). And admittedly, I do love a healthy, post-holiday glow, so I understand the desire for a bit of a tan. But if I had to choose between white skin and having cocoa to make a lovely cake, I'd rather have glow-in-the-dark pale skin than use up my precious cocoa. Especially since I use a lovely organic, fair trade one (I can only presume this woman does the same, so concerned is she by protecting our environment and resources). So for those of you who may be tempted to use cocoa as fake tan in an emergency, please resist the temptation. Here are some much better (edible!) ways to honour the fabulous cocoa bean:

- Use a touch of cocoa powder in banana bread (just take out one tablespoon of flour and add the same of cocoa). It gives a depth of flavour, with only a hint of chocolate as a background note.


- Adding dark chocolate to a chilli con carne, stirring it in at the end of the cooking process, is a delicious way to inject another layer of flavour to the chilli. If you prefer, a tablespoon of cocoa, added with the spices at the beginning will do the same.

Chocolate brownies, with lovely cocoa in both cake and icing

- A traditional fruit cake at Christmas is one of my favourite things, but some people find them too heavy, dry or boring. I tend to alternate my traditional Christmas cake recipe (which is loved by all who try it, even the doubters, and came from my paternal grandmother, via my mother), with a gorgeously easy Christmas cake from one of Nigella's books. It uses cocoa, orange zest and juice, Tia Maria and prunes, which produces a darkly delicious, squidgy, moist fruit cake with chocolatey and coffee notes. As an added bonus, it doesn't need to be matured, so can be made only days ahead of the eating - ideal if you never got round to baking your cake in October or November. (Yum, yum - that's put a longing on me for a bit of that cake. Think I'll schedule it in for this Christmas...)

Finally, there are, of course, the obvious suspects: chocolate cake of some description and hot chocolate. Both use cocoa, sometimes exclusively, sometimes in combination with melted chocolate, but always to devastating effect. So, tan or something fabulously yummy made from cocoa? Cocoa every time.

Recipe for success

Little did I know when I first opened the Hamlyn All-Colour cookbook as a child that I was launching a lifetime of happy baking. The recipe on this page alone (chocolate brownies from the Favourite Family Cakes chapter) was the starting point for a long but happy search for the perfect brownie. This one was only wheeled out on very special occasions at home - a luxury bake if you will. Mind you, those occasions seem to have been quite frequent, judging by the stained and much used page (the fact that flapjacks occupy the opposite page in the cookbook also accounts for much of the staining - another favourite of mine).

I'm planning to create a page in my blog devoted entirely to my favourite recipes. As I'm currently on holidays, it might be a few weeks before that gets going, so in the meantime I thought I'd share this old favourite. A fabulously more-ish chocolatey morsel, the brownie component is more cake-like in texture than squidgy brownie, but this works as a brilliant counterpoint to the icing. The gooey chocolate fudge icing is poured over the brownie once it's baked, taking it from average tray-bake cake to a spectacular special (any!) occasion treat. Given enough time, the icing will set and you can cut nice, neat squares, though I'm not always patient enough (witness this photo from my blog post in June, with the brownies featuring as a surprise birthday treat for my youngest sister). 

The original recipe (as with the other sweet recipes in the Hamlyn book) was written by the inimitable Mary Berry, so is as tasty and reliable as they come. I tweak it slightly now, adding a smidge of coffee to boost the chocolatey goodness and using butter instead of margarine (the latter being de rigueur in the 70s). If you're intending to give these a go (please do!),  use a very good quality cocoa powder if you can. Green & Black do a brilliant organic one that has a fabulously rich, dark colour and an intense chocolate flavour (it can be hard to get as Tesco have stopped stocking it, but most health shops have it, as does the wonderful Fallon & Byrne if you're in Dublin). Cadbury's Bournville cocoa just isn't the same but if that's all you can get, it will certainly do (after all, it's what I used for years before anything else became available). Finally, don't over-bake the brownie (25 minutes in my oven is plenty although the original recipe is for 35 mins, so be sure to check it after 25 mins). You'll know it's done if the top springs back when you gently press it; or use the skewer test - insert a skewer into the middle and if it comes out clean (i.e. no crumbs / batter on it), then it's done. 

