Dan Lepard's Easy Bread

Let's talk bread today: easy, almost no-knead, 'I just produced this from almost thin air' bread. I've been trying out some new bread recipes recently, all in honour of a new work project. I've been working with a colleague from another university on a new research project we're planning, and we've evolved a very productive little tradition. She drives over to our house, which is about an hour and a bit from where she lives, but in return, I provide lunch, usually something bread and soup-related. Oh, and we get some work done, too. A few times I've used the breadmaker I bought for a princely £2.50 from the tip shop, but if I can fit it into my morning I like to make my own by hand. This was one I made a couple of weeks ago, inspired by its title of 'The easiest bread in the world'. It's another Dan Lepard recipe, and I do like his recipes (I have him to thanks for the winning entry in the Choc Chip Cookie Research Project after all).


The loaf is based on a starter, which doesn't sound too easy, but in fact it means that you get most of it out of the way in advance. I mixed up the starter the night before and left it in the fridge, and then just added the remaining ingredients in the morning. After that you just knead the mixture briefly three times over the course of half an hour, shape and bake. It sounds churlish to complain but I did find the kneading process a bit of a faff since I had to come back downstairs for the third knead. Perhaps Mr Lepard would point out that trying to combine work and breadmaking was outside the remit of what he had in mind when he named his loaf.


There are several variations offered to the basic white loaf, and I picked the multigrain and honey one which also just involved a bit of pre-soaking. My dough was extremely wet, so much so that I had to add quite a bit of extra flour, but I would put this down to the fact that I had to estimate the weights of the add-ins, on account of having accidentally dunked our weighing scales in the sink along with the chopping boards it was hidden between. It did not like it. It sulked terminally in fact, and I had not yet been able to buy a new one. Despite this, however, the bread turned out really well. I'm always a bit nervous serving a new bread recipe to a guest, but my collaborator (and I mean that in the best non-sinister sense) is very open to being pleased, and she put this one at the top of the breads I'd made for her. We had it smorgasbord-style, with cheese, salad, hummus and pickles.

So, if you want a bread you can whip up on a working morning, this is the one for you. In fact, I'd say this could easily become a go-to bread recipe for any occasion, and it would take all sorts of add-ins and flour variations. I'll definitely be making it again, but in the meantime I might be painting our new scale neon yellow to avoid further risky washing up mistakes!

Dan Lepard's Easiest Loaf in the World: from the Guardian Magazine

Belgian buns and Science brownie points

You know how most people have a favourite bakery treat? A custard tart or a doughnut - or perhaps one of those decorated novelty gingerbread men? For me it was always a cheese turnover - a savoury pastry which my best friend and I used to use as fuel on long shopping trips to town to spend our clothes allowances. I don't know how we stayed fuelled on them all day as they were tiny, but we always used to have one each - until the day when we found that Ainsley's bakery in Leeds had a *mushroom turnover* special. Ah, that was a good day.


The Scientist's bakery treat has followed him into adulthood, although I only became aware of it when we moved to Sussex. This is because his favourite is a Belgian bun, and they are not apparently a standard bakery item (a bit like my cheese turnovers I suppose, which I have never seen outside Yorkshire, not that I've had any inclination to look in recent years). A Belgian bun is a bit like a Danish pastry, but with a different type of accent, and made of a sweet bread dough rather than pastry. Other than that it's very similar - a big spiral containing dried fruit and some sort of sweet filling (lemon curd is a favourite) and then coated with icing and a cherry on the top. I'm not certain enough of what the true Belgian bun looks like to risk buying him one from anywhere other than a Forfars Sussex bakery, but he makes sure to pop in and get one whenever we're back on the south coast.

Unbaked Belgian buns

A few months ago we were talking to his sister about childhood treats, and it turned out that she was also a fan of the Belgian bun, although they hadn't been a shared family tradition. A long conversation about the best place to buy them in the town where they grew up ensued, during which I hatched a plan to see if I could recreate this happy childhood memory. I did find a recipe on the internet, on the endearingly named site bun-recipes.co.uk, which looked as though it had the right sort of dough. We don't live very near to Scientist Sister (who is also busy with a young Scientist Nephew Sprog) so I thought I'd take the opportunity of a sup rise retirement party for the Scientist parentals last weekend to try it out.


The dough has the basic constituents of a sweet enriched bread - flour, yeast, sugar, milk and eggs. My recipe directed me not to knead the dough before its first rise, but instead just to leave it in its bowl in a warm place. The dough did rise nicely, and was a bit less sticky by the time it was ready for kneading. Then you roll it out to a rectangle and scatter it with melted butter, sugar and dried fruit, before rolling it back up again. Then slice it into rounds and leave again, before finally baking. I was really pleased with how they looked (though about half the size of the Forfars' model). I drizzled the cooled buns with some icing made from icing sugar and water, and would certainly have gone down the cherry topping route had we had any. Both The Scientist and Science Sister were delighted with their treats and pronounced them just like the originals. I've already had a request to try putting lemon curd in them next time. They were really fun to make, and nice to be bringing back a little of the delights of childhood. I'm sending these Belgian buns to Stefanie at Hefe und mehr (Yeast and more) who is hosting this month's sweet breads-themed Bread Baking Day.

On a slightly related topic: my treacle tart from our Alice in Wonderland party has been thoroughly usurped by this recipe, which Science Sister made at the surprise party last weekend. I'll definitely be trying it myself some time!

Belgian bun recipe here
And if you're after an enriched vegan bread dough you could try Hannah at Bittersweet's pain de mie

Winter apple loaf

Just a quick post tonight - hectic day, plus my old college is on University Challenge as I type! This is the bread that we ate with our roast chestnut soup. It's another Dan Lepard recipe from his How to Bake column in the Guardian. It's a yeasted bread but it had the texture of a soda bread (though perhaps I was tricked by the fact that it's baked in the same shape as a soda bread). Either way I wasn't complaining - I love soda bread, and I loved this bread too. It was nice and wholesome with the malted flour and seeds, but with a nice sweetness from the apple. It complemented the chestnut and apple soup too. The Scientist found it slightly doughy which was a shame - I could see what he meant and it probably needed slightly longer in the oven though it had even a bit more than its time because I was in the middle of a work task when the oven timer went off! I froze what we didn't eat with the soup and have been eating it as toast and sandwiches. I was sorry when it was all gone and will definitely make it again.

Apple bread with random counter-top accessories!

Better go - my alma mater looks as though it needs all the support it can get!

