Marjolaine

Finally this year's bake off has a technical challenge that actually felt like a challenge!  I'd never heard of  a marjolaine and probably won't make it again as the layers of daquoise, praline butter cream and ganache is far too sweet.  However I'd never made daquoise or a french butter cream before so it was good to try some new techniques and I was pleased to make something that looked reasonable.

I did quite enjoy pottering around the kitchen for an afternoon, but was very glad I didn't have to complete it in 3 hours, which would have been very stressful - especially as I'd run out of piping bags so the ganache was a bit of a mess.


The full recipe is here but although I enjoyed the challenge of making new things it's not worth the calories.

Daquoise, Praline Buttercream, Ganache and Nuts - just need to be assembled

Quite pleased with the layers and that it stayed upright!

Fougasse

'The Fougasse Smile' is how Richard Bertinet refers to the sense of achievement felt by people on his beginners baking course when they first take the bread out of the oven.  It looks beautiful with its leaf shaped structure, crisp crust and soft interior.

I first made this bread at a Bertinet bread course at the Bertinet kitchen in Bath (http://www.thebertinetkitchen.com/).  I love the atmosphere, setting and lunch of these courses and over the years have done bread, vienoisserie, pastry and chocolate courses.  The classes are small and you properly make the breads and pastries, so it's not just watching someone demonstrate the technique.  I also love Bath with its stunning architecture and spa  - I really must go again sometime.

I adapted Richard Bertinet's recipe for the rosemary and thyme fougasse to continue my GBBO technical challenges. It's pretty similar to Paul Hollywoods but I prefer the shape of the Bertinet bread.  We ate it with a roasted red pepper and tomato soup, which went really well.

Roasted Red Pepper and Tomato Soup

250g Cherry Tomatoes
1 Red Pepper Thickly sliced
1 Onion Sliced
2 Cloves Garlic
1 Tablespoon Olive Oil
Water
Salt
Pepper

Place the tomatoes, pepper, onions and garlic into a small roasting tin. Coat with the oil and a twist of black pepper.  Place in an oven at 200 C and roast for about 40 minutes or until the tomatoes and peppers caramelise.  Place the roasted vegetables in a saucepan or food processor and cover with water or stock.  Blitz until smooth and adjust the thickness and the seasoning.

The soup can be left as it is or adapted by adding herbs like rosemary and thyme, chilli or paprika

Bakewell Tarts

Part of the discipline of trying to do the technical challenges on Great British Bake Off is making things we don't particularly like.  This weeks challenge falls into that category.  Bakewell tart with its overly sweet icing and synthetic almondy taste falls isn't something I particularly relish, even with the associated childhood memories of kids parties.  Still, I had some creme amande in the freezer that needed using up and was running out of raspberry jam so Bakewell Tarts let me make the most of both.

As they pointed out on the show there wasn't anything particularly difficult about the component parts of a Bakewell Tart and I'd made all the component parts for other things before.  I love the fresh sharp taste of raspberry fridge jam and am very pleased to have a jar and a bit leftover to eat on toast with butter  - my favourite autumnal comfort food.

Sweet pastry was also quite straight forward, although I think it ended up too thick.  I decided to make a couple of smaller tarts rather than one big one which mean't there wasn't too much space for filling so I had to be quite careful with the different proportions of pastry, jam, frangipane and icing.

But the outcome was good for a Bakewell Tart, and no soggy bottom.

However, like the Mr Kipling version the almond icing over powered everything else.  I may make a Bakewell Tart again, but if I do I'll dispense with the icing and top with flaked almonds - A Tarte Amande with jam.

I used Mary Berry's GBBO recipe - see http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/marys_bakewell_tart_12584

Lace Pancakes

The joy of pancakes is their ability to act as a background to the flavours and textures of the fillings that go with them.  Lace pancakes are therefore completely pointless - but to maintain the sequence of Great British Bake Off bakes I made three. They looked nothing like each other or the planned design but I can tick the box.

The rest of the mix were made into proper pancakes, things Mr Vitty loves - but only with lemon and sugar.  As we were eating them for tea I felt I should make at least some pretence of nutitional value so filled one of mine with cheese and ham (very healthy).  I also love the classic lemon and sugar, but also cinammon sugar and banana, maple syrup and chocolate sauce.

