Mmm…Canada: Strawberry shortcake

 

Happy Canada Day to my fellow Canadians, adopted Canadians and everyone who has a bit of Canadianess in side of them :)

One of the lovely things about having an early summer national day is this is the time when some of the most gorgeous strawberries come into season.  From about September until June, we suffer through imports that only a marketer or an accountant in some far off land like Toronto would eat and find palatable: the strawberries I find in the scary megamart conglomerate appear to suffer from some form of gigantism (I often call them cow's heart berries); their rock-hard texture sometimes makes me wonder if these berries were poured into a concrete mould and left to set *too* long; many of the berries are reddish or mostly red with oddly blotched whitish-yellow-green spots (as if someone held the berry in their hand when spraying them with paint, but forgot to turn the berry to ensure it was evenly coated with colour; their cores are as white as snow, and when I sniff them, they smell of…nothing.

Contrast that to the fresh local berries I proffer from my favourite local country market from June until September: sizes very from dainty little gumball-sized jewels to golfball-sized treats (I must admit I prefer the smaller berries that I usually find in August); they are tender and when pressured, yield sweet ruby juices; their happy summer red penetrates the skin and travels through soft flesh to an equally garnet core, and their scent is of…strawberry.

So here we are, in strawberry season, celebrating my fair nation's 147th birthday.  The other week I went to my most marvellous (ex-)manager's house for a bit of a catch up. His lovely wife, upon hearing I would bring strawberries, immediately piped up with shortcake. It was simply lovely…and possibly the best biscuit-style shortcake I've ever had.  I'm asking for the recipe.

So, when thinking about today's recipe, I knew it would be strawberry shortcake--little fluffy biscuits filled with billowy clouds of whipped cream and gorgeous strawberries.  It's red, white and oh so lovely.

The shortcake recipe itself is based on this Canadian Living recipe--I've made some minor changes to the recipe.  The rest is what I call a non-recipe recipe--the strawberries are macerated with balsamic vinegar, and the whipped cream is a crème Chantilly--slightly sweet, and flavoured with a splash of vanilla.

Can you use other fruits or berries?  Of course you can.  But really, in these fleeting months of strawberry season, why would you want to?

Happy Canada Day!

Strawberry Shortcake
Yield: 8-10

Ingredients
For the shortcakes:
200g/2 rounded cups/515ml all purpose flour, + more for kneading 1dspn/10ml baking powder
0.5tsp/2.5ml bicarbonate of soda
0.5tsp/2.5ml salt
25g/2Tbsp sugar, + more for sprinkling
55g/0.25c/62ml very cold butter
1 egg, beaten (see notes)
250ml/1c yoghurt
1Tbsp/15ml milk or cream

For the strawberries:
hulled strawberries as you want (see notes)
sugar, to taste
1tsp/5ml balsamic vinegar (see notes)

For the crème Chantilly:
500ml/2c heavy cream
2 heaped tspns icing sugar (to taste)
1tsp/5ml vanilla extract

Method

Start with the biscuits: 
Preheat oven to: 450F/425F (fan-assist) 230C/200C (fan-assist)

Sift together the flour, baking powder, bicarb, salt and 25g sugar.

Grate the butter on the large holes of a box grater, and rub into the flour, so there are butter pieces of varying sizes--ranging from the size of grains of rice, to the size of small pebbles and peas. Alternatively, cut the butter into small cubes and cut into the flour mixture, aiming for the same range of butter bits as above.

Mix together the yoghurt and egg an then pour into the flour mixture. Lightly mix together until just combined.

Turn out the very sticky dough onto a well floured surface and knead for about 10 minutes. Add flour as needed until you have a soft dough.

Roll the dough to a 2.5cm/1" thickness. Using a floured 6.25cm/2.5" biscuit cutter (or larger or smaller, as you see fit), cut rounds of dough. Gather scraps together, re-roll and cut. Place rounds onto a parchment-lined baking sheet. Brush with milk or cream and lightly sprinkle with sugar.

Bake for about 15 minutes. The biscuits should be risen and golden. The bottoms should be a slightly deeper shade of brown and should sound hollow-ish when tapped. If in doubt, slide a paring knife into the top of the biscuit and see that the inside of the biscuit is fluffy and cooked. Set on a cooling rack.

Next, get on with the strawberries: 
Mash them and give them a taste. Add sugar, if the berries need them. Sprinkle balsamic vinegar, to taste. Give the berries a mix and let them macerate.

Lastly, make the crème Chantilly:
Whip the cream, sugar and vanilla together until firm, but still soft.

To assemble: 
Slice a biscuit through its equator. Spoon some of the strawberry juice onto the cut sides of the biscuit halves and then spoon some mashed berries onto the bottom half. Top the berries with a spoon or three of chantilly cream.

Notes: 

• Re: Eggs -- If in Canada: you'll be better off using an extra large egg, as official sizing seems to have decreased (used to be 56g, but I'm now regularly finding 48g eggs in my "large" cartons). I shall assume other nations have kept sizing sense and not followed suit. 
• Re: Strawberries--this is totally by eye. I weighed out how many berries I serve per person, and it came out to about 75g, or three or four medium-large berries. 
•  Re: Balsamic vinegar--if you're using real balsamic, use less than I've indicated. If you're using what's found in your megamart, you may need to boil down the vinegar until it thickens. Let it cool and then use it on your berries.

cheers!

jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!

Feast: Happy Easter! Buona Pasqua!

Happy Easter to all who celebrate!  I hope you and yours had a wonderful Easter, filled with good people, good fun and (of course) good food.

After a longer and harder winter than usual, Little Robin Redbreast hops through shoots of grass and tells me warmer weather will soon arrive.  This of course means soon trees will bud,  my irises will  their striated leaves through the ground, and of course favourite farmers' tweets about their spring rituals will fill my Twitter feed.