Winter apple bread, recipe here

Saffron and basil breadsticks - belatedly

Oh dear - our semester doesn't start until next week and already it's proving hard to find time for blogging! This is a post which has been waiting to be written for ages - since the Night Before Christmas in fact (yes truly!). I actually made it with a mind to sending it in for December's Bread Baking Day which had seasonal breads as a theme that year. I even managed to make it just in time for the deadline - and then completely forgot to post about it. Sigh. Still, I didn't forget to take it with us to Granny T's, where it was destined to be a contribution to our Christmas Eve dinner. I didn't want to make anything very sweet which most Christmassy breads seem to be, so in the end I decided to make some breadsticks spiced up with one of the flavours traditional in festive and enriched breads: saffron. The basil was from my increasingly straggly home-grown pot, but it stood up to give a sturdy tastiness against the subtle fragrance of the saffron. I was guided by The Scientist's preference for crunchy breadsticks but you could easily take them out of the oven a bit sooner if you like them softer. Or you could make them thicker to make them breadier still. All this time later I can't actually remember what we ate them with, but they were very popular and have been marked down to try with a whole lot of other flavours in the future: garlic would be great, as would a tasty cheese I should think. Meanwhile you can see the seasonal breads which did make the deadline over at Annarasa's blog!



Saffron and basil breadsticks (from Martha Day's Complete Baking)
Makes 32 sticks

generous pinch of saffron strands (or turmeric if unavailable)
2 tbsp hot water
450g strong white flour
1 tsp salt
2 tsp easy-blend dried yeast
1/2 pint lukewarm water
3 tbsp olive oil
3 tbsp chopped fresh basil

Infuse the saffron strands in the hot water for 10 mins
Sift the flour and salt into a large mixing bowl. Stir in the yeast, then make a well in the centre of the dry ingredients. Pour in the lukewarm water and saffron liquid.
Add the oil and basil and mix to a soft dough
Turn out and knead the dough on a lightly floured surface for about 10 mins until smooth and elastic. Place in a greased bowl, cover with clear film and leave for about 1 hour until it has doubled in size.
Knock back and knead the dough on a lightly floured surface for 2-3 mins
Preheat the oven to 220C/Gas 7. Divide the dough into 32 pieces and shape into long sticks. Place well apart on greased baking trays, then leave for a further 15=20 minutes until they become puffy. Bake for about 15 mins until crisp and golden. Serve warm.

A rustic roll - no knead garlic beer bread

I thought I'd better have a break from all the festive sweet goods and post about a *very* easy and tasty bread I made for lunch when Vet Mum and Vet Dad (and Vet Grub though his tastes don't yet encompass bread) came to visit just before New Year. No-knead breads have been making its way round the blogosphere for a while now and I've had it on my yeasty wish-list for some time. It got promoted to the top on this occasion because I wanted to make a nice hearty and flavoured bread to go with our veggie shepherd's pie but also wanted to nip out for a quiet coffee with The Scientist before the guests arrived so lots of rising and proving time was out. I settled on a recipe posted by Farmgirl Susan, as it also used beer as the leavening agent - another of my bread-making goals. Susan suggests lots of flavour combinations to spruce up the basic dough, one of which is garlic and herb. I followed her recipe but omitted the cheese and used garlic jam instead of raw garlic, just because we had some in the fridge and hadn't been making any headway with it.


Making this bread is as simple as falling off a log, and it tasted absolutely great. It makes quite a soft and wet dough and since I fancied making rolls I divided it into muffin tins rather than try to wrestle it into stand-alone balls. I think it would have won had I tried. For a non-yeasted bread it was very light, although I made the rolls big enough that they had some heft to them (I'm always paranoid that guests might not share my small appetite, especially 6-foot ex-American football playing ones). We didn't particularly taste the beer in the bread but it might have been masked by all the garlic :) The rolls went really well with the shepherd's pie for a very hearty meal and I'm keen to try again using other flavours. Susan says that the bread also freezes well, and she's tried it with wholewheat flour, and even non-alcoholic beer. And it makes your kitchen smell as good as if you'd been slaving over the dough all morning.

Garlic beer bread (from FarmGirl Susan)
3 cups plain flour
1 tbsp sugar
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp baking powder
1 tsp each dried rosemary, oregano and thyme
2 chopped garlic cloves, 1 tsp garlic flakes or a dollop of garlic jam/relish
12 ounces beer [I used a regular 300 ml sized bottle of Bud]

Heat oven to 350F. Combine flour, sugar, salt, baking powder and herbs in a large mixing bowl. Slowly stir in the beer and mix until just combined. The batter will be thick and wet. Spread into a greased 8-inch baking tin, or divide between greased muffin cups - I used a large 6-muffin tin. Bake until golden brown and a toothpick comes out clean - about 45 minutes. Cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then remove and leave to cool for a further 1o minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Storecupboard adventures - Bajrina rotla (millet breads)

Sometimes I am too curious for my own good. Why on earth did I buy a packet of millet flakes a while back? I had no plan for them and no particular ideas of what you can even do with millet flakes beyond porridge, which I never get round to eating (though I should). I have millet seed already, but flakes? Good gracious woman, what were you thinking? They sat in the cupboard for a while, making me feel guilty, until I hit on the idea of grinding them into flour and using them in bread. An internet search didn't bring too much up, but I did find a reference to bajrina rotla, or Indian millet flour bread in a book which is happily available via Google Books - Cooking Along the Ganges: The Vegetarian Heritage of India by Malvi and Neil Doshi (if the link doesn't work, it's on p. 434). It's described as a 'hearty' and 'rustic' and is a type of flatbread.

Rotla thinking about being puffed up over the gas flame (yes, it was on!)

The recipe stayed bookmarked for a little while, and then on Saturday we had The Scientist's parents visiting and I thought I would put together a little medley of Indian dishes. The millet flakes' time had come. Although millet flour has a short shelf life, the flakes did seem to be ok - they certainly ground up nicely. The recipe is easy, although it requires you to mix up only one pancake's worth of dough at a time, shape it, fry it and then hold it over a gas flame to make it puff up before moving on to the next one. I was making these after several hours of chopping, cooking and trying to follow three recipes at once, and after doing one of them properly I have to admit that I did mix up all of the rest of the flour and water at once. The pancakes were quite thick and didn't puff up particularly, but I'm quite sure that this was due to my inexperience/lack of focus.

Not very good photo of the rotla (top) accompanied by uninspiring-looking but tasty daal, sesame, ginger and garlic beans, and potato and spinach curry. I don't know why I put the rice at centre stage when it basically cooked itself in the rice cooker with no input from me.

