Rumtopf

The sugar has yet to dissolve, but you get the idea...

OK, you know how when someone has a church wedding, the priest or minister or whoever might say 'Speak now or forever hold your peace'? Well, in essence, what I am saying to you now is, 'Make this now, or forever be without' (until next year at least), because it's literally your last chance to get domestically grown Summer fruits and berries, and it would be pointless to make this with those long-haul imports that taste of acidulated water.

So, ja, everybody, Ich habe ein Rumtopf gemacht.

I'm going to stop right there, because I haven't really spoken German since I was at school, and that was half my lifetime ago. But I am going to tell you what a Rumtopf is, because it's going to rock your world. Knock your socks off. Blow you away.

It's a German preserve. Rather than bottle their excess fruit, or make a jam out of them, those clever deutsche Volk steep them in sweetened rum (in a pot - the Rumtopf) to enjoy in Winter time. At Christmas, say. Or in January when the New Year blues get to you and all you want to do is kill yourself. Or is that just me?

Upon learning about this marvellous practice, I had but one thought:

What. A. Fantastic. Idea. Boozy blueberries to fight the blues!

I'll be honest: I have myself already done something a little similar before with red berries and Cointreau (quite possibly the most fashionably underrated of all the liqueur cabinet dollies), but never on this scale, and I do know people will say that this is just fancied up sloe gin, but... I...

Truly - this excites me.

If you too are excited by the thought of making 'liqueur pickles', gather together a jar, rum, granulated sugar and as many different fruits as you can muster. Mr. Other P and I got a deal on raspberries, strawberries, blackberries and blueberries at the market; the cherries were expensive and therefore not a bargain as such, but I thought they would taste good. You could also use plums, apricots, peaches, nectarines or pears. In short: whatever you fancy.

Here's what you do. Layer the fruit - Mr. Other P started with strawberries as you can see - in the jar, weighing as you go. Top each layer with half the fruit's weight of granulated sugar. I think this was something like 180g of strawberries, so 90g of sugar went in the jar next. 

After that, keep layering the fruits and adding sugar until the jar is full. Cover everything with rum, and if the fruit floats (our blackberries refused, point blank, to stay submerged. Selfish little gits.), use a small saucer or such like to weigh it down. We used a small ceramic soy sauce dish, though you can't see it in the photo.

Seal the jar, stash away in the cupboard and start counting the days until Christmas.

Note: We used really, really cheap rum. Have no shame. We don't. Also, we had leftover fruit and rum so decided to make small jam jar Rumtopfs as well. They are very cute and would make great presents, so don't feel you have to make a great big one if you'd rather not.

Peach Jam

My fear of botulism.

Note: Clean jars are required for jam making. Follow the instructions here, only don't worry about putting the lids in the oven to dry off. I always just drain and use them straight away now. A quick invert and re-invert of the jars immediately after sealing means the hot jam will kill any bacteria on the inside of the lid.

From time to time, I develop obsessive compulsions and for the last few years, around this time, I have been struck by this huge, unstoppable urge to start making preserves. It is all consuming and I have to fight hard not to spend my entire take home pay at the markets buying fruit and what not.

I know if I were a better person, I'd grow my own produce and do it organically to boot. But then, if I were a better person, I wouldn't have lost my cool and started yelling at the housemaid who ignored the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on my hotel room door the other day and came in without knocking. A better person would have laughed that off.

(I was naked, btw, so don't start thinking that Mr. P is the kind of guy who just flies off the handle over nothing. Although he is, as it happens.)

Anyway: jam. Two of my favourite Summer treats are peaches and nectarines. The fact that these now come shaped like doughnuts is, as far as this boy is concerned, only further reason to enjoy them. Although I've not had one decent nectarine this year, they've all been woody and sour, so I might have to fly out to Spain and have a word with the farmers four our mutual benefit next year. I thought some of these white doughnut peaches would make a lovely jam, and I was right. But then I scared the Scheiße out of myself when I read that white peaches need to be acidulated in order to prevent the growth of botulism in the finished bottled goods.