I start thinking about my Easter feast when the leaves begin to turn and we all begin to resettle into shorter days and longer nights.  Rarely do my plans hold true.  In September I thought about roasting turkey; in January that turkey became an Indian-themed dinner.  

By March, Italy and the thoughts of homemade porchetta filled my mind.  Previously I'd done a Tuscan-style pork roast--a bit of a cheat on porchetta for those who don't want to wrap and tie a pork belly around a roast--so going the extra step only seemed right. Our Dear Little Puff of Cream suggested a recipe, and Alessandro gave me some moral support and tips as to what he looks for in porchetta (tip:  it's all about the crackling). The meal was rounded out with roasted capsicums, garlic and onions tossed with marinated artichokes in olive oil and lemon, grilled asparagus dressed in balsamic and parmesan, and potatoes mashed with (more) roast garlic.  I took a bit of a liberty with dessert, opting for a citrussy limoncello tiramisu.

Instead of snapping pics of each item, I decided to offer images and recipe links to the porchetta and tiramisu.

Porchetta (Bon Appetit (Sept 2011))
If you ever need a reason to go to a real butcher, this is it.  Matt (my favourite butcher), presented me with some beautiful tamworth pork, and he trimmed the belly to fit the loin exactly.

The roasted, fennelly-spicy meat was simply sublime.  And the crackling?  Burnished and amazing.




Tiramisù al Limoncello (Lidia Matticchio Bastianich)
As a means to shake off winter's heavy mantle, I wanted an Italian dessert that also brought a promise of sunny skies and warm weather.  Lemon and limoncello fit the bill.

Don't let the fact this contains alcohol scare you--it's cooked off in both the zabaglione and the simple syrup, allowing its boozy nature evaporate. And what's better?  It can be made ahead (up to two days).




cheers!
jasmine
 I'm a quill for hire!

Happy Pi Day! Key Lime Pie with Chocolate Coconut Crust

Happy Pi Day! As many of you know, I'm from Kitchener-Waterloo…home of the University of Waterloo and its renowned maths, engineering and computer science faculties, The Perimeter Institute, and one of North America's fertile tech hubs…so pi day can take on a slightly different feel than in other areas.

Much to my parents' regret, the maths and sciences genes swerved by me, leaving me more interested in pie than pi.  That said, I've been known to watch documentaries and attend lectures about physics, stats and math. And of course a good percentage of my working life--both corporate and as an independent consultant is spent with maths and science inclined colleagues and clients. The numbers part of my brain is alive and well, just happily riding the waves of words, music and art that usually preoccupy my mind.  

I usually let Pi Day pass sans fooferah, but this year, thanks to my unhealthy obsession with all those lovely Buzzfeed quizzes, I found out I am a key lime pie.  That is, the "Which Pie Are You?" quiz offered the following proclamation:

"You're tart and sweet, and so, so creamy.  You think outside the box, which can be your biggest asset.  Nothing's quite as satisfying as your cool graham cracker crust."

Yeah.  That sounds about right.  

But so do the other quizzes I've taken.  I'm Lady Violet, Lizzie Bennett as well as Abigail.  I'm Henry Rollins from Black Flag and I'm Wonder Woman.  I'm so awesome I don't need to give up anything for Lent…especially snickerdoodles.

But back to pie…erhm…pi…erhm…

Needless to say, ever since that pie quiz, key lime pies have been jostling for room in my head.  And it turns out…I happen to have all the ingredients on hand.  Sweetened condensed milk and coconut extract in the pantry, cookie crumbs, coconut and lime juice in the freezer.  The rest --sugar, salt, butter and eggs are almost in use.

The filling is a pretty standard, unfettered key lime pie filling.  The crust is a result of a bit of kitchen playing.  Together they create a rather easy and lovely pie. The only caveat I can offer is that it does take a full workday to set, so make it the night before or the morning of to ensure the filling is properly cooled and set.

Key Lime Pie with Chocolate Coconut Crust

Yield one 9" (23cm) pie.

Ingredients

For the crust

150g/300ml/1.25c less 2tsp chocolate wafer crumbs

55g/165ml/0.66c unsweetened desiccated coconut

20ml/2dspn/4tsp sugar

1pinch salt

40g/45ml/3Tbsp butter, melted

1tsp/5ml coconut extract

For the filling

375g/14oz/300ml/1.25c less 2tsp sweetened condensed milk (one tin)

4 large egg yolks, lightly beaten

150ml/0.5c+1Tbsp+2tsp key lime juice (or regular lime juice)

1 pinch salt

Method

Preheat oven to 350F/180C.

For the crust:

Mix all crust ingredients together.  The texture will be damp sand-like.

Press onto the bottom, and up the sides of a pie tin.  Bake in preheated oven for 10 minutes.  

Remove from oven and let cool for 10-15 minutes on a wire rack.  

Leave the oven on as you mix the filling.

For the filling:

Mix the tinned milk with the yolks.  Add the juice and salt and mix until smooth.

Pour into cooled crust.  Bake for 15 minutes.

Remove from oven and let cool on the counter for about 30 minutes and then set, uncovered, in the fridge for 8 hours.

Garnish, if you must, with sweetened whipped cream.

Note:

If you're squeezing the lime juice yourself, rasp a couple of teaspoons of zest and mix into the filling.

cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!

Happy Thanksgiving! Pumpkin swirl cheesecake

Happy Thanksgiving to all my fellow Canadians!  I hope all of you have had a safe and wonderful weekend, surrounded by good friends and family...and...of course a table ladened with the bounty of the season.

My Dear Little Cardamummy asked me to bring pumpkin pies to dinner (yes, plural).  I was all set to whip up something special but my body had other plans.

