One month to Christmas, I come bearing chocolate gingerbread cake

It feels a bit early for me to start thinking of Christmas. Drifts of research and reports surround me; calendar reminders twinkle on my screen, and it wasn’t too long ago when a hard thump of an icing sugar duster covered my garden with snow. Maybe it’s not too early for me to start thinking of Christmas.

Two things easily get me into the Christmas spirit—music and food.  While I am prone to belting out “Do They Know It’s Christmas” in June, I’m not quite ready to put my Christmas CDs in the mix just yet. The Christmas Pud has been stirred, steamed and safely out of my mother’s reach (really, it’s not hard as she’s 4’10” (maybe)).  While I’m beginning to plan out my baking, it’s hardly a Bing Crosby existence, rumpapumpumming to David Bowie.

Yet.

I used this week's visit with some favourite people to get me further into the festive spirit.  How better than with a cake? Preferably something aromatic that hints at the weeks to come.

I thought the Chocolate Gingerbread Cake from Nigella Lawson’s Feast would be perfect with our tea, as we chat next to a roaring fire. I paired the smoky-rich chocolate spice cake with the salted brown butter caramel icing from Shuna Fish Lydon’s Caramel Cake.  For a bit of texture, amidst all that soft lusciousness, a generous handful of roasted spiced pecans was scattered on top.

By my standards, it’s a sweet enterprise, but all that means is I'll have a smaller slice.   But it is a dark, damp and rich cake, spiced with flavours familiar to the Yuletide season, with the added bonus of chocolate.  And salted caramel.  And crunchy pecans.

A couple of notes about the cake:

• The full cake recipe is enough for two 20cm x 20cm (8"x8") pans, so if you only need a small cake, halve the recipe.
• Instead of treacle, I used cooking molasses, which is a mixture of regular and blackstrap molasses.  My molasses-loving friends liked it, but next time I’ll use a lighter variety.
• For one 20cm x 20cm cake, use about one-third of the icing specified in the recipe (or more, or less, I'm not going to judge).

Ginger spiced roasted pecans

Ingredients:

50g/125ml/0.5c chopped pecans

one heaping teaspoon icing sugar

0.5 tsp ginger powder

cayenne pepper, to taste

pinch salt

water

Method:

Preheat oven to 180C/350F and line a baking tray with parchment or tin foil.

Mix the nuts with the sugar, spices and salt.  Drizzle in enough water so the nuts are coated with a glaze.  Toss the nuts and spread on the prepared baking tray. 

Bake for 10 minutes.  Let cool before sprinkling on the cake.

Recipe Links: 

Nigella Lawson’s Chocolate Gingerbread Cake Recipe

Shuna Fish Lydon’s Caramel Cake Recipe

cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!

On My Rickety Shelves: Kitchen

Thanks to the lovely people at Random House Canada, a copy of this month's cookbook selection was delivered to my doorstep.

Kitchen
By Nigella Lawson
Alfred A. Knopf/Random House Canada
512 pages; $55

There’s a small number of authors whose new works I eagerly await: AS Byatt, Christopher Brookmyre, Stephen Fry, Nigella Lawson and Nigel Slater. Their words are smart, engaging so incredibly well honed. When I grow up I want to write like that.

When I peruse a cookbook, I skim it for more than just recipes. Without a doubt the recipes must make me want to lock myself into my kitchen and lose myself in chopping, drizzling, frizzling and sampling. Just as important is how the author coaxes me into keeping that book in my hands. I want the author to talk to me as a friend and be someone I’d invite into my kitchen. I don’t want to be talked down to, lectured to by someone with self-fashioned airs of superiority.

Nigella Lawson brings her brand of combined eloquence and common sense cookery in her new offering, Kitchen. In it, she continues her particular type of food diarisation—her first book How To Eat features a section on nursery foods and feeding very young children, others included foods palatable to younger mouths—this time as a busy working mum with equally busy teenagers.

Her recipes, as usual, range from combining simple ingredients into quick and tasty meals such as Egg and Bacon Salad to longer cooked meals such as Beer-braised Pork Knuckles with Caraway, Garlic, Apples and Potatoes. She also brings in disparate foodish inspirations from areas such as Spain, Vietnam, South Africa and Italy. The instructions are clear and easy to follow and usually accompanied by lovely photographs. Many recipes include tips about freezing, how to use leftovers and make-ahead notes.

As with her other Canadian imprints, the text appears to be the same as in the original British imprint, which means she uses weight metrics and not volume. This may be an issue for many North American cooks, but since a digital kitchen scale can be bought for the price of a couple of bottles of extra virgin olive oil, this shouldn’t be that much of an issue.

What some readers may find useful are two early sections: “Kitchen Caboodle” and “Kitchen Confidential”—the first is what’s known in some books as “batterie de cuisine,” a listing of kitchen equipment the author finds essential. What’s equally useful is her “Hall of Shame” section that lists regrettable purchases she’s made (ahem, including the slow cooker). Such lists are, of course, highly individual and should be taken with a grain of salt. Kitchen Confidential compiles her various kitchen tips on ingredients such as baking powder, sea salt and vermouth to tools and gadgets such as pastry brushes and disposable rubbery gloves and tips on baking and frying.

As with my other reviews, the proof of a book’s value is in the recipes. Here are the ones I attempted:

Vietnamese Pork Noodle Soup (p82)
I really like pho, but find their quantity overwhelming when at restaurants. Nigella’s version had fresh and bright flavours and it was very warming. As with any home cooked food, I can control my portion, but here I thought the noodle quantity was two to three times what I think it should have been or the amount of broth should be increased. Easily resolved the next time I make this.

