Good things: August 2014

Last week I got an advertising-type email from a gym that reminded all recipients that 'summer bodies are made in winter'. Reader, I threw it in the rubbish.

I don't know about you, but I'm hoping kaftans and elasticated waistbands are going to be the height of fashion in summer 2015. Various things - birthdays, parties, stressful life events - are conspiring against my 'summer body'.

Firstly, I found this - a pasta machine at a charity shop for $20, still in its original box, with its original warranty and instructions. I've always, always wanted one to play with and although I've only used it once so far, I can see plenty of pasta in my future.

Eclair image thanks to my colleague and co-baker Lisa

I know DIY pasta has a difficult reputation but it was a cinch compared to some of the things I've been making lately. In a moment of weakness I joined the Wellington On a Plate Bake Club team at work, which has meant many a late Sunday night making pies, slices, cakes and eclairs.

The upshot of all of this is that I won our in-house contest against some seriously tough competition and now I have to join the winners of 80+ Bake Clubs this Sunday morning for the final Bake-Off. I normally go for a run on Sunday mornings - but if the gods have decided I need to be in a room full of cakes, I can only go along with their wishes.

Perhaps I'll take inspiration from these cute cupcakes - these are made by 15-year-old Emily, of three winners in the Better With BRITA contest. Emily, who made bespoke cupcakes for each of the judges - it takes a special kind of talent to make a miniature BRITA water jug out of icing - joins Alex, who made gluten-free brownies and Rekha, who made samosas, at The Big Feastival in London at the end of the month.

I'd love to join them, but my real goal for August is to make something out of My Paris Kitchen. If you haven't got a copy of this yet, you're missing out. My lovely sister-in-law gave it to me for my birthday and I think it's a strong contender for book of the year.

How has August been for you?

The ultimate chocolate cake

This month the We Should Cocoa challenge has been all about making a chocolate cake for less than £1 (NZ$1.97). I have to confess I didn't even try.

Instead, I can share with you the way to make your favourite chocolate cake taste - and look - like a million dollars. It's this - a cloud of chocolate meringue buttercream that will make people close their eyes in bliss as they eat it. It defies all current trends in that it is resolutely full of sugar, butter and eggs. And it is worth every single mouthful.

The ultimate chocolate meringue buttercream
If you find ordinary buttercream icing - the sort you make with icing sugar and butter - too sweet and somewhat gritty, then this is the icing for you. It's still sweet and quite rich, but incredibly light. It's stable enough to pipe, spreads like a dream and keeps well in the freezer if you don't use it all in one go. I have to leave the house to stop myself eating it straight from the bowl before it reaches the cake. It's THAT good.

320g caster sugar
170g water
4 egg yolks
2 eggs
350g butter, at room temperature, sliced into 2cm chunks
2 tsp pure vanilla
150g good quality dark chocolate, at least 60 per cent cocoa solids, melted and at room temperature

Put the sugar and water in a small saucepan. Stir well, then boil until the temperature reaches 118C. While the syrup is boiling, put the egg yolks and eggs in the bowl of a freestanding mixer and whisk until they are light and fluffy. When the syrup has reached 118C, carefully drizzle it into the egg mixture (beating all the time). Beat on high until the mixture is thick and pale, and the sides of the bowl are cool to touch. At this point, switch from the whisk to the paddle attachment and start adding the butter, a piece at a time, until it is all mixed in. Don't fret if it starts to look a bit like mayonnaise, just keep beating it.
When the butter is all in, and the buttercream is very light and fluffy, add the vanilla and melted chocolate. Beat until well mixed in. You can use this straight away, or leave it at room temperature for a couple of hours (as long as it doesn't get too hot or cold). It also keeps in the fridge for a week, though you'll need to beat it again.

The Ultimate Chocolate Cake
If you want to make the ultimate chocolate cake, make two batches of this easy chocolate cake. When the cakes have completely cooled, chill them in the fridge for 30 minutes. Spread the surfaces of three of the cakes with good boysenberry jam, then a layer of chocolate meringue buttercream. Stack them on top of each other, then cover the lot with a thin 'crumb coat' of buttercream. Return to the fridge for 30 minutes to set, then cover in the remainder of the buttercream (you can go crazy here with a piping bag if you like). The cake can be left in the fridge overnight, but let it come to room temperature before serving.