The day I was to bake I awoke with the beginnings of a cold.  Little surprise as my life has been busy as of late--between my new client that's a teeny bit of a distance away along with my volunteer responsibilities (oxymoron??) I've been burning the candle at both ends.  Long days, late nights and little time to actually take care of myself (or cook...or blog).  This isn't a complaint, just a statement of how my life is right now.

Knowing full well food I cook when I'm not feeling at my best rarely turns out well, I succumbed to the  bigscarymegamart and picked up a couple of pies. I must admit my heart seized a titch when I saw what their head office decreed as "regular price".. +$8!  The "sale" price was $6.  Good gravy.  Given these are factory pies, frozen and then heated in the bowels of the store, I question the $6 price tag...and do not believe the $8 at all.  Alas, I was in a bind and I paid $12 for two rather mediocre pies.

Thanks to Mum's home cooking and a bit of rest, I'm feeling a bit better now.

Needless to say, I wanted to get back into the kitchen and create an autumnal dessert.  My mind turned to my original thought of a swirled cheesecake.

Cheesecakes are rather easy to put together and once you master the basics, easily adapted to a myriad of flavours and combinations.  This time I decided to created a chai-spiced pumpkin and vanilla swirled cheesecake--something that celebrates the season's bounty and brings a titch of warmth to the cooler night air.

The resulting cheesecake is creamy, mildly spiced and perfect for a gathering.  If I were to have served this at dinner, I would have roasted some pear slices tossed in honey, vanilla and cinnamon and served each slice of cake with the warmed fruit with a spoon of Chantilly cream.

Chai-spiced pumpkin & vanilla swirled cheesecake
Yield: 1 20cm (8") cheesecake

Ingredients

For the crust
225g/560ml/2.25c graham wafer crumbs
100ml/0.33c+1Tbsp melted butter
pinch of salt

For the filling
750g/3 bricks cream cheese, at room temperature
250g /1.25c sugar
1tsp/5ml vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste
3 eggs, at room temperature
100ml (0.33c + 1Tbsp) heavy cream, at room temperature
275g/280ml/1c+2Tbsp pureed pumpkin (NOT pumpkin pie filling)
2 cloves, ground
2 pods' worth of cardamom seeds, ground
0.5tsp/2.5ml ground ginger
0.25tsp/1.25ml ground cinnamon
a kettle of boiling water

Method

Preheat oven to 180C/350F. Wrap the outside of the springform pan with tinfoil (this will help to minimise leakage--both from the batter leaking out, but also the bain marie's water from seeping in.

For the crust:
Prepare the crust by mixing all its ingredients together and pressing firmly and evenly onto the bottom of the cakepan.  Set aside.

For the filling:
Cut the cream cheese into cubes, and cream together with sugar.  Blend in eggs, one at a time, scraping well between each addition.  Mix in vanilla and cream until well blended.

Reserve about one third of the batter in a jug and set aside.

Add the spices and pumpkin puree into the larger quantity of batter and blend until evenly mixed.

Pour half the pumpkin batter into the prepared cake tin and then pour, in alternate dollops the vanilla and pumpkin batters.  With a skewer or handle-end of a teaspoon, swirl the batters together until you've attained the desired visual effect.

Tap the filled tin on the counter to release any trapped air bubbles.

Place the tin in a roasting pan and pour boiling water in the roasting pan until it reaches approximately half-way up the side of the springform tin.

Bake for 50-60 minutes, or until the outer area of the cheesecake is set and the middle jiggles.  Turn off the heat and let the cheesecake sit in the oven, as it cools, for one hour.

Remove  from the oven and let cool on the counter until it reaches room temperature.  Chill in the refrigerator.

Serve with Chantilly cream, poached or roasted pears, and/or drizzled caramel.

cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!

Mmm...Canada: Bumbleberry Grunt

There are just some words that bring a smile to my face.

"Bumbleberry" is one of them. Sheer onomatopoeic bliss, to my ears at least.

I've done some reading on bumbleberry--and while it may not be a Canadian term, it certainly is embraced in many kitchens across my fair land.

Add "grunt" -- both as in a Nova Scotian blueberry grunt and another bit of culinary onomatopoeia referring to the sound of the fruit erupting through biscuit dough -- and I think we've got a dish that sounds as good as it tastes.

Bumbleberries, of course, don't exist. The term refers to a mixture of berries, of no particular ratio. Sometimes it includes apples (as this one does), sometimes rhubarb. I mostly have bumbleberry pies and tarts, to use up last bits of berries or to make up enough filling for a pie.

Grunts are one of my favourite quick puddings. Unlike many where you simmer fruit on the hob, this one is entirely done in the oven. I've outlined how to make steamed dumplings below, but if you want more of crispier top, don't cover the dish with foil after you've dolloped the dough over the fruit.

I do recommend serving this shortly after making it. Otherwise, the dumplings could absorb the fruit juices, and you'd be left barren of those that gorgeous claret-coloured sauce.

Bumbleberry Grunt

Yield 1 22cmx22cm (9"x9") pan; Serves 4-6

Ingredients

For the fruit

140g (250ml/1c) blackberries

150g (250ml/1c) blueberries

125g (250ml/1c) raspberries

160g (250ml/1c) strawberries (quartered, if they are large berries)

1 tart baking apple (such as a Granny Smith), peeled, cored and chopped into 1cm pieces

100g (125ml/0.5c) sugar

1.5tsp (7.5ml) cornstarch

125ml (.5c) water

0.25-.5tsp (1.25-2.5ml) orange flower water OR 1tsp (5ml) vanilla extract

For the dumplings

220g (375ml/1.5c) all purpose flour

1Tbsp (15ml) baking powder

0.5tsp (2.5ml) bicarbonate of soda

0.25tsp (1.25ml) salt

1Tbsp (15ml) sugar

30g (20ml/2Tbsp) cold butter

80-125ml (0.33-0.5c) buttermilk (or more, if needed)

Method

Preheat oven to 200c/400F.