Dampfnodle

I love bread week on the Great British Bake Off.  More than any other week I can imagine what I would do in the signature bakes (chocolate and salted caramel chelsea bun type loaf) and despair about my lack of artistry in the show stopper.

It shows the power of GBBO that I suddenly, desperately, excitedly longed to make a bready dumpling like thing I'd never even heard of before - Dampfnodle.

 

Dampfnodle with Custard and Blackberry and Sloe Gin Sauce

Essentially a steamed enriched bread dough served with custard and a fruit sauce (Mr Vitty doesn't like the recommended plum so I substituted blackberry and sloe gin)  I quite enjoyed pottering around the kitchen making these having picked some of the blackberries this afternoon.  Making the dough was quite straight forward, it was the steaming process that was novel, but seemed to work well - even caramelising the dampfnodle on the bottom

Dough - a pretty straightforward enriched bread dough

Dampfnodle beginning to steam - I think I shaped them too tightly, as I would bread rolls

Steamed Dampfnodle

A Sticky Bottomed Dumpling

Washed down with a well deserved drink

As for the other technical challenges I followed the recipe on the Bake Off Website (http://thegreatbritishbakeoff.co.uk/paul-hollywoods-dampfnudel-technical-challenge/).  I liked them more than the viennese whirls of last week's technical challenge, but probably not enough to make them again (although they'll be less easy to buy than the first week's Jaffa Cakes).

 Blackberry and Sloe Gin Sauce

 

My blackberry and Sloe Gin Sauce involved heating blackberries over a medium heat until they'd given up all their juice.  I then passed them through a fine sieve to remove the seeds and then add some sugar, erring on the side of too little rather than too much as I could always add some later.  I then reduced the blackberry juice to a thin syrup, checked the sweetness and added a shot (or two) of sloe gin.

Viennese Whirls

The good thing about making all the technical challenges in the GBBO is likely to be the diversity of recipes and the opportunity to try something new.  The bad thing is that I'm likely to spend time making things I know I don't like.  When they announced that this weeks technical challenge was viennese whirls my heart sank, not because I thought they were difficult to make but because I've never liked the overly sweet commercial variety. Nonetheless it would be a bit weak to give up on week 2 just because I didn't like the product, so I spent a relaxing hour pottering around the kitchen and was quite pleased with the result.

Again I followed Mary Berry's recipe (http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/marys_viennese_whirls_96895) and this time didn't notice any mistakes!  The process is very straight foward, beating together butter and icing sugar before stirring in the flours and piping into rounds.  The biscuits that resulted were very crumbly and as expected tasted buttery and bland, the flavour of viennese Whirls is all in the filling.

As I have about half a dozen jars of homemade raspberry jam in the cupboard I didn't bother making the quick jam outlined in Mary's recipe.  My jam is somewhat less sweet than bought jam and I was hoping it would offset the overwhelming sweetness of the butter icing.

Making viennese whirls hasn't changed my dislike of their sweetness but making them gave me the chance to try something new and get some much needed practise with a piping bag.  Mr Vitty is enjoying them (and he doesn't object to my dislike of them - more for him!)

Jaffa Cakes

Each week the Great British Bake Off sets a technical challenge and this year I think I'll try making each of those technical bakes.  Hopefully this will increase my skills and repertoire and probably give me a reality check when I'm feeling smug!

The first challenge this year was Jaffa Cakes.  Although I like eating Jaffa Cakes it has never crossed my mind to even consider making them.  Not because I thought they'd be hard make, rather they are just something you by in a blue oblong box from Sainsbury's - normally when I'm on a diet as they have fewer calories than other biscuits.

Levelling Jelly

The recipe was actually pretty straight forward: a fat free whisked sponge, orange jelly (disappointingly made from packet jelly) and melted chocolate.  As usual my biggest challenge (once we'd got the jelly setting flat) was the chocolate.  Everytime I need to coat something in chocolate it invariably ends up all over the work surface, utensils and me.  Eventually I did manage to get some chocolate on a circle of sponge topped with jelly - but as delicious as they are I think I'll stick to McVitie's.

Jaffa Orangey Bits

The recipe I used was Mary Berry's from the Great British Bake Off (http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/mary_berrys_jaffa_cakes_58695) but I think the recipe lists the wrong type of chocolate - it should say 63 % cocoa solids rather than 46 %.

