Lemon and lime meringue-less pie

It was The Scientist's birthday on Monday. I asked him a few days beforehand what he would like for a birthday cake, but it was a fairly academic question - I knew the answer would be lemon meringue pie. He surprised me though - he said lemon and lime meringue pie. I ran a few recipes by him and he picked a totally decadent one by Rosemary Shrager - the deputy head on one of the few reality tv shows we watch, Ladette to Lady. She teaches cooking at the finishing school on the programme and I like it that she's an old-fashioned sort of Home Economics teacher like the ones I had at school. I did HE for years but the only dish I remember making was lasagne, and that's because I had forgotten to bring any lasagne sheets and had to go round borrowing one spare from all of my classmates. I must have learnt something else though because those classes are how I know how to make a roux sauce - but I wasn't sorry to drop it, and the teacher didn't seem particularly sorry to see me go either. Must have been the lasagne melt-down.

Rosemary Shrager's pie was amazingly decadent. A ton of eggs, butter, cream (yes cream - I've never seen that in a meringue pie filling before), and caramelised sugar in the meringue. I was particularly pleased with the pastry, which I made from a recipe in my standby Women's Institute cookbook (the recipe said to use shortcrust pastry but I went for an enriched flan pastry). The middle layer was fairly involved, partly because it involved a lot of zesting and juicing - thank heavens for the juicer attachment on my food processor, but after that it was straightforward. Getting it into the baked pastry case on the other hand - it took two of us and a lot of careful lowering and tilting but we got it in the oven intact. So far, so good.

The meringue, on the other hand, was a real challenge. The recipe said to heat the sugar gently until it dissolved. This really foxed me as 'dissolved' surely meant that it should be in water? After some discussion we decided that it was ok as long as she meant 'melted', but it took mine an age to melt completely and I ended up turning the heat up quite high. I kept stirring and stirring, but in the time it took to whisk the egg whites (during which time the sugar was off the heat) it burned and made the meringue mix taste just awful. By this time I was very fed up and we decided to abandon the top layer for now. Lemon and lime pie it was.

Despite this setback it was a really successful dessert. I don't like lemon meringue pie but it's largely because I think that the meringue layer is pointless. Without it it was a lovely, rich, soft tart, with soft and decadent pastry. The citrus taste was gorgeous - really tangy without being overpowering (the cream, I suppose). I confined myself to licking the knife - the old 'if it's not mine it doesn't contravene my (no dairy) dietary rules' rubbish, though the knife probably didn't strictly need licking as often as all that :) The Scientist loved it, which is just as well as our lunch guests turned out not to like lemon pie! Luckily I'd made some krispie banana muffins as well, as they had a young child with them. The Scientist enjoyed the naked pie so much that he didn't even request a meringue layer the next day and I think it will go down as the new special occasion lemon dessert. I've tried freezing half of it since we had so much, and The Scientist has a plan to try eating it frozen. I'll keep you posted :)

Rosemary Shrager's lemon and lime (not) meringue pie: recipe here

Birthday lemon meringue pie

I’ve been reading all sorts of beautifully lyrical blog posts on other blogs about the coming of autumn. For many people it means a chill in the morning air, lovely orange pumpkins at the farmer’s market, and leaves turning red. For me it has meant abandoning my nice cosseted days at my old family desk at home, and returning to the hurly burly of commuting to Oxford, the steady flow of young people at my office door wearing bemused expressions as to how their degree got into the state it has, and the occasional battle with reluctant technology in lecture rooms. Yes, the new semester has started, and that’s why I have been accidentally AWOL from here. It’s not that I haven’t been cooking; I just haven’t had time to write about it, and plus I tidied my camera charger away so efficiently when we had some friends with young children to visit last weekend that I couldn’t lay hands on it for several days.

I've got several things to post about, but firstly I am ashamed to admit that I am almost a week late posting about my dearly beloved's birthday last weekend. He's not too fussed about birthdays so I'm sure he will forgive me, especially as I did come up with his favourite dessert to celebrate. He was actually slightly more excited about this birthday than usual because he and I are now both binary numbers old, which apparently won't happen again for 32 years. Plus we've been together for a binary number of years and the cats are a prime number in both age and number. We are geektastically numerate in this house. His birthday cake wasn't prime or binary but it was lemony and meringuey, and since none of our birthday guests was too keen on lemon meringue pie, The Scientist got to scoff the lot. I've used various recipes and he's happy with all of them so I won't write out any one in particular. It's surprisingly easy really given how many components it has, and you just need to allow some time for the lemon curd to cool and to make and bake the pastry. We had a proper roast dinner to precede it (baked squash filo parcels for Eco Sis and I), and some all American cake mix brownies for us non-lemon pie lovers, courtesy of Eco Bro's baked goods courier service. It was good though the pre-mixed in chocolate chips surprised me.

