Hijacked by cake

I have a problem. I don't consciously think about cake, but there it always is, hovering just out of sight, ready to skip into view when I'm least expecting it. I haven't had a spare second to even think about baking anything of late and although I intended to spend last weekend working on my new-look, new-name blog, I got sucked into the great black hole that is the archive in my spare room. I took on the task of finishing off an archiving project that had first commenced in 2010. The last of the boxes are finally available to be processed for the national archaeological archive and I was offered the job. I took it on in my spare time and took the dusty boxes into my spare room (why oh why?!). Weeks of procrastination later, the musty smell and dust motes creeping out from the beneath the closed doorway forced me to take action. Before I knew it, much of the weekend had disappeared and I was coated in a layer of decades old dust and dirt (archaeological field sheets, notes and plans get written or drawn up on site and are frequently - and sometimes liberally - coated with dried mud). 

So, no time or thought for baking, but I did manage to make a fresh batch of granola - a necessary occupation as I had run out the previous week. Making your own granola might seem a luxury if you're pressed for time or in fact, might be something you've never even considered, but home-made granola is something I will nearly always have in the cupboard. It's yummy (most importantly), nutritious and as healthy as you want to make it. This particular recipe is so delicious that No.1 Sister had to stop making it - her husband would just eat it by the (large) handful every time he passed the dresser where the tub was stored and it would be gone in a flash. Nothing at all wrong with eating it just like that (I sometimes bring a bag of it in the car so I can), but I tend to have it with berries and yoghurt for breakfast or sprinkled on top of porridge (highly recommended). It's also good with rhubarb or stewed apple and custard or you could convert it into a crumble topping if you need a quick dessert. 

Home-made Granola

The original recipe was printed in Nigella's Feast, but I don't think I've ever used even half the amount of sweeteners as are in the original. I usually reduce the amount (or even eliminate altogether) some of the sugar / syrup / honey and increase the amount of stewed apple / apple compote. Making your own means you can also use whatever nuts, seeds and dried fruit takes your fancy. For me, no nasty raisins (I don't like them in granola any more than in muesli and my views on that were made very clear in an earlier post), but I do add extra seeds and coconut, either regular desiccated or the big flakes you get in the health food shop. There's ginger and cinnamon, lots of tasty oats and all you have to do is mix it all up together and bake in the oven, giving it a quick shovel every 10 mins or so, to make sure it bakes evenly into crunchy clusters and crispy flakes.

Anyhow, granola recipes aside (find it below if you'd like to try it), there I was, dusty and tired with not a thought of cake or baking in my head. At least that's how it was until I sat down on Sunday evening, watching TV, safe (I presumed) from distraction. My mind had other ideas. It was mulling over the day's activities, tripping past excavation licence numbers, mucky field notebooks and archiving and landing straight on granola. I can't be too sure, but I imagine the thought process went something like this: 

"Granola... Hmmmm, toasty oats... Ooooh, you know, if you added even more apple sauce and squished the wetter mix into the tin to bake, it would make lovely granola bars, just like flapjacks... Oooh, remember flapjacks? You used to love flapjacks. God, it's been years since you made flapjacks. Yum. Didn't you see a recipe for chocolate flapjacks somewhere...?"

Dangerously good chocolate flapjacks

Before I quite knew what I was doing, I was out of the armchair, kneeling on the floor in front of the bookcase and thumbing through the pages of the Green&Black's chocolate cookbook, where I did indeed find a recipe for chocolate flapjacks (with cocoa in them rather than chocolate on them). They looked so delicious in the picture and the recipe seemed like a winner, so here we are. In a week when I had no intention of making anything even resembling a cake, I found myself compelled to rustle up a tray of chocolate flapjacks. 

Happily, flapjack-making is uncomplicated, fast and so alarmingly simple to do, that I couldn't recall why I ever stopped. For such little effort, the rewards are great. The basic recipe is butter, oats, sugar and golden syrup and all that's involved is melt, stir and bake. My only caveat is that you really should use quality ingredients (as in all simple recipes, with so few ingredients, there's nowhere to hide). This is no place for butter substitutes and sub-standard cocoa - the flavour of the finished product would be the worse for it. Similarly, the use of brown and muscovado sugar in the chocolate flapjack recipe (see below) helps to reduce the tooth-aching sweetness of the traditional flapjack and also gives a lovely caramelly note - so don't resort to white sugar, caster or otherwise.