Spanish chicken with chorizo and potatoes (p100)
Delicious. Spicy sausage and roast chicken with just a hint of orange. I was so happy with this meal that I’ve since replicated it with other types of sausage and seasonings. It’s more than easy and (as you can tell from the picture) a doddle to decrease to feed one person (as opposed to six).

Chocolate Chip Cookies (p236)
Everyone has their own idea as to what makes a good chocolate chip cookie and this was definitely not mine. I prefer thin, buttery discs which are crispy around the edges and chewy in the centre. I also like them to be of a reasonable size (say 2” or 5cm in diameter). Hers are cakey and are dolloped in ¼ cup measurements. I would have used a teaspoon or a tablespoon at most.

Sweet Potato Supper (p340)
This dish combines three of my favourite ingredients—asparagus, bacon and sweet potatoes—in an incredibly simply way. I loved the way the salty, smoky bacon played against the lush sweet potatoes and slightly caramelised asparagus.

So how does it rate?
Overall: 3.8/5
The breakdown:
Recipe Selection: 4/5
Writing: 4.5/5
Ease of use: 3/5
Yum factor: 4/5
Table-top test: Lies flat

Kitchen comfort-level: Easy-Intermediate
Pro: A good range of recipes ranging drawn from a number of cuisines.
Con: Based on the pho and cookies, some on-the-fly corrections may be needed.

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Sponge Toffee

If you ask me, I'm not a Hallowe'eny person. I don't carve pumpkins, I don't decorate the house with cobwebs and I generally don't give out candy.

But the thing is if you give me the opportunity to appear in fancy dress, I plan and dream for weeks. It could be one of my foofy tafetta gowns for a swanky doo or it could be an opportunity to don my red sequinned devil horns, striped leggings or even kitten ears, the chance to wear something a bit out of the ordinary just gets me giddy.


This Hallowe'en saw me in shades of black and gold, with glittery deelybopper antennae and glittery wings.

Yup. I was a bumble bee. Complete with tiara...which made me a Queen B.

I've always wanted wings...and glittery wings just made it better.

To keep with my sweet dress-up theme I decided to make some honeycomb candy to take into the office. I'm not much of a candy maker--far too finicky for me--but Nigella's hokey pokey recipe seemed so easy not even I could mess it up--simple caramelise sugars, whisk in bicarb and pour onto a greased pan and let cool.

But mess it up I did...the first time. In hopes of a larger surface area of candy, I spread out the foamy goo. The foamy goo deflated to a sheet of sticky sweetness...which later turned into crunchy sweetness.

My second attempt was far more successful. This time I substituted honey for half of the needed golden syrup and increased the amount of baking soda and poured it out and let it sit on its own. Honey definitely improved the flavour, making the candy taste a bit earthier and smokier than purely sweet.


Hokey Pokey
Adapted from Nigella Lawson's recipe in Nigella Express

yield approx. 125g

100g (0.5c) sugar
2Tbsp golden syrup
2Tbps runny honey
1dspn (2tsp) bicarbonate of soda

Grease a tin foil-lined cookie sheet

Mix the sugar, syrup and honey together as best as you can. Put on the hob, over a medium flame and let it sit there--untouched, unswirled and unstirred--until the sugars are melted and are a medium-light amber colour. This happens rather quickly (2-4 minutes, depending upon the strength of your flame), so don't take your eyes off the pot.

Immediately take off the heat and quickly whisk in the bicarb. It will foam and become moussey. Pour onto the prepared pan. Do not spread it out as the bubbles will burst and you'll lose the lovely honeycomb effect. Let cool thoroughly before breaking into pieces.

Store in an air-tight container.


cheers!jasmineWhat I'm reading: I'm a quill for hire!

Happy birthday to me: Nigella's margarita ice cream for five food bloggers

Being a food blogger means you are part of a large food-loving community, brought together by pixels, LANs and wireless connections. Over the past five years I've corresponded with hundreds of food bloggers. I've been lucky enough to meet a couple dozen of them, here at home or in transit. Some have become dear friends and we try and get together a few times each year, but there are others whom I feel just as close to, but have never met.

In as much as I'd love to have Chinese New Year dinner, wings and a pint, or spend an afternoon making strawberry jam with pretty much every food blogger, there are a few I'd simply, unabashedly squeal with joy if the stars aligned and we wound up at the same table, stove or check-out queue.

That got me thinking...

Many of us have played the dinner party game where we'd list people we'd most have to have dinner with--my own list includes Artemisia Gentileschi, Stephen Fry, Oscar Wilde, TE Lawrence, Jane Austen, Nigella Lawson (whom I've met), Thomas Jefferson and Abigail Adams--I wondered, since both my blog and I added a "one" to our ages, which five food bloggers I'd never met would I love to have at my birthday supper...

Why these five? There's a connection there that's sometimes hard to explain...but suffice it to say whenever they pop up, they always make me smile.

Why five? A perfectly practical reason: my dining table seats six...

Annemarie of Ambrosia and Nectar: I think Annemarie and I met through The Daring Bakers a couple of years ago. When my turn came up to host a challenge, I knew I wanted her as my co-hostess. Her sense of humour and clear thinking made her a fabulous colleague and dear, dear friend.

Jeff of A Dork and His Pork: Jeff popped up in my Twitter feed last year. When I visited his blog, I knew he was someone with whom I could relate: he drew an anaolgy to Thelonious Monk when writing about banana bread. 'Nuff said.

Mary of The Sour Dough: There are certain parallels our lives have and because of that, there's little explanation needed. We can email one another at any point and there will be assistance, encouragement and support. That, and she'll answer my inredibly silly questions about bread baking.