I have to admit that the pancakes were really quite stodgy and didn't have too much taste on their own. Another time I will definitely follow the alternative suggestion to add chilli powder and turmeric. They did, however, have a nice rustic graininess from the flour and if you're after a comforting, soft in the middle, crunchy on the outside piece of stodge to mop up your curry, this is the recipe to turn to. I suggested that we put the curries on top of them so that they took on some flavour and The Scientist's parents certainly seemed to think they were ok. The Scientist wasn't keen at all - too bland and stodgy, and I can't blame him. I think I'll make making our preferred naans before trying these again, but I'm very glad to have shifted some of that millet. Perhaps porridge will start getting more attractive now that the days are getting colder...

Bajrina rotla (millet flour bread) - recipe here

Apple bread for a sweet new year

It was Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, this week. It’s traditional to eat two particular types of food to symbolise roundness and renewal, and to confer sweetness on the year ahead: apples and honey. I seem to have been baking myself into a frenzy lately (as the frequency with which I’m having to stock up on eggs and flour attests!) and so I decided that this year I would keep it simple: slices of apple dipped in honey, just like we did when we were little. However, I didn’t count on all the wonderful-looking festive cakes and desserts which then turned up on other blogs and my resolve slipped silently away in a puddle of sweet honey.

My first slip-up was a spur of the moment muffin-baking moment on Monday, when Munchkin Granny came up to Oxford for the evening to go out for a Rosh Hashanah meal with Eco Sis and Bro and me. The Ecos had apples, they had a semi-working oven (long story) and they had something they called a set of scales but which seems to be more ornamental than useful. I subbed honey for half the sugar in a recipe for apple streusel muffins, and despite the creative guestimating with the scales they turned out fine. I think they improved overnight, or so the text I got from Eco Sis the next day suggested (‘appley appley appley appley appley appley yum!’). Technical incompetence prevents me from posting pictures, which are stuck on Munchkin Granny's camera - let's say they were perfectly formed, golden, fragrant, and beautifully photographed :)

My second festive baking venture was inspired by Ariela's post on autumn apple bread on Baking and Books, a very inspiring bread-baking blog. Ariela posted a recipe for an even richer apple and honey challah last year, but I went for the slightly less indulgent bread, partly also because it used fresh apple instead of dried. I was staying with Munchkin Granny last night before a conference in London, and came up with the lovely domestic image of turning up like a good daughter, bearing not only challah, but seasonal appley challah. I’ve never baked bread with fresh fruit in it before so that was fun, but it didn’t affect the kneading or rising of the dough. I decided to braid my dough like challah, and let it rest and bake unfettered by a tin - and it puffed up into a mad round thing! Still, it looked sort of fun and rustic like that, and lent itself to being torn rather than cut, which is how all good challah eating should happen. I made some leek, chickpea and apple soup to go with the bread once I got to Munchkin Granny's, and at the end of a long week for both of us it made a fine, simple but hearty dinner. And I think the good daughter thing went down well too, I'm happy to add.

MG tells me that the bread made very good toast the next day, though she put it under the grill rather than risk it crumbling in the toaster.


Apple challah recipe here

Blog party 37: going retro

This month Stephanie from Dispensing Happiness has picked 'Retro' for the theme of her blog party. This gave me the perfect opportunity to make something from my copy of Victory Cookbook by Marguerite Patten. I found it in one of those remaindered bookshops several months ago and have read it quite extensively but haven't yet cooked any of the recipes. Marguerite Patten was a Home Economist at the Ministry of Food during the second world war and was responsible for coming up with and publicising new ways for families on the home front to cook cheaply and healthily. The cookbook covers the war years and after, since rationing didn't end in Britain until 1954, and includes lots of recipes, advice and cartoons published by the Ministry as well as notes from Marguerite on how rationing worked and changed. It's really interesting social history as well as a cookbook, so of course I find it fascinating. I'm particularly drawn to this period of history, and especially the experience of life in Britain. It's so easy to forget what our grandparents' generation went though, or to downplay it, and yet it was so utterly life-changing even for those at home. I find the famous war epitaph almost unbearably moving: 'When you go home, tell them of us and say, For your tomorrow, we gave our today'. The Scientist's grandpa served in Burma during the war and when he died a few years ago, some elderly gentlemen from the Burma Star Association came to his funeral and recited that verse over the coffin as they stood to attention with the association's flag. It was very touching.


Anyway, this is all just to say that although I made my party offering in fun, it's something that makes me quite thoughtful. Since the party is a happy occasion though, I thought I would follow some of the suggestions for a children's victory party. VE and VJ day were celebrated with lots of street parties, and some of them were especially for children. Marguerite notes that some children tasted ice cream for the first time at those parties - it was rare in a time when most people didn't have a fridge. I didn't try the wartime ice cream recipe, but followed some of the suggestions for other tasty morsels - sandwiches and tarts.

I wanted to get really into the spirit of things, so I followed a bread recipe in the same book for my sandwiches. Bread wasn't rationed during the war itself, although it was afterwards, but it was scarce and expensive, as was flour. People were recommended to eke their flour out with oatmeal, so I used that to make up a quarter of the total amount of flour. Wartime flour was much coarser than modern flour, but I did use plain rather than bread flour since that wasn't on sale in the 1940s. I was expecting a bit of a brick of a loaf, but it was actually quite nice and fluffy and just tasted a little more wholemeal-like from the oatmeal.


So, bread made and sliced, I turned to the list of suggested sandwich fillings. A lot were potted meats and fish, so I chose a mixture of grated cheese and carrot, with a little bit of milk to moisten, and mock banana, which was mashed parsnip with banana essence and a little sugar (bananas weren't available at all during the war because of the shipping blockades). I didn't have banana essence so I used a bit of the liquid that frozen bananas leave behind when they defrost. It was sweet enough with that not to need extra sugar. I quite liked it, though I'm impressed with 1940s children if they were happy to have it on their sandwiches. Perhaps it just needed mashing a bit more, or maybe they all went for the potted shrimp and jam ones instead. I hope they also got sandwiches with tops - I ate mine open and the carrot and cheese filling kept falling off. I suspect this is my fault not the sandwich topping, and if you can't make a bit of mess with your tea party when war's over, when can you?


My book suggested a selection of cakes, tarts and biscuits to go with the sandwiches and I selected some tarts as I was interested to see how wartime pastry turned out. Fats and sugar were in short supply - as were eggs - only 1 per week at the most, and many of the recipes call for reconstituted dried eggs instead. My pastry didn't need eggs though I think the proportion of fat is a bit lower than usual. I filled some with jam and turned the others into Maids of Honour - another recipe in the book which I hadn't heard of before, and which consist of a little jam topped with a margarine, sugar and breadcrumb mix. They were quick and easy and were perfect child-sized finger food. The Scientist is a jam tart fan and he liked them very much and thought that the Maids of Honour had a certain treacle-tart quality to them.

