Frozen persimmon sorbet

Have you been struck by the dreaded winter lurgy yet? It has cut a swathe through our small household in the last week and I don't think it's done with us yet. I lost my voice over the weekend, then lost my hearing as soon as it came back. Worst of all, I've lost my sense of taste - unless it's chocolate or chilli, I've been reduced to eating for texture only. This is profoundly depressing.

I'm hoping that my current high levels of persimmon consumption will speed my recovery. Persimmons are high in vitamin C and look extremely cheerful in the kitchen. Oranges are not the only fruit at this time of year, after all.

This week's Three Ways With... column is devoted to the not-so-humble persimmon, which I have been consuming in huge quantities lately (so imagine how much sicker I could have been!) The following recipe for frozen persimmon sorbet will be extremely soothing if you're unwell, but you don't have to be poorly to enjoy it. 

Frozen persimmon sorbet

I was extremely sceptical when I read about this recipe - and I did have to experiment with it a bit to make it work - but it's a nice bit of fun to try (with minimal effort required). All you need to do is freeze as many persimmons as you have diners for a minimum of three hours. At least 45 minutes before serving, remove the persimmons from the freezer. Slice off the tops and let the fruit sit at room temperature. After 45 minutes they will be icy cold, but soft enough to spoon out the frosty flesh. For an extra treat, pass around a bowl of whipped cream.

If this sounds like too much hassle, be reliably informed that you can freeze peeled, sliced persimmons and whiz them up in smoothies. And if you have a dehydrator, dried persimmon slices are absolute heaven (thanks Ann for the lovely specimens below).

Spicy gingerbread and creamy apple whoopie pies

Remember whoopie pies? They were going to be the new cupcakes, or the new macarons, but I don't think they ever really took off. A shame, really; it's always sad when little cakes never grow up to reach their full potential. Perhaps they'll make a comeback (if slip dresses over white t-shirts, like we wore in the late 90s, can make a resurgence this summer, then surely there's hope for the whoopie pie). I'm hoping I can get ahead of the pack on this one and I might have made the thing to do it.

Spicy gingerbread whoopie pies with creamy apple filling

This is a recipe with three stages, but it's not hard. Just make the apple compote the day before, so it has time to chill in the fridge. The pies can be filled in advance and stored in an airtight container.

For the apple compote:
2 apples, peeled, cored and diced
3 Tbsp caster sugar
3 Tbsp water
1/2 tsp ground cloves

For the pies:
1 large egg
150g caster sugar
100g butter, melted
150g sour cream
60ml milk
1 tsp vanilla
3/4 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1 1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp ground allspice
1/2 tsp grated nutmeg
250g plain flour

For the cream cheese filling:
200g cream cheese, at room temperature
50g butter, at room temperature
1/2 cup icing sugar
1 tsp pure vanilla

To make the apple compote, put all the ingredients in a small pot and set over medium heat. Cover and bring to a simmer. Cook for 10 minutes, until the apple is soft. Whip to a puree with a fork, then transfer to a bowl. Cover when cold and store in the fridge.

To make the pies, heat the oven to 160C and line two baking trays with baking paper.
Put the egg in a large bowl and beat until thick. Continue beating and gradually add the sugar. Beat until pale and thick, then add the butter, sour cream, milk and vanilla. Beat to combine, then sift in the dry ingredients. Fold together until combined. Spoon into a piping bag with a wide nozzle and pipe small rounds of the mixture (about the size of a tablespoon) on the prepared trays, leaving room for spreading. You can also spoon the mixture on to the trays, but piping gives a nicer finish.
Bake for 10-12 minutes, until the pies are risen and golden brown. Remove to a rack to cool.

To make the filling, beat the cream cheese, butter, icing sugar and vanilla together until smooth. Fold in the apple compote and transfer the mixture to a piping bag fitted with a large nozzle (or use a plastic bag and snip off the end). Pipe a generous tablespoon or so of mixture onto the flat side of a pie half and top with another. Dust with icing sugar and serve - or store in an airtight container. Makes about 32 little pies.

Apple and almond porridge

I'm sorry, the recent cold snap is all my fault. I was the one who said winter was over; I was the one who ignored the merino tights sale and who figured my daughter's ever-shrinking raincoat would last out the year. Rest assured I have been paying for my folly. Last weekend, while running in four layers (vest, long-sleeved running top, Icebreaker, rain jacket) plus hat, plus beanie, plus husband's gloves, all I could do was think about the steaming bowl of porridge I was going to have when I got home and my hands defrosted enough to stir the pot. The temperatures have since returned to double figures (just), but I'm not going to take any chances.

