Coffee Cake and Cookery School

One of the cakes I made from the book.

I should be sweeping the front yard. I know, just know, that it is going to rain shortly, and I need to get rid of the grit and compost that re-doing out flowerpots this weekend created.

Oh well, too late. The skies just opened. I guess it'll have to be tomorrow.

Instead, I shall use this time semi-productively and get on with a book review I was meant to do ages ago.

I was sent (about ten thousand years ago) by the very kind people at Michael Joseph a review copy of Cookery School, which is a companion book to a Channel 4 TV series that was on a while ago. I didn't actually watch the programme myself, so I can't really tell you much about it, other than it was presented by Richard Corrigan and Gizzy Erskine.

I know who Richard Corrigan is, and if we're judging by appearances (which I know we're told not to, but still...), I would definitely attend a cookery school that he was teaching at. The man clearly likes a plate or two of food. This in mind, I was quite interested to see what delights lay within the book when it arrived. But more on that later.

Miss Erskine, I have discovered since reading the book, has in the past worked with Harry 'puts vegetables in cakes instead of butter and pretends it's normal' Eastwood, which made me feel quite vomitous to tell you the truth. But I also read somewhere that she used to be a body piercer, so I'm going to award her 5 Fierce Points and let her off for the Eastwood misdemeanor (for now).

(Maybe I should give Harry Eastwood a break.)

It doesn't really matter who the chefs that fronted the programme are actually, since very little of their personalities seem to shine through in Cookery School. Gizzy's sections (tips on topics such as cheese, meat and herbs) are quite conversational in style, but seem rushed (she repeats herself often and relies on the word 'brilliant' too much to describe food). They could have been much better arranged on the page, particularly the herbs feature. She singles out sorrel, for example, as being underrated and encourages readers to look out for it growing wild, but there is not an accompanying picture to show you what to look for.

The lack of clear explanation (and assumption that readers already possess a certain level of knowledge about cooking and food) continues in Richard's recipes. Ingredients I had never heard of, such as lardo, are routinely listed in recipes without footnotes. Perhaps most people already know what lardo is (did you?), but I fail to see how a book that dedicates two whole pages to a step by step process of how to peel and core apples and pears can logically assume it's readers will have a knowledge of foreign ingredients but be unable to properly cut fruit.

Perhaps I am being overly negative. But the subtitle of the book '- where anyone can learn to cook' is, I feel, misleading. It makes it sound like this is a volume for absolute beginners, which it most certainly is not. It is a collection of cheffy dishes made with expensive ingredients.

There were some things I did like about the book. It is divided into clear sections: basic, intermediate and advanced. I must admit I like the idea of a challenge to work through, and it certainly ties in with the idea of a cookery school, but again there seems to have been a strange system of classification in place for the recipes themselves. Roast chicken is apparently 'super advanced' (as is trifle), whereas guinea fowl hash with fried quails eggs is considered basic. Really, Richard? Where am I even going to get guinea fowl?

In the interest of testing out the book on its own terms, I made the coffee cake from the advanced chapter, and considered pork chops, but couldn't be bothered with all that apple and cream rubbish. I had them with cinnamon instead.

I should say up front that I did, despite my lack of love for the book overall, learn a thing or two from the process. For example, that using cold espresso in butter icing gives you amazing coffee flavour (put that Nescafé down), and how to French trim a pork chop.

If you are a cook who wants to learn how to do cheffy things in your kitchen, Cookery School might be a good book for you to consider. But if you really want a basic course in home cooking, get this or this instead. Both also happily Channel 4 tie-ins.

I didn't go in for all the piping kerfuffle, which may have been the reason it was in the advanced section. I also didn't caramalize any nuts. But here's the recipe in case you want to make an advanced coffee cake like I did.

Advanced Coffee Cake

You will need:

300g unsalted butter, room temperature
300g caster sugar
5 eggs
300g self raising flour, sifted
1 tsp baking powder
60ml cold espresso
milk, as needed

200g soft butter
400g icing sugar
60ml cold espresso

1. Grease and line two 22cm round cake tins. Heat the oven to 180°C.
2. Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, then add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each one goes in.
3. Fold in the flour and baking powder, followed by the coffee, and if needed, milk, to lighten the mix.
4. Divide between the tins and bake for 30 minutes or until a cake tester inserted into the centre of the cake comes out clean.
5. Cool in the tins for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack. When cool, fill with the icing, which is very easy to make: beat the icing sugar, butter and coffee together until creamy and thick.

Pretty Much Perfect Coconut-Raspberry Cake

Nom.

