Buttercupcakes

I’ve hinted in previous posts and comments about how busy I’ve been recently, hoping that I may be forgiven for my comparative neglect of A Merrier World. One of the many things that has been occupying me (and one which I so far haven’t mentioned) is my tentative first steps into the world of web design. A couple of months ago, a happy coincidence resulted in my offering to create a website for a friend’s new business … which just happened to be in baking and selling cupcakes.

What a wonderful opportunity, to practise on a subject so in tune with my own interests! I’m in awe of the imagination and perfection of my friend’s cupcakes. This is baking artistry in miniature – heaven and earth in one container.

So … to see my own latest (inedible) creation or, better still, to order a box of my friend’s delicious cupcakes, visit Buttercupcakes.

Lemon Cake and Cauliflower

I’m guilty of committing a bad scientific sin. I have a glorious cake sitting on my kitchen worktop and I have no way of knowing which of the variables I changed was responsible for its glory. Why? Because I changed all of the variables at the same time!

Was it because I increased the amount of cornflour I added to the flour? Was it because I microwaved the cornflour as well as the flour? Or was it because I had a craving for lemon cake and added some lemon juice, which is acidic?

I’m grateful to Adrian for his comments both here and on Rose’s blog – his observations and clear thinking prompted me to revisit the way in which I typically make up batches of ‘kate flour‘ and have resulted in a much easier and less messy method for its preparation. His questions have also lead me to try increasing the amount of starch so that the protein content of the flour/cornflour mix matches that of cake flour, as well as to introduce something acidic into the recipe to mimic an additional effect of chlorination on flour.

I can certainly confirm that these changes have all proved successful. My lemon cake is beautifully light, fine-textured, moist and well-risen. My sink and dish-cloths are also less clogged up with flour spillages, which is something that will please my husband. Whether or not these changes were all necessary … I really can’t say!

Lemon Cake

Lemon Butter Cake
Adapted from a recipe by Rose Levy Beranbaum

9 1/2 oz Italian 00 Grade flour (or plain flour)
2 1/2 oz cornflour
4 oz egg yolks (approx 6 egg yolks)
8 1/2 oz milk
2 1/4 teaspoons lemon juice
1 tablespoon grated lemon zest
10 1/2 oz castor sugar
1 tablespoon + 1 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
6 oz unsalted butter, softened

Grease, line and flour two 9″ x 1 1/2″ cake pans. Preheat the oven to 180 degrees C.

Place the flour and cornflour in a mixing bowl and whisk to combine. Put the mixture into a pyrex pie dish (not a bowl – the flour mix should be at an even depth of about 2cms). I’ve found that a pie dish is less messy than a plate when stirring the flour! Microwave the mixture at 750W for 4 to 5 minutes, stirring well at the end of each minute (I use a fork to fluff it all up and disturb any hot spots).

Remove the pie dish carefully from the microwave using oven gloves. Sieve and discard any residue. Set aside to cool further.

Combine the egg yolks, 2 oz of the milk, lemon juice and zest in a bowl. Set aside.

Weigh out 10 1/2 oz of the flour mix – any remaining flour can be discarded or used to flour your cake pans. Sieve the flour mix into a large mixing bowl and add the sugar, baking powder and salt. Mix slowly to combine.

Cut the butter up into small cubes and add to the dry ingredients. Add the remaining milk. Mix together slowly at first to moisten the dry ingredients, then beat for 1 1/2 minutes at medium speed (I go to no. 4 on my Kenwood).

Beat in the lemony-egg mixture in 3 batches, scraping down the sides of the bowl after each batch to make sure that all ingredients are combined.

Divide the batter between the two prepared cake pans and smooth with a spatula. Bake in the centre of the oven for 25 to 35 mins until the top is springy but the sides have not yet started to shrink. Cool on wire racks for 10 mins before removing the cakes from the pans.

What about the cauliflower? Well, we went to Dart’s Farm this morning and there in the entrance was a table stacked high with the most wonderful cauliflowers I have ever seen. And they were all grown locally in Budleigh. I don’t even really like eating cauliflower, but I couldn’t resist buying one of these beauties!

Cauliflower

Here’s a Health

It is January 25th, wha hae … and here’s a health to all as we honour the birthday of the great Scottish poet, Robert Burns.

Originating from our student days in Glasgow, my husband and I have carried the traditions of Burns Night with us in our gradual migration to the South-West of England. In 1998, we celebrated our first Burns Supper south of the border with a party of vaguely bemused friends, a vast quantity of haggis and a large bottle of whisky. Ten years and three children later, we will still be celebrating tonight with haggis, neeps and tatties along with the essential single malt whisky (albeit in slightly reduced quantities to those of 1998!).