So here you are, one recipe for chocolate brownies with a fudgy icing. One small caveat - the original recipe is in imperial measures rather than metric, which I still use when the recipe calls for it as my kitchen scales does both (most do actually). The next time I make these, I will convert to metric and check the measurements, but I wouldn't like to do it now and lead you astray with a dodgy recipe. If you can cope with ounces rather than grams for now, then this is a quick, easy and delicious recipe, so bake and enjoy!

Baking mishaps and cake disasters

Chocolate Fudge Cake

I've always thought that everyone should know how to bake, or at the very least, should give it a go (and the gratuitous photos of yummy cakes posted here today are to encourage you to pick up that whisk). It's such a rewarding activity and, unless you're a contestant on Masterchef or taking part in the horrifying Come Dine With Me, there's really no need to make anything complicated or to find yourself all stressed out. In fact, that's one of the great joys of baking. No matter what you decide to bake, whether it's a simple scone or a decadent chocolate layer cake, you will feel just as happy with the end result. Your kitchen will smell fabulous as it bakes and once it has emerged from the oven and cooled sufficiently, there's the satisfaction of eating something you made yourself. Not to mention, of course, that the taste of a home-made cake is second to none.

So many people I speak to are either terrified of or overwhelmed by the thought of baking, convinced that making a cake successfully from scratch requires great skill, natural talent and possibly even an element of magic. Really all you need are some basic techniques (easily learned and mastered with practice) and a good recipe that you promise to follow to the letter. Unlike savoury cooking - which can be quite forgiving if you leave something out, get your quantities wrong or cook it for too long - baking is an exact science. As such, you must follow the recipe, using the exact ingredients listed, in the amounts given and the method prescribed and, as a rule, the result will be a lovely cake. With enough experience and knowledge it is possible to alter recipes and adjust ingredients, but for a novice or for the nervous, just following the recipe should get you there.

Coffee & Walnut Cake

For those of you gnashing your teeth as you read this, thinking 'But I did and it still didn't work!', I will admit that some recipes are more foolproof than others. Bad copy editing has a lot to answer for, though sometimes, the problem is that the author assumes a certain level of knowledge or experience on the part of the reader or they just don't think to spell out every step in the process. One American book I bought was a nightmare, riddled with errors - I tried twice to bake the 'Hot Milk Sponge Cake' and was left with a sadly droopy sponge each time. A spot of googling revealed that it wasn't just me - other bakers had tried and failed this and other recipes from the book (it's called 'Miette' - don't be fooled by its very pretty cover and design, it will lead you astray).

So don't despair, it may not be your fault that your cake didn't turn out right. Find a reliable recipe and give baking another go! If I had to recommend somewhere to begin, I would point you towards Delia Smith or Mary Berry. Nigella's recipes are always fabulous and have never let me down but according to Sister No.3 (who bakes less than the rest of us), they can be a little slap-dash in the instruction department. That being said, even with the most reliable, tried-and-tested recipe and years of experience, cake disasters do occur. Lest you think that there are no cake skeletons hiding in my closet, here are some I made earlier...

There was the time I forgot to put the flour in the chocolate and peanut-butter cookies - flour is a crucial binding ingredient, giving cakes and biscuits structure, so it's no surprise that the result was a molten mess of butter, sugar, peanut-butter and chocolate on the tray when it came out of the oven. Another time, I added the bicarbonate of soda (a common raising agent for cakes) to the warm wet mixture of a Chocolate Christmas Cake, when it should have been in with the dry ingredients. It bubbled and fizzed furiously, using up all of its lovely rising power in advance of the baking. I ignored my instincts and baked it anyway - needless to say, the cake came out about half the height it should have been and was as dense as brick. All of those lovely (and expensive!) ingredients wasted. Sister No.1 had a similar experience recently when making her famous Coconut Cake for a family event with her in-laws. She completely forgot the baking powder (another raising agent), resulting in two solid discs of sponge sandwiched with some rather delicious cream cheese icing and covered in coconut. Her cake still made it to first place at the informal cake contest held that day by her brother-in-law and was totally savaged (it just goes to show, one person's cake disaster can be another person's tasty treat).

