vanilla, orange & lemon tea cake

Sarah made us a cake.  After too long (for us), Sarah and her darling family arrived back in New Zealand from living in London.  Still loving food – and with a particular current affection for all things Nigel Slater, it is good to have her back and talk food. 

Sarah made a tea cake.  I like tea cake.  It makes no pretensions to be anything other than it is – a simple cake to have with tea.  Having said that I have jazzed mine up somewhat with lemon, orange and vanilla flavours.  If you prefer a more traditional topping, spread the cake with butter and sprinkle with 2 tbsp caster sugar and ½ tsp of cinnamon instead.

Simple cakes require simple posts so, bearing in mind that I haven’t posted for over two weeks, I’ll just say this.  Here’s the recipe…

vanilla, orange & lemon tea cake

¾ cup caster sugar

50g butter, softened

1 egg beaten*

1½ cups standard flour

2 tsp baking powder

¾ cup milk*

* Have the egg and milk at room temperature instead of fridge-cold.

topping

1 tbsp butter, softened

1 tbsp vanilla sugar**

1 tbsp caster sugar

zest of 1 lemon and 1 orange

** If you don't have vanilla sugar, substitute with caster sugar.

Preheat oven to 180°C .  Grease and flour a 20cm cake tin.

Beat the sugar and butter together with a wooden spoon until well combined.  Beat in the egg.

Sift flour and baking powder together and fold into the sugar and butter mixture, alternately with the milk.

Place the mix into the cake tin and bake for approximately 40 minutes or until well risen and golden.  Leave the cake in the tin for 5 minutes before removing to a wire rack to cool. 

While still hot, spread the butter from the topping over the cake and then sprinkle over the combined vanilla and caster sugars.  Scatter over the lemon and orange zest. 

Especially good served lovely and warm (not hot) from the oven. 

Have with butter and a cup of tea!

Thanks, Sarah, for the inspiration.

sticky gingerbread

I hadn’t tried gingerbread in a long time.  I love it when it is sticky, moist, dark and spicy.  No wishy-washy gingerbread for me, please.  And I prefer it baked as a loaf rather than cut in squares.  I am fussy, I know.

What brought this to mind was a conversation with my sister.  She had been to Smith & Caughey and had gingerbread and tea in their café.  We then reminisced about the dark Jamaican gingerbread with the thick white icing, purchased from Jenner’s department store in Edinburgh, which we had eaten as children.  I imagined my teeth softly piercing the cool, white icing to reach the contrasting warmth of the cake below and knew I had to have it again.

So, when my sister and her partner came round last weekend it seemed the perfect time to bake my version of this one – Dark Sticky Gingerbread from Rachel Allan – to see if we could muster up some old childhood memories.

I used chopped candied kumquats to add a certain stickiness to the cake. They're kind of marmalade-y.  As they're not something you would normally have to hand, I've just put marmalade as the ingredient.  You can leave this out altogether if you prefer.  I omitted (no, I didn’t forget, it was deliberate!) Ms Allan’s ginger syrup, which she poured over the "hot from the oven" cake.

I was intrigued that she used 1tsp freshly ground black pepper but I chickened out and only used ½ tsp – so much for liking hot and spicy but it did look like a lot of pepper as I ground it onto a sheet (makes for easy measuring).

One cookbook recommended leaving gingerbread for a week before eating.  Oh, for the patience and resolve to wait so long.  So no, this cake did not get seven days to mature and mellow.  It was lovely and flavourful as it was and just how I imagined it to be.  My icing could have been thicker though to achieve the remembrance of things past. 

sticky gingerbread

60g butter

75g (1/4 cup) golden syrup

50g black treacle (or molasses)

50g marmalade 

110g flour

25g self-raising flour

1 tsp bicarbonate of soda

1 tsp ground ginger

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1 tsp ground nutmeg

½ tsp mixed spice

½ tsp freshly ground pepper (grind onto a Teflon sheet or baking paper for ease of measuring)

100g caster sugar

1 pinch salt

120ml milk

1 egg lightly beaten

icing (optional)

200g icing sugar, sifted

juice of 1 lemon

Preheat oven to 170°C (Gas 3).  Line a loaf tin with baking paper.

In a small saucepan, melt the butter, golden syrup, treacle (or molasses) and marmalade (if using) over a low heat.  Set aside.