Apple and almond porridge
I find the easiest way to do this on busy mornings is to get it going over low heat and let it bubble away while I get ready for work/chivvy child out of bed/make lunches. If you're not a morning person, you can start this the night before - just put all the ingredients in a pot and leave it somewhere cold until the morning. In the summer, you can do this and call it bircher muesli. But those days are still a bit too far away to think about, I reckon.

2/3 cup rolled oats
1 apple, grated (include the skin)
2 Tbsp ground almonds
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp (a small pinch) ground cloves
a good pinch of salt
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
2 - 2 1/2 cups almond milk

Put all ingredients in a small pot and set over medium heat. Bring to a simmer, stirring often, and cook until thick and 'ploppy' (ie, bubbling lazily like a mud pool). Add more almond milk or water if it gets too thick. Serve with the porridge topping of your choice - here it's Zany Zeus Greek yoghurt, a drizzle of vanilla syrup and a scattering of chopped almonds. Cream and golden syrup are also good options. If it's a really cold day you can justify cream and Greek yoghurt...

Hope you are keeping at exactly the right temperature, wherever you are in the world.

Black Doris Coconut Ice Cream

The hand-chalked blackboard sign loomed in front of us like a vision. It was a hot, windy day in the Wairarapa and the promise of 'REAL FRUIT ICE CREAM' was the perfect cure for three crochety travellers after two hours' in the car.

We drove into the orchard and parked outside the tin shed shop. Inside, in 40-degree temperatures, a sulky queue waited while one sweating woman operated the till and another worked the ice cream counter. I began to realise that we had made a wrong turn. The fruit and vegetables, which I'd first assumed to be grown on-site, looked like they'd travelled as far as we had. The fridge was full of dog meat. None of the staff looked like they'd eaten a vegetable that wasn't a deep-fried chip for a very long time.

The 'real fruit ice cream' sealed the deal. This was no artisan orchard operation, more like a factory production line. The 'real fruit' was pre-bagged frozen stuff, fed into a tube with cheap blocks of 'vanilla' ice cream. The resulting concoction spewed in a swirl out the other end of the machine, caught by a cone that tasted of stale communion wafers.

But by then it was too late. We paid handsomely for our ice creams and sat outside in the shade, wishing we'd stopped at a dairy for three of Tip Top's finest instead.

Nothing beats a good ice cream, nothing quite disappoints like a bad one. The good stuff is easy to make at home - here's how.

Black Doris Coconut Ice Cream
Last weekend my sister brought me a bag of tiny Black Doris plums from Hawkes Bay. They were slightly too soft for eating, so I decided to have a bit of an experiment with them instead. This incredibly good ice cream was the result. I based the coconut custard on this chocolate and cinnamon ice cream recipe by Emma Galloway (an ice cream so good it inspired me to acquire an ice cream attachment for my KitchenAid). It's very easy - the only hard bit is waiting for the custard to chill.
If you don't have an ice cream maker, then you should probably try making this just as a custard - set it in small bowls and top with a lid of melted dark chocolate.

10 small Black Doris plums
2 Tbsp sugar
4 egg yolks
1/2 cup caster sugar
1 x 400ml tin coconut cream (I used Kara brand)
1 Tbsp vanilla extract
4 egg yolks
1/2 cup caster sugar

Heat the oven to 200C and line a small baking dish with foil. Halve and stone the plums, then place, cut side up, in the dish. Sprinkle over the 2Tbsp of sugar and bake for 25 minutes. Set aside to cool slightly, then mash into a puree. You should end up with about 1 cup of fruit.

To make the custard, put the egg yolks and sugar in a bowl and beat until white and fluffy (an electric mixer is the easiest way to do this).
While that's happening, put the coconut cream, vanilla and plum puree in a saucepan over medium heat. Bring to near boiling point, then pour onto the egg yolk mixture, whisking all the time.
Pour this mixture back into the saucepan and return to the heat, stirring constantly for about five minutes or until it is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.
Transfer to a bowl and cool completely before refrigerating, stirring occasionally to stop a skin from forming on the top.
When the custard has chilled thoroughly, churn in an ice cream machine according to instructions.

Have a great week, everyone x

Summer berry porridge

The one thing that people who achieve stuff seem to have in common is that they get up and do things, rather than sitting and waiting for the right moment to strike. I admire this, I really do, but I can't seem to make it happen. Take bircher muesli, for example. I love eating it, but I've never been a great one for making it, all that grating and soaking and being a step ahead. Many's the spring or summer morning when I've thought, 'if only I had stayed up last night, grating apple and squeezing orange juice so I could be eating bircher muesli, then I wouldn't be scarfing down a peanut butter-laden crumpet as I run for the bus'.

Then, one night, quite by chance, I just happened to stir a few things together and in the morning, without realising it, I had made a kind of bircher muesli. I didn't even have to grate anything! Maybe I can achieve greatness after all. 