WHAT?

And also:

What to do?

Well, I haven't died eating my jam, so I am assuming it is OK to do nothing. I did have a read around the USDA information online, which to be honest, was terrifying. I do think that there's a HUGE fear of food preparation techniques in America (worrying about what could happen to your pickles if you don't heat the vinegar sufficiently etc) that we just don't have in the UK. I'm sure it's well researched. But to reassure myself I asked the NHS how many cases of botulism we've had in the UK recently. That calmed me down considerably.

However, since I don't want you lot to fall ill, I'm going to say to add the juice of two lemons to this recipe. Let's stay safe. Doughnut peaches are lovely, but not worth dying for.

White Peach Jam

You will need:

1kg chopped white peaches
1kg sugar (use jam sugar for an assured set)
2 lemons, juiced

1. Put the chopped peaches and sugar into a large pan, stir well, and set aside for a few hours if you have time. This will encourage the fruit to release juice, which will help keep the peach pieces whole during cooking, but it isn't essential.
2. Bring to the boil over a medium heat, stirring all the time until the sugar dissolves. Then turn up the heat, add the lemon juice, bring to a full rolling boil and boil hard for 3 minutes or so.
3. Test for setting point: pour a little jam onto a chilled saucer and wait for half a minute or so. If it forms a gel and wrinkles when you poke it with your finger, it's done. If not, boil for a few more minutes and try again.
4. Remove from heat, pour into warm, sterilised jars and seal with clean lids. I got the four jars you see above; I'd say it'd be three regular sized jam jars if you didn't have the small size.

Banana Pudding from The Loveless Café, TN

It took years, but finally my Snoopy glasses have made it into a picture.

It has been quite a while. Again. No excuses; I'm sorry. You'll be cross, I accept and understand that. If it makes you feel better, you can spit in my face and call me bad names.

In fact, let's do that anyway. It sounds fun.

*Shock*

Delicious Delicious Delicious has gone saucy!

Let's get back to the point. I have made pudding. As in, American pudding. If you've never had pudding before, and you're British, think Angel Delight. Comforting, low effort Kiddie Food. It's never going to get you the Blue Ribbon at your local village fête, but it will make you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside, in a nostalgic and down home sort of way.

Unless you're lactose  intolerant. In that case, it'll just make you sick!

I once knew a girl, whose name shall not be mentioned, in case she's reading, who told me and a friend that she made great lemon pudding. We'll call her Trixie. That wasn't her name, but I'm no bully, and refuse to shame her publicly.

She wasn't Canadian either. OK, she was, but she wasn't called Trixie, so her dignity should still be intact.

Anyway, this 'great lemon pudding' was vile. It tasted like acidulated, sour...

...

...

...I can't think of a word other than 'sick'. I'm sorry.

We weren't all friends for long after the pudding. But I did keep the cute little tub she gave it to me in.

Oh, don't look at me like that. So I'm cheap. I'd keep your pudding tub too if I felt like it.

The dessert you see on these pages today is an entirely different prospect. It is rich, smooth and vanilla-scented, creamy and wholesome. (I had to add the 'wholesome' to that little descriptive blurb, because sometimes the word 'creamy' makes me think of strippers.)

It's an extraordinary bonus from my lovely friend Nuria, who sent me a copy of Desserts from the Famous Loveless Cafe for my birthday. I wasn't expecting it, and she sent it by recorded mail on the 'Signed For' service. I love it when you have to sign! So I called her up in a fit of excitement, and I think she was a bit like, 'Stop squealing, Pete, they can hear you in the office!'
(I didn't really squeal.)

But anyway. The Loveless Café is a place in Nashville, Tennessee, and it turns out that they of the Loveless love sugar even more than I do. And they do a famous banana pudding, which sounded tons nicer than the only pudding I've ever had before (Trixie's).