I find these mishaps rarely occur when I'm trying something new or complex, but instead when I'm tired, distracted and making something I've done a dozen times before. Maybe there should be a caveat included in any baking instructions - do not attempt while tired and avoid if you've been enjoying a tipple. Ultimately, experienced baker or scared beginner, things can and do go wrong, so the best thing to do is adopt a relaxed attitude and, most importantly, don't panic - it's only cake!

Old Mother Hubbard

Yesterday we celebrated my sister's birthday. It wasn't actually her birthday (two week's to go yet), but since Dad is heading off to Spain and won't be here for the day itself, the whole family got together for a dinner to mark the momentous occasion (No.1 Sister is about to hit the big 4-0). Birthdays are serious business in our house - no mere day will suffice. Instead, we have what we call a 'birthday festival'. As on this occasion, it can mean starting the festivities early and then continuing through the actual birthday and beyond for a week or so. On the 'big' birthdays, it has even been known for celebrations to go on for months (as with Mam's 60th, almost three years ago). Some of the birthday parties are not much changed from childhood (with the important distinction that now they usually involve a glass of bubbly) - we still gather round the kitchen table at home; birthday banners are taped to the walls; there's generally a home-made birthday cake and / or other baked treats; and yes, we most definitely still sing 'Happy Birthday'.

For yesterday's pre-birthday festivities, things were a little more low-key, given that this is the advance march on the big celebration to come. I will happily seize any excuse to tie on my apron and bake up a storm, but I had to restrain myself - we were heading out for a lovely dinner in Ananda (the wonderful Indian restaurant in Dundrum) early in the evening, so whatever I came up with, it had to be small but fabulous. It also had to be easy and relatively effortless - although the heat of recent weeks has abated somewhat, it's still rather warm and muggy and generally, an unfriendly sort of weather for bakers. One thing came to mind - madeleines - fluffy, buttery, light little sponge cakes, with a slightly crispy exterior when eaten on the day they're baked (though some people consider them biscuits, to me they're more cake-like in texture and method). They are quick to make - with a pause between making and baking, while you refrigerate the batter - and even quicker to bake. You can play a bit with the flavour, by adding lemon zest for a lemony hint, a delicate touch of lavender or rose-water or even use cocoa to make a chocolate version, but for me, the original madeleine is the best. They make the perfect accompaniment to a cup of coffee or tea and as they're so small, they're practically guilt-free. Cake? What cake?

So, on went the apron, out came the pretty, fluted madeleine tray and off I went to gather the ingredients. It hadn't dawned on me to check that I actually had the necessary ingredients before I began, as madeleines require so few (simply eggs, butter, flour and sugar) and, as a rule, you will always find these in my kitchen. There was a brief moment of panic when I reached for the caster sugar, only to remember that I'd used the last of it the previous week and had completely forgotten to replace it when shopping. I felt like Old Mother Hubbard, as I gazed forlornly at the empty container and contemplated the lack of a spare bag of sugar in the baking press. I really did not feel like a trek to the shops to get sugar - the egg was already cracked and in the bowl, the flour was weighed and the butter was melted and cooling. Just as I was pondering the substitution of brown muscovado sugar for caster - which would, I imagine, give a darker, caramel flavoured madeleine (lovely, but not what I intended) - I remembered my little sugar bowl. There it sat on my counter-top; a tiny replica of a round Le Creuset casserole dish. I only use it for the odd sprinkle of sugar on porridge, so I hadn't thought of it before. I lifted the lid and peered into the half-filled little pot. Could it possibly contain enough sugar to save me a trip to the shops? Luckily, I was only baking a single batch of 12 madeleines, for which the ingredients required are minimal (1 egg, 50g butter, 45g flour and 40g of sugar). I poured the sugar into my weighing bowl and watched as the digital display rose to the magic number. Saved by the emergency sugar bowl!
 