Have a great weekend, everyone x

Be my guest: Lavender and Lovage

One of the most serendipitous things that happened to us on our great European adventures last year was meeting up with Karen Burns Booth of Lavender and Lovage. There we were, mooching around in southwestern France, when Karen replied to an out-of-the-blue email I'd sent her. When we worked out there was less than 100km between us, we hopped in the car and sped over.

It was blisteringly hot - the photos we have of that day make us all look like we're on the verge of heat exhaustion - yet Karen and her husband Malcolm welcomed us with open arms and a sumptuous afternoon tea. It was one of the nicest, least expected, things that happened to us.

Photo credit: Karen Burns Booth

When she's not hosting impromptu visitors, Karen is a force to be reckoned with. She's a freelance foodwriter, an extremely prolific blogger, a social media whiz and the proprietor of a charming French B&B. She also makes an extremely fine cup of Yorkshire Tea, even in rural France in 40-plus degree heat. In case you haven't come across her blog, here's a little bit more about her.

What's your blog about?
Seasonal and local recipes with the emphasis on French and British cooking, with the odd drop of gardening, vintage kitchenalia, historical recipe research, book reviews and travel. Sort of food and European lifestyle!

When did you start it? Why?
After I lost my regular byline in a monthly UK magazine, Country Kitchen, I needed a creative culinary outlet to share my recipes and photos, so set up my blog. Regular readers of the magazine followed me and I am now writing for magazines and newspapers again, as well as online food sites.

Fresh Strawberry Curd (Photo: Karen Burns Booth)

Do you have any culinary training or professional experience?
I am self-taught and have my grandmother and mum to thank for an early start! They were and are in my mum's case, both amazing cooks and incredible bakers, all of which seems to have passed down to me, for the most part! I have taken short cookery courses, but nothing major.

Who's your food hero?
I know it's a bit old hat, but Delia Smith was my first food hero and inspired me to try new things, as well as Elizabeth David and Dorothy Hartley.

Karen's 'Bunny Chow' (Photo credit: Karen Burns Booth)

Masterchef and TV food shows - hot or not?
Masterchef used to be hot, but not now so much, well for me anyway... and although I like some TV food shows, there are TOO many of them now, which has diluted the quality in my humble opinion.

What are your three favourite posts on your blog?
My most recent post about Bunny Chow, South African Street Food, a post about Fresh Strawberry Curd and the last post I really love is my Little Victoria Lemon Daisy Cakes Recipe.

Little Victoria Lemon Daisy Cakes (Photo credit: Karen Burns Booth)

What's your day job? What else do you do?
My blog is almost my day job now, along with recipe development for major UK brands. I am also a freelance writer and have more and more work nowadays, so, my day job is a food writer and food stylist. We also have a B and B in SW France that we run with cookery school courses, fine dining weekends and local wine tasting trips.

Tell us about another blog you love.
I hate questions like this as I LOVE so many blogs and follow hundreds! But, a recent discovery, that I LOVE is Bizzy Lizzy's Good Things - she is an Aussie blogger who is generous with her comments on other blogs, is a fabulous photographer and has some amazing recipes. But, there are lots more out there that I love too!                

Low-calorie cauliflower crust pizza (Photo credit: Karen Burns Booth)

Who do you cook for?
I cook for Malcolm, my husband, and my daughter Hannah when she is home, as well as some feisty free-range chickens and two cats - Cherie who is a Korat cat and Nina who is a Burmese Blue. I also cook for my parents when I am back in North Yorkshire in England.

What's for dinner tonight?
It's a fast day today (I am on the 5:2 diet) and I am making my famous Low-Calorie Cauliflower Crust Pizza, but for yesterday, which was a feast day, we enjoyed good old bangers and mash with a shallot and cider gravy!  


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A chic French carrot salad

When it comes to seemingly effortless chic, you have to hand it to the French. It's evident in what they wear, how they act, what they eat - whatever you think of their politics or their pop music, they've got it all over the rest of us. Only the French could make shredded carrots and vinaigrette seem chic, n'est-ce pas?