Sift the flours, bicarbonate of soda, spices and ground black pepper into a large bowl.  Stir in the sugar and salt.  Add milk and egg and mix until smooth.  Gradually add the melted butter mixture, stirring until well incorporated. The mixture will be fairly runny.

Pour mixture into the loaf tin and bake for approximately 50-55 minutes, or until the gingerbread is firm to the touch and a skewer inserted into the middle comes out clean. 

Remove cake from oven and leave it in the tin for 10 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool.

Icing

Mix the sifted sugar with enough lemon juice to get the required consistency.  Spread over the top of the cooled cake and allow to run slightly down the sides. The icing will set slightly.

I've decided to make this my entry into this month's Sweet New Zealand as I've not had time to post anything recently.   This month's Sweet New Zealand is hosted by Couscous & Consciousness.  Sue not only has a lovely blog but kindly gave me some advice on things technical.  Thanks Sue, I hope you enjoy the gingerbread.

parsnip cake

Talking to one of the lovely girls in a local shop about the sweet offerings available at a local café, she asked if I’d tried their parsnip cake.  It was better than carrot cake, she claimed.  I hadn’t.  I hadn’t even seen it. Or maybe I’d glanced over the name, parsnip cake and moved on. 

Thinking I’d sample a slice on my next visit, I forgot all about all it until at home I was suddenly sure I had a parsnip cake recipe somewhere.  For once, I connected with the right cookbook first time - hallelujah!  Rather than wait to sample the café’s version, I set about preparing it.  The recipe comes from Julie Le Clerc’s Simple Café Food.

This cake has an earthy appeal when you look at the texture - flecks of parsnip, currants and pineapple.  This might sound daft or contrived but it did bring to mind the image of a parsnip being pulled from the ground with the earth still clinging.  The taste retains some of this earthiness but with a sweet and spicy caramel flavour.  Apparently, parsnips are very high in natural sugar and these caramelise in the baking.

Now there’s only one thing wrong with this cake and that is the name.  Sorry but Parsnip cake just doesn’t do it for me.  I’ve been trying to think of another name but haven’t come up with anything yet.  If cakes can be called Hummingbird then I don’t see why this one shouldn’t have a more fetching name.

It’s definitely delectable and was a big hit in our house so I will absolutely be baking this again.  In the meantime, can anyone think of a better name?...

parsnip cake

1 cup caster sugar

1 ¼ cups vegetable oil I used rice bran oil

1 tsp vanilla essence

3 large eggs

½ cup crushed pineapple, drained

4 cups grated parsnip

1 1/3 cups plain flour

½ tsp salt

1 tsp baking soda

½ cup currants I used raisins – I never seem to have currants

2 tblsp ground cinnamon

lemon cream cheese icing

1 cup cream cheese, softened

50g butter, melted

½ cup caster sugar

grated rind and juice of one lemon

Preheat oven to 160° C.  Grease a 20cm springform cake tin. 

Whisk sugar, oil and vanilla together to combine.  Add eggs one at a time, beating until mixture is creamy.  Stir in pineapple.

Place grated parsnip, flour, salt, baking soda, currants and cinnamon in a large bowl.  Pour in the wet mixture and stir to combine.  Spoon cake mixture into the prepared tin. 

Bake for 1½ hours or until a skewer inserted in the centre, comes out clean.  Mine took about 1¼ hours.

When the cake is cold, ice with lemon cream cheese icing.

For the icing

Beat all the ingredients together until creamy.  Spread over cake.

Mmm, more please!

brown bread ice cream

I met my friend, Sally, when we both worked for a property development company in London some years ago.  She cooked for the directors and I used to love hanging out talking to her in the kitchen, poking my nose, but more often my finger, into something tasty.  That last habit pretty much came to an end when I sneakily dipped my finger into what I thought was cream but turned out to be horseradish cream.  Whoa, hot…! 

I must have liked this ice cream recipe, as I wrote it down.  I hadn’t heard of brown bread ice cream then and haven’t seen it anywhere since.  I know it’s out there because when I googled it there were recipes abound with a variety of methods and ingredients.  That, of course, only confused me.  As did its origin – so I’ll leave it to the experts to decide whether it came from England, Ireland or someplace else.

There’s minimal information in the recipe so I’ve muddled along with what I’d written. It turned out quite good but I’d have liked it more creamy and with a smoother texture. 

I didn’t have enough cream so topped it up with milk, which I’d seen used in another version.  I was also trying to overcome the overindulgence of pouring 300ml cream and then some more into the bowl!  Go figure…this is why it is not as creamy, isn’t it? Still, with less fat and wholemeal breadcrumbs, don’t you just feel much better?  No?  Thought not.  Neither do I.