Summer berry porridge

This is hardly a recipe, more a set of guidelines. But hopefully they'll help your mornings flow a little more smoothly and make you feel like less of a hopeless failure at life in general. This amount makes enough for four to six breakfasts - because I'm the only one that eats it in my household I make half this quantity so it's not sitting in the fridge all week. If you forget to make it the night before, just stir it together as soon as you get up. By the time you've had a cup of tea and a shower, it will be completely edible.

2 cups rolled oats

2 cups almond milk (coconut milk is also good)

1/2 cup ground almonds

1/2 cup seeds - pumpkin, sunflower, sesame, chia

2 cups frozen berries

Mix all the ingredients together (I put them in an ice cream container), then cover and store in the fridge overnight. To serve, scoop out a portion into a waiting bowl, then top with a few more berries and a dollop of yoghurt. 

Have a great week, everyone!

Peaches, pistachio and chocolate

This is the inverse of Three Ways With - instead of being three ways with one ingredient, it's one way with three. Confused? Don't be. This photo explains everything.

Peaches with pistachio and chocolate
This is such a simple idea I'm reluctant to call it a recipe. But it's worth sharing - not least because the the April edition of We Should Cocoa is all about no-bake things to do with chocolate. If you've got these ingredients close at hand, this is a five-minute job.

12 dried peach halves (I use the Alison's Pantry ones)
150g dark chocolate (I use Whittaker's Dark Ghana)
1/2 cup shelled pistachio nuts, roughly chopped

Lay the peach halves on a tray, cut side up.
Melt the chocolate - in a bowl over simmering water, or in a low oven - and spoon a little on top of each peach. Sprinkle each one with chopped pistachios and leave to set (about five minutes).
Serve immediately or store in an airtight tin.

Have a great week, everyone x

What to do with a Buddha's hand

Ever shaken a Buddha's hand? I wouldn't recommend it; the 'skin' is pitted and lumpy and the fingers are disturbingly claw-like. But the scent makes you see past its horror-movie looks - it's light, floral and lemony, the sort of perfume you wish they'd bottle.

The Buddha's Hand, also known as Fingered Citron, Buddha's Fingers or, by it's botanical name, citrus medica, is apparently one of the most ancient forms of citrus fruit still in existence. There's no juicy interior -slice into one and it's all bright white pith. But beyond using them as a conversation starter or a scary prop for tricks (imagine getting into bed and having one of these at your feet!), there are lots of ways to use one.

You can take follow David Lebovitz's advice and turn it into candied citron, you can come over all Martha Stewart and use it to scent a room (though a rather small room, unless you want the scent to be very faint). You can zest a little skin over fish, or use it to scent a butter cake or shortbread. But this is my favourite way to use it: Buddha's Hand Vodka.

Buddha's Hand Vodka
You can adapt this to suit whatever amount of vodka you have, just adjust to suit.
For 250ml vodka, pare off about a third of the Buddha's Hand rind, trying to avoid as much pith as possible. Put this in a screwtop jar, along with 1/3 cup of sugar. Add the vodka, apply the lid and shake well until the sugar has dissolved. Make sure the Buddha's Hand peel is below the surface of the vodka. Leave for at least three days (a week is better), shaking once a day. You can strain out the peel if you like, but it gives a suitably freakish appearance to the liquid and it will continue to flavour the liquid if you leave it in.

Do you have any interesting ways to use a Buddha's Hand?

Random recipe: The Bees Knees

This time last year I was idling around Soho, hoping to have a drink with Mr Belleau Kitchen. Alas, our schedules did not allow it, but we're finally managing a kind of virtual cocktail hour through this month's Random Recipes challenge.

For July, Dom has asked us to delve deep into our drinks books and come up with a cocktail recipe. I didn't have to try very hard - when I lifted a notebook off the shelf in my office a tiny slip of paper with this recipe on it fluttered out. It's for a Bees Knees, a honey, lemon and gin cocktail that I last made for my father in a tiny flat in Hampstead in 2008. That flat has long gone from my life and, sadly, so has Dad, but shaking this up in a jam jar took me back there in an instant. If gin makes you maudlin - look, even writing about it makes me a bit blue - then rest assured you can make it with vodka too.

The Bees Knees
I remember cutting this recipe out of the Observer Food Monthly several weeks ahead of my parents' visit, chiefly because honey and gin were two of Dad's great loves. (Cigars, red wine, steak and chocolate were harder to fit in a cocktail glass.) I've rejigged the quantities a little and this amount is enough for two - or one very thirsty person. To me, this is the perfect cocktail; it's short, punchy and not too sweet.

50ml freshly squeezed lemon juice
3 Tbsp honey syrup - made by stirring together 1 Tbsp honey and 2 Tbsp water
100ml best quality gin (or vodka)
ice

Put all ingredients in a cocktail shaker, add ice and shake to combine. Strain into two martini glasses and garnish with a strip of lemon rind. Serves two.

