I am almost embarrassed to suggest this here, it's so simple -- but off we go.
P.J.'s yoghurt pudding.
Had in childhood from the kitchen of my beloved auntie Pat, never forgotten, often wanted.
Take a large and pretty bowl. Preferably glass. Cover the bottom with a thick layer of soft brown sugar. It has to be soft brown or it won't work. Now, put on top two large pots of the best Greek yoghurt you can find. Smooth off the top and scatter flaked toasted almonds on it. Chill until it's, well, chilled. And your bowl should, ideally, look like it's generously filled.
To serve, make sure you scoop up a generous helping from bottom to top of bowl, so that everyone gets the cold, fudgy-brown sugar from the bottom, the creamy yoghurt and the crunch of the almonds.
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
Cheese on toast to beat all.
I am particularly fond of cheese on toast -- plain and simple or with a few variations. But I don't make it unless I've got some good crusty bread, brown or white. Also best,I think, with some mature cheddar.
A home alone cheese on toast tea last night went like this.
Lightly toast two fairly hefty slices of granary bread. Lightly. Then, add slices of mature cheddar so that the toast is covered -- but leaving the edges a little free here and there. The point of this, you see, is so that the edges might get a bit charred. And I toast the bread first so that it's firm under the cheese.
Under the grill it goes and, when it comes out, you have to slather it with Worcester sauce and eat immediately. That's it. I had this with a small tumbler of rough red wine and, all things considered, it was a rustic and satisfying tea.
Here's another suggestion. Welsh Rarebit.
Now, this is also known as "Welsh Rabbit". Cymingen! (That's rabbit in Welsh. I'm joking.)I've only see it referred to as rabbit in America -- and a book which I won't name, but which makes me chortle, says that, in England, you have it for high tea, often topped with tomatoes. In Britain, both names seems to be used.I'll come back to that in a moment.
Historically, there are a few variations. The simplest is that you top your cheese on toast with some good English mustard before you cook it, remembering to add a good grinding of pepper. Serve it piping hot. This is the most straightforward in conception and I see it's the one recommended by Mrs Beeton. It's also what we tended to have for a weekend breakfast, sometimes topped with a couple of slices of back bacon, crispy at the edges.
Alternatively, if you wanted to serve a more complicated (and authentic) and really very luxurious version of Welsh rarebit, try this.
30g unsalted butter
1 level tbs plain flour
1 tsp English mustard
4 or 5 drops of Worcester sauce
180 g grated mature cheddar cheese (or, whatever cheddar you have)
5 tbs milk OR, as a variation, make it half and half milk and a decent beer. Or just use beer.
4 slices of lightly toasted bread
salt and pepper to taste, but I don't expect it needs it.
First, you make a roux in a pan with the fat and flour, then add the beer, milk, mustard, Worcester sauce and the cheese.Cook it only a very little, otherwise things begin to separate and look a little greasy rather than tempting. Spoon the mixture onto the toast, spread it gently and cook it immediately under a hot grill. It will be golden and bubbling and, hopefully, you might also have a few charred edges of toast, too.
You could, I see from some of my mother's 1950s cookbooks, serve these as 'savouries'. In this way, cut into small pieces, this amount might do 8. But sod that for a lark: this is best in generous portions for two famished people or possibly four more polite ones -- with mugs of steaming tea. Actually, why not make double? It keeps well for a few days in the fridge if you don't end up using it all at once.
If you top any version of the rarebit with a poached egg, you end up with a Golden Buck (note the rabbit theme) -- which sounds quite racy to me. I've read elsewhere that another variety, known as Yorkshire Rarebit, has slices of ham under the cheese (or cheese preparation)or that it is sometimes chopped up and mixed with the cheese before the whole is grilled.
And the etymology of the word: which came first, the rarebit or the rabbit? You'd think that the rabbit was a corruption of the rarebit -- so a later addition.But I'll bow to the Oxford English Dictionary (complete edition -- I got curious)which says that rabbit came first and lists 1725 as its first recorded usage. (I wonder if someone thought rarebit sounded posher?) The OED also tells us that it included cayenne pepper and makes no mention of milk in the recipe -- only ale.