My (ahem) drinks cupboard - not that I have one you understand, just a collection of odd, seldom-used bottles – consists of Limoncello and Malibu (the youngest inhabitants) and sherry, port and Frangelico (so old I can’t even remember what that is), but not regular rum, so Malibu it was.  (Aren’t liqueur bottles such weird shapes?  They really stand out, screaming, “look at me, look at me”, then obviously no-one does because they sit there for years until you’re required to use a drop in some dish.)

On the web, some brown bread ice cream recipes used ice cream makers, some used a custard base and a lot were caramelizing the breadcrumbs with sugar before toasting.  

I'll leave the breadcrumbs coarser next time (I got a bit carried away on the pulse button!).  I’m also keen on caramelizing them to see how it changes the taste.  

Whizzing up breadcrumbs from leftover wholemeal bread and putting them in a plastic bag in the freezer means they’re ready for use when you want to whip up this dessert.  Then all you just have to do is wait until it freezes.

Take the ice cream out to soften about 30 minutes before serving. 

Note: I decorated the scoop in the photograph with some fine strips of candied kumquats.

This is my September entry for Sweet New Zealand hosted this month by Pease Pudding.

brown bread ice cream

75g/3oz wholemeal breadcrumbs

300ml/1/2 pint double cream*

250ml/8 fl oz of whipping cream*

75g/3oz demerara/pale brown soft sugar

2 egg yolks

1 tbsp rum (optional – I substituted with Malibu)

2 egg whites (stiffly whisked)

1 tbsp honey

*As I’ve never seen double cream here in New Zealand, I suggest using single cream for both types mentioned.

Spread breadcrumbs on a baking tray and roast in a moderately hot oven (180°C) until crisp and lightly browned.  Leave to cool.

Beat the creams with the sugar.

Mix the egg yolks with the rum and add to cream.

Gently fold the cooled breadcrumbs into the cream mixture.

Beat the egg whites until stiff and fold into the mixture with the honey.

Freeze.  Remove from the freezer about 30 minutes before serving.

caramelised pear and ginger cakes

I don’t think you could say that the above look peely-wally  (pronounced pee-lay-wah-lay and meaning pale in the Scottish vernacular!) but that’s how they looked the first time I baked the original recipe, which used fresh chopped pear as opposed to caramelised.  It may have been that they were supposed to look pale and interesting.  Or possibly I should have given them a bit longer in the oven, but time was up, they were cooked and I didn’t.  

I was going to present you with before and after photos.  Then I figured that if you came upon the before photo on my blog, it would look so unappealing you would not want to read further.  Just take my word for it – insipid does not inspire.

So, I decided second time around, to give them a makeover.  I’d just been drooling over a Let Them Eat Cakes article in the local rag when I spotted toffee pears as a topping for small madeira cakes and thought this would be the answer to making them look more appealing.  I would describe them as buttered or caramelised pears, toffee to me suggests more stickiness. Done this way the pear gives the cakes the colour they previously lacked and a richer, more buttery flavour.

I also cranked up the darkness of the sugar using dark cane muscovado-type instead of light brown sugar.  Finally, I checked cooking time to make sure they were nicely coloured as well as cooked just so.  And they were.  

I have to say I preferred them done this way.  I also have to say, and am almost embarrassed to say, that the original recipe is one of Nigella’s. 

Lest you think me conceited, I think I need to emphasize that I am not trying to improve Nigella’s recipe (they tasted really good, honest!), I am just titivating my own past attempt (or maybe I should shout from the rooftops - move over Nigella, I’m improving your recipes!). 

In Nigella’s recipe, they were muffins.  This time I baked half in muffin tins and half in mini Bundt cake silicone moulds. The little cakes looked lovely.  Next time, I’ll include an extra caramelised pear and fill the centres of the Bundt cakes once they’ve been cooked.  I think that would look really nice.

Caramelised pear & ginger cakes (or muffins!)

Makes 12

1 large pear or 2 small (approx. 300g) I used Beurre Bosc

1 tbsp butter

1 tbsp caster sugar

250g standard flour

2 tsp baking powder

150g caster sugar

75g dark cane (or muscovado) sugar

1 tsp ground ginger

42ml* sour cream (about 3 tbsp)

125ml rice bran (or vegetable) oil

2 eggs

1 tbsp honey (I used runny honey)

Extra dark cane sugar to sprinkle on top

Preheat oven to 200°C.