Paz of The Cooking Adventures of Chef Paz: Oh goodness...Paz is simply one of the sweetest people I've met online. Visiting her site is like going to the home of a long, dear friend. I love the breadth of her recipes and, of course, her slice-of-life photos of New York City.

Shaun of Winter Skies, Kitchen Aglow: I can't remember when we found one another, but we recognise in one another a spark and a connection--we're kindred spirits in words, influences and outlook.

And since it's my birthday, what else would I serve alongside cake, but ice cream? I've spied Nigella Lawson's Margarita ice cream recipe in Forever Summer for ages, but have never made it until this summer. It's rich and creamy, with the lime-laced tell-tale tequila buzz of its eponymous cocktail--appropriated served in a sugar-salt rimmed glass. In La Lawson's own words: "This is surely what angels would eat at their hen night."

Margarita Ice Cream
adapted from Nigella Lawson's recipe in Forever Summer

375ml (1.5c) heavy cream
6 large egg yolks
1x300ml tin (1.25c) sweetened condensed milk
90ml (6Tbsp) tequila
30ml (2Tbsp) Triple Sec, Cointreau or Grand Marnier

Juice of 6 limes and the zest of 1

First, make a custard by scalding the cream, then dribble it into the egg yolks, and then pouring the mixture back into the pot. Cook it, stirring all the while, until it coats the back of a spoon. Take it off the heat and let cool for at least 20 minutes before stirring in the condensed milk, tequila and Triple Sec, lime juice and zest and then leave to cool completely before pouring into your ice cream maker. Churn according to manufacturer's instructions.

cheers!
jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

If you give a mouse a cookie Part I: Roasted pepper, chickpea and feta salad

If necessity is the mother of invention, then an inability to sleep is the upstairs neighbour of a busy kitchen.

Which is probably why a caffeine-fuelled evening that led to my inability to sleep, combined with my natural (and I would argue genetic) completionist tendencies, transformed a single-dish potluck offering to a multi-part supper in itself.

It all started when the Toronto panel session I attended ended a tad early. Traffic on the 401 was more than a tad easy. The coffee I had early in the evening kept me more than a tad awake in the-close-to-wee hours.

At home, I did what any normal person would do: I flitted around my kitchen like a hummingbird wired on double espressos, looking for something to do. I didn't feel like baking. Cooking another meal would have been silly as most of the week would have me eat anywhere but home. Alas, it was also too early in the week to prepare my potluck offering.

There I stood, illuminated by the fridge's bulb, pondering its contents. The only thing I could see were bell peppers: the mediumscarymegamart had them on sale so my veggie drawer was full to bursting with oblong orbs.

My potluck muse must have arrived directly from the markets of Tangiers or Marrakesh, sending me into a decidedly Moroccan frame of mind. With North Africa in mind, Claudia Roden's Arabesque offered a solution to my excesses of energy and bell peppers. Her recipe for Felfla Wal Hummas Wa Jban (Roast Peppers and Chickpeas with Fresh Goat's Cheese) was reminiscent of Nigella's roasted pepper and feta starter from Nigella Bites.

Yes, my singular, effortless potluck offering became two relatively effortess potluck offerings. As my Dear Little Cardamummy believes: better to have more food than less.

So there I sat on my kitchen kick stool, at midnight, in front of Beelzebub's window, wearing my white and blue floral printed flannelette granny jammies, occasionally practising culinary voyeurism while reading Nigel Slater's latest tome. I peered into my oven's window as the buckled baking tray encouraged the peppers to rock, roll and wobble in their desert-like heat: their wrinkled and blackened skins spat and oozed boiling juices from blistered gashes. Before my energies dissapated, they were stripped of their char and voided of their seeds, sliced into strips and popped into the fridge to be mixed with chickpeas and their flavourings.

Anyone who didn't know me (and I'm sure those who do) would have thought me mad, I'm sure.

This is easily a pantry dish, especially if you are running late and don't want to roast the peppers yourself and have a favourite jarred offering from your grocer, but you may have to adjust the dressing to make up for the extra sharpness that comes from the vinegar store-bought peppers are packed in.

For a more substantial lunch dish, add chunks of boiled potatoes and perhaps chunks of tinned tuna, with a sprinkling of roughly chopped flat-leafed parsley.

How to roast bell peppers:
Set your oven to its hottest temperature and let it come up to temp. Place whole peppers onto a foil-lined tray and pop into the oven. After 15 minutes, turn the fruit so an unblistered side is foil-down, roast for 10 minutes. Roast remaining sides for 8-10 minutes each.

When done, remove the peppers from the tray and place in a pot with a tight-fitting lid and let steam for about 15 minutes. When the fruit are cool enough to handle, slip off the charred skins from the flesh and remove the stem and seeds.


Roasted pepper, chickpea and feta salad
Serves 8-10

6 roasted red bell peppers, slivered
1x540ml (8.5oz) tin chickpeas, drained
60ml (0.25c) extra virgin olive oil
Juice of one lemon
4 garlic cloves, minced
salt
Pepper
1 Tbsp dried oregano
100g (3.5oz) feta cheese

Make the dressing by combining the oil, lemon juice, garlic, salt, pepper and oregano.

Mix the pepper ribbons and chickpeas together. Pour the dressing over top and give the contents a light stir.

About 10 minutes before serving, mix in the feta cheese.


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!

As flat as a pancake

No. I haven't lost that much weight....I think I'd have to be a negative weight to be considered "as flat as a pancake."

No...today's post is about the unfairness of summer.

You read correctly. The unfairness of summer.