So why the rabbit? Ah,it's ironic, most likely. While in the England of the 18th century, the poor man's meat tended to be rabbit, in Wales, where folk were even poorer, it was cheese. But there's nothing poor about Welsh 'rabbit': it's my dream tea, so take that hob nobs who could afford to go to the butcher and buy sirloin!
I have one more thought along the same lines. One of my most loved cookery books is Alison Uttley's Recipes from an Old Farmhouse (Faber, 1966). It's a record of the author's childhood memories in the Derbyshire countryside. I loved --and still do-- the cosiness of many of the dishes mentioned: cheese pudding, toad in the hole, herb pudding and --my favourite-- a preparation of cheese. If you need to feel cossetted and full of nostalgia, try and get hold of it. But the simplicity of its recipes are just right for today, too -- so try these, based on this wonderful book.
Scotch Woodcock.
The preparation for this is just like the more authentic of the rarebit (rabbit?) recipes I gave above. In a saucepan, over a low heat, mix together 60g of grated parmesan cheese, 1 tsp of cream, (single or double) and a good pinch of cayenne pepper. Other recipes I have seen for this include eggs and milk, but I like the austerity of mine! To this you add either two tsps of anchovy paste (as in Gentleman's Relish -- with which I am obsessed) or the equivalent of gently mashed up anchovy fillets from a can. Just let it all cohere and melt gently in the pan, spread it on hot toast and eat. Does one greedy person (me) or two more genteel folk.
Here's another. In France or Switzerland, you may have eaten a raclette -- great hunks of melting cheese, scooped toward your mouth with bits of good bread. Here's the Wiltshire version of my childhood, which I based on Alison Uttely's and still love today.I shall just call it Cheese.
Just get two medium sized onions and then either peel and cut up into largeish chunks and boil until softened OR (which I prefer) roast in a hot oven with just a little oil. Thy should begin to caramelise at the edges.When the onion is done, add it, in a pan over a low heat, to about 120g grated mature cheddar and 3 tablespoons of cream. I don't think it needs butter, but some do. You could add 60 g to make it extra rich. Just pile in onto hot toast, jacket potatoes -- or scoop it up from the pan with hunks of bread. You might want a couple of pieces of bacon alongside. I might like some gherkins-- for sharpness-- too.
All of these are very simple, but wouldn't you like to go to someone's house for tea and get any of these (unless anchovies repel you, I suppose)with a hug and a mug of tea, tumbler of beer or carafe of red wine? Thought so. And who is not delighted by really good toast --especially with something delectable on top?
A home alone cheese on toast tea last night went like this.
Lightly toast two fairly hefty slices of granary bread. Lightly. Then, add slices of mature cheddar so that the toast is covered -- but leaving the edges a little free here and there. The point of this, you see, is so that the edges might get a bit charred. And I toast the bread first so that it's firm under the cheese.
Under the grill it goes and, when it comes out, you have to slather it with Worcester sauce and eat immediately. That's it. I had this with a small tumbler of rough red wine and, all things considered, it was a rustic and satisfying tea.
Here's another suggestion. Welsh Rarebit.
Now, this is also known as "Welsh Rabbit". Cymingen! (That's rabbit in Welsh. I'm joking.)I've only see it referred to as rabbit in America -- and a book which I won't name, but which makes me chortle, says that, in England, you have it for high tea, often topped with tomatoes. In Britain, both names seems to be used.I'll come back to that in a moment.
Historically, there are a few variations. The simplest is that you top your cheese on toast with some good English mustard before you cook it, remembering to add a good grinding of pepper. Serve it piping hot. This is the most straightforward in conception and I see it's the one recommended by Mrs Beeton. It's also what we tended to have for a weekend breakfast, sometimes topped with a couple of slices of back bacon, crispy at the edges.
Alternatively, if you wanted to serve a more complicated (and authentic) and really very luxurious version of Welsh rarebit, try this.
30g unsalted butter
1 level tbs plain flour
1 tsp English mustard
4 or 5 drops of Worcester sauce
180 g grated mature cheddar cheese (or, whatever cheddar you have)
5 tbs milk OR, as a variation, make it half and half milk and a decent beer. Or just use beer.