Combine fruit with sugar, cornstarch and orange flower water or vanilla. Tumble into a 22cm square (9"x9") tin. Pour water over top. Cover tightly with tin foil and pop into the oven for about 20 minutes, or until bubbling.

About five minutes before the fruits are done stewing, set to work on the dumplings.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, bicarb, salt and sugar. Rub in the butter until the mixture resembles bread crumbs. Pour in about 80ml of the buttermilk and gently mix, adding more liquid until you have a soft, but not damp dough.

When the fruit is happily blurbling away, remove the tin from the oven and carefully decloak the foil from its top. Drop the biscuit dough over top the bubbling fruit, leaving gaps, so the juicy liquid can flow and burst atop the grunt. Replace the foil, covering the tin carefully. Return to the oven for 20 minutes.

Serve while hot.

To serve:
Place a spoonful or two of dumplings in a bowl and spoon the fruit mixture and its juices over top. If you wish, serve with Chantilly cream, custard or ice cream.


cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Dessert for Breakfast: Breakfast Berry Crisp

The difference a week makes.

The sun shone last Sunday, the temps were within spitting distance of 20C and the plants in my little front garden were poking through the soil.

Today's clouds block the sun, the mercury barely touches the freezing point and I can almost see little green shoots for the lightest dusting of snow.

Welcome to spring in southwestern Ontario.

A week ago I was bouncing about the place, filled with energy, tackling a number of housey projects I've either put off or have been too busy to tend to.

Today I'm bundled in blankets with a cold little nose and a voice that can't decide if it really should be with Marcel Marceau or Bonnie Tyler: when it exists, it's as raspy as if I've lived a life deserving of whisky and cigarettes.

Last week I wanted a barely sweet crisp. This week I still want a crisp, but I want something on the syrupier side of things. I want to remind myself that summer will arrive with punnets of berries, bursting with colour and sweet juices.

We're not quite in the nadir of local berries, but we may as well be. In a few weeks (okay a few months) I'll be at Herrle's, deciding which containers of fruit will be mine. But now, I'm at the bigscarymegamart, poking through transparent clamshells of underripe, trucked fruit more reminiscent of vinegar than of honey.

Many mornings I breakfast on some combination of yoghurt, fruit and granola. Today when I stood before my fridge's cavernous belly I had a difficult choice to make: use the fruit for breakfast or for a crisp.

Then I asked myself: why choose?

Many crisps are simply fruit stewed under an oatmeal crust. A main ingredient of my homemade granola is rolled oats. Why not top my crisp with unbaked granola?

Why not have this granola-topped crisp for breakfast, with a dollop of yoghurt and a drizzle of honey?

Given the pancakes for supper precedent many of us enjoy, why not? More to the point...given how many people have thinly disguised cakes as muffins for breakfast, why not granola-topped stewed fruit for breakfast?

The result? Well, I'd eat it for breakfast and dessert.

Breakfast Berry Crisp
Serves 6-8

Ingredients
for the fruit:
600g (1L/4c) mixed berries
50g (0.25c) brown sugar (or more, depending upon how sweet the fruit is)
2dspn (1.5Tbsp) cornflour (cornstarch)
the juice of one orange

For the topping:
60g (0.5c) rolled oats
40g (0.3c) sweet desiccated coconut
20g (2Tbsp) pumpkin seeds
20g (2Tbsp) sunflower seeds
20g (2Tbsp) sliced almonds
25g (2Tbsp) brown sugar
pinch of salt
pinch of nutmeg
0.5tsp cinnamon
0.25tsp ground ginger
3Tbsp maple syrup
2Tbsp soft butter
0.5tsp vanilla
yoghurt and honey for serving

Method
Preheat oven to 180C/350F. Butter a 2.5L (11c) baking dish.

Mix fruit with 50g brown sugar, cornflour and orange juice. Tip into the prepared baking dish.

Mix the topping ingredients together, rubbing in the butter, to make a nubbly, rubbly topping. Strew onto the fruit.

Bake for 35-45 minutes, or until the fruit blurbles and boils and the the topping has turned a golden brown.

Serve warm or cold with yoghurt and honey (or sweetened whipped cream or ice cream).


cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Maple-berry apple crisp

It's cold. It's warm. It's cold. It's warm.

It's maple syrup season.

Cold nights and above freezing days mean sugar shacks are in full boil. And for those of us luck enough to know someone with a sugar bush, visions of golden, mapley goodness dance in our heads...and our palates.

I'll pour it on sweet fritters, warm corn bread, ice cream and yes...pancakes.

Unlike "table syrup" in all its cloying viscosity, I'll use it as a more subtle sweetener--one that lends a deep smoky sweetness to whatever I use it in.

Normally when I make a crisp, sugar abounds: the apples are tossed in it, the topping has one or two types and usually the dessert is served with a dollop of sweetened cream, a generous spoon of custard or a healthy scoop of ice cream. This time I wanted the Granny Smith's tartness to shine through and be more of a feature against the sweetened accompaniment.

I'm fairly happy with the results--the apples are tart with a hint of maple. I like how the crisp nubbly topping contrasts against the softened apples and melting rivulets of ice cream. I will play with it some more--the topping could do with some playing -- maybe plump up the fruit before baking and maybe use a mixture of both whole wheat and ap flours...but for now, here's my maple-berry apple crisp.

