Chocolate by post!

I have a small confession to make. The last few days I have spent the mornings on the sofa with my books and papers (and pooky cat), with the Olympics on in the background. It's brilliant - I keep just enough of an ear out for anything exciting, whilst still being able to concentrate mostly on my reading, and I've even got to keep up with a lot of the rowing. Anyway, I was sitting on the sofa yesterday, reading and half-listening away when the postman rang the doorbell. I didn't think we were expecting anything but I've often got a book on order from somewhere, and The Scientist has been known to have the odd quiet Amazon-fest. To my great delight and amazement, however, the postman handed over an oddly shaped package from California, with the return address of my very good dumpling-sharing friend Tracy!


I ripped it open to discover these lovely gems: two bars of posh American baking chocolate (100% cocoa solids - I didn't even know you could get that - well, I don't think you can here, which is why she sent me some!) and a pot of organic baking cocoa as an early birthday present. I was so touched, not least because Tracy is having a baby by caesarian TODAY and it's way beyond the call of duty that she was thinking of my birthday at all. I have some little plans for my baking goodies already, and I just wish I could share them with Tracy and her family straight away. In the meantime, I will be sending brownie vibes over the ocean to her for a happy delivery.

Intercontinental blog challenge: the cake that almost wasn’t

It’s my birthday in a couple of weeks, and so I thought it would be fun to select ‘birthday cakes’ as the theme for my next intercontinental blog challenge with Lisa from Unique Little Bits.

It wasn’t until I started reading American blogs and recipe books that I realised how many cakes there are which are unique to the other side of the Pond. I’m sure some of them have close cousins over here, but I was astonished to read about chiffon, yellow, devil, angel, sheet, and hummingbird cakes. A sandwiched layer cake seemed to be the order of the day for a celebration, and I was seduced by the description of a Devil’s Food cake with chocolate custard baked into it in a book I borrowed from the university library called The Little Red Barn Baking Book. I was all ready to come up with some lame excuse as to why I was borrowing a recipe book along with my reading on early modern Europe, but it was the only one which got any reaction out of the librarian at all, so I thought I’d allow it to get me some kudos (maybe I’ll be let off a fine some time in the future).

There seems to some confusion over the name ‘devil’s food’. I read one description which referred to other devilled foods like our devilled eggs - as in spicy, but another (and more plausible to me at least) explanation is that it’s just devilishly tempting. Mine had an extra component than a usual chocolate cake because of the chocolate custard but the batter tasted amazing. You may think that the devilishness of the batter is why my cake is Munchkin sized? Well, not quite. The truth is that my cake just wouldn’t cook through and this was a tiny side one I’d made for me to taste while the rest went off gaming with The Scientist. You may remember an earlier near-disaster I had with a Delia carrot cake not baking? Well this was an exact re-run, and I think it may be no coincidence that I was using the same tin. The cake went back into the oven several times until we really had to go to bed, and then it completely fell apart in an uncooked mockery of a tasty cake. Grrrr. In the morning I crammed the mess into one of my more trusted cake tins and stuck it back in the oven for another blast before we headed off to the university. Alas, it still wasn’t really cooked when we examined it later in the day, and it ended up being carved up into brownies and frosted like that. It was really a case of ‘shut your eyes and dive in with a spoon’ as it was still really tasty – but a complete mess. I was so relieved I’d made the munchkin one too, which I duly iced with chocolate cream cheese frosting and enjoyed on my own. It was divine – though that is perhaps not the right word to use for a devil’s food cake – very moist and chocolatey, but not too dark or bitter. I have since decided to outlaw my devilish cake tin, but look forward to trying the cake again in my smaller tin. I also had a ton of icing left over, so I added an egg to it, whisked it up, and baked it on a biscuit crumb base like a cheesecake. I took it to the Ecos at the weekend, and got a text last night to say that it was lovely. At least there was one intact winner from the devil’s challenge!

I was very amused to see in Lisa’s write-up of her cake that she also had a disintegration problem – the pressure to represent their country must have got to our cakes! At least they both tasted good despite their aesthetic problems.

Devil's Food cake (from The Little Red Barn Baking Book)

Cake
280g plain flour
1 tsp bicarb of soda
1/2 tsp salt
110g unsalted butter
195g caster sugar
1 tsp vanilla essence
2 eggs
225 ml whole milk [I used semi-skimmed]

Custard
1 egg
110ml whole milk
130g caster sugar
110g good quality plain chocolate (min 70 % cocoa solids), chopped into small pieces

For the custard: lightly whisk the eggs in a large bowl. Add the milk and sugar and whisk until smooth. Pour mixture into a small pan and stir over a medium heat with a wooden spoon until it thickens (up to 15 mins) and just coats the back of the spoon. Remove from the heat. Add the chocolate chunks and stir gently until melted. [Marvel at the pretty swirly pattern it makes on the way, if you're me]. Continue stirring over the heat until the custard thickens slightly. Remove from heat and leave to cool

Preheat the oven to 180C/Gas 4. Butter and flour a 23 cm round 5cm deep cake tin. Chill in the fridge.