Mauritius... Merely a happy memory. A vanilla- and coconut-scented paradise island, with sandy beaches as white as the freshly laundered shirts hanging on my washing line, that are even as I type being pelted with the best Spring rain South Wales can muster.

Still. I wouldn't have it any other way. For just this very morning - just! - I decided to take a risk and throw my lovely (but grubby) dry clean only (oh whatever) white trousers in to the washer with the multiple short-sleeved white shirts of this here flight attendant. And do you know what? They came out fine. Better than fine. Pristine even. So today, even the bad weather making me wish I were still in Mauritius isn't going to put me in a bad mood. I have just discovered I can save myself an absolute fortune in dry cleaning bills. I think that's what's known as a turn out for the books.

Today's glass, readers, is half full.

Oh, and have a look at this too. Happiness indeed. Thank you Channel 4. Mo konten twa. You didn't know I spoke Creole, did you?

(I don't.)

Fortunately, you don't need to speak Creole to make something this yummy...

I think it's absolutely one of the worst things in life (scabies and natural disasters notwithstanding) to taste something beyond perfection when travelling and know that you'll never be able to recreate it yourself when you get home. I still dream about the banana leaf curries I ate in Ipoh, Malaysia, and the fancy restaurant fare we splurged on in Sydney. I didn't think Mauritius was going to be that kind of a holiday. Yes, the seafood was beyond amazing, but give me some fresh fish and a barbecue in the Summer and what we make in our back garden will do just as well. We ate freshly prepared roti and daal in the market in Mahébourg, and they were wonderful, but I make a pretty mean roti myself, so I'm not going to be losing sleep there either.

No. What Mauritius did to me is unforgivable, and it happened over dinner. The chefs in my hotel made a coconut cake that was so light, fluffy and heady with the scent of freshly cracked coconuts that I almost had to be forcibly removed from it. Topped with a marshmallow-soft icing and strands of freshly sugared coconut, seriously, I could have eaten the whole cake.

This marks a new chapter in my life. In the past, coconut has never really been my favourite flavour. But now I am a new man. A man who eats both halves of the Bounty by himself (sharing is not caring in this case).

I knew that I would have to attempt to recreate this holiday wonder cake in my Cardiff kitchen, and considered my options carefully. Life is often cruel, as anyone who has ever dealt with a fresh coconut will know: why is it so hard to get to the precious white stuff inside? I decided that my coconut wherewithal would have to come from a tin of coconut milk instead of the actual nuts. The last time I got friendly with a coconut was too much of a work out for my liking, and in addition, the kitchen is no place for a hammer.

So I went back to my beloved Rose's Heavenly Cakes, and had a look at what The Beranbaum had to offer. She had a lot; I added some extra coconut milk to one of her stars, and the result is this coconut flavoured layer cake, filled with raspberry mascarpone cream. In the unseasonally hot Spring we've been having (until today!), I decided a completely covered in frosting type cake would be a bad idea, and besides, some Spanish raspberries seduced me in the Co-Op. Nobody is saying no to those crimson little sluts.

It's not what I set out for it to be. But it's pretty much perfect anyway.

Pretty Much Perfect Coconut-Raspberry Cake

You will need:

400g plain flour
400g caster sugar
5 tsp baking powder
225g unsalted butter, softened
5 egg whites
400ml coconut milk
2 tsp vanilla extract

250g mascarpone
1 small punnet raspberries (about 150g)
3 tbsp icing sugar, or to taste

1. Pre-heat the oven to 180°C. Grease and line two 24cm cake tins.
2. Put the flour, sugar and baking powder in a large bowl. Mix together well to distribute the baking powder using a wire whisk. Add the butter, cubed, and two thirds of the coconut milk. Using an electric hand mixer, beat the ingredients just together. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and continue to beat on high speed for 2 minutes.
3. In another bowl, mix the egg whites, remaining coconut milk and vanilla together; add this mixture in batches to the flour mix, beating well after each addition.
4. Divide the mixture between the tins and bake for around 40 minutes, or until a cake tester inserted into the centre of the cakes comes out clean.
5. Cool in the tins for 10 minutes and then unmould onto a wire rack to finish cooling.
6. Mix the filling ingredients together roughly. Check to see if it is sweet enough - you may want more sugar, or some vanilla. Use to sandwich the two sponges together. Serve in fat wedges.

Interruption of Service

Thinks are going to be quite quiet around here for a week or so. Delicious Delicious Delicious is going to Mauritius Mauritius Mauritius for a wedding. So you'll be without me for some time.