Maple-Berry Apple Crisp
Serves 6-8

Ingredients
For the topping
70g (5Tbsp) butter, softened
65g (0.33c) brown sugar
40g (0.25c) dried cranberries, finely chopped
40g (0.25c) dried blueberries, chopped
40g (0.33c) chopped walnuts, toasted
55g (0.5c) rolled oats
75g (0.5c) whole wheat flour
finely minced zest of one orange
0.5tsp cinnamon
pinch of salt

For the apples
juice of one orange
180ml (0.75c) maple syrup
pinch of salt
butter
6 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and cut into 3mm (1/8") slices

Method:
Preheat oven to 190C/375F. Butter a 23cm x 33cm (9"x13") pan.

Mix the topping ingredients together, until crumbly and set aside.

Mix the juice, syrup and salt together. Tumble the sliced apples into the buttered pan and por the syrup mixture over top. Strew the topping over the apples.

Bake for 30-40 minutes, or until the topping is golden and the apples yield to the point of a sharp knife.

Let cool a bit before serving. Serve with custard, ice cream or cream sweetened with maple syrup.

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Guinness-braised apples with Dubliner crumble and Guinness caramel sauce

I suppose if I were to subtitle this post it would be: an oopsie made better.

A few weeks ago I began thinking about my March posts. I rarely put that much forethought into this blog (hate to break it to you), but to me March means St. Patrick's Day, which means finding a new Guinness recipe to try. Stephanie at Little Mushroom Catering mentioned a Guinness-braised apple appetiser she makes and shared her recipe. It was quick and more importantly...easy.

A number of things were flung my way between receiving Stephanie's note and yesterday--work, fun, a nasty tummy bug--so I didn't have a chance to play with what she gave me until yesterday.

I'd already decided to turn her nibblie idea into a dessert and settled for a good, old fashioned crumble with oats and cheese. Sounds great, right?

Well...I'll blame fatigue...or hunger...or the cats.

When I mixed the Guinness braising liquid, I mixed twice as much as I actually needed. Was I sensible and only use half, with hopes of using the other half for something else?

Nope.

I poured it all in.

I suppose I hoped that evaporation would take care of things and reduce it all down to a thick, lovely sauce.

I suppose evaporation woudl have taken care of things and reduce it all down to a thick, lovely sauce if I didn't strew the top with crumble...and then again with cheese.

Dubliner cheese melts in the heat, obliterating any little vents the liquid could use to make a sweet, steamy escape.

Hrrm...I tried the crumble--the apples were tender, sweet with a smoky rich flavour and the cheesy topping contrasted nicely against them. The only issue was the lake of slightly thickened, apple-y and Guinness-y sauce that treated the crumble like a baking-dish wide barge.

I had no problem serving the liquide as a sauce, but there seemed to be too much for pouring purposes. Another taste and that ever so-happy-making little lightbulb went off.

I ladeled out most of the liquid into a saucepan and boiled it down by half and stirred in a couple of spoons of butter. Voila: Guinness caramel. Seriously good stuff. Seriously good when poured over the apples and the crumble.

I debated remaking this dessert in the intended fashion, and only post the "correct" recipe...but then you wouldn't have enough for the caramel. I decided to post the original recipe and the fix to the oopsie, if anyone was interested. I'll probably revisit this at some point, but I'm quite pleased with this version.



Guinness Braised Apples with Dubliner crumble and Guinness Caramel

Ingredients
440ml (1 can) Guinness
180g (0.75c+2Tbsp) Brown Sugar
1Tbsp Soft butter
salt
9 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and sliced

For the Dubliner crumble topping
65g (0.33c) sugar
45g (0.33c) all purpose flour
3Tbsp rolled oats
3Tbsp butter
salt
100g (0.5c) grated Dubliner cheese

For the Caramel
Cooked Guinness braising liquid
2Tbsp butter

Method
Preheat oven to 180C/350F; butter a baking dish.

Whisk together Guinness, sugar and a pinch of salt. Set aside.

Tumble apple slices into the baking dish and pour the guinness mixture over top. Dot the top of the apples with little knobs of butter.

For the crumble:
Rub together the sugar, flour, oats, butter and a pinch of salt. Scatter over the apples and top with cheese.

Bake for 60 minutes or until the cheese melts and the top is golden.

Remove from the oven.

For the Caramel
Spoon off as much of the braising liquid as possible into a saucepan. Over medium high heat reduce the liquid by half, stirring occastionally. Stir butter into the thickenend liquide. Let cool slightly before serving.

To serve:
Spoon apples and some of the crumble into a bowl and pour some caramel over top. Serve with ice cream or pouring cream, if you wish.

Note:
To make life easier, but less caramelly, simply make half the quantity of braising liquid. It will slightly thicken while cooking, but you probably won't have enough to make the caramel.

If you cannot find Dubliner cheese, you can use cheddar (old, preferably), instead.

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Vanilla Pudding

Like a mighty oak, I have been felled.

Okay...I'm not that tall...

Like a just-just-as-mighty jasmine shrub, I've toppled over.

Something--and I'm not sure what--wheedled its way by my immune system and left me flat on my back for a couple of days, unable to keep anything down.

Augh.

I'll be kind and save you from reading a detailed diary of my biological functions, but suffice it to say, I am not amused with this constant nausea and ongoing tummy ache. And the fatigue. Extreme fatigue.

I doze on the couch, the PVR a babbling companion. I suppose under normal sickday circumstances this wouldn't be too bad...but this isn't normal sickday circumstances. On a normal sickday a machine filled with Julia Child, Jamie Oliver, Diary of A Foodie and other foodish shows would be small bit of joy in a snuffly world.

But when the mere thought of food makes one moan with disgust and trigger a deep breathing campaign to quell heaves, my normal escape become torture.

Augh, again.

All that said, I have learned that my gag reflex is a bit nonsensical and rather choosey as to what sets it off.

The following had me reaching for the remote:

• A bowl of mushrooms
• Watching Jacques Pepin remove braised endives from a pan
• When that new Glee character (the one with the huge mouth) declared no one was more rock'n'roll than Justin Bieber

Yet the following had no impact on my queasiness:

• Watching a sheep have its throat slit and its blood collected by a Navajo elder
• A ship tossed on choppy seas
• Stephen Fry helping scientists study sea lion poo

The Bieber thing I get. But mushrooms?