Sift flour, bicarn of soda and salt into a bowl. In a separate bowl, cream the butter with the sugar until pale and fluffy. Add the vanilla essence adn eggs, one by one, beating after each one. Add the sifted dry ingredients alternately with the milk, Mix gently until just combined. Fold in chocolate custard.

Pour the mixture into the prepared pan. Bake 20-25 mins or until the cake springs back slightly when gently pressed in the centre. Leave to cool in the pan for 10-15 mins before turning out onto a wire rack. Allow to cool completely before frosting. Slice into three layers. Sandwich layers together with icing and cover top and sides with icing as well. Leave to set for one hour before serving.

Chocolate cream cheese icing [note that the recipe recommends chocolate buttercream but I didn't have any cream, and The Scientist picked this one instead. The recipe is based one from the same book and we thought it was very fine with the cake, but it's not the combination the author had in mind. Disclaimer over!]
225g cream cheese [I used low fat]
225g unsalted butter
200-300g icing sugar, sifted
2 tsp vanilla essence
cocoa, to taste, or to reach desired colour [I started with about 1 tbp]

Beat cream cheese and butter together thoroughly, using an electric mixture. Add the sugar in thirds, mixing well after each addition. Test for sweetness. Add vanilla essence. Chill for 1 hour before using. Makes enough for one large cake.

Lentil and spinach soup

My trip to Manchester last week went well on the work front, and my foodie experiences also went up a notch when Dogophile Vegan Nurse came over from Leeds to join me for a few hours on Thursday. We met at 10.30 and since she was feeling peckish we headed over to a Buddhist vegetarian place she'd visited before called Earth Cafe. I have to admit that I had imagined a very wool-shirt and worthiness type of place from the way she described it, but in fact it's a bright and comfy place with counter service and very friendly staff who work towards being mindful and ethical in the way they run their business. And the food was *amazing*. At our elevenses visit I had a peach smoothie (very nice and fruity) and DVN had some lentil and spinach soup with a hearty side of bread, and a beetroot and carrot juice. The juice-ista (which should definitely be a word) apologised that it hadn't come out in three stripes of different colours in the glass, but it was very nice and such a nice purple shade that we would never have thought it looked odd. I tasted a bit of the soup and it was so good that when I got hungry for lunch less than an hour after we left we rather sheepishly just turned back to Earth Cafe again. There's no way we could pretend we weren't the same people - I'm a giant and VDN is little, plus I had the most ginormous bag on my back, but hey, what cafe is going to get upset its customers are coming back so soon?! This time I had the soup and DVN had a vegan strawberry cake, which was a little bready and with a very sweet icing, but good all the same. Other tempting options included a daal, some veggie burgers, and a harira soup which is a regular (the lentil and spinach was a special).


My lunch reminded me how much I love lentil soup and how I ought to try to recreate this particular one at home. It didn't have any particular strong flavour - no noticeable spiciness or lemoniness for example, just a really good hearty earthy lentiliness. I elected to start my home version quite simply with the thought that I could build it up by iterations in the future. I used a standard onion-garlic-celery base, but also added some soaked dried mushrooms and their liquid because I thought it would be a nice extra layer of flavour. It wasn't like the one in the cafe, but definitely a good extra taste. I also used more spinach than the original if the much greener shade of my soup was anything to go by. Flavour-wise, I added an Italian herb mix and some thyme, and then at the end, some soy sauce and some pepper.

The finished soup was very nice indeed, and with some home-made soda bread definitely merited an appreciative lunch wiggle. It didn't quite have Earth Cafe's earthiness and I'm quite intrigued to know what the missing ingredient was. I even emailed them to ask if they'd share the recipe, but that was only yesterday so they haven't had a chance to reply yet.
DVN wondered if there was tomato in it, so that might be another avenue to try next time. In the meantime I'm quite pleased to have conjured something along the same lines - and it even bypasses the worries about posting recipes from other cookbooks I mentioned a couple of posts ago! If you're in Manchester, I'd definitely recommend Earth Cafe -16-20 Turner Street, Northern Quarter, Manchester M4 1DZ, 0161 8341996, open Tues-Fri 10am-7pm and Sat 10am-5pm. I might even have to fabricate a reason for a return trip to the archive just so I can go back!
PS, forgot to say - it's *really* good value, too!