Making it was the easiest thing I have ever done. It's basically cornflour-stabilised custard, so you can't do it wrong. Genius. It sets pretty thickly, so you could use it in lots of different ways, as it happens - maybe fill a custard sponge cake with it, or put it in little tarts with soft fruits and berries, to impress suitors. I would.

I have to go and make dinner now, but let me leave you with the recipe. Let me know what you think!

Because in addition to being charming and wolfishly sexy, I am also considerate, I have metricated the American measurements. 

Loveless Banana Pudding

You will need:

1⁄3 cup/40g cornflour
3 cups/750ml whole milk
8 egg yolks
3⁄4 cup/150g sugar (plus an extra tablespoon if you plan to serve whipped cream with the pudding)
1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise
4 to 6 bananas, ripened but not bruised or blemished, sliced
About 24 ladyfingers, boudoir biscuits, or savoiardi
1 cup/250ml double cream (optional - see below)

1. Place the cornflour in a large bowl. Stir in about one third of the milk until evenly blended, thin whisk in the egg yolks. Combine the remaining milk and the sugar in a large saucepan. With the tip of a knife, scrape the vanilla seeds into the pan and throw in the pod as well. Bring to a boil over medium heat; immediately reduce the heat to low.
2. Slowly whisk the hot milk into the egg yolk mixture to warm it. Then, pour the eggy custard back into the pan and continue to cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon until the custard comes to a gentle boil. Boil for a minute, still stirring, and remove from the heat. Scrape into a bowl. Press a sheet of clingfilm directly onto the top of the pudding to prevent a skin from forming and then refrigerate until cold, at least 4 hours or overnight.
3. To assemble the final dessert, spread a thin layer of chilled pudding in a trifle dish or other deep glass or ceramic bowl. Or make individual portions in cute glasses. Top with a layer of banana slices and then a layer of ladyfingers. Cover with half of the remaining pudding, another layer of bananas, and then the rest of the ladyfingers. Top with the remaining pudding. Cover with clingfilm and refrigerate for at least 6 hours or up to a day in advance before serving so the ladyfingers can soften completely.
4. Shortly before serving, whip the cream and the remaining 1 tablespoon sugar in a chilled bowl with chilled beaters until soft peaks form. Top the banana pudding with dollops of whipped cream and a few slices of banana. Or, do as I did and top with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream. Much better, in my opinion!

Vintage Chiffon Cake

I'm having a bit of an issue with my houseplants.

I want them to be healthy. And beautiful. I have this dream of a house filled with lush, green-leaved plants dotted around the rooms, offering a cool sense of calm and respite from the endless hustle and bustle of the outside world. Well, that makes the pace of life of Cathays sound a little more frenetic than it actually is, but regardless: I want that oasis feel. I deserve it.

But try as I might, my plants won't play ball. They are like sullen, stroppy and po-faced teenagers, who refuse to dress appropriately or behave well in public. They form strange, uncomfortable poses regardless of how often I turn them, and seem unhappy in their earth-filled pots and canisters.

I am like the proverbial parent of children entering adolescence: on edge, anxious and stressed. How did this happen? And why to me?

We started off so well. I remember potting them up with such good intentions and an unusually positive outlook. They enjoyed their weekly dose of Baby Bio and reached happily toward the natural daylight pouring through the windows of the house we rented before moving here. Maybe the move angered them. All I know is that things aren't the same anymore.

Do you think Betty would be proud?

The money tree (stupid name) drops leaves like it were an Olympic sport, and the larger of two yukkas has foliage that is dying at the tips. I can do nothing to stop it. It depresses me every time I look at it.

What to do, readers. What to do.

This has nothing to do with anything, does it?

In other news, I found a vintage recipe for a 2 layer chiffon cake baked in regular (i.e. round) cake tins. So you should all be happy, even if I am not.

Sometimes, I think that the 'Oh well, sod the presentation, I just took this' shots of food are better.