Needless to say, my tummy has been quite tricky as of late. For the first couple of days all I could really have was tea, ginger ale, rice and pudding.

Easy to make and easy to eat. I fully admit to going for instant pudding the first night: two minutes with a hand mixer and I had several "meals."

Once I was feeling better (but still not really up to eating anything too solid) I eschewed the packet mix and made my own pudding. It's simply a custard, with extra thickening power thanks to cornflour (cornstarch). It doesn't take that long to make, but unlike a packet mix, it does need about an hour to set in the fridge.


Vanilla Pudding
Yield: approx 250ml/1c

3Tbsp sugar
1.5Tbps cornflour (cornstarch)
a pinch of salt
250ml (1c) milk
1 egg yolk
0.5tsp vanilla bean paste or vanilla extract
1tsp butter

Mix the sugar, cornstarch and salt and combine with milk. Scald the milk while whisking continually--the mixture will thicken quite a bit because of the cornstarch. Take off the heat and let cool for a couple of minutes.

Temper the yolk by slowly dribbling the slightly cooled milk mixture into yolk, whisking all the while. Slowing increase the milk's stream until all of it is mixed with the yolk.

Rinse and towel dry the pot you scalded the milk in and pour the custard in to the pot. Return to the hob and over lowish heat, whisk until the mixture boils. Mix in the butter and vanilla.

Seive out the scrambled eggy bits (if you wish) and pour into bowls (covered with pressed-down clingfilm, again, if you wish), and refrigerate until set.

cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!

Pumpkin Bread and Butter Pudding

I was checking out email
When out the corner of my eye,
I saw a pretty little thing miaoing at me.
She said I never seen a gal,
Who looks so overworked,
Could you use a little small yummy?
In the office they'll suffice
Your kitchen it entice
Or you can sit here and give me no sway,
I said you're such a sweet young thing,
Did you think of this yourself?

She looked at me and this is what she said.
Oh, there ain't no rest for the wicked,
You need to stow their needs,
You got cakes to bake,
You got yeast to feed,
There ain't nothing that beats lychees.
I know you must whisk eggs,
I know your cookbook stack
Though I know there's somthin' you should,
Oh yes there ain't no post for the potluck,
And we need to bring something good.
--with apologies to Cage The Elephant

Okay...Hagia didn't exactly sing this...but when I looked over and saw her squirmy with glee over this month's Chatelaine Nigella feature, she reminded me that I've not yet been able to submit one post for the weekly Nigella event at I Heart Cooking Clubs (Yeah, Workasaurus and Deadlinadactyl take full credit). Add a tweet late last week from Mel of Bouchon for Two asking for pumpkinny baking and I knew I had a post that fit both bills.

My Dear Little Cardamummy handed me a 796ml tin of pumpkin purée for the Thanksgiving tarte, which left 550+ mls of purée in my hands. I made a granola-topped pumpkin loaf with some of it, cookies with the rest (yes, I realise I'm being mean and not giving you those recipes yet).

Unfortunately, and I don't know how I did this, I only ate two slices of the bread all week. Trust me, it was delicious, but I just didn't eat it. Even though it was a bit stale by the time I realised this, I knew it was more than salvageable.

Just as the bread was made because I had good food that needed to be used up, this bread pudding was made because I had good food that needed to be used up. Bread puddings are a time-tested way of stretching stale baking. Take scraps of not-the-freshest baking, give it a good soak in custard and pop it into the oven. And *poof* (literally and figuratively) you've got a good wintery dessert.

This recipe is done in the spirit of Nigella's Grandmother's Ginger-Jam Bread and Butter Pudding. I don't spice the pudding as La Lawson did, as the pumpkin bread is quite flavourful from the spicing and a bit crunchy from the granola I baked onto it, but I did take a cue from the ginger jam and used orange marmalade. The result is a lovely, soft, eggy sweet and spicy pudding. Quite honestly, I think I'll make the bread again, just so I can make this pudding.

Pumpkin Bread and Butter Pudding

1 loaf (or as much as you have of) pumpkin bread that's been hanging about a bit longer than you'd wish, sliced
Butter
Orange marmalade
3 eggs
2-3 Tbsp sugar
250ml heavy cream
375ml table cream
raisins, dried fruit, nuts (optional)

Butter a pudding dish large enough to hold the pudding and custard.

Make marmalade and butter sandwiches with the bread. Cut each sandwich in half to form triangles or squares, whichever you prefer. Arrange the little sandwiches in the buttered dish.

Whisk the eggs with the sugar and then add the milk and cream and mix well. Pour over the sandwiches. Strew whatever dried fruit or nut you wish on top of the pudding.

Let the bread soak up the custard for at least 10 minutes. This is a good time to set your oven to 350F/180C.

When your oven is to temp, pop the bread pudding in the oven for 45 -60 minutes, depending upon your kitchen gods' moods. The pudding is ready when the custard has set and is poofy.

Related post: Granola-topped Pumpkin Bread

cheers!
jasmine


I'm a quill for hire!

Buckle, buckle, who's got the blueberry-peach buckle?

I do! I do!

Well, I did...all gone now.

My dessert preferences have definitely taken a turn towards rustic and hearty. Don't get me wrong. My heart still skips a beat when I see a fancy, schwoopy, piped, spun-sugared architectural marvel. But really, the older I get, the more like myself I become and apparently foof-less desserts are what I am.

Un-iced cakes and cupcakes, crisps and cobblers...serve me some of those and I'm as happy as the Cookie Monster in a Peek Freans factory (really...cookies aren't a sometimes food).

