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!

Strawberry Rhubarb Mini Buckles

Strawberries.

Seeing that word on my favourite country market's sign means one thing: summer.

Even though summer officially arrives in about two weeks, to me and other food-loving locals, hearing Trevor's shop is open for the season means that summer is for all intents and purposes...here.

In amongst onions, peppers, apples and other fruits and vegetables which winter well, were signs of warmer weather: asparagus, rhubarb and strawberries. Peas will soon arrive. Next month a whole host of other crops will appear.

But moreso than any other hot weather weather crop, finding local strawberries in punnets and baskets signals a fleeting few weeks of snow-less weather has arrived.

It's still early in the season. The berries aren't quite as sweet as they will be in a couple of weeks, but they are much more like precious little gems than what the chain stores have on their shelves throughout the year.

I couldn't resist. I bought a punnet of berries and a bundle of rhubarb stalks. I've always loved their sweet-sour combination--not to mention the gorgeous deep pink colour they take on when baked in pies or cooked in jams.

This time I decided to make some mini-buckles--fruited cakes with a bit of a streusel topping, thus named for the cake's buckled appearance. The finished cake has a bit of a sweet, crunchy top; a tart soft fruit layer, and a dense vanilla cake base. The combination is (I think) absolutely fitting for an afternoon tea break....in a garden...in the sunshine.

Strawberry-Rhubarb Mini Buckles

Yield: 12

Ingredients

For the Topping

50g (60ml/0.25c) sugar

30g (60ml/0.25c) cake flour

30g (30ml/2Tbsp) cold butter

For the fruit:

130g (310ml/1.25c) chopped strawberries (fresh or thawed)

80g (180ml/.75c) chopped rhubarb

2-4Tbsp (30-60ml) sugar, to taste

For the cakes:

2Tbsp (30ml) yoghurt

6Tbsp (90ml) milk

1tsp (5ml) vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste

100g (125ml/0.5c) sugar

55g (60ml/0.25c) softened butter

2Tbsp (30ml) flavourless oil

2 eggs, beaten

227g (430ml/1.75c/0.5lb) cake flour

0.25tsp (1ml) salt

Method:

Preheat oven to 180C/350F.

Line a 12-bowl cupcake tin with papers. and set aside

For the topping:

Rub together the sugar, flour and butter so everything is combined, but in varied pebble sizes (from grains of sand to no bigger than a pea). Refrigerate until you're ready to bake.

For the fruit:

Combine the strawberries and rhubarb with as much sugar as the berries dictate.

For the cakes:

Mix together the milk, yoghurt and vanilla. Set aside

Cream together sugar, butter and oil. Beat in the eggs one at a time. Mix in the the flour and by this point the curdled cream the the usual alternating method (flour-milk-flour-milk-flour), scraping down the bowl's sides between each addition.

Divide evenly between the cupcake bowls and level the batter as best as you can. Spoon equal amounts of the fruit mixture onto each cake. Cover with the topping.

Bake for 25-30 minutes or until the topping has turned a light golden colour and an inserted cake tester comes out cleanly.

Notes:

• As with pretty much anything using strawberries, try to use in-season strawberries. Better still, try and find local strawberries. If you're doing this out-of-season, then you may need more sugar.
• If you'd rather turn this into one large buckle to slice, this recipe will proffer a 20cm (8") round buckle

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

The last of my summer strawberries

Not that strawberry season is over but the ginormous-to-me basket of berries I bought at the market last week is no more. It will be a few weeks until I get out there again, so I'm afraid the berries will be gone by my next visit. Yes, I suppose I could get some at the bigscarymegamart, but they only seem to have imported berries...

I wasn't terribly inventive with my prized July possessions--you saw the cake and the sauce. Mostly they were eaten fresh, plain or dipped in yoghurt. or mixed with yoghurt and granola.

But the last few hundred grams are a different story.

One of my favourite flavour combinations has always been strawberry-banana. Love it in ice cream and frozen yoghurt; when teamed up with orange, it's a preferred juice blend.

Well, apart from not having any oranges, I wasn't in the mood to make my own juice and my freezer still doesn't have enough room for my ice cream maker's freezer insert, so those concoctions were well out of the question.

So, what's a girl to do with a few hundred grams of hastenlingly overripe strawberries and a banana that needs to go to a better place?

Let's just say it was time to hope, pray, light a candle, spread a little incense and hop on one foot for luck. Yup...Beelzebub would be called into service: I decided to bake muffins...and I didn't feel like making them in my parents' unairconditioned kitchen.

Well...something must have worked because Beelzebub behaved himself. You read correctly. He didn't ruin my muffins.