Are you a fan of the cocktail hour? What's your poison?

Treat me: Banana granola

Has it ever occurred to you that bananas are like buses? There's never any when you want one (or at least, one in the right state of ripeness or heading to the right destination), then a whole bunch turn up (or turn from green to extra-ripe) at once.

I know that's a bit of a stretch, but come on, it's Friday. And while I am well aware of the joys of freezing overripe bananas, not least because they're great in smoothies like this apple crumble one, there's only so many containers of frozen bananas that our tiny freezer can take. And there's only so much banana cake a small family can eat in a week too (really, there is!)

So it is with great pride I present to you my latest way to use up all the bananas that are no longer fit for eating in their natural state: banana granola. It's genius, even if I do say so myself.

Banana Granola
This makes the house smell like banana cake, but it's much more virtuous. The buckwheat gives it an extra crunch, but if you can't lay your hands on any try quinoa or another cup of seeds.

4 cups whole or jumbo oats
1 cup seeds - sesame, sunflower, pumpkin, linseed - or a mixture of all of them
1 cup desiccated coconut
1 cup buckwheat or quinoa
1 Tbsp cinnamon
2 Tbsp neutral, flavourless oil
2 Tbsp honey
3 very ripe bananas
1 1/2 cups dried fruit, optional

Heat the oven to 160C and line a large baking dish with baking paper. Put the oats, seeds, coconut, buckwheat or quinoa and cinnamon in a large bowl and stir well to mix.
In a separate bowl, mash the bananas to a smooth puree with the oil and honey. Stir this mixture through the dry ingredients - don't be afraid to use your hands to really mix it in.
Spread in an even layer on the prepared tray and bake for 35-40 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes. If it starts to look a little dark towards the end of the cooking time, just switch the oven off and leave the door slightly ajar, but leave the granola tray in the oven until it has cooled down. This will ensure it dries thoroughly.
Stir through some dried fruit if you like - I reckon sultanas and banana chips are a good combo - and store in an airtight container.

Have a great weekend, everyone x

Treat me: Fairtrade choc banana cake

This week two extremely important women in the world of food visited Wellington. One attracted loads of attention while she filmed an advertisement for Whittakers chocolate; the other could have walked down Lambton Quay without attracting a second glance from anyone.

I'm not saying Nigella Lawson's Wellington sojourn didn't deserve all the fuss, but it's a shame that the equally gorgeous Rose Boatemaa Mensah wasn't as feted. Rose was in town as part of Fairtrade Fortnight - as well as being a teacher she is a cocoa farmer in Ghana. Some of the beans grown by Rose and her family end up at Whittakers, where they are turned into my favourite chocolate (and the husks even end up on our garden).

I didn't get to catch up with Rose (or Nigella) this week, but to celebrate all things Fairtrade I've whipped up this utterly lovely cake. It combines the two Fairtrade things we eat most in this house - chocolate and All Good Bananas. It's even inspired by a Nigella recipe - how circular is that?

Fairtrade Chocolate Banana Cake
If you can manage not to gobble this the minute it comes out of the oven, glistening with nuggets of melting chocolate, then it keeps really well. And I'm sure your mum would love it for Mother's Day (that's this Sunday, in case you'd forgotten).

400g ripe bananas (peeled weight) - about 3 large ones
250g ground almonds
250g caster sugar
6 eggs
grated zest of two lemons
1 tsp baking powder
100g dark chocolate, roughly chopped

Heat the oven to 180C and grease and line a 23cm springform cake tin.
Put the bananas in a food processor and whiz until pureed. Add all the other ingredients, except the chocolate and whiz again until well mixed. Pour into the prepared tin and scatter the chocolate on top.
Bake for 35-45 minutes - it will be damp and sticky but a toothpick plunged in should come out cleanly. Let cool for 10 minutes in the tin, then turn out to cool on a rack.

Have a great weekend, everyone x

Treat me: Double ginger apricot balls

I know what you're thinking: 'Please, no, not another raw energy/bliss ball recipe. Save me, please!'
While it's true that the world probably doesn't need another set of instructions on how to pulverise dried fruit and nuts into a lunchbox-friendly treat, I think this one - my latest flavour combo - is worth sharing.

Double ginger apricot balls
Don't even think about making these with those flabby, flavourless dried apricots - you want the really tangy, chewy, intensely apricot-y ones. If you don't have crystallised ginger, the stem stuff would work well here too. And if you really want to push the boat out, try dipping these in white chocolate instead of coconut...

