Let's take a break(fast) shall we?

Nicole is right, I just can't seem to be stop putting things in jars. I think N was beginning to think he'd never get a cake or cookie again, but yesterday I decided it was time to put a stop to the preserving madness, pause, take stock and make some breakfast.

N and I have been discussing how I should go back to some of the recipes that were either a great success, or needed some adjustment, and make them again or have another go. With the weekend looming, and finally a lie-in, I decided it was time to get the flour out again and actually bake.

Remember these?


They were so delicious and I am ashamed to say that they only got made on two occasions. Only two. A total travesty. So I decided it was time to revisit them, and also to see if I could successfully veganise them.

We're having a brief spell without dairy at the moment, a mixture of health stuff and a response to our total cheese binge over Christmas. We're doing pretty well so far, we've been without cheese since the first week of January (the longest I've ever managed it, and given my obsession with cheese on toast it's been tough), and the past few weeks (post-river cottage) we've managed to cut out everything else. However I refuse to go without my baked treats so I'm expanding my skills a bit to include vegan versions of things. It's pretty handy considering one of my close friends is vegan. It means that not only do I have some experience of this kind of thing, but I will be able to make her more treats in the future as I expand my repertoire. I was really pleased with the outcome of the cinnamon rolls. I think you'd have a hard time telling that they're vegan, the only slight difference is that you don't get the slight buttery flavour in the dough and the filling, but this didn't stop me from polishing off two this morning for breakfast, so I doubt anyone's really going to notice.


Here is my recipe for a batch of about 12 rolls. I was halving my original recipe, which is why some of the measurements might seem a bit weird.

Vegan Cinnamon Rolls

Rolls:

1 1/8 tsp active yeast
1/2 c. warm milk
1/4 c. granulated sugar
half of 1/3 c. vegan margarine, melted
1 pinch salt
20g egg replacer (+ 55ml water)
2 c. all-purpose flour

Filling:

1/2 c. muscovado sugar
1 1/4 TBS. cinnamon
half of 1/3 c. vegan margarine, melted


Dissolve the yeast in the warm milk in a large bowl. Add the the sugar, margarine, salt & egg replacer powder and water and combine well. Add flour and mix until the dough forms.
Knead the dough into a ball and leave in the bowl, covered with a tea towel, somewhere warm to rise for an hour, or until doubled in size.

When doubled in size turn out onto a floured surface and roll the dough flat until it is a large rectangle. It should be about ¼ inch thick.

Preheat oven to 200C

Mix the muscovado sugar and cinnamon in a bowl. Spread the melted margarine evenly over the surface of the dough, and then sprinkle the cinnamon-sugar evenly over the top.

Roll the dough from the long side down to the bottom edge as if making a swiss roll or roulade.

Cut the rolled dough into 1 ¾ inch slices and put, evenly spaced, on a lightly greased baking pan. Let the rolls rise again until doubled in size (about 30 min.). Bake for 10 minutes, or until golden on top. (mine took about 20 mins.)

I make mine the day before and then re-heat in a 160C oven until just warm, about 5-7 mins. I also glazed mine this morning with a bit of lemon icing. I juiced half a lemon and then added enough icing sugar to get a slightly thickened syrup, I then drizzled it over the warm rolls and immediately scoffed two with my coffee. That's what weekends are about.

a photo essay: bringing in some natural beauty

Pickle those onions, girl!

I've made a new deal with myself. No more squandering mornings with aimless pottering, making excuses for why I can't possibly get on with my work yet. From now on, I shall have to reach my target word count before I start doing any baking, preserving or pottering, not after.

Okay, so who knows how long this new regime will actually last, but today it worked out very well indeed. I worked all morning, reached the word count and headed to the kitchen to celebrate.

I wasn't reaching for a glass of wine, not that early in the day! Instead I was reaching for my pan of vinegar and my dish of onions. Pickling may seem like a strange celebration to some, but to me it made total sense and was exactly what I wanted to spend my free-time doing. My hard-earned time no less.

At the farmer's market this weekend we spotted punnets of shallots for a quid and I couldn't resist buying two in order to try out the pickled onion recipe I'd found in Pam Corbin's book. I prepared them yesterday by blanching to remove the skins and then covering in salt to get rid of as much water in them as possible. I also prepared some vinegar by adding spices, bringing to the boil and then removing from the heat. I left both the onions and the vinegar overnight, and they lay there on the kitchen counter this morning tempting me.

I was very good, I held out and only finished them once I'd done my work. Talk about will power. I rinsed the onions in very cold water and strained the vinegar. I then packed the onions as tightly as possible in sterilised jars, covered them with the spiced vinegar and sealed the tops with vinegar proof lids.