A Strawberry Cocktail

One of the benefits of making Eton Mess was the leftover strawberry syrup which makes a very nice cocktail.

 

 Strawberry Cocktail

1 measure Strawberry Syrup
1 measure Vodka
0.5 measure Triple Sec
0.5 measure Lime Juice or Sour Mix


Chill a cocktail glass in the freezer.  Put some ice in a cocktail shaker and add all the ingredients.  Shake the cocktail with ice and strain in a cocktail glass.  Decorate with a strawberry or mint leaves.


 

Strawberry Syrup

(https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2003/jun/28/foodanddrink.shopping)

750 g Strawberries Quartered
70 g Sugar

Place the strawberries and sugar in a bowl that fits snugly over a saucepan containing a few cm of barely simmering water (a ban marie).  Cover the bowl with clingfilm and cook gently for 90 minutes, making sure the water doesn't evaporate.

Strain the syrup from the strawberries by lining a bowl with muslin or a clean J-cloth. Tie the cloth with string to form a bag and suspend the bag of strawberries over a bowl to allow the syrup to drip through.  This is best done overnight in a fridge, but my fridge didn't allow for that so I suspended the bag over a bowl from the handles of a kitchen cabinet.

A Right Mess

Theoretically Eton Mess with its random mix of cream, strawberries and meringue should be blissfully easy - no need to try and make it look pretty, minimal cooking and great ingredients.  Yet over this summer we've bought a few that seem to debunk the blissful easiness.  They were too sweet, didn't have enough fruit and were served in long glasses that made them difficult to eat.  So for a summer dinner party I decided to see if I could do any better.

The first challenge was to increase the fruit content.  As well as the easy way of just using more fruit I also included a strawberry syrup - a suggestion stolen from Heston Blumenthal.  The syrup added some real strawberry flavour as well as colour to the pudding.  I also mascerated the strawberries in a little sugar for an hour or so to release their juices.

The meringue element was a challenge.  Normally I like my meringues to be a crisp shell encasing a marshmallowy centre.  Yet for Eton Mess the meringue not only adds sweetness but crunch. I ended up using my normal meringue recipe with the soft centre but cooking them longer to try and increase the crispy shell.

The cream was softly whipped whipping cream rather than double, which made the dessert slightly less rich.  I think adding some creme fraiche or yoghurt might also help balance what can be a very sweet dessert.

With rougly equal proportions of cream, strawberries and meringue it was a good Eton Mess, but still needed a real strawberry kick, that might have been provided by reducing down the syrup.

Strawberry Syrup

(https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2003/jun/28/foodanddrink.shopping)

750 g Strawberries Quartered
70 g Sugar

Place the strawberries and sugar in a bowl that fits snugly over a saucepan containing a few cm of barely simmering water (a ban marie).  Cover the bowl with clingfilm and cook gently for 90 minutes, making sure the water doesn't evaporate.

Strain the syrup from the strawberries by lining a bowl with muslin or a clean J-cloth. Tie the cloth with string to form a bag and suspend the bag of strawberries over a bowl to allow the syrup to drip through.  This is best done overnight in a fridge, but my fridge didn't allow for that so I suspended the bag over a bowl from the handles of a kitchen cabinet.

Meringue

300 g Caster Sugar
150 g Egg White

Heat the caster sugar in the oven at 200 ^oC until the edges begin to melt.  Start to whisk the egg white and then carefully add the sugar.  Carefully add the sugar and continue to beat until the meringue mixture forms stiff peaks.  Turn the oven down to 100 ^oC.  Dollop the meringue onto a lined baking tray.  As they are going to be broken up I didn't worry too much about the shape, although I did pipe a few to act as decoration.  Bake the meringue for 30 minutes and allow to cool.

Ready, Steady Cookies

I love hazelnut and chocolate so when my work colleague presented me with a 'Ready, Steady Cook' challenge to make  something from a left packet of toasted hazelnuts cookies immediately sprang to mind.

The base of the recipe was Will Torrent's Macadamia and caramelised white chocolate cookies from Chocolate at Home, but I replaced the macadamia nuts with the hazlenuts and white chocolate with 70% dark.  The result were some really nice, not over sweet cookies (if a little crunchier than I would have liked).