No--I'm not going to wax lyrically about being a grown up who will spend almost every weekday between now and the autumn inside, at my desk, cursing a blue streak at a computer screen because the muse has left me, in favour of a patio, a pina colada and a lovely waiter named (well, does it really matter...).

No...I'm talking about ironing.

In the dead of winter, when the kitchen is warm with baking and roasting, my wardrobe choice is pretty easy: jeans and a rumply sweater. It's easy. It's warm. It's low maintenance.

Fast forward a few months when grass carpets the ground and mosquitos queue up to snack on my various parts and it's quite a different story. The oven sprouts cobwebs and the fridge is filled with leafy greens and purple and red berries. I don't want to think of anything heat-born. My wardrobe choice, while just as obvious as in the cold months is nowhere near as low maintenance: light and crisp cotton.

Cotton needs ironing, so every so many days I'm behind a folding board: a spray bottle filled with lavender water in one hand, a searing hot iron in the other and the most pathetic, put upon expression on my face.

I know I could forego pressing my clothes and go for the easy, breezy carefree look. But really. Who really wants to go around looking like a 5'1" wadded up Kleenex?

I suppose I could just look for no-iron synthetics...but I remember the the synthetics of the 1970s...and all I have to say is "Ew. Gross." And yes...many things from the 1970s elicit that reaction: leisure suits, powder blue eyeshadow, Paul Anka's song "Having My Baby"...

Note to marketers of new polysynthetic fibres: Please don't email me or leave comments telling me how wonderful the new generation of fake fibres are. I'm really not interested...and besides, I won't publish your comments.

In a few weeks, when I curse my hot weather laundry ritual, waiting for the day someone invents 100 per cent cotton clothes that miraculously stay freshly pressed, I'll also be looking for relatively effortless ways of feeding myself.

Even though salads and sandwiches are fine, often I need something a bit more sustaining, but nearly as effortless ways of feeding myself. I've written about my preference for breakfast for supper previously. Even though a good waffle is a thing of beauty, sometimes beauty takes too long.

At times like that, I don't have to sacrifice satsifaction for speed. Nigella Express has an incredibly instant pancake mix recipe that produces delicious pancake at pretty much the drop of a hat. All I have to do is keep a supply of the mix on hand.

When a pancake craving hits, all I need to do is scoop out a cup of the mix, and combine it with a cup of milk, a tablespoon of melted butter and an egg, and drop two or three tablespoonfuls onto a hot, buttered pan et voilà! The flapjacks, although not flat, are fluffy and so gosh-darned tasty, especially when served butter and maple syrup. The Divine Ms Lawson has made her recipe available here.

I think, if you're the type to make your pancakes from a boxed mix, once you try these, you won't go back.


cheers!
jasmine


What I'm reading: The Children's Book by A.S Byatt

I'm a quill for hire!

I think my laptop caught porcine apoplexy

Even though we all know we cannot catch H1N1 (aka Swine Flu) from a good old bacon sandwich (okay, not all of us know this as a friend mentioned her cafeteria pulled BLTs from the menu because of the swine flu), I think all the online news coverage I've been following brought out the hypochondriac in Zippy the laptop.

She's going into the repair shop for a few days (hopefully it's not a lost cause) -- I'll be back when I can reliably get this thing to boot up.

Anyway... I leave you with an idea...especially appreciated by those in the midst of calming others and monitoring the various health websites: Piggie-shaped cookies, complete with little face masks (of coloured sugar). The recipe is Butter Cut-Out Cookies from Nigella's How To Be A Domestic Goddess (p 212).

Have fun but remember to wash your hands...talk soon.

cheers!
jasmine

What I'm reading: The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson

On My Rickety Shelves: Nigella Christmas

Thanks to the lovely people at Random House Canada, a copy of this month's cookbook selection was delivered to my kitchen.

Nigella Christmas: food, family, friends, festivities
By Nigella Lawson
Alfred A. Knopf/Random House Canada
288 pages; $50

Christmas does strange and occasionally deluded things to people. Overcome with seasonal cheer, nostalgic traipses to family dinners which may or may not have actually happened, or simply psychic pressures for those who need a GPS to find their kitchens to become instantaneous domestic goddesses (or gods) sees many people planning grand yet intimate entertaining. Booksellers line windows with covers featuring beautifully simple yet ornate tables complete with celebrity authors with whiter than white teeth bared in a welcoming grin that exudes “There’s no way you can mimic in a few hours what the small militia of cooks, stylists and other sorts take weeks or months to do…but I’ll let you believe you can…” Television specials are little better: perfectly coiffed, presenters with nary a drop of exertion or stress-induced dew punctuates the ease in which Stepford homemakers can pull together a perfect Christmas for the perfect set of family and friends.

Perfection is never my goal. Deliciousness is. Mind you…when others seem to push their culinary envelope, I’m more than content to fall into familiar routines. Don’t get me wrong. I love my November-December foodish rituals: fruitcakes and sticky toffee puds, dozens upon dozens of cookies, turkey with the trimmings…cognac. There’s a sense of comfort in doing the same old-same old. But at the same time there’s a part of me that searches for something new or, at the very least, a new-to-me way to prepare something not so new…that doesn’t eat up the last remaining moments of a far-too-crammed schedule.

Nigella Lawson’s latest recipe collection, Nigella Christmas: food, family, friends, festivities, promises readers practical, no-nonsense holiday inspiration. A companion tome to her 2007 three episode Nigella’s Christmas Kitchen, Lawson provides additional recipes and advice to those hoping for entertaining that can run from elegant to homey.