But remember: Mauritius is where sugar comes from. How can my going there be a bad thing?

I'll be back soon people. And surely with a cake recipe!

Sweetly,

Mr. P

Chilli Pepper Relish

And so, dear reader, as I sit here, glass of whisky and soda very much in hand, I feel like a very bad man indeed. I seem to remember promising more baking in a recent post. I am going to have to break that promise. But look, I'll give it to you straight - you look like the kind of person who can handle the truth - it isn't that I haven't been thinking about it; there just hasn't been time for any.

OK, OK, that is also a little lie. There has been a coffee cake, which is part of a (hopefully) quite lengthy post that I am mid-way through preparing, but I just haven't had a chance to do anything else. Another lie. I actually made something like twenty cakes over the last week, but none of them were eaten by, or for, me, and they all went elsewhere. I have a 'If-I-don't-eat-at-least-a-little-bit-of-it-then-it-doesn't-go-on-the-blog' policy that I try very hard to adhere to.

And yes. It is absolutely devastating knowing that you have made twenty cakes and not eaten even a crumb of any of them.

The whisky has given me the munchies and now I want this!

I did consider baking something small to post before I go off on my next jaunt (which is for pleasure this time, not work), but I got carried away cleaning the kitchen and didn't have time. You know, I pride myself on keeping a fairly clean house, and whenever I suggest a tidy up, Him Indoors always groans and says we have a cleaner place than most people (Whatever, Mr. Other P - get that Hoover out). But you would not believe how filthy my kitchen was. How does dirt hide itself so well?

A brief aside: we had a new kitchen fitted about a year ago, and I really want to tell anyone who is reading and considering a re-fit not to choose high-gloss cabinets. Keeping them streak free will give you gray hairs.

Anyhow, you don't get cake today. You get my chilli pepper jam that was supposed to be posted in December. It is adapted from a recipe in Preserves: River Cottage Handbook No.2, which as regular readers will know is one of my favourites.

I made loads of this to give as gifts. It was one of my preserving successes. There's no reason to make it only in Winter time though, since it takes any cheese board to another, better, and infinitely more pleasurable realm. And it's not as if cheese is a seasonal indulgence. Is it?

Chilli Pepper Relish

You will need:

750g red peppers
100g red chillies
50g fresh ginger, peeled and grated
350ml cider vinegar
1kg pectin added jam sugar
50ml lime juice
1tsp salt

1. De-seed and finely chop the peppers and chillies.
2. Put the chillies, ginger and vinegar into a large pan and bring to the boil. Add everything else, stir until the sugar dissolves and the mixture comes back to the boil.
3. Boil for 4 minutes exactly, and remove from the heat. Cool for 5 minutes and then pour into sterilised jars and seal.

This Is The Manifesto of Mother Monster

So, here's the thing...

My friend Lynda's sister has a blog (not about food, it's about Lady Gaga). She's called Tina, she made a hilarious video about why she should be Lady Gaga's blogger and I think it's really good.

She needs support. Your support.

Anybody who has ever had a blog knows how much time and effort they consume. A click will make all the difference. Besides that, I want her to win. Go Tina!

Vote here.

Banana, Date, Apricot and Walnut Tea Bread

I have got something ground breakingly amazing to say about this cake, and that is that it tastes ground breakingly amazing. It doesn't exactly re-invent the cake wheel (if you will), but hopefully it is going to introduce all my international readers (hey y'all!) to the kind of British cake that never gets much attention: the tea bread. Basically, fruity loaf cakes that turn your hot drink into something magical, comforting and fabulous. I got the idea from my friend Row, when she was telling me about a cake her mum used to make, adapted from a Mary Berry recipe for something rather different.

You should make it because it has dates in it. Do you know how underrated dates are in cake? Hideously. And do you know something else? I am not alone in my adoration of the fruit of the phoenix dactylifera. According to a study by Al-Shahib and Marshall,

"dates may be considered as an almost ideal food, providing a wide range of essential nutrients and potential health benefits."

(Don't you just ♥love♥ Wikipedia?)

The fact of the matter is, dates are great. Mine even came in a box that read 'DATE ME', so you get camp kitsch as well as delicious stickiness. There aren't many things in life that you can say the same about.

I only have one photo of the cake (and none of the dates in their cute box), because I didn't plan on posting this recipe. However, upon tasting it, I realised that it needed to be shared. Make it, my people. Taste it. Believe.