Ingredients:

175 g Unsalted Butter
175 g Soft Light Brown Sugar
75 g Caster Sugar
2 Eggs Beaten
1 Teaspoon Vanilla Extract
250 g Plain Flour
1/2 Teaspoon Bicarbonate of Soda
100 g Toasted Hazelnuts
150 g Dark Chocolate Chips

Method:

Melt the butter in a small pan and heat for 5-10 minutes until it is golden brown and smells nutty.  Let the butter cool to room temperature.
Add the sugars to the butter and beat until pale and light.  Add the egg and the vanilla extract. 

Sift together the flour, salt and bicarbonate of soda and mix in the hazelnuts and chocolate chips.  Mix with the butter and sugar into a soft dough.  Spoon the mix onto a sheet of clingfilm and roll into a sausage with a diameter of about 7cm.  Chill the dough for at least an hour.

Preheat the oven to 180 ^oC.  Slice the dough into discs about 1 cm wide and place on baking sheets lined with greaseproof paper leaving plenty of space between them so they can spread.  Bake for 10-12 minutes or until the edges of the cookies are golden brown but the centre is still soft.  Leave to firm up on the baking tray for a few minutes before cooling on a wire rack.

A Sweet Avocado Fool - As weird as it sounds

We've been eating alot of avocado recently as we've been bingeing on chicken fajitas as part of an endeavour to reduce our red meat consumption.  It makes an appearance in the guacamole and goes well with lime.

Lime also goes well with dairy and sugar (think cheesecake).  But avocado, lime, cream and sugar???  An avocado fool was described in my 1974 Cookery Year as 'refreshing'.  Mr Vitty's adjective was less complimentary ('vile').

We'll stick to avocado in guacamole or paired with prawn cocktail for the 70's twist.

A Rhubarb, Yoghurt and Pistachio Entremet - My own invention!

Prissy little gateauxs with their requirement for precision cutting, icing and filling aren't my normal style (primarily because I turn them into a mess) but time over a bank holiday, a couple of  patisserie books and watching too much of BBC's bakeoff creme de la creme prompted me to have a go.

Rhubarb had appeared in the farm shop again and I couldn't resist it's alluring red and the promise of a sharp fruit layer in my cake.  For some reason a yoghurt mousse and pistachio sponge seemed like it would be a great contrast to the rhubarb.  It was also a good excuse to buy yet more moulds - rectangular ones this time.  Mr Vitty was a bit skeptical about including a rhubarb jelly so we adapted it into a rhubarb mousse.   I've been wanting to play with some sugar work for a while now so took the opportunity to use the pistachios bought for the joconde sponge to make a pistachio brittle which provided the contrast of some much needed crunch against the softness of sponge and mousse.

We ended up with layers of pistachio joconde sponge, rhubarb mousse, yoghurt mousse, decorated with rhubarb compote, pistachios and pistachio brittle.  The yoghurt mousse was probably the most surprisingly successful element, a sharp,sweet, creamy mousse.  I was really pleased everything held its shape and it all came out of the moulds (with a bit of help with a blow torch).  There is a lot of preparation for these and it was a great way to learn and practice a variety of techniques.

I think if I do this again I'll revert to the rhubarb jelly idea as although both mousses tasted great there wasn't enough contrast in texture and a strongly flavoured, sharp, soft set rhubarb jelly will set things off really well.

The recipes were based on those in Perfecting Patisserie by Tim Kinnaird (a local celebrity since winning Master Chef a few years ago).  It's a great book which describes all the core techniques with some recipes, but encourages inventiveness and playing with your own flavours and textures.  

All the bits ready to go

Pistachio Joconde Sponge

100 g Caster Sugar
40 g Egg Yolks
40 g Ground Pistachio
50 g Plain Flour
70 g Egg White

Whisk together half the caster sugar and egg yolks until pale and fluffy.  Fold in the nuts and plain flour.  Whisk the egg whites for 30 seconds and then add the rest of the sugar.  Continue to whisk until the mixture forms soft peaks of meringue.  Mix 1/3 of the meringue into the pistachio mixture to slacken it and then gently fold in the rest of the meringue.  Spread onto a lined baking tray and bake for 10-12 minutes at 170 ^oC until lightly browned and springy.  Leave to cool

Rhubarb Puree 
250 g Rhubarb
1 tablespoon water
60 g Caster sugar

Chop the Rhubarb into short lengths and simmer with a little water and caster sugar until soft.  Blitz in a food processor or blender and pass through a sieve.  As this was to be added to meringue to form the mousse I only added half the sugar to try and prevent everything becoming too sweet

Italian Meringue

100 g Egg Whites
300 g Caster Sugar
70 g Water

Heat the sugar and water in a small saucepan until it reaches a temperature of  117 ^oC. As the sugar and water mixture is coming up to temperature begin to whisk the egg whites in a stand mixer.  Whilst whisking, pour the hot sugar syrup into the egg whites in a thin stream. Continue to whisk until the mixture is stiff and cool.