Last month in Paris (see how I just slipped that in there?) I fell back in love with carrottes rapees - which must be the simplest of all salads. It doesn't sound much on paper - just shredded carrots dressed with a mustardy vinaigrette - but it's sweet, crunchy and refreshing, just the thing for a hot summer night. It's about 20 degrees cooler here than it was in Paris in late July, but I made a batch of this up the other day and can report that it's equally good in the southern hemisphere. The views aren't quite the same, but you can't have everything.

Chic carrot salad
A bowl of this manages to be quite satisfying, which is probably handy if you're having a French Women Don't Get Fat sort of moment. It's a good accompaniment to fish, or rice, or rolled into sushi, or tucked into a peanut butter and alfalfa sprout sandwich. Just one thing - I think it's best made with carrots shredded in a food processor or with a mandolin. Using a box grater doesn't quite yield the same result - like having a Chanel couture dress made in a factory.

4 medium carrots, peeled and finely shredded
For the dressing:
1 clove garlic, crushed
a good pinch of salt
4 Tbsp lemon juice
1-2 tsp Dijon mustard
1/2 tsp honey
8 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil

To make the dressing, put the garlic, salt and lemon juice in a lidded jar (I use an old Maille mustard jar for extra authenticity - and because we have dozens of them) and shake well. Add the mustard and honey and shake again. Add the oil and shake until it has emulsified. Taste - it should be slightly sharp.
Put the shredded carrots in a large bowl and pour over half the dressing. Toss gently, then drizzle over the rest if you think it needs it. The carrots should be damp, not drowned.
Serve at once or keep well covered in the fridge for a day.

What's your favourite French food? Nul point for whoever says 'French fries'...

Home sweet home

It is a truth universally acknowledged (even in secret) that there is nothing worse that other people's travel photos, except perhaps other people's travel stories. So as much as I am tempted to mark the end of our grand adventures abroad with an endless parade of photos and a stream-of-consciousness piece about the joys of frolicking around Europe for two months, I'm going to restrain myself. I'm going to pretend that we've just bumped into each other:

You: 'Oh, so you're back. Did you have a good time?'

Me: 'Yeah, got back last Thursday. We had the best time ever. Honestly, it was just fantastic. We...'

You (eyes glazing over, hatred mounting): 'Oh. Great. Oh look, I have to go... (rushes off)

Jetlag, what jetlag?

We ate, we drank, we caught up with old friends and made new ones, we laughed, we walked miles and miles, we watched my beautiful niece marry her lovely partner, we read thousands of stories, did oodles of colouring-in and dragged the Small Girl away from every playground/carousel/toy shop/ice cream merchant in greater London/Paris/Berlin/Hong Kong. Every now and then, just to make sure I remembered how, I cooked. Or at the very least I pottered around in a strange kitchen, enjoying the novelty of it all.

Kreuzberg, Berlin, August 2013

Best of all, I got to do it with these two. I won't pretend that there was never a cross word between us (and, I do admit that on day two, crippled by jetlag and the sudden switch from 9C to 33C in temperature, I did think, 'what have we done?! This is a terrible idea!') but we actually had a ball. Aren't they great?

Now though, it's all about channelling that holiday love into catching up with normal life. I'm certainly not expecting any sympathy, but it is REALLY hard returning to the daily grind. I feel like I'm acting out the lyrics in that Talking Heads song:

"And you may ask yourself

How do I work this?

And you may ask yourself

Where is that large automobile?

And you may tell yourself

This is not my beautiful house!

And you may tell yourself

This is not my beautiful wife!"

I can't use the jetlag excuse any longer but I am still not match fit in the kitchen. Tonight I made sushi that would make Jiro Ono cry, while yesterday I decapitated a silicon spatula by absentmindedly sticking it into a running food processor. On Friday I made my first loaf of bread in two months and forgot the salt. But, like the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, I'm getting there. Slowly.

In the meantime, what I'm really dying to hear is what you've been up to in my absence. No, really, I am! What's the best - and the worst - thing that's happened to you in the last two months? Fill me in!