Happy binary birthday, my love!

Yorkshire plum galette

Munchkin Gramps and Grandma S have a plum tree in their garden, which to be honest, I've never paid much attention to in the past. In recent years I have become a fruit-forager of the highest order though, and so as soon as we pulled up their drive last weekend I had already noted the abundance of plums just waiting for someone to come along with a basket. Sometimes that tree crops well and sometimes it doesn't apparently, but this has been s a good year, and so Grandma S was happy to let me take a few. I like eating fruit on its own best, but The Scientist is a confirmed fan of fruit in desserts, and so with the plums rapidly approaching over-ripeness, we both got to satisfy our dessert leanings.

It's one of the happy symbioses of our house that I like baking fruity desserts as much as The Scientist likes eating them, and I just take a small tasting tithe - which frankly doesn't put much of a dent in the dessert as I always over-estimate how much I'm making. This time he chose a pie and I decided to take the opportunity to make a dessert I've had my eye on for ages but have never got round to. It's a blackberry galette in Nigella's Domestic Goddess, and I've always been taken by the picture which looks wonderfully rustic and golden. Or, as Nigella describes it, 'a free-form pizza-like tart'. The dough has cornmeal in it which is apparently good for soaking up the juices, and the plums were so juicy that I thought that might be a particularly good thing. I like making pastry - I have colder hands than anyone I know so I feel I ought to be good at it - and this was very straightforward - just a bit of mixing and rubbing in (or a few blitzes in the food processor but that would take all the use out of my perpetually freezing hands). The original recipe adds creme fraiche to the blackberries but I just sliced my fruit on to the pastry disc, scattered some sugar and cinnamon over the top, and baked it as it was.


It looked nice (the pictures didn't come out too well) though the pastry didn't blow me away. I'm not much of a pastry fan though, and The Scientist liked it. He didn't notice the cornmeal but perhaps that was because of all the cream he'd doused it in! I thought it did give the pastry an interesting texture and flavour, so if pastry's your thing then I'd go for it. Anyway, I was pleased I'd finally made it, and the pie-eater in the house said he'd happily have it again, so I guess that's chalked up as a success. I went blackberrying picking in the lane near our house last night (as I say - always on the look out for fruit foraging opportunities!) so I may try it again in all its original Nigella glory. If the berries last that long :)

Plum galette (based on Nigella's blackberry galette from Domestic Goddess)

Made one smallish pie (two Scientists; possibly half a Michael Phelps)

Pastry:
60g plain flour
30g polenta/fine cornmeal
1 scant tbsp caster sugar
1/4 tsp salt
50g cold butter
15g (1 tbsp) vegetable shortening
1-3 tbsp ice water, or enough to bind [I found that 1 was more than enough]

Filling:
about 5 or 6 ripe plums
approx 3 tbsp caster sugar, or to taste
about 1 tbsp cinnamon, or to taste

To make the pastry, mix together the dry ingredients, then add the butter and shortening, and rub in until it resembles breadcrumbs (or use a processor). Add enough water to form a dough. Form it into a ball, wrap in plastic and put in the fridge to rest for about 30 minutes

Preheat the oven to 190C/Gas 5. Roll the pastry out into a rough circle, transfer to a lined baking sheet, and scatter sliced plums on to the top. I cut them over the pastry to catch the juices as well. Leave a good margin round the edge. Sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon, then dampen the edges of the pastry with water, and roll them over to make a nice rustic looking edge. Put in the oven for about 20 mins or until pastry is cooked and golden.

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

Spring Taste and Create - spring fruit pies

This post is about my first entry to Nicole at For the Love of Food's Taste and Create event. Every month she pairs participants up and they select and make something from each other's blog. This month Nicole has been kind enough to create a new seasonal edition of Taste and Create for a few of us who joined in late. I was partnered with Nicole herself, and have been having a difficult time choosing which of her many delicious-looking dishes to recreate. I was finally swayed towards a dessert as today was also my first meeting of a history journal's editorial board I've been asked to join, and I thought that there was no harm in banking some brownie points against any future tardiness in reviewing articles! The journal's editor puts on a nice salady outdoors lunch for the summer meeting, so I went for a fresh fruit tart Nicole said was so good she'd made it three times in one week. It was from an old cookbook of her mother's, and consists of a dough you 'pat in the pan' (ie no rolling), a custard filling, and a layer of fresh fruit. Nicole had made one big tart topped with a mixture of berries, but I went for two smaller ones (largely because the base of my big flan tin has never emerged from our house move!) and stuck with a strictly British spring-time seasonal theme of strawberries for one, and rhubarb for the other.