Of course I need a drink to send to Stephanie's party as well, and the book was pretty clear on what to serve: lemon or orange squash. I can't really even imagine what the end of the war must have meant to people who'd lived through it but making my party entry has definitely made me think a lot about cooking with wartime restrictions. I plan to try out a few more recipes in the future, so expect to see Pete Potato and his friends featuring a few more times!



Wartime bread (from Victory cookbook)
450g plan flour (you can sub in a quarter of this with oatmeal
heaping 1/4 tsp salt
300ml water
2 tsp dried yeast

Sift flour and salt into a mixing bowl. Heat the water until just warm. Add yeast and sugar to the water, top with a sprinkling of the flour and leave until frothy (12-15 mins)

Make a well in the centre of the flour, pour in the yeast liquid and mix well. Turn out on to a floured board and knead until the dough fills in a hole made by your finger. Shape into a ball and return to the oiled bowl. Leave in a warm place to prove until doubled in size [I did this in the fridge overnight]. Turn the dough out and knock back. Form into a round loaf or place in a loaf tin and leave to prove again until it's almost doubled in size. Cover it very lightly with a cloth. This stage will take 45-60 mins at room temperature.

Meanwhile preheat the oven to 22C/425F. Bake for 35-40 mins until the base sounds hollow when tapped.

Maids of Honour (from Victory Cookbook)
Pastry: [I halved this quantity but still made 12 little tarts]
6 oz self raising flour
pinch salt
1 1/2 - 2 oz margarine
water, to mix

Sift flour and salt into a bowl. Rub in the marge, add enough water to make a firm rolling consistency. Roll out and cut into circles. Place one circle in each indentation in a fairy cake tin.

Filling [for 12-15 tarts]:
A little jam
1 oz margarine
1-2 oz sugar
1/2 tsp almond essence
3 oz fine breadcrumbs
2 tbsp milk

Top the pastry with a little jam. Cream the margarine, sugar and almond essence together, add the breadcrumbs and milk. Spoon the top over the jam and bake in the centre of a moderately hot oven 15-20 minutes until firm and golden

Herbed cottage cheese bread

This, finally, is the last of the breads I made when I had all those herbs to use up. It's from Moosewood Low Fat favourites, and I chose it because it was a bit different from the other breads I was making. I've really liked my attempts at baking savoury breads with cottage cheese before, so I gave it a whirl. It also used two of the three herbs I was hoarding - thyme and rosemary. I didn't get round to trying this loaf for a while as I was going away the next day, so I sliced and froze it. I've had it in sandwiches since, and it's nice and light. My only criticism is that it's sweeter than I would have liked. It was so long ago that it's tricky to work out why. It's quite possible that I used agave nectar instead of honey, in which case I might not have reduced the quantity enough (agave nectar is much sweeter than most other sweeteners). It wouldn't stop me making this bread again, but I would reduce the amount next time. I might even try adding sundried tomatoes another time too - hmm, the more I think about it, the more I think that could be a really good plan, although then I'd want to eat it with cottage cheese on top, and I can't quite get my head around whether that's ok.


Herbed cottage cheese bread, from Moosewood Low Fat Favourites

1 tbsp yeast
1 tsp sugar
1/2 warm water (105 to 115 degrees)
1 cup low fat cottage cheese
1 tbsp canola or other vegetable oil
1/4 cup honey [or agave nectar, in which case reduce the amount]
1 tsp salt
1 tsp minced fresh thyme
1 tsp minced fresh rosemary
3 tbsp minced scallions
1 cup whole wheat bread flour
1 1/3 to 2 cups white flour
1 tsp baking powder

Prepare a 2-quart casserole dish with a light coating of cooking spray or oil. In a small bowl, combine the yeast with the sugar and warm water. Set aside to proof until bubbles rise to the surface, 5 to 10 mins.

In a small saucepan on a low heat, gently warm the cottage cheese, oil, sugar, honey, salt, thyme, rosemary and scallions. Transfer the cheese mixture to a large bowl. When the yeast is bubbly, add it to the bowl. Stir in the whole wheat flour and beat by hand 100 strokes. Combine a cup of the white flour with the baking powder and mix into the batter, then stir in enough additional white flour to make a stiff dough. Turn out onto a floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic, about 5-10 mins.

Shape the dough into a ball, place it in a lightly oiled bowl, and turn it once to coat with oil. Cover with a damp towel and set aside in a warm spot for about 45 mins, until doubled in size. After the dough has rise, punch it down, turn it onto a lightly floured surface and knead for about 2 mins. Shape it into a ball and place in an oiled 2-quart casserole dish. Return the dough to its warm place and let it rise again until doubled, about 30-45 mins

Preheat the oven to 350 F near the end of the second rising time. When the dough has doubled in size, bake 30-40 mins until it is golden brown and sounds hollow when thumped on the bottom. Cool on a rack about 10 mins and it will be easier to slice.

Thyme soda bread

This is another of the breads I made during my herby bread-baking marathon the other weekend. It was the easiest of the lot as it requires no rising - and it's delicious - and it's pretty healthy, especially when you use wholegrain flour and low-fat yogurt. I was astonished when we were in Ireland recently to discover that you can get soda bread flour in the supermarket - it's like an instant mix. I really don't know why you would need a mix when it's so easy, but perhaps I'm missing some critical secret Irish ingredient. I love my version anyway, so I left the packet on the shelf. I use a recipe from Anthony Worrall Thompson's GI Diet and I've made it with all sorts of combinations of milk, yogurt and buttermilk and it always turns out great. I always mean to record what combination I've used so I can work out whether some are moister or creamier or sharper than others, but I never get round to it. Soda bread is one of my favourite breads, so perhaps I'm not able to be that critical! Anyway, I've tried adding sage to a different recipe in the past, so this time I took Anthony's tried and trusted, and just added some chopped fresh thyme. You could use any herb you liked, and dried would work just as well, too. I particularly like this bread with soup but it makes great sandwiches and toast as well. I think that in Ireland it might actually be called wheaten bread because of the flour, but it's a very close cousin of soda bread.