Oooh la la...

So on Saturday night we celebrated la Fete de la Bastille, with a lot of champagne, a rustic pork terrine (thanks, Elizabeth David) with Dijon mustard, cornichons from Maison Therese, Raymond Blanc's coq au vin mopped up with lots of baguette, more vin rouge, salade verte, three feisty French cheeses, more vin rouge, not-so-petit pots du chocolat and a Rutherglen muscat.

Then our guests departed into the wild night and we surveyed the destruction while pondering whether a digestif or a tisane would be the best course of action. It was quite a feast. So do excuse me if I look a little pale at the thought of having to think about food today. Thank goodness Bastille Day comes but once a year...

How was your weekend?

French fancies

Having missed the deadline for a winter solstice or Matariki celebration, we are planning a French dinner on Saturday night to celebrate Bastille Day. I suppose it should really be a Bastille tea party, so I can shriek 'let them eat cake' in the manner of poor, misquoted Marie Antoinette, but it's harder to work coq au vin into an afternoon tea menu, n'est-ce pas?

So, I'm thinking something cold to start, followed by coq au vin, a salad, cheese, pudding, Vanessa Paradis, Piaf - like a scene from one of my school French textbooks, but better.

What would you serve up at a Fete de la Bastille down under? Can you point me to the world's best coq au vin recipe or your favourite terrine? And what on earth should we have for pudding?

Stations of the croissant

We have started a new thing in our house where we draw up a monthly 'to-do' list. It's all well and good at the beginning of the month, when you see 30-odd days stretching out before you, but by this stage there are things that will have to be shifted over to April (sigh).

So while I doubt the window seals will be replaced by the end of the week and there's a good chance I'll forget to take the car to the garage tomorrow, I have managed to tick 'Fresh From The Oven croissants' off the list. A week ago I would have thought any job was easier than tackling the flakiest of French pastries, but thanks to the amazing Karen Burns Booth and her detailed instructions, it was a breeze. Well, maybe not a breeze. But definitely a lot easier than I anticipated.

The only thing I would add is that if you're using standard active dried yeast, dissolve it in the warm milk and water first, or it will take forever to rise (enriched doughs like this one are always slow, but undissolved yeast makes the process move at glacial speed). Also, don't try to finish off the rolling process late at night after a glass of wine while your sister-in-law and spouse watch and make (un)helpful suggestions. You will get cross and the croissants will suffer.

The next time I make them I'll be using the tips I found in this fantastic video, which makes the shaping process really easy to understand.  But that's a project for April.



Have you made croissants before? Any tips?

Freeform olive fougasse

This month's Fresh From The Oven challenge, set by Claire of Purely Food, was to make fougasse.
"Bof," I said to myself as I planned what to eat for a pre All Blacks vs France match dinner on Saturday night. "It will be a piece of gateau!"
Claire gave us two recipes to choose from, one from model-turned-baker Lorraine Pascal, the other from French chef Richard Bertinet. I made a rosemary-scented, olive-studded homage to Lorraine's version on Saturday afternoon, but the yeast didn't spring into life and they turned out more like Frenchified pretzels.
The next day, less distracted by le rugby, I had another go, remembering what I'd read from Bertinet's recipe about "showing the dough who is boss". These ones were much better, despite some woeful dough shaping on my behalf, resulting in some rather freeform fougasse. I might have taught the dough a lesson, but it was obviously determined to teach me one right back.

Fougasse
This is essentially Bertinet's recipe, though my measurements are a little different and I've added a soupcon (note: that's different to a soup spoon) of olive oil to enhance their keeping qualities. Silly really, because when these come out of the oven it's impossible not to devour them immediately.

