Click here for the Malteser Doughnuts recipe.
Wednesday, 8 October 2014
Wednesday, 1 October 2014
I’ve wanted to share this recipe for cornbread since August. I’ve already been in talks with my sister about making it as a side for this year’s American inspired Christmas dinner (this cornbread is the sole reason why Christmas will be American this year). Also, sorry for mentioning Christmas.
Buuutttt, I am glad we’re finally in the season of comfort food. This thick and buttery cornbread can be served savoury or sweet. My first batch was served with spicy jerk chicken and citrusy avocado salsa. My second batch had less sugar, so I chose to drizzle the bread with acacia honey and dried corn flowers from this little spice shop in London’s Borough Market. Adding corn flowers to a cornbread is possibly the corniest thing I’ve ever done.
The sweetcorn season may have just ended, but as the kernels are fried in a pool of butter, using the frozen variety is just as good. To be fair, I only used fresh because they were on offer in the supermarket – who would pass up 4 husks for a pound?!
200g unsalted butter
450g fresh or frozen sweetcorn
80g double cream
45g brown sugar
200g plain flour
130g fine cornmeal/polenta
1 tsp sea salt
1/2 tsp baking powder
¼ tsp baking soda
Preheat oven to 190°C and butter and flour a 23cm round cake tin or one 1lb loaf tin. Add the butter to a large shallow saucepan on medium heat and once it’s turned to liquid add the corn. Leave to sizzle in the butter until the corn has browned slightly and the butter has only just scorched the bottom of the pan. It might be easier to do this in two batches to make sure all of the corn cooks through. Scrape the entire pan into a food processor and blitz until it looks grainy but still has a creamy texture. Add the milk and cream and blitz again until the batter is loose and has cooled down a little. Add the eggs and blitz, and then do the same with the sugar. Transfer the corn batter to a large bowl, pour the rest of the dry ingredients in and fold through using a wooden spoon. The batter will be thick. Once the flour is as folded through as it will go, give it a good beating with the wooden spoon until all of the flour is evenly incorporated. Pour the batter into the tin and smooth the top with the back of a metal spoon. Bake for 35/40 minutes, the cornbread is cooked when the surface has a slight sheen and is smooth to the touch and a skewer inserted shows a moist (but not wet) crumb.
Love Em xx
Wednesday, 27 August 2014
My pre 9-5 panic made me avoid blogging (that, and a bit of laziness). So I’ve got oodles of admiration for the women whose blogs I read (and have grown friendships with), the ones who have impressive careers and beautiful blogs as well as recipes that make you wish you could live forever just so you can carry on eating (cringe, but so true).
The sweet pungency of Mulberry is softened with tahini paste, as its stirred, the whole thing comes together as a fruity, nutty, runny sauce called Pekmez. Just as the ripples in Halva are made with mulberry molasses, so too is the topping for these tahini ice creams – it’s a good way to keep the flavours distinct, and it’s good for eliminating one or the other, if the sight/sound of one freaks you out a bit.
Tuesday, 8 July 2014
I purchase an irrelevant (read, near invisible) quantity of flour made from ground nuts or dehydrated coconut. I also find it really difficult to substitute grainy sugar for agave syrup in recipes and come out the other end with risen and delicious goods. A few weeks ago I bought chia seeds and soaked them in almond milk overnight with a bit of sweetened coconut - in the morning I was close to throwing up.
I’m not busting the balls of healthy eating though, a few weeks ago I posted a recipe for ice cream made of dairy free milk sweetened with a natural liquid sugar and filled with the chewy, somewhat inedible remnants of steeped cocoa nibs. When it comes to putting these ingredients in the oven so that they meld together to produce something physically and sensually similar to a brownie filled with refined sugar and cocoa butter, sorry, white chocolate, I seriously struggle. And yet, dairy ruins my bowels but coffee is dishwater without cow's milk.
* I was not paid to write this. I approached Whole Foods myself and asked to bombard their kitchen and write about them, cos I love it.
Even though I cant bake with flax seed, I have an obsession with Whole Foods, which is massively inconvenient because I live in the annoying bit of London where the closest you’ll get to Whole Foods is Holland and Barrett. A few weeks ago I was taken on a tour of London’s flagship Whole Foods store in Kensington, it had three floors and the moment I walked in I could have sworn I was in a huge retail park in a remote bit of land somewhere in New England.
After the tour I peered over their chief baker Angela’s shoulder for an hour whilst she iced cakes in that classic, slightly retro decorative way you’d find on sheet cakes that only exist in America/Australia (why?). We spoke endlessly about the pastry at Whole Foods, (whilst I was excited, she was probably cringing) and surprisingly, she tells me that their healthier alternatives are the least popular sellers in the store, apart from the chia seed pudding (god knows why). This little snippet of information stays with me until later, when my lovely tour guide and the woman I moan to about the lack of Whole Foods in my part of town, tells me how people often misinterpret the company as only selling health foods when in fact they're all about selling quality organic food.
My point is, you don't have to be a health conscious hipster, or have diet restrictions, or be a hipster pretending to have diet restrictions, to enjoy Whole Foods. The wheat flour selection is just...just... Yes.
So I've made these incredibly indulgent, almost-too-buttery blondies to celebrate dairy, wheat and too much sugar, even though it gives me a bad stomach because a) I'm stupid and b) the health alternatives at Whole Foods don't sell in smaller numbers for no reason (in London, that is).
Wednesday, 2 July 2014
The car was vibrating, I was doing 40mph on an A road and there was this cake slash frosting tower sitting (rather unhygienically) on my passenger seat floor. I don’t think cars are supposed to shake at 40, but I’ll let mine off on the grounds of my horrific driving which has likely caused the thing a number of car-health related issues. Hannah from The Littlest Bakehouse and I are driving to Manchester from London in August for the Cake Hunter’s wedding (!!!), so this is my pre-warning to you both that we MAY not make it alive.
Just a few fruit fell from the frankly pointless blueberry volcano I decided to fancifully pile the cake with. When I parked up, I quickly glued the bluebs back into place with icing, before the boyf jumped in and we made our way to Street Feast in Lewisham to celebrate his 24th day of birth. Suffice to say, he shortly followed with “Did you glue the blueberries on with icing by any chance?” (Face-palm).
I never got to properly eat a slice of the cake, but he said it tasted pretty darn good, and we’ve been together since the exact birth of this blog - cue explanation as to why that is relevant…. Also I dipped syrupy offcuts into leftover icing ;)
We are that cringy ‘red velvet cake on Valentines’ couple. But last year, the Malteser chocolate malt cake I made on his birthday leaned to the left like a condensed leaning tower of Pisa performing a drag act. So I went with our valentine’s tradition but I cut out the food colouring, because the entire bottle, which is needed for a “proper” red velv, gives the cake a really noticeable sour tang. And regardless of the childish excitement a brilliant red cake instils in me to this day, I can no longer handle that tang.
In with the tealeaves! The tea flavour is faint in this ‘tea velvet’, perhaps slightly masked by the cocoa powder, but we much prefer it to food colouring flavour.