This year, my baked go-to dessert has been studies in baked, stewed and roasted fruits. I know I haven't posted much about this, and I'm not sure why. Maybe my thoughts are deluded in that they aren't fancy enough to blog about. Maybe they are so omnipresent in my kitchen that I just don't think of them as blog fodder. Really, everything that comes out of a functional kitchen (even one with Beelzebub) is food blog fodder.

Residents of my part of the world know this has been an odd summer with the coldest July on record for a good 15 -20 years. Normally, I'd have turned my scullery into an ice cream factory by now, but with such pleasant temperatures, I've kept with my baked fruit desserts. In cooler months, I'd usually be using wintered fruits--apples, pears or some canned or frozen fruit--so it was a bit of a treat for me to use in-season blueberries and peaches for this buckle.

Buckles--at least this one--combines the best of several dessert worlds. A stewed fruit base, a cakey top and then there a streuselly top. Add ice cream, custard, chantilly cream or just straight pouring cream and I think this may be pretty darned close to a perfect dessert...if I could figure out a way to incorporate cream cheese icing, then I would call it a perfect dessert.

While this isn't a true non-recipe recipe--the cake part is, as we know, chemistry and we know what happens when things go askew so it is necessary to measure things out--the fruit and topping are really done by feel and can easily be changed to match your mood, palate and pantry: change the fruits to what's available, just keep roughly the same weight and spice or sweeten it to your taste; if you want to add Scottish Oats or chopped nuts to the topping go ahead. It's all up to you.

Blueberry-Peach Buckle
Fruit layer
500g chopped peaches
250g blueberries
1 rounded Tbsp cornstarch
2-3 Tbsp brown sugar
pinch of salt
squeeze lemon juice

Cake layer
200g ap flour
1 dspn baking powder
salt
110g butter
100g sugar
two eggs
125ml milk
1/2 tsp vanilla

Topping:
50g sugar
50g ap flour
1/2tsp cinnamon
1/4tsp nutmeg
50g butter

Preheat oven to 350F/180C.

Tumble the fruit layer's ingredients into a 9" cake pan (or equivalent).

Sift together flour, baking powder and salt; set aside.

Cream together butter and sugar. Beat in eggs one at a time, then mix in milk and vanilla.

Stir in sifted flour mixture and pour over fruit.

Rub together topping ingredients, to a sandy texture. Sprinkle on top of the batter.

Bake for 45 minutes or until golden. and a skewer comes out cleanish.

Serve warm with ice cream, custard, chantilly cream or pouring cream, if desired.

cheers!
jasmine

What I'm reading: Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons

I'm a quill for hire!

For Annemarie: I made a cherry grunt for you

I returned to blogging a year and a half ago, not sure what to expect after a six month absence. My bloggy friends were waiting for me with open arms, as did new readers, as warm and comforting as a mug of steaming hot chocolate on a cold winter's day.


One of those new readers soon became one of my dear friends.


In Annemarie of Ambrosia and Nectar I found a kindred spirit--someone with a love of (and a respect for) words, another patient sighing life observer and someone who's not afraid to tackle pretty much anything in the kitchen

I have no idea how many emails have passed between the two of us. We laugh. We moan. We snark. She was there for me on the first anniversary and held my hand (and patiently read my accounts) as I returned to the dating world.Truth be told, I sometimes feel sorry for her...after I've hit "send" and have unleashed a 2000+ word torrent detailing the minutiae of my existence, railing against whatever has caught my attention.

After all that, I was more than a tad surprised when she agreed to be my co-hostess for last month's Daring Bakers Challenge. Really...you'd think that someone who's heard that much of my life would run screaming at the prospect of running an online event with me that could have 1000 participants. That poor brave girl agreed. I think it was sleep deprivation from being a new mum.


A better partner I couldn't have asked for. We were of the same mind when it came to challenge and quickly agreed upon the tarts. Every once in a while I'd toss a recipe her way to test and she'd toss back her comments and suggestions. She's gifted with words and came up with great additions to the tome of a challenge post. She pretty much looked after monitoring the DB Challenge forum; she answered questions and offered words of encouragement and advice to everyone who posted questions, concerns and comments.


Now that we're on to the next challenge and back to our regular blogging and regular lives, I was left with one question. How do I thank her?


Well...with a post and a treat...how else?

Ever since Rodney MacDonald, Nova Scotia's former premier, tried to lure David Letterman to the maritime province, with (among other things) a blueberry grunt in his Top Ten a year and a half ago, I've had grunts on the brain.


For those of you who haven't had one, a grunt is essentially cooked or stewed fruit, with a baked dumpling-ish topping. The name is probably from the grunting sound the fruit makes as it releases its last gasps of air and collapses into a warm, softened state, underneath its cakey, dumplingy or biscuitty blanket.

Since I've been anticipating our local cherries (soon, I hope), I've had cherries on the brain. The road side fruit barker has set up his wares and although he's selling American cherries, they are much cheaper and in much better condition than what I can find at the bigscarymegamart. Luckily enough, our dear Annemarie loves cherries.


Ideally I'd make a cherry grunt with sour cherries, but they are elusive creatures and won't be around for a few weeks. Instead of using canned sour cherries, I decided to use the barker's sweet fare and mimicked some of the sourness by using a combination of wine and balsamic vinegar in the stewing liquid. If you don't want to use wine, I'd either use sour cherry juice or use water or apple juice and increase the balsamic vinegar to a dessertspoon or possibly a tablespoon. I'm also fresh off a cobbler run so I was more than heavy handed when adding the milk (150mls) to the dumpling batter, making it much looser than it should be. So my grunt looks more like a cobbler...no matter, I think Annemarie would forgive me.