I have marked the egg in the ingredients as optional, because such squidgy, fruity, banana filled loaf cakes simply do not need eggs in them. This is a fact. You may also use margarine in place of the butter, and, should you wish, call me a veganizer, and sing to me in the style of Britney Spears:

'You you you are...
You you you are...
A veganizer veganizer veganizer VEGANIZER!'

No kidding, I would actually like that very much. I wonder what other songs you could sing for me in the kitchen?

There's lots more coming on Delicious Delicious Delicious shortly. I have just been busy, which is why there have been so few posts. Next up is some more charity baking, so see you back here for that.

Banana, Date, Apricot and Walnut Tea Bread

You will need:

90g butter
200g dates, stoned and chopped
50g dried apricots, chopped
150ml boiling water
90g caster sugar
1 egg (optional - there's enough fruit and banana not to need it)
250g self raising flour
1 tsp baking powder
100g walnuts, chopped
2 mashed bananas

1. Grease and line a standard loaf tin. Pre heat the oven to 180°C.
2. Soak the dates and apricots in the hot water for 15 minutes.
3. Combine the butter, sugar, flour, baking powder and egg in a bowl until well blended. This is difficult - I would add the flour gradually once everything else has mixed, and use soft butter.
4. Add the bananas, dates, apricots and nuts and fold in well.
5. Bake for 1 hour or until the loaf cake tests done. Cool in the tin for 10 minutes, then invert onto a wire rack and peel off the lining paper. Cool completely.

Cake A Difference: Cardamom, Orange and Pistachio Cupcakes

The sexiest charity work I'll ever do.

I never break rules. Hearts, yes. Dishes, sometimes. But rules are there to be respected. Obeyed.

And yet... I feel like charity deserves a special rule breaking allowance. So for this year's 'Cake A Difference' for Bliss, the charity for premature babies that I support, I decided to bake my cupcakes in the wrong week. I figured that money's money at the end of the day and if I want to make a cupcake for charity outside of the week beginning 14 Feb, well that's my prerogative.

Besides, I almost didn't get involved this year, because - blech! - Harry Eastwood got in on the act and I just really can't bear her 'healthy cake' crap and that damned ridiculous book of hers. But, it's for the babies after all, so I put aside my disdain for an afternoon, and got out my hand mixer.

You may or may not remember that last year I made Red Velvet Cupcakes (REAL ones, Harry, real ones!) for Bliss and sold them at Mr. Other P's office (on account of my 'office' not really being suitable for cake sales). Well I did the same this year, only instead of those crimson beauties, I made up my own recipe for gluten free cupcakes, having learned that there was an anti-wheat contingent present in Rhondda-Cynon-Taff. What can I say? Everybody deserves a cupcake. Provided they pay for it.



I have banged on long and hard enough about how fabulous Rose Levy Beranbaum's book is on this blog before, so I'll spare you the details. But what I will say is that I have poached her mixing technique to make these cupcakes. It is worth it: they rise perfectly level on baking, and have a tenderly delicious crumb.

In fact, I want one now.

I used an ingredient - Dove's Farm Organic Gluten and Wheat Free Self Raising Flour - that I know US readers probably won't be able to get, and I feel bad about it. But let's remind ourselves that they get cake flour, Pam and Rose herself. It's all fair in the cake world.


I made another £50 for Bliss with these. Why not have a cupcake sale yourself? It's such a great cause to support.

Gluten Free Cardamom, Orange and Pistachio Cupcakes

You will need:

250g Dove's Farm Organic Gluten and Wheat Free Self Raising Flour
200g butter
250g caster sugar
250ml low fat yogurt
3 eggs
1 tsp ground cardamom
2 tsp vanilla

100g butter
200g cream cheese
500g icing sugar
1 tsp orange extract

chopped pistachios to decorate

1. Pre-heat the oven to 180°C and line two 12 bun muffin trays with cupcake liners.
2. In a large bowl, mix together the flour and sugar. In another bowl, mix 3 tbsb of the yogurt with the eggs, cardamom and vanilla.
3. Add the butter and remaining yogurt to the flour mixture, and beat with a handheld mixer on low speed until combined. Scrape the sides of the bowl and continue beating on high speed for 1 minute.
4. Add the egg mixture in two batches, beating on high speed for thirty seconds after each addition.
5. Divide the mixture between the liners and bake for 20-25 minutes until golden brown and well risen.
6. Cool on a wrack and make the frosting: beat the butter and cream cheese together until smooth, then add the icing sugar and beat until creamy. Add the extract, and use the icing to frost the cupcakes. Top with pistachios.