Grease a muffin tray or line with muffin cases.  If using mini-Bundt tins grease them. If you have silicone moulds, this is not required.

For the buttered pear

Peel and core the pear and cut into slices.  Heat a frying pan, add the butter and the sugar.  When bubbling, add the pear slices and cook for a few minutes each side until caramelised.  Remove pear slices and place on a paper towel to soak up excess liquid.  When cool, chop into small cubes. 

For the muffin mix

Use a sieve with a fairly open mesh to combine the dry ingredients – flour, baking powder, caster sugar, dark cane sugar and ground ginger – into a bowl.  The sieve will help break up any lumps in the dark sugar.  Mix to combine.

In a large bowl, whisk the sour cream, oil, honey and eggs and fold into the dry ingredients.

Gently mix in the chopped pear and divide the mixture between the tins.

Scatter a sprinkling of the extra sugar over the tops.

Bake for 20 minutes or until muffins spring back when touched and are nicely browned.

Cool on a wire tray.

*The 42ml presumably comes from the sour cream pot size sold in the UK and I have converted into tablespoons.

etcetera...#3

I missed out on seeing any Auckland Film Festival films this year.  But I have seen…

Bill Cunningham New York

Movie/documentary

I admire creative people. I wish I could be more imaginative.  I envy those who work daily with their passion in life.  This charming documentary follows Bill Cunningham, a photographer in his eighties, as he rides his pedal bike or stands on street corners snapping people who catch his eye, covering society events and capturing the city’s nightlife for the New York Times.  Fashion is Bill’s passion in life and he lives it obsessively.  Attending numerous events (and turning down quite a collection of invites too) such is his integrity that he doesn’t accept even a glass of water whilst working as he does not want to be obliged to anyone.  What a breath of fresh air.  I stepped out onto the street after the movie smiling and wanting to be kind to people.  It has that effect.  It has such heart.  Go see it.

Afternoons with Margueritte

Movie

Yes, I spelt Margueritte correctly – it’s Margueritte with two t’s as the little old lady points out. 

Treated as the village idiot by other inhabitants and even worse by his own mother, Germain (Gerard Depardieu) meets a petite, elegant lady in her 90s in a park he frequents to feed the birds.  A friendship develops and Margueritte introduces him to the world of books.

Friends who’d seen this French movie all recommended it. I don’t know, perhaps I just wasn’t in the mood but I found it slightly irritating, ponderous, at times implausible and verging on slapstick.  Did Gerard Depardieu write into his contract that he had to have a very young lover?  I can’t think of another reason why a sexy and attractive young woman would be in a relationship with this character – sorry, it was bordering on creepy.  Does a supposedly barely literate man start reading effortlessly in such a short time, gliding over each word without pause?  I thought not.  Perhaps I’m just too cynical?  But you don’t have to listen to me.  Apparently I’m in the minority, so view it for yourself.

I should have gone to see this film instead.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2

Movie

Finally I got to see this at the Rialto in Newmarket, Auckland.   I recommend an early morning sitting if, like me, you want to avoid the texting, feet on seats, talking, giggling at inappropriate moments audience you might normally find at such films (they’re still in their beds).  Bliss - there was only one other person present (adult with no apparent cellphone nor restless foot and mouth), and I had a lovely coffee to sip. 

And the film? I’m always apprehensive I will dislike movies I have high hopes for.  No disappointments here.  The stylized darkness of more recent HP films is still evident – a disarming bird’s eye shot of the Hogwarts’ rampart with dark, sombre students almost frog marching was quite chilling.  There's enough action but not excessive. I’m not much into action films.  Is it just me or has there been a glut of giant trolls in films since Lord of the Rings?  Oh yes, I know, the script called for giants.  Groan.  Every time I see one I think of Weta workshop and there goes the magic!

The sad moments were mercifully consigned to the background (well, Dobbie dying in the last one was enough for me, thanks) and although it was a more serious chapter, the humour was still evident.

And that’s it, the end of the books and the films.  I have lost my voice on occasions or choked back tears reading the books to my daughter when she was younger.  It was a lovely connection we had together and now it’s all over.  Bye bye Harry Potter, we loved you!

If you’d like some more film reviews, visit this link to Plum Kitchen and see how she uses  “tractor” ratings to rank movies  – very amusing. 

And read this book.