4 slices of lightly toasted bread
salt and pepper to taste, but I don't expect it needs it.
First, you make a roux in a pan with the fat and flour, then add the beer, milk, mustard, Worcester sauce and the cheese.Cook it only a very little, otherwise things begin to separate and look a little greasy rather than tempting. Spoon the mixture onto the toast, spread it gently and cook it immediately under a hot grill. It will be golden and bubbling and, hopefully, you might also have a few charred edges of toast, too.
You could, I see from some of my mother's 1950s cookbooks, serve these as 'savouries'. In this way, cut into small pieces, this amount might do 8. But sod that for a lark: this is best in generous portions for two famished people or possibly four more polite ones -- with mugs of steaming tea. Actually, why not make double? It keeps well for a few days in the fridge if you don't end up using it all at once.
If you top any version of the rarebit with a poached egg, you end up with a Golden Buck (note the rabbit theme) -- which sounds quite racy to me. I've read elsewhere that another variety, known as Yorkshire Rarebit, has slices of ham under the cheese (or cheese preparation)or that it is sometimes chopped up and mixed with the cheese before the whole is grilled.
And the etymology of the word: which came first, the rarebit or the rabbit? You'd think that the rabbit was a corruption of the rarebit -- so a later addition.But I'll bow to the Oxford English Dictionary (complete edition -- I got curious)which says that rabbit came first and lists 1725 as its first recorded usage. (I wonder if someone thought rarebit sounded posher?) The OED also tells us that it included cayenne pepper and makes no mention of milk in the recipe -- only ale.
So why the rabbit? Ah,it's ironic, most likely. While in the England of the 18th century, the poor man's meat tended to be rabbit, in Wales, where folk were even poorer, it was cheese. But there's nothing poor about Welsh 'rabbit': it's my dream tea, so take that hob nobs who could afford to go to the butcher and buy sirloin!
I have one more thought along the same lines. One of my most loved cookery books is Alison Uttley's Recipes from an Old Farmhouse (Faber, 1966). It's a record of the author's childhood memories in the Derbyshire countryside. I loved --and still do-- the cosiness of many of the dishes mentioned: cheese pudding, toad in the hole, herb pudding and --my favourite-- a preparation of cheese. If you need to feel cossetted and full of nostalgia, try and get hold of it. But the simplicity of its recipes are just right for today, too -- so try these, based on this wonderful book.
Scotch Woodcock.
The preparation for this is just like the more authentic of the rarebit (rabbit?) recipes I gave above. In a saucepan, over a low heat, mix together 60g of grated parmesan cheese, 1 tsp of cream, (single or double) and a good pinch of cayenne pepper. Other recipes I have seen for this include eggs and milk, but I like the austerity of mine! To this you add either two tsps of anchovy paste (as in Gentleman's Relish -- with which I am obsessed) or the equivalent of gently mashed up anchovy fillets from a can. Just let it all cohere and melt gently in the pan, spread it on hot toast and eat. Does one greedy person (me) or two more genteel folk.
Here's another. In France or Switzerland, you may have eaten a raclette -- great hunks of melting cheese, scooped toward your mouth with bits of good bread. Here's the Wiltshire version of my childhood, which I based on Alison Uttely's and still love today.I shall just call it Cheese.
Just get two medium sized onions and then either peel and cut up into largeish chunks and boil until softened OR (which I prefer) roast in a hot oven with just a little oil. Thy should begin to caramelise at the edges.When the onion is done, add it, in a pan over a low heat, to about 120g grated mature cheddar and 3 tablespoons of cream. I don't think it needs butter, but some do. You could add 60 g to make it extra rich. Just pile in onto hot toast, jacket potatoes -- or scoop it up from the pan with hunks of bread. You might want a couple of pieces of bacon alongside. I might like some gherkins-- for sharpness-- too.
All of these are very simple, but wouldn't you like to go to someone's house for tea and get any of these (unless anchovies repel you, I suppose)with a hug and a mug of tea, tumbler of beer or carafe of red wine? Thought so. And who is not delighted by really good toast --especially with something delectable on top?