Burns Night

It’s not too late for anyone to join us – here’s a simple recipe for a successful Burns Night Supper wherever you may be …

1. Track down a haggis (don’t believe those stories of wee hairy beasties roaming the Scottish countryside, one pair of legs shorter than the other since they spend their time spiraling steep slopes – try your local deli instead).

2. Remove any plastic covering. Wrap the haggis in kitchen foil (in case it bursts), place in a roasting dish and fill with water so that it reaches about halfway up the side of the haggis. Cook at 180 degrees C for about an hour or so until the haggis is heated through.

3. Peel and boil (in separate pans) your turnip (swede for those south of the border πŸ˜‰ ) and potatoes … neeps and tatties. Mash.

4. Find someone to play the bagpipes for you while the haggis is cooking (warning: you’ll need to wear industrial-strength ear plugs if your rooms are small – I speak from experience, having survived a piper’s attempts to deafen all in the Uisge Beatha one Burns Night). Alternatively, put on some traditional music or hum a Scottish jig (Linn Records do a Robert Burns Series of CDs that are excellent).

5. Serve the neeps and tatties on a plate. Pour a dram of whisky. Say the Selkirk Grace …

“Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some would eat that want it,
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
Sae let the Lord be thankit.”

6. … then play a rousing tune as you ceremonially carry the haggis to the table. This is called ‘piping in the haggis’.

7. You should now address the haggis. At the appropriate place in this rendition, raise a knife dramatically, stab the haggis savagely and split it along its length …

“Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ the puddin-race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o’ a grace
As lang’s my arm.”

8. Raise your dram in a toast to ‘The Haggis’.

9. Eat and drink muchly.

10. Give a toast to ‘The Immortal Memory of Robert Burns’, celebrate his works with enthusiasm (one of my favourite songs is Kellyburn Braes) and wish a health to absent friends.

11. End your evening with a rendition of Auld Lang Syne:

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.”

Happy Burns Night – Slainte πŸ™‚

Christmas Cheese

My sister says that I’m a difficult person to buy presents for. I’m not into ‘girly’ things like cosmetics, jewellery, handbags, shoes, perfume and aromatherapy. It’s funny, but I never had a clue that I was as difficult until she told me so at the weekend. To me, I’m simple. Books, baking … I never find it difficult to buy presents for myself πŸ˜‰ .

Despite my sister’s protestations however, I’m apparently not that troublesome to please after all – for she managed to bring with her the perfect present. Cheese. To be more specific, a beautifully packaged parcel from Neal’s Yard Dairy containing three pieces of farm cheese wrapped in waxed paper. Stathdon Blue, Half Tunworth and Crockhamdale. Heaven!

Cheeses

Dumfries and Galloway

We’ve just returned from a family holiday in Kirkcudbright, a vibrant harbour town in the South West of Scotland (pronounced ‘cur-coo-bree’). We arrived towards the end of the annual summer festivities and enjoyed an evening of pipe bands and Scottish country dancing, followed by an excellent ‘Haggis Supper’ at Polarbites in Harbour Square (sorry, no recipe here for haggis!).

I wish that I’d discovered this Savour the Flavours website before we left Devon for Scotland … although I doubt that we’d have been able to savour much more than we actually did as our holiday time was largely accounted for by visiting beaches and castles with the children. If you ever find yourself in the region however, I can thoroughly recommend a visit to the Cream o Galloway at Rainton Farm. Their produce (ice-cream, yummm) is prolific. It seems as though every newsagent, corner-shop and hotel in Dumfries and Galloway stocks at least a mini-tub or two of ‘Cream o Galloway’ ice-cream. As we discovered on our guided tour (complete with tasting opportunities), the ice-cream dairy uses organic milk produced by Ayrshire cows on Rainton Farm. The milk and cream from these cows is responsible for the beautiful creamy richness that is characteristic of the ‘Cream o Galloway’ ice-cream we sampled.

I’m now left hankering after an ice-cream maker … gingerbread ice-cream, here I come! (Watch this space …).

  • Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 289 other subscribers
  • Seasonal Recipes

    candied peel

    baileys chocolate truffles

    gingerbread men

    mince pies

    fudge

    smarties cookies

  • Freshly Made

  • Categories

  • Favourite Feasts

  • Awards

    DMBLGIT Award
  • Archives

  • wordpress visitor counter
  • Adventures in food by Kate Coldrick from Woodbury in Devon.