None of his usual games. No "No, I don't feel like turning on" nor any hint of "I'm teasing you, making you believe that I'm actually 350F when in fact I'll start at 200F and end at 450F." He didn't even try the old "Oh, you are sooooooo fetching in that apron, I'd love to get together with you and give the central air a reason to turn on" as a ruse to turn my offerings to charcoal.

Did I tame the beast? Have I won him over with my womanly wiles? Did I beat Lucifer at his own game? Have I been lulled into a false sense of security believing I actually have a stove that I can trust? Will Charlie Daniels immortalise my feat in a fiddle-sawin', fruit-chawin', baked-goods jawin' tune?

All I know is that I didn't have to toss any of them out. They all had a muffinny texture and a crunchy-sweet-sticky top. I'm not questionning it.

Strawberry Banana Muffins
Yield 18

For the muffins
110g butter, melted
150g brown sugar
2 beaten eggs
mashed bananas with enough vanilla yoghurt to fill a 250ml measure
250g chopped strawberries
300g plain flour
25g whole wheat flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp vanilla salt

For the streuselly topping
10g butter, melted
75g brown sugar
40g roalled oats
15g pinhead oats
nine large strawberries, hulled and halved (optional)

Preheat oven to a moderate heat (180C/350F) and line 18 buns of two 12-bun muffin tins with papers.

Sift together the flours, baking powder, bicarb and salt; set aside. In a separate bowl, mix together the streuselly topping and set that aside as well.

Mix together the egg, melted butter and vanilla and banana-yoghurt mixture. Stir into the flour mixture. Do not overmix: what you want is the batter to barely hang together (lumpy is good). Lightly fold in the chopped berries.

Portion into the muffin papers and spoon about a teaspoon's worth of the topping over the wet batter. Top with the half-berry.

Bake for 20-30 minutes, or until an inserted skewer comes away cleanish.

cheers!
jasmine

Cook's treat

I don't really remember when I first heard the term "cook's treat" but I remember the dish. It was a roast chicken...or duck...maybe turkey--it was a bird, I know that much. The TV cook took it out of the oven, placed it on the counter, smiled and surrepticiously cut off a piece and ate it.

"Cook's treat," he said unapologetically.

In my juvenile brain, it translated to "if you cook it, you can take what you want before you actually serve it to your family or guests."

I liked that idea...and greedily put it to regular practise...until My Dear Little Cardamummy caught me. Yeah...she put an end to that. Well, sort of. I still snuck little bits, but made sure they were little and no one would actually notice they were gone.

Now when I have my cook's treat it can be anything from hiding some of the crackling from a roast ham to using up the leftover bits of pastry to make a special little pie.

After assembling the strawberry cream cake I had bits left over: a few spoons of strawberry sauce, a whackload of strawberry cream, a few leftover sliced berries, and of course the sawed off cake tops.

So I did what any self-respecting cook would do.

I made my own single-serving kindasorta trifle-like pudding...I say kindasorta simply because my home is devoid of sherry...(must remember to pick some up from the LCBO)....trifle isn't really trifle if it doesn't have that teeny little buzz. What a simple and delicious little treat: cake, strawberry cream, a touch of heavy cream, berries and of course that sweet, fruity sauce.

The strawberry sauce is easy enough to put together and really doesn't follow a strict recipe because it's dependent upon the sweetness of the berries, how smooth you want the sauce and how thick you want it. It's loosely based on the strawberry jam I made last summer.

Strawberry Sauce
(yields about one cup)

900g strawberries, washed, hulled and chopped (or mashed, if you want)
3 Tbsp runny honey (or more or less, depending upon their sweetness)
1 tsp balsamic vinegar

Over medium heat, bring the berries and one tablespoon of honey to a boil, while stirring constantly. Skim off the foam. Taste for sweetness and add more honey if you wish. Stir in the vinegar. Reduce until you have the desired thickness. Store unused sauce in the fridge.

cheers!
jasmine

Savour the Season: Strawberries

Somehow, even though we're in the midst of smog alert season complete with the type of humidity that lets every ion of petrol-emitted pong hang in the air like undershirts on the neighbour's washline, everything seems to smell a little better this time of year.

No wait, it's the two kilos of local strawberries I picked up at the farmers' market.

It's amazing how these sweet and juicy little berries can fragrance a space, transforming it from soulless, bean-counter approved and cinder block-reinforced to something that seems a bit more human and a lot more comfortable.

June and July are when the local strawberries ripen, giving all of us a quick boot to the backside as a reminder of what strawberries should taste like. All year long we get imports that don't quite cut the mustard in several respects (flavour, texture, price) so when the local producers and farmers appear with punnets, baskets and flats of fresh and tasty berries, more than a few of us tend to go a little berry happy.