It's not exactly like regular, tube pan baked chiffon cake. But it will do for all of y'all lazy ass, can't be bothered to git down to the store and pick up a tube pan-ned ass types.

Let me know how ya'll like it. We'll do Croatia soon, promise. Here, meanwhile, is the recipe for you all:

Chocolate-Strawberry Cream Roll

This is how I roll.

The question we must ask ourselves today, beloved friends, is 'Does Mr. P have enough time to finish writing this before his scheduled date with a bowl of udon?' As ever, there is only one way to find out.

When I was a child, I used to love chocolate Swiss Roll. The kind that comes in cellophane packets and has marshmallow flavoured fluffy filling. I'm not proud of that. But I can't change myself just to please you, and it is unreasonable of you in the extreme to expect me to do so. Who do you think you are?

Incidentally, just so we're clear, when I say I was a child, I'm talking young child. Let's say age 8. I don't mean early teen years. At that point I was more interested in playing my Garbage and Skunk Anansie CDs (how embarrassing!) and not dancing to them, than I was in Swiss Rolls. Such misplaced priorities. Though, admittedly, you can't really dance to Garbage, can you?

So different from the earlier years, when I had an ABBA cassette tape, waggley fingers and a jumpy little routine. And that aforementioned love of industrially produced cake rolls.

It never occurred to me that you could make a Swiss Roll. Or that I would do so and call it a 'Cream Roll' just to try and get more hits from Google searches. But now that I have, I felt that I should tell you all about it, and the reasons for its creation in my hands.

A year or so ago, I found myself in the throes of a macaron baking obsession. Disappointed and saddened by failed attempts, I was unable to bear the sight of my oven trays any longer. The worn, misshapen and warped metal sheets were fine for heating frozen pizzas, but they made wonky macs and me cry.

Determined to succeed, I bought myself some sexy, heavy duty baking pans. They made some pretty gorgeous macaroon shells, even if I do say so myself. But they haven't seen much action recently. Hence the roll idea. See, my baking sheets have ridges around the edge; I have a feeling that I might now go into larger scale Swiss Roll production, so perfect are they for the task.

Now. Time is weighing heavy on my heart. It is ticking and the udon won't wait. So really you need to know the deal breaker: is it worth making your own Swiss Roll, or will those packet versions do?

I say yes. I rather like the baking without flour (yes, really), and the fact that the strawberry cream filling is blossom pink. It's not marshmallow flavoured, but it's not full of preservatives either. A sacrifice worth making!

Chocolate-Strawberry Cream Roll

You will need:

100g plain chocolate (I used a 65% cocoa bar)
6 eggs
75g sugar
300ml cream
1/3 pot of strawberry jam - I guess that's around 100g

1. Heat the oven to 180°C. Prepare your baking sheet; I just lined with oiled greaseproof paper. Melt the chocolate in a heat proof bowl and set aside to cool.
2. Separate the eggs. To the yolks, add half of the sugar and whisk (by hand is fine) for about 5 minutes until thick and creamy. Add the cooled chocolate and mix well.
3. Whisk the whites until soft peaks form; add the remaining sugar and continue whisking until stiff peaks.
4. Fold the whites into the chocolate mixture in four parts. Be gentle, but confident. You want no streaks, but as little deflation as possible.
5. Spread this mixture out onto the baking sheet and bake for 15 minutes. Remove from oven and cover immediately with a damp tea towel. Set aside to cool.
6. Beat the jam and cream together until moussey and pink; spread this onto the cake. Then roll, starting at a short side, using the paper liner to lift the cake, and peeling it back as necessary. 
7. Once rolled, transfer the cake to a serving platter, crease side down, and chill until required.Will keep for 1 week in the fridge.

Lemon Posset

You may think that it's silly for me to start with a picture of a 'finished' lemon posset, but let's be realistic: this is what you'll end up with after all.

So I'm back. Back and ready to start a new chapter in my life: my thirties.