150g dried apricots, cut in half with scissors
150g raisins
50g crystallised ginger
50g walnuts or almonds
1 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp ground cardamom
1 tsp orange blossom water
60g (3/4 cup) fine desiccated coconut

Put everything except the coconut in a food processor and whiz until it forms a lump. Put the coconut in a bowl. Take teaspoonfuls of the mixture, roll into balls and then roll these in the coconut. Store in an airtight container in the fridge. Makes about 20.

Have a great weekend, everyone x

Treat me: Blueberry Orange Delicious

There are only two things happening in New Zealand this week. One, the royals are here (no, not the Royals immortalised by Lorde, the other ones). Two, it is raining. Incessantly. Torrentially. Mistily. Irritatingly. We are all trapped indoors, with nothing to do but assess Kate's hair and worry about whether Prince George's carseat is installed correctly. And think about what to have for pudding.

Blueberry Orange Delicious
This is the sort of pudding your Nana probably used to make, given a bit of a makeover. It’s all about the textural contrast - soft sponge on top, silky custard underneath. You can make them ahead of dinner - they're fine to eat slightly warm.

1 cup frozen blueberries
50g very soft butter
½ cup caster sugar
Finely grated rind of 2 oranges, plus the juice of one of them
1 tsp orange blossom water (or vanilla extract)
3 Tbsp ground almonds
2 eggs, separated
200ml milk

Heat the oven to 170C. Grease four ramekins (about 200ml capacity) or cups and set them in a deep roasting dish.
Divide the blueberries between the ramekins.
Beat the butter and sugar together - it will be tricky, but persevere - then add the orange zest and orange blossom water or vanilla and mix well. Stir in the flour.
Add the egg yolks and milk and beat again to form a smooth batter.
In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites to stiff peaks, then gently fold them into the batter. Carefully pour the mixture over the blueberries.
Fill the roasting dish with hot water - it needs to come halfway up the sides of the ramekins - and put it in the oven.
Bake for 20 minutes, until the sponge is risen and golden. Serve warm or hot (though they are pretty good cold the next day too).

Have a great weekend, everyone x

Treat me: Raw raspberry lamingtons

You might think I married my husband for his wit, good looks and charm, but there's more to it than that. What sealed the deal is was that his mother makes the best lamingtons in the world. Once I realised he was the heir to a freezer full of chocolate-dipped, cream-filled spongy delights, there was no turning back. 

More than a decade down the track though, I've come to realise that there are other lamington-makers out there. In fact, there are hordes of them, all of them making exotic lamingtons like there's no tomorrow. They've been whipped into a coconut-dusted frenzy by an adorable English flight attendant by the name of Peter, who is no slouch himself in the lamington department.

Peter is such a champion of lamingtons that for the last four years he has devoted himself to reinventing them every February. Don't tell my MIL, but I think he could give her a good run for her money. In the meantime, he's thrown down the gauntlet to the rest of us. And so without any further ado, I bring you my raw raspberry lamingtons...

Raw raspberry lamingtons

These are not your ordinary lamingtons - there's no sponge, no eggs, no sugar and - gasp - no cream. These are lamingtons, 2014 style. They're raw, gluten and dairy-free, and contain no refined sugar. But there's plenty of coconut, chocolate AND raspberries - for those of you who can't decide whether a lamington should be brown or pink. I was inspired by this recipe, but took it in a completely different direction. The ultimate test was when I asked my brother-in-law to try one. "These," he said, "are dangerous. Is the recipe going on your blog?"

100g ground almonds

120g dessicated coconut

4 Tbsp coconut oil

3 Tbsp real maple syrup or honey

60g (about half a cup) frozen raspberries

Line a small plastic container (like a takeaway container) with plastic wrap and set aside.

Put all ingredients in a food processor and whiz until it clumps. Press this mixture into the prepared container and leave in the fridge for at least an hour, until firm. You can leave it for a day or so if you like, it won't come to any harm, though you may accidentally eat some of it.

When you are ready for stage two, remove the coconut mixture from the fridge and cut into small bars. Gently melt 120g dark chocolate with 1 tsp of coconut oil (I do this in a heatproof bowl in a warming oven, but you can use a microwave on low or a double boiler) and set aside to cool slightly.

Put the coconut in a small bowl and line a tray with baking paper.

Dip the bars into the chocolate, then roll them carefully in the coconut. When you have finished, put them in a lined, lidded container and put them in the fridge before someone comes by and gobbles the lot. Makes about 12-15, depending how much gets eaten along the way.

Have a great weekend, everyone x

Treat me: Boozy figs

If you were beamed to earth from another planet at the moment you'd think all humans did was eat, drink and be merry. While the period between mid-November and early January is fairly intense on that scale, it's pretty much always the season of entertaining at our house. And I love it, I really do, except for perhaps that tense 15 minutes just before the entertainees arrive and I feel in a state of complete chaos.