Lentil and spinach soup
Serves two, generously

half an onion
one clove of garlic
half a celery stick
small handful of dried mushrooms
3/4 cup-ish of red lentils
1/2 tsp - 1tsp dried thyme
sprinkle of mixed Italian herbs
300-400ml hot stock
big handful of spinach (I actually used about 5 balls of frozen spinach)
splash of soy sauce, to taste

Soak the dried mushrooms in hot water for about 10 mins. Warm a little oil in a saucepan, and cook onion, garlic and celery to soften. Drain the mushrooms, keeping the liquid, and chop. Add mushrooms, their liquid, the lentils and herbs to the pan. Add stock and bring to the boil. Lower heat and simmer about 15 mins. Add spinach (mine was frozen - if using fresh perhaps let the flavours develop a little longer first since it won't take as long to cook). Blend and season with pepper and soy sauce to taste.

Cupcakes and pizza for a Norse God

Last week The Scientist and I had one of our very best friends staying with us and we were very happy. He emigrated to Canada eighteen months ago and this is the first time we've seen him since. He was one of The Scientist's housemates many moons ago, and they bounce off each other in some sort of geek nirvana (their first conversation started with 'so, what do you think of optical interferometers?' or some such craziness). Fortunately that's not his only charm and so I love him too. I was pondering what to call him on my blog when he mentioned that one of his Canadian friends calls him 'Skyhammer' on her blog, and I thought I couldn't really improve on that. It sounds like some sort of Norse god, doesn't it?

We were wondering what to eat for dinner while the Norse God was with us when he told us about his housewarming party in Canada at which he'd just provided a load of pizza and cupcakes for his guests to eat. We were all immediately taken with that idea, and so while The Scientist dug out a takeaway menu, I got going on the cupcakes. The Norse God picked mint chocolate flavour, and I found a great recipe in Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World for chocolate cupcakes with minty frosting and a chocolate ganache. But I had just run out of soya milk and it seemed like an ethical travesty of the highest order to de-veganize a vegan cupcake. So I turned to Cupcake Project, thinking if anyone knew a good chocolate cupcake, it would be Stef. Stef hasn't made mint cupcakes herself as they're one of the banned flavours in her quest for the perfect wedding cupcakes for her friends. But her chocolate cupcake of choice is from Chockylit's Cupcake Bakeshop - in fact it's the basis for her Better than Sex cupcakes which I won't comment on as my little sister sometimes reads this blog. Having tasted the cupcakes I can see where she was going with the general idea though... I added a teaspoon of peppermint essence to the batter, and halved the recipe as there were only three of us, but it still made 11 British fairycake-sized cakes. For the minty frosting I did follow the vegan recipe although used regular butter (sorry), and finally turned to Nigella for a chocolate ganache.


The cupcakes themselves were beautiful (and Chockylit gives some satisfyingly good scientific reasons for her method). Weirdly though, my frosting and ganache had borrowed each other's qualities: the frosting was runny and the ganache was as thick as anything, so I spread the former and piped the latter instead of the other way round. The boys didn't mind this at all, although it meant that my cupcakes were not quite the picture of perfection I had hoped (I'm competing with professional Canadian bakery cakes, after all). The Norse God sweetly said he didn't compare like that and The Scientist was too busy eating the leftover 'ganache' with a spoon to comment. Both dispatched the cakes pretty quickly after their pizzas anyway, while discussing one-dimensional profiles or something. I found the mint frosting far too sweet for my own taste, but it was really minty (in a good way), and the cakes were minty yum. I'd definitely make them again.


The Norse God has gone back to Canada now and we're very sad, but we had a brilliant time with him and hope to visit him and his cupcake suppliers in the not too distant future.

Mint chocolate cupcakes with chocolate ganache

Chocolate cupcake recipe from Cupcake Bakeshop, here

Mint frosting (with apologies to Vegan Cupcakes) [I halved this quantity and it still made at least twice what I needed - but then I found it was too runny to be piped nicely so used less per cake than intended. I'm not sure why mine was so runny - perhaps using milk instead of soy creamer?]
1/4 shortening
3 cups icing sugar, sifted
1/4 cup plus 1 tbsp milk
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
small drop green food colouring

Mash shortening with a fork to soften. Add1 cup icing sugar and a tbsp of milk and mix. Alternately add sugar and milk, mixing after each addition, until all the ingredients are used, and the icing is smooth and creamy. Add the extracts and mix. Pipe on top of cooled cupcakes

