Yogurt Pot Cake

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I did something the other day that I am a tad worried about and I think I might need to talk about it here with you. Ideally, some people who know about eyes and contact lenses will be searching for a yogurt pot cake recipe and therefore read this; if that describes you, I implore you to comment.

There's a long story and a short story, but since I always yell at Perce for favouring the long story option, I feel a very real and pressing need to choose the short version to share with you so as not to have to wear the hypocrite jumper. Which is a shame in some ways because the padded out version includes nudity and casual racism (neither of which were mine!), which I know lots of people enjoy.

Basically I dropped a contact lens on the floor of a dirty bus. Oh, and I didn't realise this until after about twenty minutes had passed. It was pretty dry when I did actually find it, covered in fluff and awful. Having no choice but to try and salvage it, I picked it back up and did what I think most people would do in my shoes: I soaked it in mineral water (it's all I had), gave it a quick rinse and popped it right back in to my eye.

I know that this is a no-no on many levels. I also need to tell you that the lens was a little misshapen afterwards and that I carried on wearing it for more than a week.

Internet Eye Specialists: am I going to go blind or something? Please tell me not.

I have worried greatly about this.

Anyway, to the matter in hand. I have about ten minutes to finish, which is actually longer than it takes to make this cake, so if that actually interests anyone, brilliant.

It's a yogurt cake, similar to my bizcocho recipe (which I prefer, and comes up on the front page when you Google 'bizcocho' so I can't be the only one who likes it), and is basically lifted from Nigella Lawson's Nigellissima: Instant Italian Inspiration. I was intrigued as to what her version would taste like. It's good, but not as good as my 4 egg Spanish yogurt cake. Just being honest here people.

However, I do want to take a moment to tell you that the cookbook this comes from is awesome. I didn't really 'get' the TV show that accompanies the book when I saw it on telly. I thought it seemed tacky and inauthentic. But glancing through the printed version recently in a shop, I realised that she's not actually trying to be authentically Italian with these recipes, they're really just inspired by her love of Italy. More to the point, they all look delicious. So I bought it. I think I am going to go as far as to say that I think you should too. If only for the pesto Trapanese recipe. Yum.

Recipe is here. I mean, really: why type when I can link?

(I added an extra teaspoon of lemon extract.)

Re-Inventing the Lamington 2011 Day Two: White Chocolate Gingerbread Lamingtons

(In which Mr. P accepts his flaws.)

This doesn't really have much to do with lamingtons, but please bear with me; we'll get there.

I want to be good at making chutney. I feel like I should be. I love cutting up the vegetables into nice, small pieces, and weighing everything out carefully; I love collecting the jars to store my spicy and sour preserves in, and buying shiny new lids to use with them; I love the trip to my local spice merchants, Spice of Life, where I can be sure that no matter what conversation I try to strike up with the somewhat eccentric owner, I will no doubt end up buying something unusual that I don't need and hadn't gone in for (beetroot powder, for example).

I get the most immense satisfaction from hearing the lids pop when I bottle the chutney, knowing it means I achieved a perfect seal and can squirrel the filled jars away in the upstairs cupboard and give them away as Christmas gifts when they've matured a little, decorated simply with rosette or a bit of ribbon.

Yet all of this pleasure is ruined when I taste the chutney myself. Am I doing it wrong?

This year, we made and gave a lot of chutney as presents (everybody loves a cheeseboard). We also, happily, were given loads. I mean loads - our jam shelf looks like a W.I. stall at the moment. Crushingly, almost every single one of the jars we were given tastes nicer than what we made ourselves (at least to these taste buds), and it is just... devastating. It might be that chutney is also subject to the 'Somebody-Else-Made-This-For-Me-So-It's-Nicer-Than-One-I-Made-Myself' phenomenon - think cups of tea - but even so... Where is the justice? I want to like my chutney!

(I also can't bear the idea that our chutney really is below standard, and that the people we gave it to wish we hadn't bothered. That really is a worry.)