This year, with two fairly major entertaining events scheduled chez nous in the next fortnight, I've decided to take control. Firstly, I'm going to delegate a lot more (sorry, invitees, I understand if you want to pull out now) and secondly, I'm going to have something up my sleeve that I prepared earlier.

These boozy figs are an excellent do-ahead option at this time of year, whether you're holding a soiree or you've been invited to one by someone like me who wants you to cross town with dessert in your handbag. The recipe is of unknown provenance - it's out of one of my mum's notebooks - and it is very simple. I've a hunch it is just the thing for this month's Tea Time Treats challenge, hosted by the ever-lovely Karen of Lavender and Lovage (with able support from Kate at What Kate Baked) - in which dried fruit is the theme.

Boozy figs
You can whip these mulled figs together in five minutes before you go to work, then when you come home they'll be all plump and juicy. If you're in the northern hemisphere, serve them warm over a slab of posh vanilla ice cream., if you're in the southern, add strawberries. If you're really, really organised, put them in a lidded jar in the fridge and they'll be good for several weeks.

400g dried figs, cut in half (use scissors)
500ml fruity red wine
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 small orange, washed and halved
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1 punnet of strawberries, washed and hulled (optional)

Put all ingredients in a small saucepan and set over medium heat. Bring to a gentle simmer and let bubble away for five minutes. Take off the heat and let cool. Then, either transfer to a bowl or jar, cover and put in the fridge. Or, if you're planning to eat them in a few hours, add the strawberries before putting in the fridge. Serves six.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Treat me: Lemon poppy seed biscuits

Remember our neighbours with the amazing lemon tree? They have gone on holiday and their lemon tree is taunting me with its golden globes shining through the fence. It's been so windy lately I've been expecting the lemons to blow over to our side of the fence, but so far it hasn't happened. In the meantime, I've been accepting gifts of lemons from friends on the other side of the harbour and using them with reckless abandon.

So when Dom's Random Recipe challenge for October asked us to use a local ingredient I figured lemons would be it. Then I stumbled - actually, properly stumbled - over local cookbook Alice In Bakingland on the dining room floor and the perfect lemony recipe leapt up at me.

Lemon and poppy seed biscuits
Alice In Bakingland is the first book from one-time New Zealand's Hottest Home Baker finalist and self-taught baking whiz Alice Arndell. It's such a sweet book - I've described it to friends as a Pinterest cookbook because everything is so pretty (that's also to do with the great photos by Murray Lloyd). But it's also extremely useful, with lots of useful, everyday sorts of recipes alongside the glamour ones and a whole batch of handy hints. I'm forever indebted to Alice for sharing the information that one cup of plain flour equals one cup of high grade less two tablespoons. I'm also very grateful for her allowing me to reproduce this lovely recipe here.

2 1/2 cups plain flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup icing sugar
1/2 cup caster sugar
finely grated zest of two lemons (I actually double this to make it super lemony)
2 Tbsp poppy seeds
180g cold butter, cubed
1 egg
1 egg yolk

Put the flour, salt, sugars, lemon zest and poppy seeds into a food processor and pulse briefly to combine. Add the butter and pulse until the mixture looks like breadcrumbs. Add the egg and egg yolk, and process until the mixture clumps.
Tip the dough out onto a large piece of plastic wrap and squeeze together. Form into a log that's about 5cm diameter, wrap well and chill for at least two hours, until the dough is very firm.
When ready to bake, heat the oven to 180C. Line two baking trays with baking paper.
Slice the dough into 1/2 cm rounds and put on the prepared trays. Bake for 10-12 minutes, until the edges just start to brown. Cool on a wire rack. Makes about 36.

Have a great weekend, everyone x

Treat me: Tahini bars

In the circles I move in, or at least the online ones, tahini is having a little moment. First I saw this rendition of Ottolenghi's Tahini Soup, then I saw this Turkish Tahini Cake. Then, as if to prove that tahini's time had come in real life too, I had a lengthy discussion with two friends about whether or not the tahini available in the Middle East is different to the stuff we can buy here. (We didn't reach any kind of conclusion. Your thoughts on this important matter are very welcome.)

Anyway, all this tahini talk reminded me of two things. One, it's easy to make your own. Two, it's even easier to make these gorgeous oaty bars.

Tahini Bars
These started life as a sort of biscuity thing, but I wasn't that happy with them. They're much better this way - richy, chewy and not too sweet. Vary the extras - the chocolate, nuts and fruit - to suit your cupboards. I think it's best to opt for very dark chocolate and tangy fruit, such as apricots and cranberries.