500g strong flour
350ml lukewarm water
1 1/2 tsp dried yeast
1 1/2 tsp salt
1Tbsp olive oil
olives, optional

Pour the water into a mixing bowl and add the yeast. Stir to dissolve, then leave for five minutes to start frothing. Add the flour, salt and oil and mix together, then turn out onto the counter and knead. Following M. Bertinet's instructions, I did this all by hand, but it is a very sticky dough and it would be a lot easier in a freestanding mixer (I know, I am lazy). Either way, you want the finished dough to be smooth, springy and not too sticky when you have finished kneading/mixing it. Resist the temptation to add too much extra flour. Scrape into a mixing bowl and cover with plastic. Let rest for an hour or so in a warm place.
At this point, turn your oven to its highest temperature and put in an oven tray.
Gently tip the risen dough out onto a floured surface, then dust generously with flour and cover again with a teatowel and let rest for five minutes.
Slice the dough in half with a very sharp knife or plastic scraper, then cut each piece again into three triangles. You're aiming for a fern shape - whether you get there or not is another matter.
Slash cuts into each piece of dough - I used a pair of kitchen scissors - and gently open the cuts up with your fingers. Flour a large sheet of baking paper and place the slashed dough on top. Gently press olives or any other toppings into the dough.
Take the hot baking tray out of the oven (remember it's hot!) and slide the dough and paper on top. Put in the oven and then splash in a little cold water on the walls (of the oven, not your kitchen) to create steam. Bake for 10-15 minutes, until golden.

Sweet sweet Friday: Gateau Yaourt

Four years ago I was in Paris, hoppity skipping around the Stade de France and Parc des Princes in the name of work. A lucky break meant I got a job working at the Rugby World Cup, reporting on the efforts of the Samoa team (until they got knocked out of the tournament) and bossing around a motley crew of international journalists at matches in Paris. It was the best of times (It was Paris. Need I say more?), it was the worst of times (you try going to a press conference and asking questions in French about a sport you know nothing about, or dealing with pouty French men who won't do what they're told by a stroppy Antipodean).

I'd never been remotely interested in le rugby, in fact I'd gone out of my way to avoid it. But in Paris it became a great passport: "Ah, vous etes neo-zelandaise? Allez les All Blacks!" It was all great fun, until France beat New Zealand in the quarter-final. Actually, that's a lie. It was still fun after that. Tomorrow night, the two teams face each other again. I won't be sitting in a bar in Paris, but I will be eating slices of this classic French cake. It's the least I can do...

French Yoghurt Cake - Gateau Yaourt
If you believe everything you read, gateau yaourt is the sort of cake that every French housewife makes (presumably in between flirting with the butcher, telling off the baker, having a torrid affair with the milkman, wearing Chanel No.5 and not getting fat). It's very simple to make and usually flavoured with rum (or "rrrrhuuum"). This version, adapted from Susan Loomis' 'On Rue Tatin', is a bit fancier thanks to the addition of melted chocolate. The end result is supposed to be a bit more marbled than the one pictured, but things don't always go to plan. Ask les All Blacks.

200g plain flour
3/4tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
3 eggs
200g sugar
finely grated zest of one orange
125ml (1/2 cup) plain, full-fat yoghurt
120g unsalted butter, melted and cooled
90g dark chocolate, melted and cooled

Preheat the oven to 190C and grease and line a 24cm tin. Beat the eggs and sugar together until pale and fluffy. Sift in the flour, baking powder and salt and beat in, then fold in the yoghurt and melted butter. Pour half the batter into the prepared tin, then add the melted chocolate to the remaining batter. Mix well, then pour this into the cake tin. Swirl the mixtures together with a flat knife to marble. Bake for 30-35 minutes, until the cake passes the skewer test and bounces back slightly when you touch it. Let cool for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a rack to cool completely. Dust with icing sugar to serve.

Bon weekend, tout le monde et bonne chance aux joueurs!

One a penny, two a penny...

I'd like to tell you that I've invented the best hot cross bun recipe ever, but that would be a terrible lie.

These ones pictured are Nigella's recipe, which I first made the year we drove around Europe in a small red car with a cheese knife and a corkscrew in the glovebox (we had a sack of flour and other sundry foodstuffs on the back seat). I've never made them with such success since, but perhaps my changed lifestyle has something to do with that.
Unsurprisingly, I think St Delia has the best recipe, or at least the one I've found to be the best. The only advice I can give you is to go easy on the cinnamon as it retards yeast development and make them somewhere warm.
We were only allowed hot cross buns on Good Friday when I was growing up and I mostly stick to the same rule. So tomorrow I'll be attempting to make them in a breadmaker at my parents' house... since they'll be the first of the year, they better be good!