The Mousses (makes far to much for the quantity of sponge - but still got eaten)

1 quantity Italian Meringue split into 2
150 g Rhubarb Puree / Plain Yoghurt
300 g Whipping Cream whipped to soft peaks and split into 2
2 x 5 g Silver Leaf Gelatine (or equivalent)

Soak each 5 g quantity of gelatine in separate bowls of water. Warm the yoghurt and rhubarb puree in separate saucepans and add one quantity of soaked gelatine to each and allow to cool. To one half of the meringue fold in the rhubarb puree and to the other half of the meringue fold in the yoghurt.  Then fold half the cream into each flavoured meringue. 


Pistachio Brittle

Caster Sugar
Pistachios

Place the pistachios in a food bag and bash with a rolling pin to break them into smaller pieces.  Heat caster sugar in a small saucepan over a medium heat and stir periodically until the sugar has melted and is a light brown colour.  Remove from the heat and quickly add the nuts and then pour onto a silicone mat.  Allow to cool before breaking into decorative shards or place in a food bag and bash with a rolling pin for a crunchy topping.

Assembly

Use a metal mould to cut out the right shapes from the sponge. You'll need twice as many cut pieces as final portions.

Leave the moulds around half the sponge pieces and pipe in a layer of rhubarb mousse.  Place another layer of sponge ontop then pipe on a layer of yoghurt mousse.

Place the moulds in the fridge for at least an hour to allow the mousses to firm up so the cakes hold their shape.  Remove the cakes from the fridge and heat the metal with a blow torch to allow it to expand slightly so you can easily remove the mould.  Be careful not to melt the mousses too much.

Place the unmoulded cakes back into the fridge to firm back up again.

You can then decorate them as you like. For some of mine I brushed the cakes with a little reserved rhubarb puree which acted as glue for some crushed pistachios.  For others I left the cakes naked so I could see the layers and sprinkled the tops with some crushed brittle.

Hot Cross Buns

I love the seasonalityof food.  The different fruit and veg at different times of year, but also the recipies and styles of cooking that fit each season; blackberry and apple crumble seems to fit the mellow fruitfulness of October whilst the red fruit infused bread of a summer pudding with the contrast of clotted cream somehow belongs in August.

That love of seasonality also extends to the food associated with the various festivals throughout the year and particularly Christmas and Easter.  Although we start eating shop bought hot cross buns pretty much as soon as they appear on my on-line shopping list (i.e. Boxing day) I save making the real things until Good Friday.

Like many traditions the making of spiced buns at Easter seems to be something Christians have adopted from pagan rituals.

''The mark is of ancient origin, connected with religious offerings of bread, which replaced earlier, less civilized offerings of blood. The Egyptians offered small round cakes, marked with a representation of the horns of an ox, to the goddess of the moon. The Greeks and Romans had similar practices and the Saxons ate buns marked with a cross in honor of the goddess of light, Eostre, whose name was transferred to Easter.''---Oxford Companion to Food, Alan Davidson [Oxford University Press:Oxford] 1999 (p. 114)

Whatever their origin they have become firmly adopted as a christian representation of Christs death on the cross and resurrection. I love them. The bready-ness, sweet fruit and warming spices of nutmeg and cinnamon. They are great warm from the oven or toasted with a slick of butter.

The recipe I use is the one from River Cottage although I tend to stick to the traditional spices and fruit.  I also make a thicker flour and water paste for a more defined cross on the top. They taste great and freeze well (although Mr Vitty prefers the shop bought ones...)

A 70's Inspired Dinner Party

When my friend Sue offered to rebind my 1974 Cookery Year the price was for me to teach her to make profiteroles.  I finally got round to paying my debt and Sue and her husband came round for dinner with Sue making pudding.  Profiteroles (a 70s classic) comprised the pudding and it seemed appropriate that the rest of the meal came from the same era.