125ml (1/2 cup) tahini
80g (three generous tablespoons) golden syrup
80g (three generous tablespoons) honey
1 1/2 cups (300g) rolled oats
50-70g dark chocolate, roughly chopped
50g (about 1/3 of a cup) dried apricots, roughly chopped
50g (about 1/3 of a cup) dates, roughly chopped
50g (about 1/3 of a cup) almonds or sunflower seeds, roughly chopped

Heat the oven to 180C. Line a brownie pan (measuring about 20 x 20cm) with baking paper.
Put the tahini and honey in a large bowl and stir well, then tip in the other ingredients. Mix well, then press into the prepared pan. It may not be enough to fill the pan, but don't panic. Just press it out until it's about 1cm thick.
Bake for 20 minutes, until golden brown. It will still be soft, but it will harden as it cools. Mark out the bars while it's still warm. Store in an airtight container when cold. Makes about 18 bars.

Have a great weekend, everyone. Do share a link to your favourite tahini-related recipe in the comments below.

Treat me: Mini choc-orange tarts

Last Friday I broke my self-imposed charity shop ban and went for a cruise around a couple of my local favourites (no, I'm not telling you where they are). The do-up dolls house I'd spotted through the window of one a few weeks ago had long gone, but I did find a fabulous 70s miniature coffee set - all mine for just $5. After the Small Girl and I played tea parties for the rest of the day I was beginning to wonder if I'd done the right thing in buying it. After we made these teeny-tiny chocolate and orange curd tarts to have with our "coffee" the game got a lot more fun.

Mini chocolate orange tarts
This recipe is a mash-up of several components that have appeared in various guises on this blog. The pastry is a tweaked version of the one I use for Christmas Mince Pies and the curd in the filling is inspired by a great comment an anonymous user once left on a post. Don't be put off by the length of the recipe - you can potter about making various bits and pieces and then it all comes together at the end. You can also cheat and use storebought curd. I won't judge you. I've given the curd and pastry recipes first - keep reading for instructions on what happens when you've made these parts. I make just 12 tarts, but there is enough curd and pastry to make 24 (so you can make a batch one day and then it's each to whip up another the next).

For the orange curd filling:
4 free-range egg yolks
2/3 cup caster sugar
125ml freshly squeezed orange juice
60g butter, diced

Put the egg yolks and sugar in a small pot and beat together until well blended. Add the juice and butter. Put the pot over medium-high heat and stir constantly until it comes to simmering point. As soon as the bubbles appear, remove from the heat. Keep stirring for another minute or so, then pour into a sterilised jar. This makes about 450ml, of which you will use half in this recipe. Refrigerate when cold.

For the pastry:
250g plain flour
50g dessicated coconut
100g icing sugar
190g fridge-cold butter, diced
1 egg yolk
1Tbsp ice-cold water

Put the flour, coconut, sugar and butter into a food processor. Beat or whiz until you get a breadcrumb-y texture. Combine the egg yolk and water in a cup, then add to the bowl and beat or pulse until the mixture clumps. Press the mixture together into two discs with your hands. Wrap each one well. Put one in the fridge and the other in a cool place for 20 minutes.
When you're ready to roll, so to speak, heat the oven to 170C.
Get two large pieces of greaseproof paper or cling film and place the non-refrigerated pastry disc between them. This makes everything much, much easier and you don't have to scrape pastry bits off the worktop or your rolling pin. Roll out to about 3mm thick. Using a suitable cutter or glass, stamp out 12 rounds to fit into a greased mini muffin tin. Put the pastry-lined tin in the fridge for 10 minutes, then bake for about 12 minutes, until the pastry is golden and dry to touch. Remove to a rack to cool.

When you're ready to make the tarts, put about 150g of room temperature curd into a small bowl and mix with 150g room temperature cream cheese. Beat until smooth - it's important both are at room temperature or the mixture will be lumpy.
Divide this mixture between the cooled pastry cases, then put in the fridge for 20 minutes.
While that's happening, melt 100g good dark chocolate using your preferred method (double boiler, microwave, mind control). Remove the tarts from the fridge and spoon a little chocolate on top of each one. Let set, then take to your next tiny tea party. Store any uneaten tarts in the fridge, where they will be good for about five days.

Have a good weekend, everyone. I'm planning to throw off a last-gasp winter lurgy and plant a wildflower meadow, in that order. What are you up to?

Spring berry smoothie

Something a bit embarrassing happens when we have people round. It's not a problem when the sun is over the yardarm, so to speak, but when they look meaningfully at the kettle and the cupboard where the mugs are, I feel a bit uncomfortable.
It's not that I am ashamed of the tin of instant coffee (it's for my mother-in-law - she doesn't drink the other stuff) or our ugly mug selection, but that I'm never sure when to break it to them that we don't have any milk.
Apart from my great milk-drinking, bechamel-sauce guzzling period (September 2008 until about May 2009), we don't drink it. I buy some occasionally if a cooking project warrants it, of course, but it does seem rather wasteful to buy milk, keep it in the fridge on the off-chance that we might have a milky tea-drinker crossing the threshold, then end up throwing it away. Perhaps I should invest in those little sachets of milk that you get in hotels. But I think I'd rather look like a bad hostess than one with no taste. What do you think?