Last time I made the herby version I had forgotten it wasn't plain and had a nice little secret moment of recollection as I brought my sandwich up to my nose. That's because it smells so nice, not because I eat with my nose or anything. Anyway, here's the recipe:



Wholegrain herby soda bread (from Anthony Worrall Thompson's GI Diet)

If you use milk instead of yogurt or buttermilk in this recipe you will only need to use about 350ml [I generally just add the liquid until the dough is the right consistency, so it's easy to adapt according to what mixture you're using]

Makes 1 loaf

500g wholegrain brown flour [I generally use a granary one]
1 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp bicarb of soda
1 tsp caster sugar
About 425ml skimmed milk, low-fat natural yogurt or buttermilk
A good handful of fresh herbs of your choice

Preheat the oven to 230C/450F/Gas 8

Stir the dry ingredients together in a mixing bowl. Make a well in the centre and pour in 350ml milk or 450ml yogurt or buttermilk

Using one hand in a circular motion, mix in the flour to form a dough which is softish without being too wet or sticky - add more milk or flour if necessary. Turn the dough out on to a floured board. Knead just enough to tidy the dough into a neat ball.

Pat the dough into a round 4cm deep and cut a deep cross on the surface. Bake for 15 mins on a floured baking tray then reduce the heat to 200C/400F/Gas 6 for a further 25-30 mins. To test whether it's cooked, tap the bottom of the bread and if it sounds hollow, it is ready.

Sage focaccia

It’s about time I finally got round to posting about the herby breads I made before I went away last week. As I mentioned, I was given some free sage, rosemary and thyme when we went to the Birmingham Taste Festival last week (yes, I noticed the Simon and Garfunkel song in there too -watch this space). With only a couple of days’ potential cooking time before going away for a week, I went mad baking as many different herby breads as I could. This is actually the last one I made that night: sage focaccia, made for a lunch with The Scientist’s parents the next day.

I'd already made three breads by the time I got to this one and I was somewhat weary, so I tried out an overnight rise in the fridge. It worked really well and had the added advantage that the bread could come straight out of the oven for lunch. That’s got to be worth some daughter-not-in-law points, right? I’m so used to being careful with getting the water you add to the yeast warm enough to activate it that it didn’t seem right that rising could happen at such a low temperature, but I suppose it’s because the yeast has already been activated before it goes in the fridge. Anyway, it worked a treat, and I just let it sit on the counter for a while to return to room temperature the next day before shaping and baking it.

The recipe for this bread was a mixture of two Nigella recipes from How to Be a Domestic Goddess. I based it on her schiacciata with gorgonzola and pine nuts because I liked it that it used some ‘00’ flour which was a bit different from the other breads I’d been mixing, but got inspiration for the focaccia style from her garlic and parsley hearthbreads. Somehow a schiacciata/hearthbread cross became a focaccia in my mind, which I imagine just shows I don't know one flat bread from another :) All it took was a bit of stirring up, an overnight stay in the fridge, and then some pulling and shaping the next day. The other focaccia I’ve made recently was a potato one from the Wednesday Chef (and in fact I made this again with rosemary on the top as part of my bread marathon). I really liked that one but The Scientist found it a bit doughy in the middle and that happened again this time even though I was alert to it. The Nigella version (which doesn’t use potato) was crispy all the way through and I was happy to serve it to guests (even ones who aren’t obliged to like me because I live with their son!). We ate it with spinach and thyme soup and some salad out on the deck. The bread was pleasantly thick without being too chewy and the sage gave it a really nice aroma. I love the feel of fresh sage, with its lovely velvety leaves. It’s almost a shame to cook with it but I suppose the leaves wouldn’t stay velvety for long in the fridge!

The rosemary potato focaccia - for comparison!

Sage focaccia (schiacciata/hearthbread, whatever) adapted from Nigella's How to be a Domestic Goddess

350g strong white flour
150g plain flour, preferably Italian 00
7g/1 sachet instant yeast or 15g fresh
2 tsp salt
300-400 ml warm water
3 tbsp olive oil
handful of sage leaves
Red onion, chopped into thin slivers

Combine the flours, yeast and salt in a bowl. Pour 300ml of the warm water into a measuring jug and stir in the 2 tbsp olive oil. Pour the liquid over the dry ingredients and mix to form a soft but firm dough, adding more water as necessary.

Now start kneading until smooth, supple and 'full of elastic life'. Form into a ball and place in an oiled bowl. Cover with oiled clingfilm and leave to rise for an hour or so until doubled in size - or overnight in the fridge.

If you've let it rise in the fridge, take it out and let it come back to room temperature before shaping. Now sit it in a roasting tin and press to fit, letting it rest for a few minutes if it looks as if it's never going to stretch to all four corners (it will). Cover the dough with a tea towel and preheat the oven to 220C/Gas 7. After 30 mins or so, the dough should be puffy and ready to be topped.

Poke your fingers all over the dough to dimple it and scatter torn sage leaves and onion over the top. Bake ten minutes, then reduce the heat to 190C/Gas 5 and cook for a further 15-25 mins until it's golden brown. Remove from the tin and cut into big slices

Other topping ideas: other fresh herbs, garlic (roasted and smushed, if you like), or mashed up gorgonzola and pine nuts, as Nigella suggests.

Sprouted bread - BBD 11

I mentioned in a recent post that I love buying nice breads. I also like trying to make interesting loaves, and this month’s bread baking day, organised by Zorra really caught my eye. The theme is sprouted breads, which is something I’ve never tried and wasn’t really quire sure what to do with. When I bought the organic sprouted beans which featured in my leguminous salad last week, I also had this challenge in mind.

The bread before baking (note lack of confidence that it will turn out ok after baking!)

After a peruse of The Laurel’s Kitchen Bread Book, a brilliantly informative book I bought recently but have yet to bake from, I found that there seem to be two main ways to go with a sprouted bread. One is to sprout wheat berries, grind them, and use them in place of some of the flour. I have never knowingly seen wheat berries over here, so I left that one there. The other is to add sprouts to bread dough, and bake them in. I’m not experienced enough with bread to know what the properties of different add-ins will do to the dough, so I decided not to risk replacing anything for the sprouts, but simply to add them as I would seeds or grains. After much dithering I selected a soya milk loaf because it sounded interesting, and it was in the same section as the rest of the sprout breads (and clearly would therefore absorb some sort of sprout karma which would bless my bread). The recipe notes said that using soya milk makes for a light loaf which tastes like an egg-enriched one. I used unsweetened soya milk, and wholemeal bread flour, though I think that regular plain wholemeal would have been ok. All the stages went smoothly and I just kneaded in the sprouts at the shaping stage. I took a photo before baking just in case they burnt, but in fact it all turned out very nicely and the bread was nice and light, with a lovely whole-foody nuttiness. The sprouts added an extra crunch which was very agreeable. I would definitely make this bread again and would happily serve it up with soup to guests (or the more whole-foody ones, anyway!). I ate another piece with my soup at lunch today and was struck again at how good it is (even after being frozen in the meantime). It's hard to describe its interesting nuttiness, almost rye-ishness and thought-provoking lightness. Just give it a go and see if you can do better!