I must admit, I did wake up feeling rather old on my birthday (when I was still in Dubrovnik, btw. My return to Delicious Delicious Delicious was delayed following my arrival home by the rather more pressing need to study for my annual emergency procedures training - I start this new decade with safety in mind!). I never even considered that I would be this old, and yet suddenly, here I am. Maybe it's time to stop buying green bananas.

Still, I stick to my stock response to all who ask how it feels to hit the big 3-0: it's fine. My twenties had become dull and formulaic anyway. Now it's time for me to become, rather late in life, admittedly, a hell raiser. We'll see how it goes. Maybe I could be a hell raiser with a KitchenAid?

I am going to hold off on the Croatia report. I came across something in a bakery there that shocked the bejaysus out of me, but we'll get to that another day. Today, I thought I'd give you what I know you want - a recipe for something sweet. It's been a while since we had one.

I've meant to do a posset before. It's one of the easiest desserts I know, and is all the more brilliant for making it look as though you've made tons of effort when you haven't at all. I always think of it as Winter food, but Mr. Other P asked if we could pretty please have it for dessert when friends came over last week and half way through preparing it I suddenly remembered that I had a blog and posset was most definitely post-worthy.

Lemon Posset always reminds me of when we went for dinner at The River Cottage Canteen, but I'm not supposed to talk about that because we went without our friends (Hi, Lucy and Rish! How was honeymoon?) and then fed them fridge-cold Scotch eggs from the supermarket when they arrived later on. In our defense, they were very late and it was a table for two on the Friday evening or nothing all weekend. We did what any selfish boys would do, which was to have three courses. One of which was satiny smooth, sharply alluring Lemon Posset.

Want to make some? Well here's how.

First, we boil cream with sugar in a large pan. I forgot to photograph this. Or the zesting and juicing of lemons for that matter. But be honest with yourselves: did you really want to see either?

Then we cool the cream, add the zest and juice, and beat the crap out of it with a whisk. You can do this by hand, I just have to start raising hell with my stand mixer, remember?
 

That's it. Your posset is made. I told you it was easy. You can gussy it up by adding a layer of chopped berries drenched in limoncello if you wish, but be warned that even though you only add 2 tsps of liqueur per person, the berries will release juice and make it seem like more. Then your friends will falsely accuse you of trying to get them drunk. If I were trying to get them drunk, I wouldn't make posset. I'd make Caipirinhas!

For what it's worth, I like to gussy it up.

Then you chill.

I've just shown you the inside of my fridge. What are you going to show me in return?

More formal instructions follow.

I'll be back soon. To my readers who are 30+: the club has a new member. How have you been raising hell since turning?

Lemon Posset

You will need:

3 large lemons, juiced and zested
900ml double cream (yes, really)
210g caster sugar

1. In a large pan (this is imperitive as the cream will rise as it simmers and you don't want it to boil over, as mine did once), heat the cream and sugar slowly. Once the cream starts bubbling, let it boil (not at top whack, but not gently either. Let's call it a robust simmer.) for 3 minutes exactly. Cool.
2. Add the juice and zest to the cool cream and whisk until thickened. With this amount, that should take a few minutes only. By hand, maybe four or five.
3. Pour into glasses or tea cups and chill for several hours before serving. This amount serves 6 with a little left over, but as you can see, the recipe is easily scaled down, so long as you know your 3 times table.

If you want to add berries and limoncello, add a scattering of diced strawberries and blueberries to the bottom of each cup, and top with 2 tsps liqueur before pouring in the posset.

Alphonso Mangoes

I know, I know. I have been away again.

I'm not coming back any time soon either: I have been studying (but only a little!), having friends and family visit and also baking a wedding cake for tomorrow.

I do not want to talk about the buttercream. Ever.

I will be back. But in the meantime (while I am going to be relaxing in Croatia!), here's a picture of my favourite fruit in the world for you to enjoy. I actually think the alphonso mango season is now over, but you never know. Get searching!

That's a slice of chiffon with cubed alphonso by the way. What else?

Be good!