However (and here we start to come back to the lamingtons), for fear of not having enough jars of chutney or chilli relish or whatever to give as gifts, I also decided this year to bake loaves of gingerbread to give to family and friends, and they really were a success. Every person I gave a loaf to came back and told me that it was wonderful and could they have some more next year. What can I say? I know where my strengths lie (but am not giving up on the chutney - I have too many jars waiting to be used).

I recently re-baked and blogged about that gingerbread, and decided that it was going to do double duty for me and form the basis of my White Chocolate Gingerbread Lamingtons. And let me be clear: these are some of the most delicious cakes I have ever made. Ever. There's something almost tropical about the way the ginger and coconut flavours mingle with the sweet vanilla of the white chocolate, and yet at the same time, the lamingtons seem Christmassy and suited to cold days. I guess this means that you could have them everyday and they would always seem appropriately perfect.

Yes. I am sanctioning the eating of lamingtons every day.

Because gingerbread is so sticky, these lamingtons are perfectly, lusciously moist.

I'm quite sure that these lamingtons would be marvellous with dark chocolate ganache enrobing them instead of melted white chocolate, but I chose not to use ganache for two reasons. The first was ease (I didn't want to mess about making a white chocolate ganache, which is trickier than making a good dark one, or at least I find it to be so), and the second being preference; I really like the way that the chocolate alone sets firm, and cracks satisfyingly when you bite into it. You must decide for yourself whether or not to follow suit; if you want a soft, creamy coating, then ganache is your friend.

The cake recipe is Nigella Lawson's; she allowed it to appear online here, so I am re-producing it here as well (though in the form of a half-batch, and slightly simplified - I don't muck about with bicarbonate of soda and warm water).

Forget chutney. Make these; they are fabulous.

White Chocolate Gingerbread Lamingtons

You will need:

For the gingerbread -

75g unsalted butter
100g golden syrup
100g treacle or molasses
75g dark muscovado sugar
1 tbsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
125ml milk
1 egg, beaten
150g plain flour

For the coating -

400g white chocolate, melted
400g dessicated coconut

1. Pre-heat the oven to 170°C and grease and line a 20cm square baking tin.
2. In a saucepan, melt the butter, syrup, treacle, sugar and spices together over a low heat.
3. Mix the milk with the egg and bicarbonate of soda and set aside. Remove the butter mixture from the heat, and cool slightly before adding the milk and egg. Stir well.
   
4. Put the flour into a mixing bowl, and pour over the liquid mixture, stirring all the time to prevent lumps. The odd lump here and there is fine though, so don't worry if you have a few.
5. Pour the mixture into the prepared tin and bake for around 40 minutes, until a skewer inserted into the centre of the cake comes out clean. Remember gingerbread is sticky by nature, so a few crumbs are OK. What you don't want on the skewer is any uncooked batter.
6. Cool the gingerbread in the tin, and once cold, turn it out onto a wire rack. If not using immediately, wrap in parchment and store in a tin for up to 2 weeks.
7. When ready to make lamingtons, cut the cake into 16 squares. Using a couple of forks, dip the cake cubes into first the white chocolate, and then the coconut. Roll them around to ensure a good coating, and allow to dry on a wire rack.

Re-Invent the Lamington Yourself!

Forever Nigella: Gingerbread

So, to get you up to speed:

It's Friday night. I thought I'd relax and treat myself to a night in with a steak and some wine. It sounds lovely, doesn't it? Mr. Other P is out with colleagues and I have the place to myself. Imagine, catching up on Corrie, or even getting to watch the DVD of The History Boysthat I bought ages ago and which he keeps vetoing whenever we decide to watch movies. Well, dream on: it's not happening.

My kitchen is full of cake, coconut and all manner of sprinkles as part of Re-Inventing the Lamington 2011, and desperately needs cleaning (though only after I fry my steak - no sense tidying up to make a mess, is there?); there is laundry literally exploding out of the spare room where I shut it to make me forget that it's there and needs ironing; we have no wine.