Friday, 3 July 2009
A Guinness cake
240g unsalted butter
240g soft brown sugar
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
300g plain flour
2 level teaspoons of mixed spice
240g seedless raisins
240g sultanas
120g mixed peel
120 chopped walnuts
8-12 tablespooons of Guinness.
Cream the butter and the sugar together -- it needs to be light and creamy. Gradually beat in the eggs. Fold in the flour and mixed spice. Add the raisins, sultanas, mixed peel and walnuts. Mix well together. Stir 4 tablespoons of Guinness into the mixture and stir to a soft dropping consistency. Turn the mixture into a greased 7 inch round cake tin and bake in a moderate oven for 1 hour. Then reduce the heat to cool (so down from Gas 3 to 2 or 160 to 150) and cook for another one and a half hours. Out it comes (do the trick with the skewer) and leave it to cool.
When your lovely cake is cool, remove it from the tin, prick the base with a skewer and spoon over the remaining Guinness.
I see that my mother has written a footnote to the recipe: "This cake is improved if kept for one week before eating." And, like the previous recipe for mincemeat cake, it's the sort of thing that keeps well. Probably higher in iron than your average cake,too, so I expect it would be healthier for you to have two slices.
A mincemeat cake.
A Sunday afternoon cake.
This is a little Christmassey -- but nice any time of year. It's a family recipe, sent from one sister to another. I shall make this on Sunday. It's just a little spicy -- and very comforting.
90g unsalted butter
30g vegetable shortening or, in the case of my mother, some lard!
2 large free range eggs
210g self raising flour
120g soft brown sugar
360g good quality mincemeat. You could make your own, but, well, I don't
A little milk -- just in case you need it.
I also like to add a fat pinch of cinnamon and one of nutmeg.
You need a 7 inch round cake tin; grease it and then line it. Cream the butter and the sugar and beat in the eggs. Stir in the mincemeat, add your fat pinches of spice and fold in the flour. Now, the mixture should be moist but if you think not, add a little milk -- say a tablespoon?
Bake in a warm oven (by which I mean 160/gas mark 3)for about twenty minutes and then turn the oven down to gas mark 2 (150) and cook for about one and a quarter hours. The top should be firm and you should see that your cake is shrinking slightly from the sides of the tin. I'm sure you know all about skewers going in and coming out clean when the cake is done, though. Turn out. Looks fetching when dusted with a little icing sugar. Also, I'm not convinced about the turning down of the oven - but the cake works as is!
This is a little Christmassey -- but nice any time of year. It's a family recipe, sent from one sister to another. I shall make this on Sunday. It's just a little spicy -- and very comforting.
90g unsalted butter
30g vegetable shortening or, in the case of my mother, some lard!
2 large free range eggs
210g self raising flour
120g soft brown sugar
360g good quality mincemeat. You could make your own, but, well, I don't
A little milk -- just in case you need it.
I also like to add a fat pinch of cinnamon and one of nutmeg.
You need a 7 inch round cake tin; grease it and then line it. Cream the butter and the sugar and beat in the eggs. Stir in the mincemeat, add your fat pinches of spice and fold in the flour. Now, the mixture should be moist but if you think not, add a little milk -- say a tablespoon?
Bake in a warm oven (by which I mean 160/gas mark 3)for about twenty minutes and then turn the oven down to gas mark 2 (150) and cook for about one and a quarter hours. The top should be firm and you should see that your cake is shrinking slightly from the sides of the tin. I'm sure you know all about skewers going in and coming out clean when the cake is done, though. Turn out. Looks fetching when dusted with a little icing sugar. Also, I'm not convinced about the turning down of the oven - but the cake works as is!
Flapjacks that never fail
Our house is never short of flapjacks. I do diverge from the following recipe a little in that I sometimes add some flour to make them a bit weightier (for school lunchboxes)and a splash of milk -- which gives them a slightly creamy taste and me the impression that I am giving more calcium to my milk-shy offspring.
240g rolled oats
150g unsalted butter
60g demerara sugar
2 level tablespoons of golden syrup.