Chocolate ganache
I used a recipe from How to Eat, but that was a book I'd been looking after for the Norse God, and he took it away with him. Here's a link to a Nigella ganache on her website

Bottom of the biscuit tin soup

I'm away on another research trip, this time in Manchester, and I've just had the funniest dinner. I don't much like eating out alone and since I'm away for two nights I thought I'd bring dinner for the first evening with me. But then eating cold leftovers from a tupperware pot in your hotel room can be pretty soul-sapping too, so I decided to be ingenious and make something that was at least hot. Relatively healthy hot options when your only cooking device is a kettle is tricky, but I brought a packet of flavoured couscous with me which could be rehydrated with hot water, and a small pot of defrosted frozen veggies. I emptied a small ceramic pot I found in the bathroom of its freebie toiletries and used it to hold my couscous as it rehydrated with water from the kettle. I considered putting the tupperware pot of veggies directly into the kettle to at least warm up, but luckily I mentioned my idea to The Scientist last night and he cautioned against letting the pot rest on the element in the kettle (I really hope I would have thought of this before I actually melted it but am not entirely confident!). So I abandoned that, and instead cast about and lit upon a long container which was holding the tea and coffee bags in my room which I thought could serve as a bain marie for my little pot. The peas did fine - a little crunchy but I like them like that anyway. The carrots could have done with a bit more effective warming, but were perfectly acceptable. So I managed to eat a warm and healthy dinner using a variety of hotel dishes and felt like Johnny Ball at the same time. I wished I'd had my camera so I could capture my comedy dinner, but I'd left it at home, and am about the last person in the world whose mobile phone doesn't have a camera in it.


Anyway my hotel room might be poky, my dinner might be improvised, and my best beloveds might be several counties away but I do at least have internet access. And so to the soup. I should say straight away that it doesn't actually have biscuits in it. 'Bottom of the biscuit barrel' is how Granny Munchkin and her brothers used to refer to meals that were made of leftover odds and ends - based, I believe, on improvised desserts by Israel Grandma which did actually feature the crumbs at the bottom of the biscuit tin. And that exactly describes my soup, which was put together to use up some British asparagus which was past its prime, some beetroot leaves which I couldn't bring myself to bin, and some soya beans I'd found reduced at the supermarket. I left the soup brothy which is unusual for me, but I fancied getting the crunch of the whole beans. The flavour combination worked really well, although I have to admit that I can't quite remember now what herbs I added. In the spirit of the soup I think you should use whatever you have to hand. I also liked it that the soup had a distinct purple hue which must have come from the beetroot stalks. I took it to work with me, hence the weird tupperware picture (it seems this meal is linked to tonight's experience after all!). Next to the soup is a rosemary scone I made to use up more of the rosemary I was given at the Taste Festival. Of course I made too much, and some of the rest of the veggies got turned into a tagine with some couscous. After that I called it quits - bottom of the bottom of the biscuit barrel is as far as I'll go. I feel justified in posting this recipe since it's home-devised, and anyway, so vague as to be almost completely unhelpful anyway :)


Bottom of the biscuit tin soup
Makes an unhelpful two and a half portions

half an onion
leaves and stalks from one bunch of beetroot, chopped
half a bundle of asparagus, chopped small
small container of fresh soya beans
stock, to cover and then some
handful of whatever fresh herbs you have to hand - I'm pretty sure I used chives
salt, pepper and any other dried herbs, to taste (isn't that a helpful direction?)

Chop onion and sweat until soft in a little oil. Then add all the veggies and stir to soften. Add hot stock and simmer for about 20 mins, until everything is soft. Add herbs, and salt and pepper to taste.

Welcome home, MG!

Munchkin Granny got home yesterday after a month in New Zealand with Kiwi Family. I thought she would be feeling sad after leaving her two grand-munchkins on the other side of the world, so I wanted to cheer her up a little. I was going to surprise her at the airport but had to spill the beans when she said she was going to ask a friend to pick her up. But I did manage to produce a surprise Eco-Sis which really made her day, and had gone to her flat in advance to make sure all was tidy and aired, pet her cat after a month of being fed by her very kind neighbour, and - of course - rustle up some welcome home food so she wouldn't have to cook for a few days.