The book itself is what I’ve come to expect from a post How To Be A Domestic Goddess Lawson: gorgeous, glossy with La Lawson herself as the ultimate bit of food porn, tucked between sparkly-topped biscuits, glistening and glazed cocktail sausages, and juicily studded gammon. Recipes are divided into nine sections, each focussing on a different part of cheery holiday entertaining, including suggestions for “mass catering” and not-so mass catering for cocktail parties, side dishes friendly suppers, Christmas baking edible gifts, pages on both the main holiday meal along with a Christmas brunch, hot drinks and, as is her way, foods to combat the season of overindulgence. Heck. She even offers a stress-relieving Christmas rota to help plan the big day.

For me, Lawson’s lure is her words. My goodness, she’s not afraid to use her vocabulary…nor does she seem overly concerned with dumbing herself down for the masses—where else, in modern writing, would one read

“So the following, I hope, will allow the abstemious to raise a garish glass
with the rest of us.”

Her turns of phrase are voiced with experience, practicality and an honesty that never seems forced or contrived. One of my favourite lines is about the Tiramisu Layer Cake (p93):

“I wish I were the sort of person who could make enough but no more, but that’s
never going to be the case: when I made this for my brother’s birthday, he came
back round for a couple slices the next day. And that’s the way I like it.”

The recipes are trademark Lawson: practical, delicious and rooted in tradition but updated to modern flavours and tastes. For example her “luscious dinner for 6-8” (p70) features a lamb and date tagine, red onion and pomegranate relish with gleaming maple cheesecake for dessert. No, in this case it’s not everyday food, but it’s warm and hearty food to be shared with friends. Each recipe is easily followed and has make-ahead or freeze-ahead tips within the margin. Most, if not all, are photographed. Most of the recipes serve at least six people, with relatively few for smaller groups of diners.

One thing I was quite concerned about prior to receiving the book was North American publisher’s preoccupation with translating weights into volumes—grams of flour to cups of flour. Rarely, in my experience, are the Americanised instructions as accurate as the original (and dare I venture a guess that there are problems when going the other way ’round); mentions of problems in her earlier tomes are scattered far and wide throughout the blogosphere. Thank goodness the good people at Random House Canada did not winkle away at the original text. As far as I can tell everything is left in its original English. Yes this may pose problems for some, but really…all you need to do is buy a scale (mine’s from Canadian Tire) and look up the Centigrade to Fahrenheit conversion.

All that said, the value of a cookbook is in the cooking. Wherever possible, I scaled down the recipe to serve four or so people.

Cuban Cure Black Bean Soup (p264)
This is what I call a “pantry soup”—pretty much everything can be procured from a tin (okay, not the sausage, herbs or onions, but still) and combined into something quite tasty. This is my new favourite soup—spicy, hearty and a flavourful broth.

Potato, Parsnip and Porcini Gratin (p64)
Loved the smokiness and sweetness from the star anise and parsnips. The only thing I didn’t like was how the fat separated from the cream, leaving a bit of an oil slick. I’d probably increase the amount of milk while decreasing the cream.



Rolled stuffed loin of pork (p 158)
My friend called this pork-stuffed pork, wrapped in pork, which is an incredibly accurate description. A great balance between sweet and salty and very, very easy to make. Chose to forego the ruby sauce...wasn't in a saucy mood.







Incredibly Easy Chocolate Fruit Cake (p180)
As its title beckons, it is incredibly easy to make. I’ve made it for our Christmas pudding so I can’t say how it will taste…but it’s bound to be moist—not for its regular boozification, but for the chopped prunes.








Truth be told, I’m usually sceptical about holiday cookbooks—they overpromise on dreams and underdeliver on ease. Not Nigella Christmas. Her home-friendly recipes and guidelines make this book extremely easy to use…at Christmas and whenever you need to cook a special meal for family or friends.

So how does it rate?
Overall: 4.5/5
The breakdown:
Recipe Selection: 4/5
Writing: 5/5
Ease of use: 4.5/5
Yum factor: 4.5/5
Table-top test: Lies flat

Kitchen comfort-level: Intermediate
Pro: Gorgeous words that accompany easy and delicious recipes
Con: This is crowd cooking—not many options for intimate entertaining

cheers!
jasmine

Brussel sprouts with sausage and potatoes

Ah, poor Brussel sprout...why do so many people dislike you?

I mention a craving and some gaze upon me with a horrified look that could only mean that I've converted to the cult of big box freezer meats and other processed dinners stores...or worse yet, have become a gym bunny.

Really, these cute little leafy, Smurf-sized cabbages can't be all bad can they? Well, I suppose with initials like BS, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that people don't necessarily trust them when presented.

Even a supper party teaming with good-eating (as in adventurous) foodish friends elicits dubious looks at a pot loaded with brussel sprouts with pancetta and chestnuts (from Nigella's Feast). I proudly announce that their scant and polite first portions were not only hoovered, but followed by proper sized second (in some cases a third) helpings, and in the process, I'd won converts to my altar of Brussel sprouty adoration.

The problem, it seems, is a prediliction for boiling the happiness out of these little spheroids until they are greyed, almost mushy and devoid of...sparkle. Why would anyone do that to a lovely little cluster of leaves? Really.

For me, there is no such thing as a lowly Brussel sprout, to be treated with anything that hints at derision. Really, all they need is a bit of a steaming--just enough to take away the squeak add a bit of vibrancy to their colour...a bit of salt, pepper and butter (everything is better with butter). My Dear Little Cardamummy curries them. I've been known to add them to a veggie pasta as well as pizza. But, truth be told, I normally take a page from La Lawson and other recipe writers who pair them with bacon. Really...like butter, everything is better with bacon.