Menu:

Canapes: Cheese and Pineapple hedgehog; Prawn Cocktail and Guacamole Tartlets
Starter: Cheese Fondue with ciabatta (invented in 1976 apparently)
Main Course: Salmon en Croute
Dessert: Profiteroles
Petit Fours: Mini Madeleines

The menu was more about fun than haute cuisine and we had a great evening

Having promised profiterole excellence I was very relieved that they worked and as one of Mr Vitty's favourite desserts there were never going to be enough of them. Sue went home saying she was no longer apprehensive about making them in the future, so objective achieved : ) .

I also realised how much I enjoy making puff pastry which I did for the salmon en croute.  I've made puff pastry before but for the first time I appreciated the therapeutic nature of the repetitive folding and rolling to make the layers and a  huge sense of satisfaction when it works.  I know that the all butter chilled versions you can buy from the shops are good (and I have an emergency packet in the freezer), but if I have the time I'm always going to make it in the future.

Other elements of the meal could have been better.  Cheese fondue is more difficult than it looks and we didn't like it enough to bother trying to make it again (it's also not good for my cholesterol level!).  I was never going to like the cheese and pineapple hedgehog, but we couldn't do without one for a 70's inspired meal.

Rhubarb and Almond Tart - inspired by left-overs

I love rhubarb (I may have said this before!).  Its flavour, colour and sharp acidity that cuts through all the sweetness that we tend to surround it with.    Despite often treating it like a fruit by adding lots of sugar its a vegetable - the stem of the Rheum plant that joins the leaves to the stalk.

I think of rhubarb as a staple of british cooking, the basis of comfort food of my childhood - rhubarb and apple crumble with lots of custart (out of a packet of course).  But rhubarb wasn't recorded as a food crop in Europe until the 18th Century after Marco Polo brought it back from his adventures in south east asia where the roots were used in chinese medicine (particularly for its laxative properties....).  Even in the UK it was first grown as a medicine from seeds imported from Russia.  Its first recorded use as a food in britain was in  an1806-7 cookbook by Maria Eliza Rundell where it was used in a rhubarb tart.  My favourite uses for it also include a cinnamon and rhubarb tart where the filling is completed with double cream, a little flour and sugar, rhubarb polenta cake where the cornmeal soaks up the ruby red juices of the rhubarb and (of course) rhubarb and apple crumble.

When I couldn't resist the bright pink stems in the local farm shop one Saturday morning I wanted to do more with them than stew them and eat them with yoghurt and honey (although that's not a bad way to eat it either).  I had some sweet pastry and creme almond lurking in the freezer from before christmas which provided the inspiration for a rhubarb and almond tart.  Given it was completely made up I was really pleased with the outcome.  The sharpness of the Rhubarb cut through the sweetness of the almond paste and pastry, yet we could still taste all the different parts (and no soggy bottoms).

To make these line some small tart tins with the sweet pastry and blind bake them at 200 C to make sure they're  crisp.  As they came out of the oven remove the lining paper and baking  beans and brush with beaten egg and put them back in the oven for a couple for a couple of minutes.  Stew the ruhubarb and reduce down to a thick paste.  Add as little sugar as you can to make it palatable (the contrast between the sharpness of the rhubarb and sweetness of the almond paste is the joy of this tart) and put it in the bottom of the sweet pastry case.  Top with the almond paste and scatter with some flaked almonds.  Put the tarts back in the oven until the paste has set and browned on the top.  Cool on a wire rack before removing from the tins and dusting with a little icing sugar.

I'm always surprised and delighted when somehting I invent works and these were really good (even if I do say so myself).  Even Mr Vitty who isn't a great fan of either rhubarb or almond liked them.   When I make them again I'll use more rhubarb to get a deeper layer and try and make the rhubarb paste thicker so it doesn't leach quite so much into the almond layer.  Even so, if I bought these in a cafe to have with an afternoon cup of Earl Grey I wouldn't have been disappointed.

A Month of Eating 1974 Style

Since the New Year I've been trying to eat more seasonally, diversify my cooking and use my 1974 Cookery Year.  British food of the 1970s doesn't have a great reputation.  Indeed if you think of cookery programmes of the time the food is swimming in double cream and alcohol (think of Keith Floyd).  To a certain extent the last month has reinforced those stereotypes.  Our food has been quite 'brown' and the amount of cream that many of the recipes call sound like a heart attack on a plate.  Mr Vitty hasn't appreciated the changes either- saying it reminds him of the  food of his childhood - apparently not a good thing.  January possibly isn't the best time to try and eat seasonally, so we'll plough on (but perhaps I'd have been better off cooking my way through Nigel Slater's new book - maybe next year).