Cherry Grunt

550-600g pitted cherries
60g brown sugar
2 Tbsp cornstarch
100ml wine
1 tsp balsamic vinegar
1 tsp honey
140g ap flour
50g sugar
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
salt
60g softened butter
75ml milk
slivered or chopped almonds (optional)

Combine cherries, brown sugar, cornstarch, wine, balsamic vinegar and a pinch of salt. Bring to a boil over medium heat. Cook for a couple of minutes and add the honey. Turn off the hob and set aside.

Preheat oven to 350F/180C.

Combine flour, sugar baking powder, a couple of pinches of salt and butter until you have a breadcrumb-like consistency. Add the milk and mix until combined.

Pour the cherries into a 2L baking dish. Spoon the batter over top, letting gaps appear so the cherries will ooze through and allow their last gasps of breath. Strew with nuts.

Bake for approximately 30 minutes or until golden.

Umm...Annemarie...I did want to send you some, but umm...this is all that's left...

You can tell whenever I've made a cherry dessert with real cherries...there's always at least one pit found...I call it "the lucky pit."

cheers!
jasmine

What I'm reading: The Secret Agent by Joseph Conrad


I'm a quill for hire!

Daring Bakers: Opéra

When I was in Secondary School, there was a somewhat decadent European coffee shop a few blocks from school where we'd sometimes hang out. Lovely cream-filled cakes, the best coffee, good hot chocolate. It was there I had my first slice of Opéra.

It seemed a very grown-up dessert--a departure from the cakes I was used to--homemade slabs or store-bought sandwich cakes. This was different: layers of joconde--not quite cake, not quite biscuit sandwiching layers of rich, sweetened cream, all in white chocolate couvertature (which I think may have had something fruity in the mix, but I could be confusing it with another of their desserts).

When Fran, Ivonne, Lis, & Shea announced this month's Daring Baker challenge was the Opéra, I was immediately taken back to being 17 years old, in the café's dining room--my mind's eye has it with reddish carpeting, creamy yellow walls, and heavy, heavy dark wood furniture complete with teenaged aesthetes, Symphony patrons who never really figured out that the café was just that much too far from the hall and self-proclaimed philosphes.

I decided to make a round cake, not a rectangular one as in the instructions. I didn't take care in my calculations and wound up with not enough batter for proper-heighted jocondes, so I had very thin slabs, which I brushed with a honey-vanilla syrup. Oh well...I guess to keep everything in proportion, I just had to use less butter cream--that's not a problem. I decided to try a two-toned glaze and marbled melted white merkens with lilac ones--the lilac melted a little darker than I'd hoped so I lightened it a touch with some of the white. It's the first time I'd tried marbelling and I thought I did rather well.





Our fearless hostesses' instructions were straightforward enough and allowed some variances--the big rule, or so I read it, was not to make it too dark. It's Spring up here, so keep the colours and flavours somewhat light.

In other words: less Wagnerian and more Gilbert and Sullivan..ian.

Hmmmm…

Three Little Cakes (to the tune of "Three Little Maids" from The Mikado)
With apologies so W.S. Gilbert, Arthur Sullivan and my friend Ori.
Dedicated to Barbara of Winos and Foodies: foodblogger, fellow DBer, and founder of A Taste of Yellow.

Three little joconde cakes are we
Part of a Clichy cake can be
Filled to the brim with butter cream
Three little cakes now cooled

Everything is a sweetened fun
Nobody wants, for we all get some
Here’s a gateau that's worth the crumb
Three little cakes now cooled

Three little cakes all light and airy,
Brushed with a syrup? Yes! We swear-y
Soaked with sweetness very dare-y
Three little cakes now cooled
Three little cakes now cooled

One little cake is a treat, Yum-Yum
Two little cakes in assemblance come
Three little cakes is the total sum
Three little cakes now cooled
Three little cakes now cooled

`Tween two little cakes a sweetened cream
Ganache or mousse on top, it seems
Cover’d in choc’late glaze all smooth and clean
Three little cakes now cooled
Three little cakes now cooled

Three joconde cakes all light and airy
Swathed with butter cream? Yes! We swear-y
Made by Bakers oh so Dare-y
Three little cakes now cooled
Three little cakes now cooled

To read what the other DBs did with this challenge, take a meander through our blogroll.

cheers!
jasmine

SHF 43: Chilled lemon soufflé

Our wonderful Tartelette made an astonishing discovery prior to declaring this month's Sugar High Friday Theme: it's been three years since citrus was on our sweet menu.

THREE years? That can't be right...but I know it is.

I remember reading somewhere that there are two types of people out there: those who like chocolate and those who like lemon (or citrus). I must admit that until this past summer, I would have put myself in the former group--automatically drawn to the dark, rich and sometimes spicy depths of chocolate. Now I seem to have lost my chocolate tooth--maybe it's with my sweet tooth as that's been MIA for more than nine months now--and I lean more towards citrus--lime, tangerine and lemon.

I think what draws me now to their flavours is what I think of as exactly opposite to why I like(d) chocolatey desserts--They are sweet, tart and their acidic nature makes them refreshing.

So, what to do? I originally wanted to do a lemon-lime ice cream, but my little freezer is so over committed with bargain chicken and ground beef, bags of veggies and rainy-day cooking, I couldn't fit the ice cream maker's in for chilling.

The answer came in an email. About 10 days ago the good people at America's Test Kitchen must have been reading my mind when they sent out their enewsletter, because it included a link to their chilled lemon soufflé.

Well...it was kind of like ice cream...and the quantity was reasonable (the recipe states enough for two).

It's very simple to make and really doesn't take much time at all--make a custard, add lemon juice and zest, fold in sweetened whipped egg whites and whipped cream and chill. The primrose treat was creamy and refreshing. I could easily see it served with fresh blueberries or raspberries, when they come into season.






To read the lovely goodness others contributed, please visit Tartelette's round-up.

cheers!
jasmine