My mindset is such that fresh, ripe fruit generaly doesn't need to be fussed with. Just wash and eat. Maybe with sweetened whipped cream or with some ice cream. I really don't want to cook the fruit. Apart from the temperature, Beelzebub has a nefarious history and present with any food that I really, really, really want to turn out well.

All that said, a good quantity of summer fruits will end up bottled and dosed out by the spoonful. Yes, I'm slowly taking over my parent's freezer with fruits I want to turn into jams and jellies. But that's a few weeks out.

So when faced with a dinner invitation and the realisation I offered to make dessert, I gazed into my basket of berries. It became very obvious: a strawberry sandwich cake. My version is two layers of Victoria Sponge, sandwiching a layer of strawberry sauce and strawberry cream, topped with more strawberry cream and halved, hulled berries. Very simple and very pretty.

Most strawberry cream cakes I've seen use either a whipped cream or a pastry cream filling--the snow white contrasts beautifully against the red of the berry. The strawberry cream I use is based on a cream cheese icing, but made pink by using strawberry sauce. Apart from being a bit girly, the cake's berry quotient is boosted slightly. The cream is looser than a standard frosting, so it's better for a filling or to just ice the top of a cake.

Strawberry Cream
240g cream cheese
60g softened butter
60ml strawberry sauce
50-100g granulated sugar (to taste)


Cream together the cream cheese and butter. Mix in the strawberry sauce. Add as much sugar as you think it needs. Let it sit in the fridge for about 20-30 minutes to stiffen a bit before you use it.


cheers!
jasmine

In a jam

I've always found mindless repetition the panacea to the troubles that weight my mind. Washing dishes, polishing shoes, even alphabetising my shelves let my hands busy away, and my mind consider scenarios and reasonings, break through writer's block or even do simply nothing...to temporarily attain a much-needed respite from life's woes and stresses.

Easy and attainable therapy, I think.

A few months ago when I found myself as impotent in the kitchen as a eunuch in the Playboy Mansion, I turned to the restorative powers of automatic action. I tried favourite recipes--brownies, cakes--but the disappointing results added to my grief. It was late summer-early autumn when the markets were bursting with the last of hot season berries. Even though I could freeze them for later consumption, I felt as though I was admitting culinary defeat at a time when I should have been exploring my scullery's capabilities.

I suppose in such times it's easy to dwell on what one ought to do, as opposed to what one wants to do. This time, the ought and want melded into what became a bit of a tiger: instead of letting the last of Ontario's strawberry crop remain in their punnets for someone else more capable than I to handle, I bought the last remaining fruit and whisked them home to ponder their fates.

It had been years since I made jam or preserves of any kind. In fact the last bit of canning I did was in my last year at uni when I made some sweet and sour apple chutney as Christmas prezzies. Why on Earth I decided to get into jam-making escapes me. Perhaps it was a yearning to be part of something that was at once intimate and grand. Intimate because it happens in my kitchen with one other (in my case, Dear Little Mummy); grand because it carries both a sense of occasion (getting all the gear ready) and the knowledge that hundreds of other households also put away glinting bottles of sweet preserves.

After reviewing my books and my mother's clippings, I decided on Nigella's version for three reasons: it didn't use bought pectin; it offered the romantic potential of suspended berries visible through the jars' glass walls, and it used balsamic vinegar.

Quite honestly, I don't know how many bottles we made that weekend. Several batches, anyhow. It was easy and filled the kitchen with a heady almost candy-like aroma. Let's not overlook the decidedly therapeutic benefits of stirring and skimming.

The end results were jars filled with garnet jewels--not too sweet and nicely set. Many bottles were given as appreciation gifts to friends who helped me through these past few months, but between Mummy and I we held back about half a dozen bottles. Mine are squirrelled away and consumed carefully--sometimes on buttered toast or scones, sometimes on vanilla beaned ice cream, sometimes just on its own.

It will be months until we get such beautiful strawberries again.

Strawberry Jam
from Nigella Lawson's How To Be a Domestic Goddess

675g hulled strawberries (some can be chopped, others can be left whole)
700g sugar
2Tbsp lemon juice
1tsp balsamic vinegar

Sterilise four 200 ml jars and place a saucer in the freezer.

Put all the ingredients in a wide, heavy-bottomed saucepan and stir with a wooden spoon, until all the fruit is coated.

Put the pan on low heat and bring the berries to a boil, stirring occasionally. When it comes to a boil, let it blurble away for about eight minutes, and skim the froth off the top.

Check its set after five minutes and again every five minutes or so. To do this, put a bit of the jam on the saucer, let the jam cool a bit and give it a bit of a push with your finger. If it wrinkles and you can make a line with your finger, it's probably good to go (think of how you test custard using a wooden spoon).

Decant into sterilised jars.


cheers!
jasmine

JamsNigella LawsonPreservesStrawberries