The pie crust was super-easy to make, though it was different from any pastry I've made before as it used oil rather than butter. The custard was also fine, and I got through the 'stir well to avoid the eggs scrambling in the scalded milk' part ok, which is always a bit alarming to contemplate. I did that part and baked the tarts last night so they could chill in advance. I also prepared the rhubarb, which I just baked in the oven with some sugar for about 45 minutes. I kept back the juices and reduced them down this morning to pour over the fruit (this part was based on Nigella's rhubarb tart in How to be a Domestic Goddess). The other tart was topped with sliced strawberries and brushed with warm apricot jam (I'm afraid I didn't make my own as Nicole did, which I'm sure made it extra nice!).


I was a little nervous bearing my untested tarts off to my meeting - after all, what if my new colleagues didn't like my baking, and gave me all the duff jobs to do? I needn't have worried though: everyone, go and bake this tart - it is delicious! The pastry was crispy but soft in the mouth which is the way I like it; the custard was smooth and eggy; and the fruit gave a final cool and fresh taste. Everyone loved it, especially the rhubarb version, and the editor requested the recipe. I did take a little piece back for The Scientist, and he put it on a par with his mum's lemon meringue pie, which is his top favourite dessert of all time. I've never made a custard tart before, and now I also have brownie points with my new colleagues, AND top dessert kudos from my dearly beloved. Thank you Nicole - count me in again next time!

Intercontinental cooking challenge #2: pie

For the second of our intercontinental blog challenges, Lisa from Unique Little Bits suggested the theme of savoury pastry. The idea is that each of us cook a dish from the other’s cuisine (ie, British for her, and American for me). The first theme was brunch, which we (and our other halves!) both had a lot of fun with.

The pastry challenge initially caused me a few head-scratching moments. All of the American pies I could think of were sweet, including ones which used what we would think of as savoury ingredients (a prime example being pumpkin pie). I thought of empanadas, but didn’t really want to go down the deep frying route, while all other pasty-type items seemed too close to British dishes. What I did come across, however, was the pot pie, which I had only heard of for the first time a few months ago when Nigella cooked one in one of her Nigella Express episodes. I hadn’t paid too much attention since it was a chicken pie, but some reading proved that it only really needed to be one covered in flaky pastry (as opposed to our heavier shortcrust), although the filling often sat in a pastry case as well. The filling was often thick and casserole like, which I thought gave me some ideas to play with.

I settled on a classic American combination of squash, beans and corn – the so-called ‘Three Sisters’ of native American cooking because they formed the staple of early agriculture. I went for chickpeas rather than the more traditional kidney, black or flageolet beans, as I thought the colour would look nice with the squash and corn (and also I like them more!). For the pastry I also had to abandon the favoured flaky recipe as The Scientist isn’t keen on it (he has a strange relationship with different types of pastry which I still can’t completely fathom. I have eventually learned that sausage roll and treacle tart is good; filo and puff is bad. Except for occasionally when it’s not – like the sausage roll. Ho hum – he can calculate pi to more decimals than you’d care to entertain, but can’t quantify his pie preferences). I did, however, go for a more ‘American’ take on a shortcrust-style pastry by using a recipe from Veganomicon which had cornmeal in it (it’s the topping for the seitan and mushroom pot pie). I do like making pastry so that part was fun, and I was also pleased to get a good balance of gravy in the pie, which I have never attempted before (I just fried some onion, then added some flour and cooked for a few mins, then the remaining veggies, some stock and a splash of wine. I also added some dried dill, oregano and thyme, a dab of mustard, and a glug of cider vinegar for extra flavour, which was loosely modelled on the combinations in a Three Sisters stew from Moosewood Low Fat Favourites. I cooked them all for about 20-25 mins before transferring to the pot, laying the pastry over the top and cooking for 35-40 mins).

We were both pleased with how the pie tasted. The cornmeal had a definite presence in the pastry and the filling had a nice thick gravyness to it. I served it with some locally grown purple sprouting broccoli and some carrots roasted in a foil parcel with thyme and a little wine. We rarely have a roast and veg type of meal, so it was quite a novelty!

Update: have a look at Lisa's brilliant take on Cornish pasties here!