So the other week, when a local grocer had my adored little cabbages on special offer, I was in a mini-bliss...and treated them as a hash-like main course. Not only does it use left over boiled potatoes, it's very easy and quite satsifying. The quantities are specific, but not--if you want more meat, add more meat. If you want fewer potatoes, don't add as many. Change it up as you wish--a favourite variant uses sweet potatoes and thick bacon cubes.

Brussel sprouts with sausage and potatoes
2 Italian sausages, freed from their casings
Olive oil
Half a medium globe onion, sliced in lunettes
2 garlic cloves, minced
A pinch or more of chilli flakes
350g leftover boiled potatoes, cubed (or you can parboil them)
350g Brussel sprouts, cleaned and quartered
60 ml water
A few dashes of Worcestershire Sauce
Salt
Pepper

Brown the sausage; remove the meat leaving the fat in the pan. Soften the onions in the pan, adding oil as needed. Add the minced garlic and chilli flakes, salt and pepper. Tip in the potatoes and brown, stirring occasionally. Remove the potatoes and add the brussel sprouts with the water; lid the pan and let the veg steam for a few minutes until vibrant. Strain out any remaining water and reintroduce the potatoes and the sausage and Worcestershire. Mix well and adjust seasoning to taste.


cheers!
jasmine

So...how does one say

"No, Darling. I make lemon cake from scratch," without sounding like a snobbish, self-aggrandising foodish twit?

I suppose I could drop the "Darling."

Did I actually say the above? Ummm...I think so.

A wonderful and delightful friend of mine and new blogger called me up last week looking for a recipe for lemon pound cake that used lemon-flavoured gelatine powder...and I believe the above was my answer.

May I please hide behind my laptop now?

Gosh...I know certain people in my life think I'm a bit of a food snob--which I vehemently deny--but gee...the above, while not damning evidence, doesn't look very good.

Truthfully, I've only made lemon loaves with real lemons. I'd never even thought of using flavoured gelatine in a cake. I Googled it and sent her this recipe--which I think suited her needs. Heh...you learn something new every day.

But now I have a bit of a palate-worm going...lemon loaf...actually, a lemon poppyseed loaf, to be specific. To be even more specific, a lemon poppyseed loaf with cream cheese icing.

The problem with plalate-worms is they are never satisfied until they are satsified. And they can't be fooled with substitutes. In other words, a lemon drop after a sandwich won't send mine on its merry way. If anything, these pallid substitutes only anger it and make the craving even more specific.

Early on, it could disappear by virtue of getting the specific foodstuff, premade from the grocer's, made from a pouchmix or tumbled out of a gas station vending machine. But palate-worms have incredible stamina...and they seem to get stronger with each passing day...hour...minute.

Mmm....lemon poppyseed loaf. Whereas lemon-flavoured powdered gelatine is not in my pantry, lemons, poppyseeds, flour, eggs, butter and yoghurt are....well, the dry goods are in my pantry--the rest live in the refrigerator.

I have several lemon poppyseed cake recipes--some are like a light, slightly lemony angelfood, studded with seeds, while others have a heavier crumb. I settled on a slight modification of Nigella's Lemon-Syrup Loaf Cake. The result was a sunshiney crumb, soaked in glisteny, extra lemony goodness. I also decided to forego the cream cheese icing--the syrup glimmered so nicely, I didn't want to cover it up.

The palate-worm, I'm happy to say, has been sated and is off to find its next victim...

Oh...and for those of you who are wondering...yes, I made this during the craptastic weekend, between the serrated knife incident and the fire. Yes, I wore one of those thin, surgical glove-like things, to protect my booboo from the lemon juice. Which really didn't help at all, as I clipped the end of the finger (I have small hands and even the size small gloves have too much room) and the juice worked its way in...

Lemon Poppyseed Loaf
adapted from Nigella Lawson's Lemon-Syrup Loaf Cake, from How To Be A Domestic Goddess, p13.

125g unsalted butter
175g sugar
2 eggs
1 lemon, zested and juiced
170g cake flour
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 dspn poppyseeds
60ml plain yoghurt
75g icing sugar

Preheat the oven to 180C/375F; butter and line a 23cm/9" loaf tin with parchment and set aside.

Sift together the flour, baking soda and salt. Stir in the poppyseeds and set aside.

Cream together the butter and sugar. Beat in the eggs and zest. Mix in the yoghurt and then fold in the flour mixture. Pour into the loaf tin and bake for 45 minutes.

About 20 minutes in, start making the lemon syrup by melting sugar into the lemon juice over medium-low heat.

When an inserted cake tester comes out cleanly, take the loaf out of the oven and prodigiously perforate it with your weapon of choice. Pour the syrup overtop and let it all soak in. Let the cake cool in the tin before removing it otherwise you run the risk of the cake falling apart.


cheers!
jasmine

A pudding for Paz

If you've ever wanted to visit New York City, but can't afford the time or the fare, there are a number of sites you can visit to aid your armchair travels. One such site is a bit of a travelogue disguised as a foodblog run by our most lovely Paz of The Cooking Adventures of Chef Paz.

Each Monday she posts a photo of her fair city -- a sort of everyman's photojournal of The Big Apple. Yes, there are some shots of touristy targets like The Russian Tea Room, Grant's Tomb and carriage rides; foodie obsessions like pizza, markets and cafés, and of course everyday images of architecture, wildlife and people.

Anyway, Paz isn't feeling the greatest, taking some recuperation time and is taking a bit of a blogging break. Right now a number of her bloggy friends are helping out and guest starring on her site until she's up for more cooking and photography.