MG (who, just to clarify, is the Munchkin and Munchkinette's Granny, and Eco Sis, Kiwi Sis and my mum) was remarkably perky and well groomed after her enormous flight, and full of anecdotes about the almost unbearably cute little ones. Eco Sis and I leapt on the camera to see her photos, and see how much the Munchkin had grown since they left. I'm sure it doesn't quite make up for leaving the grand-munchkins behind, but she did like her welcome home cake, a berry clafouti cake I've been wanting to make for a while. The recipe was from a Sainsbury's magazine (I think) and I used blackberries instead of the recipe's blackcurrants which you never seem to see in supermarkets. It was lovely and moist and really easy. I also made her a pea and rocket soup which has shot to the joint-top of my favourite soup list (I'll make it again and blog about it properly), and a pasta bake courtesy of Heidi at 101 Cookbooks. Hopefully they'll at least help her over the jetlag and fuel her through a few evenings of organising her photos.


I'm a bit nervous about posting the recipe for the cake after reading Johanna's comments about a fracas between a fellow-blogger and some over-zealous recipe-owners. I've always wondered about whether there were any rules on copying recipes, modified or otherwise, but assumed that as long as they were credited it was ok. So for now I'll play it safe - there are lots of clafouti cake recipes out there, so hopefully it should be easy to recreate. Sorry for being a woos....

Welcome home, Munchkin Granny!

Little French flatbreads

This is a tale of yeast taken to the brink of despair - and rescued; a tale with a happy ending and a nice crunchy crust. This bread's story started last Friday when I planned to make a veggie stew with some little French boules to accompany it. I started the dough at lunchtime because it took a lot of rising, using a small batch recipe so I could make just three rolls. French bread only consists of flour, yeast, salt and water, and I was a bit surprised when the recipe didn't mention warming the water. I thought I wouldn't start meddling at this early stage and believe that it was a special French-bread process, so I added the cold water and left the dough to rise.

During the afternoon I started to think that my stew plan was a bit boringly healthy for a Friday feeling, and began hoping that my dough didn't rise after all. My secret hope was answered when I went to check on it after three hours: it sat in its bowl looking exactly as I had when I put it there, as if to say 'well what did you expect when you didn't give me any nice nurturing warmth to get my yeast going?' I emailed The Scientist to tell him that dinner was foraging, and since he's a boy, and being set loose in the ready meals section of the supermarket is almost always preferable to a low fat stew, he was happy. The dough got wrapped in plastic and stashed in the fridge in the hope that it could be transformed into something that required a little less rising.


The next night I was making a Moroccan stew, and I thought that flatbreads would be a lovely accompaniment. The dough was duly brought out again and left at room temperature before being rolled out thinly. Since it was very plain I added some toppings for extra flavour. On one I spread some garlic relish, in honour of its French origins, and on the other, some cumin seeds, having kneaded some cumin powder into the dough before rolling to fit in with the spicy stew. I baked them at about 220C for about 10 mins or so, with no idea as to whether they would even be edible.


In fact, they were the best flatbreads I've ever made! My previous flatbreads (generally the Nigella seed breads from How to Be a Domestic Goddess) are very nice, but somewhat puffy - more like a naan than a pitta. These ones were flatter and a little crunchier, and so were better (I thought) for scooping couscous and veggies - a foil to the meal if you will, rather than a big bite in their own right. We both liked both the toppings very much. The garlic one was quite sweet as it was more of a jam than a savoury relish, and the cumin taste was assertively present without dominating the dish. After a very inauspicious start, these are now my flatbreads of choice! My one problem is that I don't know whether to try them with warm water, or whether they would lose their character. But in that case, are they really a bread?!


After their miraculous resurrection from the brink of yeast despair I am sending these flatbreads to My Diverse Kitchen, who is hosting Bread Baking Day on the theme of small breads this month.


Little French flatbreads (adapted from Small Batch Baking by Debby Naugans Makos)
The original recipe was for 2 boules; I guestimated the quantities up by half so as to make three, so these quantities are a bit rough

1 cup white bread flour, plus more as needed, and for dusting the work surface
3/4 tsp salt
a very scant 1/2 tsp rapid-rise yeast
olive oil, for greasing the bowl

Place flour, salt and yeast in a food processor and process for three seconds to blend. With the machine running, pour a bit under half a cup of [cold] water through the feed tube. Process until the dough holds together, about 20 seconds. The dough should be a sticky mass, and it should appear difficult to knead by hand. If the dough is too dry, add more water, a tablespoon at a time, processing for five seconds after each addition.

Lightly grease a medium sized mixing bowl with olive oil. Place the dough in the bowl and turn it to coat it with the oil. Cover the bowl loosely with plastic wrap and let the dough rest. [I don't know if this is at all necessary if using cold water - this was the instruction for the French bread part!]. Roll the dough out thinly and top with any seeds/relishes you fancy. You can also knead flavourings into the dough.

Bake at 220C for 10-12 minutes keeping an eye on it.