Post baking - phew

You could, of course, sprout the beans yourself and I do plan to do this next time, but it was such a nice assortment that I thought I’d start easy!

Soymilk bread (from The Laurel's Kitchen Bread Book)

Notes from the book: 'This is often mistaken for an egg bread because it rises beautifully to give a perfect, airy slice that has good flavour and a slightly chewy, thin, dark crust. It is just right for toasting and for sandwiches'

Makes 2 loaves [I halved it]

2 1/2 cups soymilk, unflavoured [I used unsweetened]

2 tbsp honey

2 tsp active dried yeast (7g)

1/2 cup warm water

6 cups whole wheat flour

2 1/2 tsp salt

3 tsbp butter OR 6 tbsp oil [I used oil]

If the soymilk is not first-day fresh, bring it to a boil, then cool to lukewarm. To cool it quickly, place the pan in a sink or dishpan partly filled with cold water, and stir the soymilk occasionally. Stir the honey into the soymilk (if you choose to use oil and not butter, add the oil too)

Dissolve the yeast in the warm water

Combine the flour and salt in a mixing bowl and make a well in the centre. Pour in the soymilk and yeast mixtures and stir all together, adding more water or flour as required to make a soft dough. Knead very well, about 20 minutes vigorously [since I was only making one loaf I probably only did about 12 mins, as you need longer for a larger amount of dough, apparently]. If you are using butter, add it toward the end of the kneading time without melting, working small pieces into the dough until it is smooth and lustrous.

Because of the ripening influence of the soy, allow this dough to rise only once in a warm place, about 80F before shaping. Test by poking the dough with a wet finger, about 1/2 inch in the centre of the dough. If the dough sighs, or if the hole does not fill in at all, flatten the dough and divide it, forming two rounds. Let them rest, and then shape into loaves. Let rise in two greased 8''x4'' loaf pans at a slightly warmer temperature, 85 to 90F. When they are ready for the oven, slash with three diagonal lines for a pretty crust and higher rise in the oven [I forgot, much to my chagrin - it's too much to expect I won't forget a stage, after all]. Bake about 45 mins at 350F.

Good variations: add sunflower seeds - about 1/4 cup per loaf, while you shape the dough [this is what I did with my sprouts]
roll the loaf in poppy seeds
Add raising - 1/3 cup per loaf, when shaping the bread

Falafel - the skinny version (and a get well soon)

I’m a sucker for fancy breads, I freely admit it. When I was a child I would only eat what Israel Grandma called ‘flannel bread’ – ie, it looked and tasted like a wash-cloth. Munchkin Granny liked her grains and seeds and granary goodness, but for me, the less character my sandwich had, the better. Now I’m firmly in her camp, and flannel bread never darkens our bread bin. Take me to a bakery and I’ll make a beeline for the loaves with nary a glance at the cakes. So when Dogophile Vegan Super Nurse and I were in the fancy supermarket in Brighton last weekend it was inevitable we’d end up lingering in the bread section. There were several which took my fancy, but I was strict and only allowed myself one choice – some Turkish pitta breads. Now, what better to go in a pitta than their Middle Eastern friends, some falafel? By coincidence I’d been telling DVSN about my favourite recipe, so this was also a good opportunity to make sure I posted the recipe for her to try.

I have eaten falafel in Israel, and they are amazing. There’s something about the whole street food experience with the oily, spicy, beany falafel, the fine-chopped tomato and cucumber which make up all Israeli salads, the creamy houmous, and the optional extra relishes and chillis, all packaged in a neat white little envelope, which really appeals – and especially since it is all vegetarian. On a healthy eating level, however, it’s not so good, and so I use a skinnied down version when I make them at home. They’re not the same, of course – you need the oil from deep frying to get the authentic experience, but they’re really good in their own way. They are also ludicrously easy and store-cupboard-based – just whizz the ingredients up together, shape into balls, and either bake under the grill or fry in a very light coating of oil. Baking is perfectly acceptable, but experience has shown that frying them in even the teeniest bit of oil does give the burgers a slightly better taste. We served them up with the pittas, some salad, and some tomato relish, though houmous or a tahini dressing are, of course, the traditional toppings. The pittas were larger and floppier than the ones you get in supermarkets here (and falafel stalls in Israel), and so we rolled the little burgers up inside them like a tortilla instead of stuffing them inside. Needless to say, they tasted just as good.

Skinnied-up falafel, with pitta bread and couscous salad

Before I write out the recipe (which was copied from a book which belonged to my friend Vicki, so I can't credit it properly, unfortunately), here is a little cheer-up photo for Kiwi Sis, who is sick and in bed. She's only a few weeks off her due date, and Munchkin has been ill too, so they're not the happiest household at the moment. Kiwi Bro is playing nurse, and I think they're all looking forward to Munchkin Granny arriving in just 10 days. Here is the piggle cat having a Sunday chillout in my lap, which is a cute enough image to cheer anyone up anyway, but she is also showcasing a peek of my current quilt project (apologies, people I make quilts for. There is frankly no chance that it won't have been sat on by a cat before it was finished). Who can this one be for though? Let's just say it's got a long journey before it meets its new owner. Get well soon, Kiwi Sis - I hope the photo makes you smile.


My favourite falafel

Serves 4 (but halves easily)

2 cans chickpeas
1 small onion, in chunks
handful of parsley leaves
zest and juice of 1 lemon
2 tsp each ground coriander and cumin
6 tbsp plain flour and extra for dusting
4 tbsp olive oil [I just use a spray when frying]

Put the first 6 ingredients into a food processor. Season, then pulse into a chunky paste [I used to use a mini blender but it's a bit small even for a half quantity to go in in one go.] Tip onto a floured surface and mould into burger shapes.

Dust with a little more flour. Heat the oil in a large non-stick frying pan and fry for two minutes on each side until crisp. OR, brush with a little oil and cook under a preheated grill for 8-10 minutes on each side until browned.

A meal for the Puritans: intercontinental blog challenge #3

Firstly: happy birthday, Junior Bro! I'd like to think that you're reading this on your new laptop, but I suspect that 14-year-old boys have more interesting things to look at on the web. Ah well, this square older sister wouldn't have it any other way.

Anyway, this post is another installment in my fun challenge with Lisa from Unique Little Bits. We each cook a dish from the other one’s cuisine after a particular theme. This time I suggested bread, although since Lisa has written about some really professional-looking breads on her blog I am a little worried about how my efforts will pass muster!