To top it all off, I'm on a deadline of midnight, when rather than turn into a pumpkin, I shall have to turn into friendly, charming Wonder Man and go and meet them all in town. (Why do I agree to these things?)

Deep breath.

I have poured myself a large Campari soda. Perhaps its bitterness will sooth mine?

Anyway, rather than chores, I have decided to post my entry for the fabulous Sarah of Maison Cupcake's new blogging event: Forever Nigella. Have you heard of it? There's a logo and everything! Witness:

How fabulous is this?

(I feel like I should have made a logo for Re-Inventing the Lamington!)

The minute I found out about this new event, I decided to post for it. I love Nigella; I feel like she's my friend. Quite often I pretend she's in the kitchen with me, telling my about what spices my ras-el-hanout is made up of, or that I shouldn't be stirring my rice with a spoon, but rather a fork.

Is that creepy? I don't care. Sometimes I also fantasize that I live in Hampstead and Nigel Slater comes round for tea, but instead we get drunk on gin and tonics. It could happen.

Digressions!

This month, the first, we're meant to blog a seasonal recipe, and I am doing Nigella's Sticky Gingerbread from Nigella Christmas.

Since rules state we can't post the recipe (I want to give it to you so badly!), I'll just say that I made it this Christmas in loaves to give as presents and everyone who got one requested the same for next year. It's that good... It's Nigella.

I made another batch this week for the lamington challenge (who says lamingtons can't be made from gingerbread?), and snapped some pictures on a dull, dark day, just for Forever Nigella. For next month's, maybe I'll go savoury - there is a LOT of cake around here at the moment.

I'm off to clean the kitchen. Or make another Campari soda...

Chocolate Fondants

I dislike seeing my hands in these pictures.

The other day we had friends over to watch La Vie en Rose, the Edith Piaf bi-opic. It was devastating.

I didn't really know much about her before watching the film, and to be honest, I still feel like I don't. None of us could bear how horrendous her life seemed, or how ill she always looked (on screen at least), and I think it's also fair to say we all made silent promises to ourselves to make more effort with posture. I have been known to bark harshly at others before wedding photos are taken that 'You only get one shot!', and ' Posture above all else!', but this film really made me straighten my back.

He looks a little plain on the top, but dig a little deeper and you'll find gold.

And yet... as I type this, I am remembering the film quite fondly: the music was fabulous; the ending very poignant; and for all the dark bleakness of the main film, it made for good viewing. Especially with my chocolate, cinnamon and peanut butter cookies which are coming up next.

But today we have melting chocolate fondants, as promised in my post on illegal ice-cream. They are adapted from the recipe given for chocolate pots in Nigella Lawson's seminal How to Eat, but I think melting chocolate fondants better describes what they are, so I have renamed them so.

I don't mean to insult by the comparison, but I think these fondants are rather Piaf-esque. They look a little awkward, and seem a little uncomfortable when thrust into the spotlight, but give them a chance and they'll blow you away.


They are lusciously chocolatey, rich and sweet. I don't think I'd bother with the ice-cream next time though. Some cold pouring cream would be just as good, and I even snaffled down the one you see here without any accompaniment whatsoever. Et non, je regrette rien.

Annoyingly, you need ramekins. But if you feel like taking risks, you could use teacups in a water bath.

Melting Chocolate Fondants
adapted from How to Eat
You will need:

125g dark chocolate
125g butter
3 eggs
150g sugar
3 tbsp flour

1. Melt the chocolate and butter together, then beat in everything else.
2. Pour into ramekins - I got 8 in all, but if you have bigger dishes, you might only make 6. Chill until needed - they will sit happily in the fridge for a few days,
3. Heat the oven to 200°C, and bake the fondants on a baking tray for 10 minutes only. Give them just 8 if you like really gooey chocolate puddings.
4. Serve immediately, with cream, ice-cream or nothing at all.