I can't remember exactly when we discovered each others blogs, but our sites are roughly the same age (about a month apart) and she was one of my first bloggy friends. We've laughed and snarked at one another over this and that and she electronically knocked me on my plumptious behind when she gave me a flying tackle of a return hug.

As much as I'd like to be in NYC to cheer her up in person, I can't get away--besides, I'm sure all the laughing we'd do wouldn't be good for the sutures ;)

So instead I offer here a comforting little seasonal pudding for a comfy recovery. A cherry dulce de leche croissant pudding based on Nigella's Caramel Croissant Pudding, as seen in Nigella Express.

I'd gone to the good farmer's market and picked up a punnet of the sweetest and juiciest cherries. Even though I like fresh cherries, there's something about having them in a simple baked dish--pies, studded in breads or unfussed cakes. When set in the smokey custard, some juices release, leaving a burgundy streak, but some--those that are sunk in the pudding and cocooned in sweetened eggy goodness--still burst when bitten. It's quite nice.

My version was thrown together in much the same way most of my bread puddings are put together. I had about half a dozen mini croissants in my fridge, along with a stress-releasing, sadness-fighting, comfort-inducing jar of dulce de leche.

I'm pretty much a purist when it comes to the custard part of my bread puddings--vanilla, please. I don't normally go for flavourings, but right now caramelly goo and fruit are my choco-substitutes, so Nigella's version that incorporates caramel made me sit up...Oh and I suppose I could have made this into a greedily portioned single serving, but I decided to break it up into four ramekins.

Cherry Dulce de Leche Croissant Pudding
adapted from Nigella Lawson's Caramel Croissant Pudding found in Nigella Express

6 mini butter croissants
2 bulging tablespoons of dulce de leche
125ml milk (don't bother with 1% or skim milk)
50ml heavy cream
2 well-beaten eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
pitted sweet cherries.
water from a freshly boiled kettle.

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F.

Tear the croissants and scatter the pieces into a butter a baking dish (or dishes). Scatter some of the cherries over top.

Heat the dulce de leche in a small pan. When it's loose and drippy, add the milk, cream and vanilla.

Temper the eggs with some of the heated sweetened milk, stiring the eggs constantly so they don't scramble. Pour the egg mixture into the pan and heat on a low flame, stirring constantly. Let it thicken until it coats the back of the spoon.

Pour over top the cherries and broken croissants, top with more cherries. Put the dish(es) in a roasting tin and fill the tin with hot water until it comes to the half-way point of the baking dish(es). Pop into the oven and bake for about 25 minutes or until the custard has just set.


cheers!
jasmine

Taste of Yellow: Sweetcorn pudding

Last year 149 bloggers came together for Barbara of Winos and Foodies' Taste of Yellow in support of LiveSTRONG Day and The Lance Armstrong Foundation's awareness event for cancer issues and cancer survivors.

When she announced Taste of Yellow 2008 I knew I wanted to participate, but wasn't sure if my schedule would alow it. During the past week, when I caught up with my backlog of blog reading, I saw so many wonderful posts like Bron's, Annemarie's, Paz's and Ivonne's, I knew I had to carve some time out for it.

Most of us know someone who was afflicted by it or know someone cared for a sufferer. Some of us have had our own scares--as some of you know, I've had two breast cancer scares in ten years--I'm fine, but they were life-defining moments.

My contribution to this year's event is a favourite side dish that I usually make with ribs or pork chops, Nigella Lawson's Sweetcorn Pudding. It's tasty and easy and wonderful to eat on its own, especially after a very long day...


cheers!
jasmine

Related: Taste of Yellow: Cornish Saffron Cake and Happiness Soup

Pi Day: Tomato and gruyère tart

My maths teachers would be proud...and confused.

Let's face it, I was not known for my stellar work with numbers...English, history, science, geography, French--pretty much anything other that maths and phys. ed and the machine-assisted sewing part of Home Ec, I happily claimed a small part of. Anything and everything beyond BEDMAS made my head hurt...a lot.

Now, ironically, one of the things I've developed a reputation for (at least amongst vendors who works with me) is my somewhat quick and usually annoyingly airtight ability to cut through smarmy numbers...yeah, I'm a favourite in some circles...

Maybe there is a mathy in me screaming to get out. I'm sure it has to do with all my baking and cooking...yet another reason why people should bake more chocolate cakes and make more ice cream...

So when Alanna of Kitchen Parade announced a foodish twist to Pi Day (look at my posting date (omitting the year), if you don't get it), I planned to seize this opportunity to continue making peace with my inner mathy...

Ah...the best laid plans of mince and mandolines...Life got busy so I couldn't bake specifically for this event. I pretty much gave up on participating, until I remembered a tart I made last summer I didn't blog about...

In May I blogged about Georgeanne Brennan's sweet memoir A Pig In Provence, with plans to try a few more recipes. One of which was her Tomato Tart.

Her instructions were quite easy--roll out the crust, fill it and bake it--all done with a voice of someone who's very experienced and matter-of-fact in the kitchen. Quantities aren't specific--you just add as much much as makes sense, season to taste and then bake at the required temp until done.

I didn't want to use a wheat-based crust for my version, instead wanting something that was a little different and had a bit of a texture. Then I remembered Nigella's pastry recipe for tomato tarts used cornmeal...well, I didn't have to go much further than that.

I'll be honest and admit to forgetting if I had to fiddle with quantities for my 30cm fluted tin-- Nigella's is for eight 12cm individually-portioned tarts--but somehow I don't think I had to adjust things. I do recall deciding to form the crust as Edna Staebler used to, by pressing the dough directly into the tin, instead of the usual roll, drape and trim.