A batch of delicious madeleines made their appearance a mere six minutes after I put the tin into the hot oven (I did promise quick and painless baking). Less than two hours later, we were sitting around the table at home, coffee poured and ready to tuck in. Mam had whipped up a batch of summer berry scones (proudly displayed in this photo), which were as fabulously good as ever (she is Queen of the Scone). They were quickly followed by my madeleines and a glass each of Peach Bellini (complete with a boozy strawberry floating merrily in the fizz), while we sat in the shade in the balmy back garden. A fitting start to the birthday celebrations.

Baking Hot

The unexpectedly beautiful weather we've been having lately coincided with a flurry of baking and sweet-making for my stand at a wedding fair last weekend (featured in today's photos). I love nothing more than hot summer sun -while walking along the beach (I'm lucky enough to live by the sea) or in the park or just lazing about drinking something cool and sparkly - but I have to say, baking cakes in this enervating heat is no fun. Although I never realised it before now, our usually 'mild, moist and variable' climate (a phrase I shall never forget from Primary School geography lessons) is the perfect bed-fellow for our well-established and well-loved baking traditions. It's not just about the heat from an oven in an already toasty kitchen (though modern air-con would help on this front at least); it's the way the heat saps the appetite for cake (yes, even from me!). Faced with a piece of cake, some ice-cold watermelon or an ice-cream, I would happily and easily forgo the cake for the cooling fruit or the frosty goodness of the ice-cream.

Sometimes, however, a cake is required, heat or no. Last Summer, we were in Spain for my Mam's birthday and I decided, as a surprise, to bake her a birthday cake (as you do). There were few options in terms of buying a cake and I wanted her to have something delicious. So it was a firm 'no' to the cream- or ice-cream-filled cakes in the cold cabinet of the local supermarket (not very nice, mass produced confections). Likewise, although the local bakery had some wonderful freshly baked breads, the pastries were invariably covered in a glaze and the cakes were far too sweet. That left me, one hot kitchen and an ill-conceived plan to bake a cake while the temperature, outside and in, climbed higher and higher.

It was mid-September but still as hot as Hades in the southern tip of Spain (next stop Africa), so I had to think hard about what to make - buttercream icing was out, as it would slide right off the cake into a puddle of buttery mess on the platter. Mam doesn't have a very sweet tooth but she does love dark chocolate, the darker the better in fact - given the choice, she'll go for a square of 85% cocoa solid chocolate as a treat, which to my sweet-loving palate is way too bitter - so it would have to be something densely chocolatey but not too luscious or sweet. As there would be no icing (too rich for Mam and too melty in the heat), the cake itself needed to be moist and the answer to this conundrum in baking terms is usually ground almonds. Luckily, there are almonds at every turn in Spain - the beloved nut features widely in Spainsh cuisine, both sweet and savoury.

Almond cakes are always a winner - the almonds can replace flour altogether (giving you a lovely gluten-free cake), the natural oil in the nuts provide moisture (cakes containing ground nuts keep extremely well and even improve over a few days) and last but not least, they can be spruced up with some fabulous flavours (chocolate is always good and orange is popular, though lemon is my favourite - I have a recipe for a Damp Lemon & Almond cake that can't be beat). My trusty baking book by Dan Lepard (he of fudge-fame in last week's post) came up trumps once again. I had tried a recipe a few months previously (while sensibly at home in the coolness of last year's Irish Summer) for a Chocolate & Almond Fudge Cake. I came across it while on the hunt for a yummy but gluten-free cake to bring with me to visit my friend (she's Coeliac). Like many flourless cakes, this one uses almonds as a substitute, but as an added bonus it also contains a cooked mixture of fine oats and milk. This gives a lovely fudgy texture (despite the recipe containing slightly less sugar than usual) and a heavier, more moist crumb than other chocolate and almond cakes. The icing on the cake (metaphorically rather than literally in this case) is the use of both cocoa and a substantial amount of lovely, dark chocolate in the cake mixture, to give it a rich, deep chocolate flavour.