A stack of chocolate flapjacks

My only word of caution in relation to this recipe is that you might want to make a smaller amount - unless you're baking for a school cake sale or feeding a family of ten that is. I'm doing neither of those things and yet somehow didn't think to reduce the recipe to a 'trial bake' size. Unlike the granola recipe, there's no pretending that this one is at all healthy, though you could put a shout out for the nutritious oats (B vitamins!!). Ahem. I will hold my hands up and tell you straight out - the amount of sugar and butter was enough to give me pause. Granted I made the full quantity, making it seem even more decadent. So be prepared and don't let that stop you (just make sure you don't consume the entire lot yourself) because these little chocolatey oat-filled, buttery flapjacks are outstanding. Magnificently, spectacularly good. These are the champions of the tray-bake world. 

I now have a big box full of incredibly delicious, gloriously rich and more-ish chocolate flapjacks. All for me. Just look where being hijacked by cake thoughts gets you. I think I'll be bringing them with me tomorrow when I'm heading back into the office and I'll definitely be serving some up to my sister and hubby when they pop in on Saturday. They do say a problem halved is a problem shared. 

Old Friends

Today's post is a nod to friends, old and new. As someone who has suffered with a chronic illness for the last four years, I am keenly aware that in the friendship stakes, I have lucked out. It takes a very good friendship to survive the constant battering of cancelled arrangements, early exits and the need for emotional support. Some friends I see less of, others have drifted away, and I have culled that pool of acquaintances or not-so-close friends that I used to see socially. But my close friends still circle around me, full of sympathy for my plight when it gets bad, with fun and laughter to cheer me up, and keeping my seat at the table for when times are good.  

I was reminded of this when I met up with two good friends last Saturday. I hadn't seen them for an age, so we met for lots of chat and lunch in the lovely Fallon and Byrne. One of the girls had been browsing the foodie aisles downstairs beforehand and had purchased a chocolate spread. Now in case you're thinking Nutella (yum), I have to tell you that would be like comparing my car (a solid and reliable Toyota) with a Porsche (which I can only imagine is a much more exciting drive). This is no mere chocolate spread people. Expensive, yes, but what's life without its little luxuries? I always have a jar of chocolate hazelnut spread on the go (Nutella or otherwise), so when Aoife snuck the jar out of the brown paper bag at the dining table, a big smile on her face, I was intrigued. A small jar, with a classy label, full of the most delicious looking chocolate spread imaginable. To top it all off, it hailed from Aix-en-Provence, where I once spent a wonderful six months doing research for my PhD. Memories of lavender fields, hot sun and azure blue skies, all bound up in one little jar of chocolate spread. 


Since today's theme is friendship (and chocolate I guess - it just snuck in there), I have to mention the irresistible pairing of coffee and chocolate - BFFs of the culinary world. Even if you don't like to drink coffee alongside a chocolate nibble of some description (to which I say, are you mad?), there should still be a place in your world for this pair. The addition of coffee to a chocolate cake or dessert can take it from ordinary to sublime. It does something to make the chocolate taste more chocolaty, without turning it into a mocha - you shouldn't add so much that people know it's there, just enough that it intensifies the chocolate experience. For that reason, my all time favourite chocolate fudge cake has coffee in both the sponge and the icing. It's originally Nigella's choc fudge cake recipe, to which I add three tablespoons of strong coffee to the cake mixture and one to the icing (recipe link here - if you're going to make any cake for Easter, make it this one, as it's both easy and addictively good). Similarly, I will add a hint of coffee to chocolate brownies, mousse or any other type of chocolate cake. And to take a step away from the sweet trolley for a moment - most unlike me I know - adding a few squares of chocolate (74% cocoa solids or higher) to a chilli con carne that has been made using strong coffee as the stock liquid, makes the most more-ish chilli you've ever tasted.

But back to my chocolate spread (I can't bear to leave it). As soon as our lunch was over, I abandoned the girls to make their way home and headed straight for the condiment aisle. I did manage to resist the temptation to purchase not just this, but also the dark chocolate version (Oh God!) and a salted caramel spread (Lord save me!). One day, I have promised myself, I will make my own chocolate spread - just for the sheer joy of it - but in the meantime, I do believe this will do. I have died and gone to chocolate heaven. It tastes like the most luscious praline-filled chocolate, but in spreadable form. As you can see from the photo, I couldn't wait until I had something to put it on (or for that matter a spoon), instead I just dove straight in... resistance was futile in this instance. My next free time is this Friday (just me, the armchair and some trashy TV). I'm planning to sit with my feet up, a slice of fresh, crusty bread liberally coated with the chocolate spread and cup of coffee in hand. Bring it on!