Apparently they need to mature for about eight weeks - now that's what I call deferred gratification - but you can bet the minute that time is over we'll be down the chip shop for a newspaper wrapped bundle of chips to have with them. I know they'll got well with a ploughman's too, but my childhood memories are of fish and chips and pickled onions on a Friday night, so the first outing of the onions has to be with chips!

Here's my adaptation of the recipe. I found that I needed more vinegar than it called for, I think because rather than making one 900g jar, I made several smaller. I also changed the spices to suit my own tastes, and left out the sugar because I like a sharp pickle. If you want sweet ones add 150g of sugar or honey when you boil the vinegar.

Spiced Pickled onions - makes about five 1/2lb jars, or one large 900g one.

1kg small onions or shallots
50g fine salt
700ml vinegar - I used a mix of cider, malt and white wine to get a mix that wasn't too strong, but will retain its bite.
20g root ginger, bashed slightly and chopped into quarters
2tsp allspice berries
1 cinnamon stick (I used a large piece of bark)
1 tsp black peppercorns
1 small dried chili
bay leaves - one per jar

Top and tail the onions, cover in boiling water for 20 seconds, then plunge in cold water. Slip of their skins, places them in a shallow dish and cover with the salt. Cover and leave overnight.

Place all the spices, except the bay leaves, in the vinegar mix and bring up to the boil. Remove from the heat and leave to steep overnight.

The next day: strain the vinegar, wash the onions thoroughly in very cold water and drain, then pack into sterilised jars. Cover completely with vinegar and seal. Leave for 6-8 weeks to mature.

Obviously, I have no idea how these taste yet, but the smell was amazing (if you like pickled onions and spices of course, which I do) so I think they're going to be good. I will update in March!

She's an 1850s throwback

There is (was?) a British comedy quiz show called Shooting Stars hosted by Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer and often starring Mark Lemmarr. Why do I bring up yet another obscure television reference? Because today when someone commented that I was like something out of the Victorian era, all I could think of was the catchphrase from Shooting Stars that they used to describe Lemmarr; "he's a 1950s throwback."

Apparently I'm an 1850s throwback due to my obsession with writing letters, knitting, preserving, sewing and other such things. I think the comment was meant as a compliment, and even if it wasn't I certainly took it as one. I love writing letters (know me for a length of time and you will eventually be inundated by my postcards), now that I know I can make preserves I am revelling in it. I am also proud of my new-found knitting skills and will happy sit on the bus knitting row after row of N's long overdue scarf without shame. Also, I had promised I would finish the scarf over the weekend, it completely slipped my mind.

Things are slipping my mind quite a lot at the moment. I think the smell of boiling oranges is getting to my brain and in my marma-lady haze I keep forgetting things. I have such a back-log of stuff to post, stuff that is pre-River Cottage and pre-brownie. So pre-brownie in fact that I fear it will get lost in the depths of the hard drive forever.

I have a soup recipe, which was "quite good," (probably not worth posting in hindsight - or foresight actually since I haven't actually written about it), a recipe that came in a jar(!), and some tasters of the big project I talked about, all floundering. They will come (some of them) I promise. I also have all sorts of preserves to talk about, and even more oranges arriving on Wednesday (so many in fact that Abel and Cole rang me to check they had the number of kilos right and that I hadn't pressed the button by mistake!) Oh yes, bring on the marmalade production!


In the meantime I shall leave you with pictures of the orangettes I am in the process of making. I decided to have a go with Seville oranges because I thought the bitterness might balance the sweetness of them being candied. They're still not quite dry yet, so I haven't gotten around to coating them in chocolate, but I snuck a tiny piece that was aching to be eaten and to me they were good. They've got the bitter tang that I love about Sevilles, and yet they are sweet too.
I think they will definitely benefit from being dressed in chocolate. I plan to do them in very dark chocolate to compliment the orange without the cloying nature of milk. I have to say that oddly I think white chocolate might work well too. I know that sounds contradictory, but I think the creaminess will slightly subdue the tang, and so make them a little more delicate for those who don't adore the sharpness quite as much as me.

Speaking of which, I have lemongettes on the way too. I know they ought to be lemonettes, but N likes the "gettes" part and it's stuck!

Oh, before I go, some more housekeeping: I've finally fixed the comments. Apparently I'd left the old private settings on that stopped some comments. It should allow all comments now (although they are still moderated). Anybody out there want to say hello? Well now you can!

I am the marma-lady

TA DA! Yes, that is what it looks like, it's a litre of marmalade!