The two American breads that sprang to mind when I was deciding what to make were cornbread, and steamed Boston brown bread. I’ve made a nice pumpkin cornbread before, but it comes under the heading of ‘savoury scone’ for The Scientist, so I always end up eating it on my own. I thought that the brown bread – which looked quite sweet from the recipes I found – might suffer the same fate, so I decided not to tell him what was in it beforehand and go for it anyway!

When I looked up the history of brown bread I discovered that it’s based on the ingredients available to early Puritan New Englanders – rye and cornmeal flours, which eked out the more precious wheat flour. Also, since ovens weren’t that common, the bread was steamed, usually in a cylindrical jar or mould. I found a recipe which baked the bread in the oven but I wanted to stay true to the spirit of its origins, so I steamed mine. I didn’t have a big coffee can, which is what’s usually used to make it in nowadays – in fact I didn’t have any tin cans at all as we’d only just done our recycling. So I improvised with an empty glass jar (the one which had held the applesauce which has already featured as prompting several other baking endeavours – this sauce keeps on giving even after its demise!). I steamed it by standing the jar on top of an improvised trivet in a saucepan, inverted the matching steamer basket over the top to accommodate the height of the jar, and then covering the holes in the steamer with a lid. I love it when science meets pragmatism! Anyway, despite the making do, the bread steamed fine, although I had been a bit worried about how thin the dough was – really more of a batter than a dough. I suppose it’s supposed to be like that.

Ready for steaming (top), and posing an intractable problem (bottom)

More perceptive readers may already have noticed a problem with my loaf, however: the neck of the jar was narrower than the base, making it almost impossible to get it out! I thought about ships in bottles; I thought about those clever science experiments you do with children to get an egg inside a bottle with a narrower opening. But my thoughts didn’t get me any further to getting my loaf out, and The Scientist informed me that the egg in bottle principle worked on the basis that there was spare air in the egg which could be sucked out. My loaf looked pretty dense and I wasn’t confident about any spare pockets. In the end I abandoned the scientific principles and cut it up inside the jar. This is why there is no picture of it beautifully sliced – it was more of a rustic carving.

It may not have passed the science (or the common sense) test, but I’m happy to say that it did pass The Scientist test. He thought that it tasted a lot like malt loaf, which he really likes - dark yet sweet, and with a soft, slightly chewy texture. We both enjoyed it served with Boston baked beans and apple sauce, which are its traditional accompaniments, and some grilled corn on the cob.

Update: go and take a look at Lisa's lovely looking Bara Brith speckled bread here

Boston brown bread (from Martha Day Complete Baking)
Makes 1 loaf

45g cornmeal
45g plain white flour or wholemeal flour [I used half and half]
45g rye flour
1/4 tsp salt
1/s tsp bicarb of soda
45g seedless raisins
60ml milk
60 ml water
60ml molasses or black treacle

1. Line the base of one 1 pint cylindrical metal or glass container - a tin, jar or heatproof glass coffee jug, with greaseproof paper.

2. Mix together the cornmeal, plain or wholemeal flour, rye flour, salt bicarb of soda and raisins in a large bowl. Warm the milk and water in a small saucepan [I did it in the microwave] and stir in the molasses or treacle.

3. Add the molasses mixture to the dry ingredients and mix together until it just forms a moist dough. Do not overmix.

4. Fill the jug or tins with the dough to about 2/3 full. Cover with foil or greased greaseproof paper and tie securely.

5. Bring water to a depth of 2inches to the boil in a deep, heavy-based saucepan large enough to accommodate the jug or tin. Place a trivet in the pan, stand the jug or tin on top, cover the pan and steam for 1 1/2 hours, adding more boiling water to maintain the required level as necessary.

6. Cool the loaf for a few minutes in the jug or tin, then turn it on its side and the loaf should slip out [ha!]. Serve warm, as a teabread or with savoury dishes.

Pushmi-pullyu banana bread

I mentioned yesterday that I had made an exception to my current no-freezer rule for some banana bread. I really had meant not to do any extra baking at all for a while, but then I saw that Not Quite Nigella was having a Banana Bread Bakeoff, and I couldn’t resist sending in my favourite recipe. I had no hesitation in picking it – a swirled banana and chocolate bread originally from a Cooking Light Annual, though I got it from here. It’s really flavoursome and moist and I would never guess it was a lightened recipe. But then I got thinking about my second favourite banana bread, which is a spiced honey banana bread (also lower fat) which I’ve only made once, for my birthday cake last year, and most of it ended up not being eaten for various missing-cat-stress-induced reasons (it was the pook, and he turned up eventually, thankfully). Was this an opportunity to give it another go?

After some dithering, I hit on the idea of making two loaves in one – the head would be chocolate and banana, and the tail (so to speak) would be honey banana – a pushmi-pullyu of the banana bread world, if you will. This seemed like a brilliant plan, and it actually did work a lot better than you might think for such a hare-brained scheme. I halved each recipe, and propped a divider in the tin while I filled it, so that there wouldn’t be too much mixing of the batters. This got a little complicated since the chocolate-banana loaf already had a mixing of two batters component, but with a little propping and balancing and careful checking of ingredient lists, everything ended up in the right place. The only other change I made to the original recipes was to substitute some wholemeal flour for some of the plain in each case, which didn't notably alter the flavour. (DVN: I used the Leeds farmers' market honey!)

It's all about improvising!

I was really intrigued as to whether the two halves would stay separate, and was delighted to find that they did! A cross-section of the middle revealed some intermingling, but as the two separate pieces show, it really is two loaves in one. I feel quite pleased about this experiment, and think it may even invite the use of the word ‘splicing’ which isn’t one I use every day. Even better, the honey banana half keeps well, so as long as you start at the right end, you will be in banana bread for ages! Even longer in my case, as most of it has joined a veritable battery of cakes in the freezer which I’d better actually start eating at some stage before they join forces in some flour-based crack force and take over our house.

Two breads in one - honey-banana on the left; chocolate-banana swirl on the right

Marbled-Chocolate Banana Bread (full quantity recipe)

From Cooking Light, 2004 Annual (and to be found here)

2 cups all-purpose flour (spoon and level method)
3/4 teaspoon baking soda (bicarbonate of soda)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup butter, at room temperature
1 1/2 cups mashed bananas (about 3 bananas)
2 large eggs
1/3 cup low-fat plain yogurt
1/2 cup plain chocolate chips

Butter for greasing tin
2 lb loaf tin (8" x 4")

Preheat oven to 350F/180C/Gas Mark 4. Grease the tin.