Melt the butter, sugar and syrup in a saucepan then, in a large bowl, mix it into the oats. Just press the mixture into a greased 8 inch tin and bake for about 15 minutes in a medium hot oven.
Now, my father was a man who enjoyed precision. I notice that the recipe goes on to include the following in short neat sentences: "Bake in the centre of the oven. Cut into 2 inch squares. Cool in the tin. Turn onto a rack. Store in an airtight tin. Eat quickly before anyone else gets them."
I made these today after I looked at this recipe. I was glad I did. It's the twenty first anniversary of my father's death. I wish that, as an adult, I had known him. We could have had ourselves a proper tea party in the sun right now. He could admonish his grandsons.
Thursday, 2 July 2009
A very simple apple strudel a la Mary Monica
This was a bit of a staple for the Sunday dinner (or should I say lunch?) of my childhood. Made with the cooking apples or the eaters of our orchard. So really, it's an autumn special.
This is my mother's recipe. She made it with one hand during the Archer's Omnibus if the memory serves me correctly. With the other she gave me a thick ear.
You need 270g of frozen puff pastry (thawed). Yes, you can make your own, but I do think that shop bought is perfectly good.
15g of unsalted butter
For the filling, 720g of cooking or eating apples, peeled and sliced. It seems a lot, but it needs to be generous because they cook down considerably. You'll see.
60g caster sugar (for eating apples; triple this if you are using cookers)
60g of sultanas
1 level teaspoon of cinnamon.
Roll out your pastry to about 60 cm square.Spread the apple slices over about two thirds of the pastry, then roll up the pastry from the end covered with apples onto a baking tray. Sprinkle everything with the sugar and the cinnamon. Pinch the joins together. It will look like a big fat sausage. Put the bit with the seam underneath. My mother used to shape this into a horseshoe shape. Melt the butter and, using a pastry brush, brush the top gently with butter and add a further sprinkling of cinnamon, if you like. You can also put some thin little slits in the top of the pastry. The juices from the apple will bubble up prettily if you do this. Use a very sharp and nimble knife so that you get it in one go! I also recall that occasionally --and my mother was not a lover of garnishes-- this was decorated with pastry flowers from the scraps of pastry put to one side for the purpose. Try it.
Bake in a medium hot oven for about thirty minutes. Serve it piping hot with a little cream or a good, old fashioned custard.
This is my mother's recipe. She made it with one hand during the Archer's Omnibus if the memory serves me correctly. With the other she gave me a thick ear.
You need 270g of frozen puff pastry (thawed). Yes, you can make your own, but I do think that shop bought is perfectly good.
15g of unsalted butter
For the filling, 720g of cooking or eating apples, peeled and sliced. It seems a lot, but it needs to be generous because they cook down considerably. You'll see.
60g caster sugar (for eating apples; triple this if you are using cookers)
60g of sultanas
1 level teaspoon of cinnamon.
Roll out your pastry to about 60 cm square.Spread the apple slices over about two thirds of the pastry, then roll up the pastry from the end covered with apples onto a baking tray. Sprinkle everything with the sugar and the cinnamon. Pinch the joins together. It will look like a big fat sausage. Put the bit with the seam underneath. My mother used to shape this into a horseshoe shape. Melt the butter and, using a pastry brush, brush the top gently with butter and add a further sprinkling of cinnamon, if you like. You can also put some thin little slits in the top of the pastry. The juices from the apple will bubble up prettily if you do this. Use a very sharp and nimble knife so that you get it in one go! I also recall that occasionally --and my mother was not a lover of garnishes-- this was decorated with pastry flowers from the scraps of pastry put to one side for the purpose. Try it.
Bake in a medium hot oven for about thirty minutes. Serve it piping hot with a little cream or a good, old fashioned custard.
July the 4th leftovers.
Now, in previous years, I may have cooked this meal (of coleslaw, the ham, cornbread, biscuits, green bean salad, tomatoes) for two and so I had some pretty copious leftovers. Actually, as with my annual Thanksgiving cook-up, it's part of the intention. I like cooking -- but I have other things to do: you know -- like darning and tending my dahlias.