Hand Me Down World

Lloyd Jones

I purchased this book at midday one day, starting reading it at 4 o’clock to get in a few hours reading.  Next day, I sat in the sun at lunch reading for half an hour, then read solid for two hours when I got home.  By 6pm I had closed the last page.  Whew!  But why?  Well, to be in time to discuss it at book club, that’s why.  Like me, one of our book club members had done the same.  We’d both read reviews that implied there was a twist to the tale.  So the dilemma – do we limit everyone to talking around the book and avoiding spoiling it for us?  Or, do we push to finish it. This was the kind of book that made me want to keep turning the pages.  Drawn in from the start, I was captivated.  It was satisfying to devour it in a couple of sessions as a continuous flow without forgetting where I’d got to in the plot the last time I put it down.  

The novel is the story of a mysterious woman, whose child is taken from her, and we follow her journey from Tunisia to Berlin to find the boy.  Except she’s not telling the story.  The author uses people the woman meets along the way to recount her journey.  The truth or versions of the truth unfold slowly.  Finally, readers get to hear the woman’s own personal account.  This is a beautifully written, haunting story about identity, other people’s perceptions, survival and motherhood that you will want to read again. 

little carrot cakes

I can’t believe a month has passed without me posting a blog.  It’s not that I haven’t been baking; it’s more a case of indecisiveness.  Not knowing what recipe to use, dithering about what photo to post, or worse not having any words pouring out from my head to my fingers no matter how long I sit at the laptop.

I am pleased to finally be able to say this is it.  Not only is it a post, it’s a special post as it is my contribution to  Sweet New Zealand – a monthly blogging event for NZ bloggers set up by Alessandra Zecchini just for fun and to get to know each other better.  I am so looking forward to being a part of that and discovering more bloggers, so thank you Alessandra for coming up with the idea.

And so to the baking.  While nosing at a cute little cake in a colleague’s lunchbox, she told me that because there is only her and her husband at home if she bakes, they usually end up eating a whole cake between them - (such hardship, I know!).  So, instead of baking a whole carrot cake she bakes little cakes, muffins or cupcakes and freezes them for work.  

I'm with her on that as I am a fan of little cakes too and these carrot cakes are the perfect, munchable size. 

In the morning, just dip in the freezer, choose your cake and you’re all set for dropping it in your lunch bag for a tasty treat later.  Keep the icing and topping in containers (the icing will need to go in the fridge).  Before you go, top the frozen mini cake with the icing, sprinkle with the ready mixed chopped apricots and pumpkin seeds and, if you have time, quickly finish with small curls of orange zest.   The frozen cake will keep the icing cool until your ready to eat, by which time the cake should have defrosted.

If you prefer, try them naked - they’re just as good, a little spicy and and not too sweet.

naked little cake

Hints: when writing the codes on the plastic bags at the bulk bins at the supermarket, date the pack too so you’ll know roughly when the product needs to be thrown out.

When orange, lemon or lime zest is called for, I often use a zester then chop the strands finely – I find it a bit of a short cut to grating zest and spending so much time scraping it off the grater.  If I’m really lazy and it doesn’t matter too much for the end result, I whack it in without chopping at all.

little carrot cakes

Makes 12

100g soft brown sugar

160ml rice bran oil (or similar)

2 eggs

grated zest of 1 orange

½ tsp cinnamon

½ tsp ginger

¼ tsp cardamom

200g self-raising flour

1 medium carrot (about 150g), grated

¼ cup (about 35-40g) sultanas

60g walnuts, chopped (optional)

icing

150g cream cheese

finely grated zest of 1 orange

60g icing sugar, sifted

Topping: chopped pumpkin seeds, dried apricots and curls of orange zest.

Preheat oven to 180°C (350°F) Gas 4.

Place sugar in a bowl and break up using the back of a fork.  Beat in the oil and eggs.  Stir in orange zest, cinnamon, ginger and cardamom.  Sift the flour into the bowl and fold in, then add the carrot, sultanas and nuts if using.

Divide the mixture between 12 cupcake-sized paper cases.  Bake in the oven for about 20 minutes until risen and a skewer inserted in the middle comes out clean.  Transfer to a wire rack to cool.

Icing  - Beat the cream cheese until softened and creamy, add the grated orange zest.  Sift the icing sugar and beat in.  Use enough icing sugar to reach the consistency you desire.  Spread over the cakes.  Decorate with some chopped pumpkin seeds, apricots and orange zest.