Cream butter and sugar together until well combined. This won't look like a traditional mixture due to the lower proportion of butter to regular loaf mixes.

Mix flour, soda and salt together. Don't bother sifting.

Add eggs, bananas and yogurt to the creamed mixture. Melt the chocolate chips, in a medium bowl, in the microwave for one minute on HIGH. Stir the chocolate until completely melted. Leave to cool whilst you finish the batter.

Add the flour mixture to the banana mixture. Mix well, scraping bottom and sides of bowl. Scoop out a cup of this mixture and blend it into the melted chocolate.

Place alternating spoonfuls of the chocolate and plain mixtures in the loaf tin. Swirl batters together using a knife, making sure you go into all corners.

Bake for one hour. A skewer inserted should come out clean.

Cool in tin for ten minutes, then remove and cool completely on a rack.

Spiced honey and banana bread (from Martha Day's Complete baking) (full quantity)

Serves 20

115g/4 oz soft light brown sugar
275g/10 oz plain flour
3 tsp mixed spice
1 tsp bicarb of soda
4 tbsps sunflower oil
4 tbsps strong-flavoured clear honey
2 eggs
4 tbsp orange juice
3 bananas
115g/4 oz sultanas

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F/Gas 4. Lightly grease and line a 7x11in baking tin

Mix in the sugar with some of the flour and sift it into a bowl. Sift the remaining flour into the bowl with the mixed spice and bicarb of soda.

Make a well in the centre, add the oil, honey, eggs and orange juice and mix together thoroughly.

Mash the bananas, then add them to the bowl with the sultanas and mix together well.

Pour the mixture into the baking tin and bake for about 35-40 mins or until the centre springs back when lightly pressed [you may notice that this is a lot shorter baking time than the swirled bread, but in fact it did take longer for the whole loaf to be cooked. I just kept testing with a cake tester]

Leave the cake in the tin to cool for 5 mins, then turn out onto a wire rack and leave to cool completely.

Vanilla flavoured heaven

I always think it’s sad that the phrase ‘vanilla flavoured’ is used to describe something that’s a bit bland and ordinary. I love the scent and flavour of vanilla; it’s right up there with cinnamon and rising bread in my top three baking scents. This is why today’s lunch was vanilla-flavoured heaven and I plan to repeat it EVERY day this week!

Despite my love of vanilla I have never until now cooked with real vanilla beans. I suppose I’m just a cheapskate. But I found a ‘two for one’ deal at Julian Graves a few weeks ago and stocked up. I hadn’t decided what to use them for yet, but then I saw that Master Baker’s theme ingredient for the month was vanilla, so that gave me a bit of a nudge. The Scientist has requested a dessert break for a little while after all the baking I’ve done recently, and I have imposed a no-freezer ban (apart from one tiny exception which I will write about soon, and it doesn’t count because it’s banana bread and that is above all rules). So cake and biscuits were out. Leafing through a Donna Hay book in Sainsbury’s the other week, however, I stumbled on an easy-sounding recipe for rhubarb and vanilla jam, and when I searched around for it later I found that Arfi at HomeMadeS (a New Zealand blogger with an absolute gift for photography, though she’s extremely modest about it) had made it and posted the recipe. I had rhubarb from the Leeds farmers’ market to use up, and decided that was the way my vanilla flavoured post would go, complete with real vanilla pods.

But this is me, and I rarely go for the simple option. After making the jam (which smelt delicious) I started to have thoughts of a vanilla bread for it to go on. I was initially thinking of an enriched challah-type bread, but then found a recipe for what looked more like a regular type of bread but with added vanilla. I looked up vanilla in the index of my copy of Elizabeth David’s English Bread and Yeast Cookery, which stated uncategorically that it is an abhorrent idea as a bread ingredient. I was undeterred – she is, after all, only a baking guru, and besides, I wasn’t mixing vanilla with other spices which seemed to be what she objected to.

The bread was straightforward, and the dough rose beautifully in the sun. It came out of the oven looking lovely and soft and golden, and when it was cut you could see the vanilla seeds flecked through it (the originally recipe called for vanilla flavouring, but I had used half the quantity of that, and scraped in half a vanilla pod). I was ravenous for lunch by the time it was ready, but couldn’t decide what to put on it that wouldn’t hide its delicate flavour. Finally I went with whimsy and had it buttered with goat’s cheese, fig chutney and watercress. It was divine: the best lunch ever. I had to do a little lunch dance as I ate it. I had another piece with the rhubarb jam on it and that was wonderful too. The jam was very sweet – I might cut back on the sugar another time, but had a lovely vanilla flavour to it, and nice big gollops of rhubarb. It isn’t quite as green as the photo makes it look, but certainly greener than I expected! If that’s a vanilla flavoured lunch, though, I’ll take it every time. Thank you, Master Baker, for setting this particular ball rolling.

Heavenly rhubarb and vanilla jam (Donna Hay, and made by Arfi)

250g (8 ¾ oz) rhubarb, trimmed and chopped, 1 cup caster (superfine) sugar, 1 vanilla bean, split and scraped (or 1 tsp vanilla bean paste), 2 Tbs water

Place the rhubarb, sugar, vanilla and water in a saucepan over a low heat and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Increase the heat to medium and simmer for 8-10 minutes or until thickened. Remove the vanilla bean and discard. Spoon the jam into a sterilised 1-cup (8 fl oz) capacity glass jar and seal. Makes 1 cup (8 fl oz). This jam can be stored in the fridge for up to two weeks.

Ambrosial vanilla bread (from epicurean.com)

Ingredients: 1 1/2 cups warm water
1 pkg dry yeast
1 tbsp sugar
1 tsp salt
3 tbsp vanilla extract [I used about 1 tbsp and then scraped in the seeds from half a vanilla pod]
1/3 cup instant nonfat dry milk
3 3/4 to 4 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

Directions:

Stir water and yeast together in large mixing bowl and let stand for a minute to dissolve. Add sugar, salt, vanilla, dry milk and 2 cups of the flour. Beat briskly for 2 minutes. Add enough more flour to make a soft, manageable dough. Turn out onto lightly floured surface and knead a minute or two. Let rest 10 minutes.

Resume kneading, adding just enough flour to keep dough from becoming sticky, until it is smooth and elastic. Place in large greased bowl, cover, and let rise until double in bulk.

Punch down and shape into a loaf. Place in a greased 9x5x3 loaf pan, cover, and let rise to the top of the pan. Bake in preheated 350-degree oven for about 50 minutes. Remove from pan and let cool on a rack.

Apparently cats are unimpressed by jam