You could be making biscuits or cornbread any day of the week. Cornbread, I find, is particularly good with a spicy lentil or tomato soup. You could make one with the stock left over from the July the 4th ham! The coleslaw, green bean salad and ham would make a fine meal just as is -- but if you're bored after this, how about the following. Because, after all tomorrow is another day.
Biscuits: warm them up and make them into little sandwiches with thin slices of the ham. English mustard. Or, possibly, some sliced gerkins? Or both!
Cornbread. If you chop up your cornbread into little croutons and bake them in the oven with maybe a little garlic, they make a wonderful snack. You can throw them into a big bowl of green salad.
Even better, break up any leftovers into coarse crumbs, freeze them, and use as a quick dressing (which is what a Southerner might otherwise call stuffing if it inside the bird) for a roast chicken. That is, seasoned with a little sage and scrap of onion, moistened with water and cooked alongside not inside the chicken. The bread is already cooked, so will only take about fifteen minutes to cook second time around in a hot oven. Leftover biscuits also make great dressing -- on their own or combined with the cornbread. Or as stuffing inside a roast chicken or your Thanksgiving turkey.
Are you following me? Confusion reigns in our house because I naturally refer to both as stuffing which, to my husband, is illogical. But then he might still stumble over such things as 'tea', a mince pie, the word 'pudding,'the (to him)_peculiar confection that is the classic English trifle.
And how about reserving half the cornbread batter and making what is so commonplace in modern Southern food and yet such a treat in our house? I'm talking Hush Puppies. Now, to a British ear, the hush puppy is a type of shoe or sometimes, perhaps, confused with a drink of much crushed ice sugar and many E numbers.
To a Southerner, hush puppies are cornbread fritters. You just fry tablespoons of the batter in hot oil for three or four minutes until they are crisp and brown. Fish them out with a slotted spoon and drain on kitchen towel. I'd be in hog heaven if I were served these with a plate of fried catfish -- these being the traditional accompaniment for a fried fish. However, try having them to dip into mayonnaise, a chilli sauce or tomato ketchup. Or tartare sauce?
You could be making biscuits or cornbread any day of the week. Cornbread, I find, is particularly good with a spicy lentil or tomato soup. You could make one with the stock left over from the July the 4th ham! The coleslaw, green bean salad and ham would make a fine meal just as is -- but if you're bored after this, how about the following. Because, after all tomorrow is another day.
Biscuits: warm them up and make them into little sandwiches with thin slices of the ham. English mustard. Or, possibly, some sliced gerkins? Or both!
Cornbread. If you chop up your cornbread into little croutons and bake them in the oven with maybe a little garlic, they make a wonderful snack. You can throw them into a big bowl of green salad.
Even better, break up any leftovers into coarse crumbs, freeze them, and use as a quick dressing (which is what a Southerner might otherwise call stuffing if it inside the bird) for a roast chicken. That is, seasoned with a little sage and scrap of onion, moistened with water and cooked alongside not inside the chicken. The bread is already cooked, so will only take about fifteen minutes to cook second time around in a hot oven. Leftover biscuits also make great dressing -- on their own or combined with the cornbread. Or as stuffing inside a roast chicken or your Thanksgiving turkey.
Are you following me? Confusion reigns in our house because I naturally refer to both as stuffing which, to my husband, is illogical. But then he might still stumble over such things as 'tea', a mince pie, the word 'pudding,'the (to him)_peculiar confection that is the classic English trifle.
And how about reserving half the cornbread batter and making what is so commonplace in modern Southern food and yet such a treat in our house? I'm talking Hush Puppies. Now, to a British ear, the hush puppy is a type of shoe or sometimes, perhaps, confused with a drink of much crushed ice sugar and many E numbers.
To a Southerner, hush puppies are cornbread fritters. You just fry tablespoons of the batter in hot oil for three or four minutes until they are crisp and brown. Fish them out with a slotted spoon and drain on kitchen towel. I'd be in hog heaven if I were served these with a plate of fried catfish -- these being the traditional accompaniment for a fried fish. However, try having them to dip into mayonnaise, a chilli sauce or tomato ketchup. Or tartare sauce?
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