Do you have any hot cross bun secrets? Let me know! In the meantime, have a wonderful Easter and a happy weekend x

Creme de la creme: Quiche Lorraine

This will sound ridiculous, but I had a bit of an epiphany yesterday. I was thinking about bacon and egg pie (it's back in vogue, apparently) and wondering if it was solely an Antipodean thing when it struck me that a bacon and egg pie is essentially quiche Lorraine. Well, sort of. I mean, bacon and egg pie might be lacking the cream, but it has the eggs, bacon and pastry. What more evidence do you need?

To test my theory, I dug deep into Elizabeth David and found her recipe for quiche Lorraine. Before I knew it, I had pastry resting on the bench and was measuring out cream like there was no tomorrow. If you ate like this all the time, I fear there wouldn't be many tomorrows at all. But mon Dieu, as a Lorrainer might say, it's worth it occasionally.

Elizabeth David's Quiche Lorraine
This is so incredibly simple - and outrageously good. David says this serves four, but I think they would be four people with a very high tolerance for butter, cream and eggs. Vegans or people with high cholesterol, look away now!

Pastry
60g butter
125g plain flour
pinch of salt
1 egg
water

Sift the flour and salt into a bowl, then rub the butter until it is crumbly. Add the egg and mix well with your hands. Add a drop or two of water if needed to make a soft dough that comes away clean from the bowl. Wrap in clingfilm and let rest for at least two hours. When you're ready, roll it out thinly and line a 20cm flan tin. Prick the surface with a fork.

Filling
6 thin rashers of streaky bacon (I used three fat rashers of shoulder bacon because that's what we had)
300ml cream
3 egg yolks
1 egg
salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 200C. Cook the bacon in a frying pan for a minute or two, then cut into small pieces. Arrange these on the pastry. Mix the cream and eggs, then season with a tiny bit of salt and lots of freshly ground black pepper. Pour into the pastry-lined tin and put in the oven. Cook for 20 minutes, then turn the heat down to 180C and cook for another 10 minutes. The filling will puff up and turn golden brown. Let it rest for a minute or two when out of the oven, then serve. It's good at room temperature too, but don't eat it cold from the fridge.

Foie out: a culinary dilemma

The text message was short and to the point: "Do you want some foie gras?"

My fingers hovered above my phone. What to reply?

I thought about it for a minute or two, then texted back: "Um, is it bad to say YES PLEASE?"


Depending on your point of view, foie gras is either one of the most delectable foodstuffs of all time or the cruel byproduct of man's inhumanity to animals. There's no delicate way to put this, but it's made from the engorged livers of ducks or geese who have been force-fed. Lovers of foie gras, which is most often made into pate, swoon at the thought of its creamy, rich, flavours whereas animal rights advocates are more likely to faint from suppressed rage.

Our benefactor, a vegetarian, had received this precious jar from some visiting French friends. She gave a Gallic shrug when I asked her about it, claiming it didn't bother her whether other people ate it or not, but she knew it would go to waste at her place. So it's now sitting in our fridge, with a large chunk missing after a visiting lover of foie gras and France seized upon it with absolute delight. Perhaps he should have taken it with him, because I haven't quite been able to follow suit yet.

Where do you stand on the foie gras debate? Is there anything else you don't eat for ethical reasons?

Musical Monday: Nantes

One of my favourite bands, playing one of my favourite songs, in one of my favourite parts of Paris...

Musical Monday: Écoute moi camarade

Last night, doing the dishes, I suddenly realised that this is the first time in five years that we haven't been in France in mid-September. This time last year we were in a tiny apartment in Paris and the Small Girl had slept through the night for the first time (her exhausted parents lay awake anyway, because they couldn't believe she wasn't going to wake up). The year before that, Corsica, where I suspected I might be pregnant but ate lots of unpasteurised cheese anyway.
September is the time of La Rentree in France - everyone gets sorted and goes back to school or work after the long summer holidays. I think September in New Zealand is about waiting for the rain to stop!