What stikes me most about the recipes from 1974 is how much our food culture has changed, exemplified by the need to explain what tagliatelle was. Yet it's not only the diversity of our food that has evolved, but also how we shop, what we buy, and how we consider how food affects our health.  The national food survey has been looking at the food shopping habits of the UK population since 1940 and an analysis of that data since 1974 has recently been released.  This shows that we are eating less of things like white bread, liver and  full fat milk replacing them with things like pasta, brown bread, skimmed milks and pizza.  This may be due to the impact of food health campaigns such as the focus on saturated fat and cholesterol in the 90's as well as societal changes such as the increased reliance on convenience foods.

We are also spending a smaller proportion of our income on food.  This may be due in part to the growth and pricing power of the supermarkets.  It's also a reflection of intensive farming practises and a lower farm gate price that results in things like last years milk price where farmers were being paid at below the cost of production for milk.  I've really enjoyed shopping more locally and buying regionally produced foods, but it is a luxury I'm glad I'm able to afford in both time and money. 

Rhubarb and Banana - really?

I love rhubarb.  The bright pinkish red of the first forced rhubarb of the year appeared on the market and I couldn't resist buying a handful.  Normally we eat it paired with apple in a crumble or as a counterfoil to the rich creaminess of a sweet custard filled tart.  But pairing it with banana as suggested in my 1974 cookery year seemed a bit odd.

The recipe was for a rhubarb and banana compote and basically involves brasing the rhubarb in orange juice and sugar until it was soft then mixing with sliced banana and allowing it to cool.  Mr Vitty was a bit sceptical as was I but it tasted alright and went quite well with some natural yoghurt we had in the fridge.  There are many better things to do with rhubarb and bananas, nevertheless here's the recipe.

Ingredients:

1 lb Rhubarb
6 oz Caster Sugar
Juice of an Orange
1 lb Bananas

Method:

Trim the rhubarb and chop into 1 inch pieces.  Put the rhubarb in an oven proof dish with the sugar and orange juice. Cover with a lid and bake for 35 minutes at 150 C until the rhubarb is soft.  Allow to cool for 5-10 minutes.  Slice the banana into a serving dish and pour over the rhubarb with its juices.  Cool and chill in the fridge.  Serve with cream or ice-cream (or in my case yoghurt).

What's Tagliatelle? - Bolognaise in 1974

For most people in the UK pasta needs no introduction.  Yet in 1974 the writer of the cookbook felt the following explanation of tagliatelle was needed:

'The paper-thin egg noodles or tagliatelle are frequently served in Italy with a substantial sauce of minced beef'

The food culture of the UK has always built on the diversity of our population with people from all over the world and in particular India, China, Thailand, the Amercias as well as (like my own family) much of Europe each, contributing to the variety and quality of food in our own kitchens as well as restaurants and takeaways.  Tagliatelle now needs no introduction.

Bolognaise is one of my staple recipes so it was interesting to see how the 1974 version varied. The 1974 version was a slow cooked stew of beef, mushrooms, stock, tomatoes and wine built on a base of onions and garlic.  It was rich and flavoursome and shows that my normal additions of green peppers and baked beans are unnecessary.

I added a good sprinkling of parmesan, which reminded me of the pot of parmesan my parents used to have in their cupboard with a lid that twisted round to allow different amounts to be sprinkled on the food - (however, mine came from a block of cheese in the fridge....)

Ingredients:

Tagliatelle
2 Tablespoons Olive Oil
500g Beef Mince
1 onion
1clove garlic crushed
250g Mushrooms
2 level tablespoons plain flour
Tin Tomatoes
1 Teaspoon Salt
Black Pepper
1 teaspoon chopped parsley
1 teaspoon mixed herbs
2 teaspoons tomato puree
1/4 pint red wine
1/2 pint beef stock
Parmesan

Method:

Heat the oil in a large saucepan and cook the onion over a medium heat until soft.  Add the crushed garlic and mince meat and stir until the meat has browned before stirring in the mushrooms.  Sprinkle over the flour and the tomatoes, herbs and tomato puree. Pour in the red wine and stock and bring to the boil.  Cover with a lid and reduce the heat so that the sauce simmers gently for 45 minutes.  Remove the lid and bring back to the boil for about 10 minutes whilst you cook the pasta. Serve in bowls with the sauce poured over the pasta and sprinkled with grated cheese.