I've been a little maramalade-herical here the last few days. In fact I've been like that for most of the week. I learnt about how to make it on Monday, spent the whole day thinking about ideas for recipes on Tuesday, then my oranges arrived on Wednesday. I couldn't wait to start trying to make my very own marmalade, and I'm impressed that I got any work done at all on Wednesday. But I'm trying to get my will-power and acceptance of deferred gratification back, so work I did. All the while of course I had oranges boiling away in the background, filling the flat with the slightly bitter and heady smell of Sevilles.

I adore Seville orange marmalade. It is something that reminds me of my childhood and the way I used to have it on bread with peanut butter. Trust me, it's the most perfect combination; the slightly salty yet creamy peanut butter with the sweet and yet bitter marmalade. Gets me every time, and the first thing I did when we got back from River Cottage was whack on a slice of toast, and crack open my jar of River Cottage marmalade to try with peanut butter. It was delicious, very like the Duerrs marmalade my father always buys.

So that became my goal, to produce a marmalade that was not entirely quite unlike Duerrs or River Cottage. I wanted a really chunky, bitter yet sweet marmalade, with, of course, a nice hint of whiskey!

I decided to use the whole fruit method as this is supposed to produce a very traditional dark bitter marmalade. I boiled the fruit whole, kept and measured the cooking water, chopped the now soft oranges, weighed sugar, juiced lemons and it all went in the pan.


As usual everything was going perfectly to plan until it came to the setting point. I don't know why, but this has come to instill fear in my heart. I think because I over-set my first jam to such an extent that it became like cheese - "cham" - and then failed to get the following jelly experiment to set, I have grown to dread the time when it comes to test for set.

I tried using a thermometer, because I'm told and I read that this is a sure-fire way. The boiling mixture should hit the right temperature and Voila! it should set. Nope. Not in this flat. I tried the saucer test, and have had real problems there too. I drip some on a cold saucer and put it back in the fridge, test a few minutes later, no set. I pour the mix into jars anyway because it had hit temperature a while ago, cham.

You can see my issues. But I was determined this time that I was going to be fine. No more fear, no more nervousness. I'd seen it done, I'd heard it from the experts, and I love marmalade. Success for destined and sure-fire.

Hahahahaha! No it wasn't! I boil, I get it up to temperature, and test on a saucer. No set. I re-boil to temperature, place on a saucer. No set. I re-boiled to temperature, test on a saucer. Set! Hurrah for the wrinkle. I take it off the heat, stir slightly and leave for 15 minutes to cool slightly so I get an even distribution of peel in the jars. I stir in the whiskey, then I pot it.No set. I kid you not. Hours later, still like syrup. Disaster.

My response? A while ago I might have burst into tears, and I still very nearly did. I felt so bad that N had bought me the wonderful preserving course for my birthday and I still couldn't do it. Fortunately he was very supportive and pointed out that he chose the present because of the enjoyment I would get from it, not necessarily because he expected me to churn out preserves. Plus, he thought it looked fine. Now I just felt bad generally because I hadn't managed to succeed at something I really, really, really want to get right.

What did I do? I sent emails and I waited. Then on Thursday I had a wonderful phone call from a jam expert, a very reassuring, helpful, full of rescue tips, phone call. I was dually reassured, and back on the wagon!

Apparently really chunky marmalade can take days to properly set and I shouldn't despair. Also, I could re-boil, there's no harm in doing it again. Stirring in the whiskey adds liquid and so affects set, if I want a heavy set then leave boiling for even longer so it will have a stronger set before the alcohol loosens it up. Add more lemon juice to chunky just to be sure. Don't worry it makes a lovely sponge pudding and you can always try again.

Armed with this new wisdom I decided to leave my batch well alone. I should be patient and trust it to do the right thing. Two days later, it did! It is a hard-ish set in the fridge, and softer set out of it, with a lovely bitter bite and hint of peat-y whiskey.

Whoo! I can do it. I can make marmalade. Good marmalade too.

I was so pleased that I immediately started plotting the next batch. Today's was a slightly different ratio of sugars (I upped the brown to make it darker) and I let it boil for a lot longer. It still took an age to get to the setting point, but I feel loads more confident about it. We have a small sample in the fridge for toast tomorrow, and more oranges arriving next week! Eek, I'd better order some more jars...

WARNING: Highly addictive content

There's quite the backlog of post building up in my head as there's been a flurry of activity in the North London Kitchen since we returned from Dorset. It's resulted in sticky floors, sticky slippers, a tonne of washing up and some interesting phone calls (not all of which were to my Mum).