This cake is pretty simple to make. I didn't have my full range of baking tins, equipment or my well-stocked baking cupboard to hand, but frankly, with a bowl, a whisk, a wooden spoon and a simple cake tin, any cake is achievable and this one in particular. (Honesty compels me to add here that while simple, it also required a serious bit of elbow grease - whipping 3 egg whites by hand in the heat of a Spanish Summer made me long for my lovely, electric Kitchen Aid Artisan Mixer.) The resulting cake has an incredibly rich, darkly chocolatey flavour, without being overly sweet or heavy. Mr Lepard recommends serving it with a topping of whipped double cream flavoured with some Pedro Ximenez sherry (unwittingly fiiting in with my Spanish theme) and scattered with shavings of dark chocolate. It would also be pretty good served warm from the oven with some vanilla ice-cream on the side. We ate it as it came, with a cup of coffee and a glass of Cava standing by. Fabulous.

Hot and bothered

Unseasonal but fab - the Christmas Puddini

The last few days have been spent preparing for a wedding fair this Sunday, where I'll be showing off my lovely wedding favours. I've been getting ahead of myself by making some biscuit dough (currently residing in the freezer, ready to be baked and iced on Saturday), chocolate & peanut-butter cups, fudge and some rather un-seasonal Puddini (truffles decked out as mini-Victorian style round Christmas puddings). The last of the prep complete, I'm now sitting in the very hot and very un-Irish sunshine on my balcony by the sea writing this post. Fortunately there's a lovely sea breeze, which is a life-saver since I spent the morning slaving away over a hot stove making a batch of vanilla fudge.

 

I must confess, although I would happily take a bit of fudge if offered, I was never really mad about the stuff. My earliest introduction to it was probably the Fudge bar in the Cadbury's selection box, which was slightly grainy and gritty, too sugary and never my favourite in the box as a child. And having just sent my mind back to memories of the selection box and the bar, in flies the song from the old fudge bar ad - "a finger of fudge is just enough to give the kids a treat!" - apologies if you now have it stuck in your head too. The cheaper varieties of fudge that I've come across in more recent years (I'm looking at you, Pick 'n Mix fudge) are distinctly lacking in any real flavour and the texture is wrong. Too smooth, a bit claggy and not melty enough. Now, don't get me wrong, I am aware of the wonderful artisan fudges increasingly available out there but my early fudge experiences were off-putting enough for me not to bother trying too many of them.

 

So why on earth did I start making my own fudge, you might ask? Well, the very first batch was for my Mam. She doesn't have quite the sweet tooth that I have, but she loves a bit of fudge. I was the proud recipient of (yet another) baking book two birthdays ago, which contained a recipe for fudge. The book was the baking bible that is Short & Sweet by Dan Lepard (or my Def Leppard baking book as my sister calls it) and this is just one of the myriad excellent recipes it contains. As fudge was something I'd never tried before and I know Mam loves it, off I went to kitchen to give it a go.

 

Fudge is pretty easy to make, with a short list of ingredients (sugar, butter, milk, vanilla) and equipment (pot, a wooden spoon and sugar thermometer). It does, however, require constant stirring for the forty minutes or so it takes to make. Even better, the last ten minutes of the process involves beating the now very thick mixture vigorously and continuously with the spoon (as my arms protest loudly). All of this stirring and beating is necessary to give the buttery, vanilla-scented fudge its lovely soft, smooth but slightly grainy, melt-in-the-mouth texture. Needless to say, my apartment does not have air-conditioning (being situated in Ireland) and the ambient temperature today was about 23 degrees (or so my sugar thermometer told me before I immersed it in boiling hot fudge). Granted, at the last, fudge-beating stage the pot should be off the heat and so could be moved to the relatively cooler climes at the dining table by the open balcony door. Still. Hot work my friends. Gym? Personal trainer? Not at all - just whip up a batch of fudge. Much cheaper. Maybe I'm on to something here... though on second thoughts, if your exercise goal is to lose weight, being left with the resulting batch of fudge winking temptingly at you every time you open the fridge, this might not be the work-out for you!