I do remember the tart. The crust was crisp and the cornmeal's texture was a nice crunchy-crispy contrast to the soft and gooey cheesey-tomatoey filling. It was the right thing, paired with a leafy salad, for a light supper.

Tomato and Gruyère Tart
Inspired by Georgeanne Brennan's A Pig in Provence and Nigella Lawson's How To Be A Domestic Goddess

for the Pastry
125g pastry flour
60g cornmeal
1 Tbsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
115g butter
25g shortening
iced water

For the filling
prepared Dijon mustard
sliced tomatoes
grated Gruyère
salt
pepper
thyme
olive oil


Mix the dry ingredients together, then rub in the fats until the mixture reminds you of coarse breadcrumbs. Sprinkle in enough water so the pastry comes together into a dough. Pat into a disc, wrap in cling and let it sit in the fridge for about half an hour.

When the dough has rested, take it out and press it to about 0.5cm/1/2" thickness into a 30cm x 2.5 cm/12"x1" tart pan. Pop it back into the fridge for another 15 minutes.

Preheat oven to 200C/400F.

Spread a thin layer of mustard on the pastry base. Snug in the tomato slices and sprinkle with thyme, salt and pepper. Spread the cheese over top and drizzle with the oil and sprinkle with more thyme, salt and pepper.

Bake until the cheese is golden and the tomatoes have softened--about 25 minutes.

Remove from oven and let cool for about 15-20 minutes before serving.

cheers!
jasmine

WCC 25: Nigella Lawson

In the corner of my dining room is a stack of seemingly abandoned books. They aren't shelved, but they aren't on their way to find a new home. This collection of new, never-flexed spines, made possible by a combination of generous publishers and my own hunger for specific authors, has been the bane of my culinary and blogging existences...to make matters worse, uppermost tome is blanketed by the thinnest layer of dust.

Guiltily, I've eyed my stack of new and neglected cookbooks for several weeks, some titles for months. Don't get me wrong--I wanted to read them, cook from them and write about them, but until very recently, I just couldn't.

Since getting back into the swing of things, these titles have beckoned me to frolic in their pages. I've resisted to a certain extent, simply because I didn't think I was up to the challenge of trying something new. That is, until I saw this month's Weekend Cookbook Challenge theme: Nigella Lawson, hosted by Foodiechickie.

How better to get me riffling through pages than by mentioning a favoured food writer?

In as much as I love pottering away in the kitchen, that really is a luxury. Life is busy, and although I don't have little ones running around, between work, sorting out Michael's possessions, getting the condo up and running, finishing my last course and all those things --and people--that pop up when you least expect, supper is usually a mad root through the fridge and pantry, hurriedly thrown together, with any leftovers boxed for the next day's lunch. This, of course results in me relying upon a few standbys--sandwiches, doctored soups and pastas--followed by one night of bulk cooking, well bulk enough to last two nights.

Nigella Express is meant for those of us who want delicious meals with relatively little effort. As the opening flap pronounces, "The Domestic Goddess is back and this time it's instant." That's not to say this is a book for the enamoured followers of "semi-homemade." Yes, she uses premade or boullioned broths and some recipes, such as Minestrone in Minutes call for "tomato-based pasta sauce of your choice" but her book isn't permeated with the pong associated by the TMs or (R)s in ingredients lists, as happens with certain other recipe scratchers.

Nigella's language is exquisite and encouraging. Her speedy Chocolate Croissants, made with store-bough puff pastry, starts with "First, let me say that if I can do this, you can. As I have never tried to hide, I have not patience and even less dexterity. But this is child's play..." The recipes are also written with speed in mind--instructions are short and you don't have to turn the page.

The book is divided into 13 chapters, each addressing a different express need, from everyday meals, quick breakfasts, speedy entertaining, holidays, make-ahead meals and quickly-made restoratives. Regardless of speed or reason, this book contains instructions for the food you want to eat.

Here's what I made. Where ever possible, I've linked to recipes.

Please note, I have the UK version of the book--have learned to distrust conversions and "translations". If you are only to get the US version in your shop, you can order it (or many other UK imprints) online through amazon.co.uk, or Blackwell--I've used both in the past and have been extremely pleased.

Breakfast Bars p94
I knew I had to make these as my shopping trolley usually holds a box or two of granola or breakfast bars. Incredibly easy to put together. Yes, they take an hour to make, but I ended up with more than two weeks' worth of morning munchies. Sweet nutty and easily transportable. I've been using salvaged crumbs from my bar-butchering as an ice cream topper.


Pear and Ginger Muffins p 97
Yes, I know...two breakfast foods, but I generally find breakfast the meal I need most and the one I have the least amount of time for. The gingeryness gives the pear a zippy flavour and a happy morning snack food.



Oeufs en Cocotte p65
Is there anything simpler and more pleasurable than a baton of toasted bread dunked into squidgy, thickened and still-warm yolk? I luxuriated this a bit by adding a morel. All this in 15 minutes.



Buttermilk Roast Chicken p274
Roast chicken is a perennial favourite and chicken marinated in buttermilk even more so. I'm used to buttermilk poached chicken that's then fried, but the roasted version just as easily satiated my hunger.




If anything, Nigella Express reminds me that fast food doesn't have to be limiting to pasta and jarred sauce or a fried egg sandwich. Nor does it mean a Styrofoam box in my trash bin.

WCC25's mission was to cook from any of Nigella's books. And I've done my fair share of that. To see other Nigella recipes or -inspired foods I've conjured, click on this link.

cheers!
jasmine