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!