Norfolk Vinegar Cake

Vinegar isn't something I normally put in cakes but living in Norfolk I really wanted to try Norfolk Vinegar cake. Vinegar cakes were traditionally made when eggs were in short supply such as during the first world war.  They also keep well so were often sent to soldiers fighting in the trenches.

As well as the unusual addition of vinegar in Norfolk Vinegar cake it has an unusual ommission - eggs.  In most cakes eggs are essential for enabling the cake to rise.  Once you get rid of the shell, eggs comprise a protein rich white and a fat rich yolk. Normally when you mix fats (like oil) with water the fat forms a layer on top of the water.  Eggs contain a specific type of molecule called lipoprotein which enable the fats in cakes to mix with the watery elements like the milk.  When we make cakes we try and beat in a lot of air, whether that is during the creaming of sugar and butter or the addition of beaten egg white.  The structure of the pre-cooked cake mix is basically foam of very small bubbles.  As you cream together the butter and sugar the butter traps air on the surface of the sugar crystals.  The egg then helps these air bubbles retain their structure and mix in with the watery liquids.  When the cake is cooked the fat melts and the trapped air expands.  The egg protein combined with the flour stops the air completely escaping and the cake rises.

"Chemical Baking Powder" by Unknown - Collection of Lynn Purvis. Licensed under Public Domain via Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Chemical_Baking_Powder.jpg#/media/File:Chemical_Baking_Powder.jpg

Until the the invention of baking powder eggs were the only thing that made cakes rise.  The active ingredients in baking powder are a mix of bicarbonate of soda and cream of tartar.  Cream of Tartar is an acid - potassium hydrogen tartarate (KC₄H₅O_6). Bicarbonate of Soda is an alkali - Sodium Hydrogen Carbonate (NaHCO3).  When these two chemicals are mixed in a liquid there is a chemical reaction which produces carbon dioxide gas amongst other  things (NaHCO₃ + KHC₄H₄O₆ → KNaC₄H₄O₆ + H₂O + CO_2). The carbon dioxide gas gets trapped in the cake mixture and as the cake is cooked the gas expands, making the cake rise.


Norfolk Vinegar cake rises using the same principle as baking powder.  The acidic vinegar in the cake replaces the acidic cream of tartar in baking powder and reacts with the bicarbonate of soda that is also in the ingredient list to produce the carbon dioxide that makes the cake rise.

Felt a bit odd adding vinegar to cake mix

Frothing of Vinegar + Bicarb=Carbon Dioxide

Mr Vitty was rather skeptical about the use of vinegar in cake, but the resulting cake was quite nice.  The texture of the cake mix was less runny than a normal cake mix and the final result was a cake with a texture similar to that of a rock cake.  It was also quite sweet - perhaps in an attempt to mask any residual vinegar taste.  If I make it again I think I'll add some grated apple to moisten it a little and some cinnamon, nutmeg or all spice to give it a bit of a more interesting flavour.  This could also be easily adapted to a dairy free vegan cake by replacing the milk with soy or almond milk and substituting the butter for a dairy free alternative.  Theoretically I guess you could substitute the vinegar for anything acidic - orange juice perhaps?  It's good for when you get that cake craving but can be bothered to go out and get eggs.

Ingredients:

225g Butter
450g Self Raising Flour
225g Caster Sugar
450g Dried Fruit
180ml Milk + 1 Tablespoon
2 Tablespoons Cider Vinegar
1 Teaspoon Bicarbonate of Soda

Method:

Rub the butter into the flour until it resembles breadcrumbs and then mix in the sugar and dried fruit.  In a large jug mix together 180ml of milk and the vinegar.  Mix the bicarbonate of soda with the remaining tablespoon of milk and add to the milk/vinegar mixture.  Mix the foaming milk into the dry ingredients and quickly place in a 23cm round baking tin.  Cook at 180 C for 30 minutes and then turn down the oven to 160 C continuing to cook for about an hour or until a knife placed into the cake comes out clean.