However, when I assessed which of the recent projects was in most urgent need of being posted, it wasn't anything from this week at all. Now, I've warned you, the following is highly addictive. If, like me, you have no will power, make at your peril, they will vanish, leaving a trail of gooey devestation in their wake.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, the Ultimate Rocky Road Brownie Recipe.

Oh yes, it is good enough to warrant the use of "ultimate" in the title. I know, because I've had them. They may not look that special, or pretty, but it's what's inside that counts.


I am very careful not to make these too often. They are a special occasion brownie, packed with far too much deliciousness and gooey stuff and bits of niceness. They are not a grab-on-the-go type, but a savouring-in-front-of-Match-of-the-Day-after-a-hard-night's-drive-across-the-west-of-England-to-your-hotel type brownie. Which is exactly why I made them last Friday ready for our River Cottage Road Trip. The time I made them before that was for a 26 hour, three changes, haven't seen my boyfriend in three months, flight across to Peru when N was away two years ago. As you can tell, these are very special indeed.

I can't remember where I found the recipe, but it was years ago, I think when I was still in college. I think I was reading something at the time that mentioned them and I decided I wanted to have a go. Problem was, I didn't have a recipe. Back then there wasn't a barrage of food blogs I could turn to, but a little hunting and careful search engine usage produced a recipe. I still have that original print out, typed in courior new and cut out to a size just big enough to fit into my recipe scrap book. It is America, as it should be, and so uses cup measures. I'd never come across this back in the day, so actually used a cup. How quaint!

I've adapted and changed and tweaked over the years and every time I think I've got it perfect, then I change something the next time and it's even better. This is one of the things that makes it the "ultimate" rocky road. It can be whatever you want. I didn't used to be a fan of nuts in brownies, so have used everything from chopped biscuit to maraschino cherries (which are now a staple in my final version) in their place, this time I used some macadamia and it came out great. Next time, whenever it may be I will probably try toasted pecans to get some caramel flavour in there.

Oh, and while I remember, they're a great way to use up gritty marshmallows!

The Ultimate Rocky Road Brownie: Makes, well it depends, the original recipe says 12, this time I cut it into 8, but they were pretty large and we ate half one each to make them last longer!

Also, the original recipe calls for a 9" by 13" pan, which I still don't own. I used a 7" by 10" (I think), basically any brownie sized pan will do, they will just be thicker or thinner. Keep an eye on the baking time though, you want them gooey not charcol!

1 1/4 cups caster sugar
3/4 cup unsalted butter, softened
3 large eggs 4 squares dark chocolate melted
2 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 cup cocoa powder
1/4 cup plain flour
1/2 milk/dark chocolate chip or chunks
1/2 white chocolate chips or chunks (or nuts or dried fruit, or chopped biscuit or...)
1 cup maraschino cherries (I prefer these to glace as they are moist and include alcohol!)
marshmallows (gritty or otherwise)

Heat oven to 180C and line your brownie pan with parchment (I've found the hard way that this is the best way to ensure easy release of your baked brownie goodness). Cream together the sugar and butter until fluffy. Add the eggs and mix until thick and lemon coloured. Mix in the melted chocolate and vanilla. Add the cocoa and flour and mix until well combined. Stir in the chips and bits.

Lay the marshmallows (as many as you want, but don't have them touching - I used 12 large) in the pan with space between them. Allow a 1" border from the side of the pan if possible. Spoon the batter over the marshmallows so they're all covered and then pour any excess into the middle of the pan (it will spread as it bakes).

Bake until a toothpick comes out moist from chocolate, but not batter. Aprox 25-30 minutes. Cool in the pan and the lift out and cut. Chill to solidify slightly if needs be, but indulge at room temperature.

This weather is not conducive to work

It's wet, and grey and cold, and did I mention wet and cold? It's pretty wet too.



This does not make me want to sit at my computer writing thousands of words, it makes me want to sit on the bed with some knitting, or a book, or at the table building dinosaurs (long story), or at the counter with a spatula and apron on (although after last night's marmalade and chutney exploits I did have my doubts about wanting to enter the kitchen at all for a little while. Fortunately the mess wasn't as bad as I thought, and the floor only a little sticky when I got up this morning...)

Sniff's got the right idea. He's spent the day moving from his radiator bed, to the sofa, back to the bed, outside to chase off another cat, hastily returning to guard the sofa once more.

I want to be doing that. I want to be making labels for my chutney, knitting rows for N's scarf, which came on leaps and bounds over the weekend, but has stalled since. I want to be churning out batches of warming lemony cake to bring some sunshine.

But no, I shall be mostly writing about the apocalypse.

How apt.