Spring berry smoothie
One of the best things about living a milk-free existence is that you get to make virtuous and vibrant smoothies like this one. One of the best things about coming back to New Zealand after our holiday was drinking water from the tap without gagging - if you live somewhere with disgusting tap water then I'd suggest making these with the bottle sort. Or I suppose you could go all out and use milk, but rest assured, it's nicer without. If you're not a fan of berries, try fresh pineapple.

For two large smoothies:

1 1/2 cups frozen berries
1 large banana, cut into chunks (this is a good way to use up frozen bananas, if you have a freezer full)
3 Tbsp ground almonds
1 Tbsp chia seeds
250ml cold water

Put everything in a blender, or in a large glass jar in which you can fit a stick blender, and whizz until smooth. Add a little more water if it seems very thick. Pour into two glasses and serve.

Treat me: Ginger cider cake

Two of my favourite redheads have birthdays this weekend - so in their honour I have devised a ginger-y cake. You don't have to have redhead or suffered years of school yard torment to enjoy it, but it helps if you like light, lovely cake studded with nuggets of crystallised ginger and walnuts. Who's in?

Ginger cider cake
This is an adapted version of a cake in Margaret Fulton's 'My Very Special Cookbook', a book worth hunting for in your next charity shop raids. I used a bottle of Rekorderlig Orange-Ginger cider (which is actually very drinkable, for once you can believe the hype), but you could use any cider or beer and change the fruit/spices accordingly. It makes a very big cake suitable for baking in a bundt tin - but make sure you grease and flour it really well or you'll suffer the consequences. I can confirm the cake is still edible when it comes out of the tin in two pieces, but it's less suitable to present to someone as a birthday treat.

250g soft butter
400g brown sugar
2 eggs, at room temperature
100g crystallised ginger, roughly chopped
100g walnuts, roughly chopped
500ml beer or cider, at room temperature
450g plain flour
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 180C and grease and/or line a large bundt tin.
Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy - easiest done with a stand mixer or food processor - then beat in the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Stir in the ginger and walnuts.
Sift the flour, baking soda, salt and spices together then add about a quarter of it to the butter mixture. Fold in, then add a quarter of the beer or cider. Repeat until all the ingredients are combined.
Scrape into the prepared tin and bake for about 45 minutes, until the cake is well risen and a skewer plunged into the centre comes out clean.
Leave in the tin for 10 minutes to cool, then carefully turn out onto a rack to cool completely.

Have a great weekend, everyone x

Treat me: Pears in spiced red wine

It says a lot about the horrors of boarding school food that my co-prisoners and I were cheered up by tinned pears. We had pudding three times a week - Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday lunch - and tinned fruit was a constant. In some ways this was a good thing (our rationale being that if it had come in a tin, the cooks couldn't have done anything to it) but when you consider that we were in a city ringed by orchards and we never got any nice fresh fruit, it was shameful.
Anyway, we liked tinned pears mostly because they were served with a vat of chocolate custard. This tasted like cheap cocoa and cornflour, but when you'd eschewed a plate of grey meat, frozen corn and mashed potato so firm you could cut it into cubes, it was nothing short of manna from heaven.

Pears in red wine
I never buy tinned pears, but I've been buying lots of fresh ones lately and bringing them to ripeness in the fridge. The ones that are slightly firmer get poached in a spiced red wine syrup like this one.


200g (1 cup) lightly packed brown sugar
3 cinnamon sticks

The peel of 1 large orange - try to avoid as much of the bitter pith (the white stringy bits) as possible
6 juniper berries, optional
4 star anise
8 whole cloves
6 cardamom pods, lightly crushed
A 2cm slice of fresh ginger½ cup dark rum (or brandy, or port)
1 x 750ml bottle of fruity red wine (merlot is good)

6 firm but unblemished pears

Heat the oven to 160C. Put everything except the pears in a large lidded, ovenproof casserole dish (like a big Le Creuset, or similar) that will be big enough to take the pears as well. Stir well to dissolve the sugar. Carefully peel the pears using a potato peeler. Leave the stems on but cut out the blossom end (at the bottom) to remove the core.
Gently put the pears in the dish - add a little water to make sure they are submerged in the liquid.
Put the lid on and put the dish in the oven. Cook for two to three hours, until the pears are tender when pierced with a sharp knife. When they’re done, you can leave them sitting in the syrup until you’re ready to eat them. I think they’re best at room temperature, with some very cold homemade creme fraiche.
Store any leftover syrup in a lidded jar in the fridge. It can be used again (or warmed up and sipped on a cold, wet night).

Have a great weekend, everyone x