David in the kitchen.

Raisin and cinnamon scones.

Last time around I shared my thoughts on the humble scone and how it has become a staple bake in my house over the last twelve months, this time as promised I’m sharing the recipe I use most often.

The beauty of a recipe like this is that it can form the base of virtually any scone you wish to make. I’ve got raisins and cinnamon in mine but they can be swapped for any other fruits or spices you have to hand. Equally, you can take them out and still have a very good plain scone. Take the sugar out, add ham or cheese and you’re into the world of savoury scones. The options are endless.

It’s not just the adaptability that makes this recipe a favourite, it’s also the remarkably short time involved. Within half an hour of going into the kitchen, there are piping hot, wonderful smelling scones sitting on the cooling rack. The biggest challenge is leaving them to cool sufficiently before you tuck in.

Ingredients

250g self-raising flour – you can use plain flour but I find that self-raising gives the best results
Pinch of salt
50g caster sugar
1tsp cinnamon
50g unsalted butter – this needs to be chilled and diced into small cubes.
1 egg
100ml buttermilk – if I don’t have buttermilk I combine the egg with 100ml of ordinary milk and beat them together.
40g raisins – sultanas or other dried fruit work just as well

Method

Preheat the oven to gas mark 7 and line a baking tray
Mix the flour, salt, sugar and cinnamon in a large bowl. Add the diced butter and use your fingertips to work it into the dry mix. The mix should look like bread crumbs once this has been done.
At this point add the raisins and stir the mix to distribute them.
Beat the egg into the buttermilk (or ordinary milk) and add to the dry mix. Using a round-bladed knife, work the mix together until it forms a wet and sticky dough.
Turn the dough onto a floured surface and knead it just a little. It helps if you have some flour on your hands before doing this.
Press the dough down until it is approximately 3cm thick and then use a cutter to make rounds, transferring each to the prepared baking tray. The cutter I use is 6cm and I normally manage seven scones. If your dough is quite sticky put some flour on your cutter before you do this.
Don’t forget to combine the offcuts to ensure you get the maximum number of scones.
Once all the scones are on the tray, sprinkle them with some flour (this helps to brown the tops in the oven) and bake for 12 minutes.
Transfer them to a rack and let them cool.

Never alone with a scone

There was a time when I would quite happily refer to myself as a weekend baker. Before these last twelve months, I would bake at a weekend and once the fruits of my labours were eaten that was it. No more until the weekend rolled around again.

One of the few upsides of the last year has been the changes it’s made to my kitchen regime. Now I’m baking at every opportunity and have some seriously disappointed faces in the house if there isn’t a little something sweet to go with their evening cup of coffee.

I’m still probably more productive at the weekend and Sunday afternoon will always be when the biggest projects happen. Bakes that need serious planning and quite often a shopping expedition for any ingredients not already in the pantry.

Weekday baking concentrates more on keeping us stocked with fresh bread and ensuring there’s always a bun or scone to hand when required.

With the possible exception of the ubiquitous banana bread, I’m guessing scone baking will have undergone the biggest revival under lockdown. Quick and easy to make, once you’ve mastered the basic recipe there’s an almost endless list of ingredients that can be added. You can have sweet fruit scones, savoury cheese scones, or as in the case of the apple and feta that I made the other week, the best of both worlds.

I tend to opt for fruit most often, but like to think they’re fairly healthy as the sultanas and raisins mean you don’t need to add a great deal of additional sugar when making them. A freshly baked fruit scone, spread with a little butter and jam is a wonderful thing. If you’re lucky enough to have a bit of cream to add as well it’s even better.

There are a couple of interesting bones of contention about scones. The first is the addition of cream to a fruit scone as I referred to above. Traditionally it’s a combination found in the southwest of England with Cornwall and Devon both laying claims to being its home. What they differ on is the all-important question of do you spread the jam first then the cream or the cream then the jam. Cornwall is adamant it’s the first option, while in Devon they’re equally adamant that it’s the second. I don’t think I have any Cornish heritage, but I’m definitely with them on this one.

The other issue which can raise surprisingly heated discussions, at least amongst bakers and cake eaters, is how to pronounce what I’ve been writing about. An issue perfectly summed up in the poem below;

I asked the maid in dulcet tone

To order me a buttered scone;

The silly girl has been and gone

And ordered me a buttered scone.

I’m not sure if there is a right or wrong way on this one, although what I chose to call this piece does show the pronunciation I’m more likely to go with.

What I do know is that a good scone will never let you down. If you fancy baking some I’ll share my favourite recipe in my next post.

I took a trip on a train.

The sun is shining, the grass is growing and slowly but surely it feels as if I’m coming out of hibernation. This tentative route out of lockdown might just be leading somewhere. I know you only have to watch the TV news to quickly realise the UK is currently bucking the international coronavirus trends. So for now it’s a case of keeping well-washed fingers crossed and hoping, long may it continue.

As lockdown ends the world is opening up and we can begin to think about enjoying ourselves again. In my case, coffeeshops are pretty integral to that happening. I may not be able to sit down in them yet, that’s due to happen from May 17th, but takeaways and outside tables are here. In previous years I’d have thought April a bit early for alfresco coffee. Not this year, I’m happily donning the thermals, wrapping a scarf around my neck and grabbing every opportunity. I’d forgotten how much fun ordering a black Americano could be. Particularly with a Danish or a Portuguese custard tart on the side.

I took another step out of lockdown last Friday with my first train trip in over twelve months. I went to see my dad in Cambridge, the journey only takes just over an hour, but it felt like the greatest of adventures. Then, if that wasn’t exciting enough, we had lunch in the garden of his local pub. A meal we didn’t have to cook for ourselves, weren’t going to have to do the washing up for afterwards, during which we shared news and caught up after not seeing each other for so long. All in all, it was a pretty good day.

We’ve already made plans for dad to come over to Norwich for a day towards the end of May and maybe next time we will be catching up over an indoor restaurant table.

Reading this back the events don’t sound like a great deal, but after the last year, they most definitely were. Hopefully, a first hint of the old normal.

Unlisted memory

Ever since I started this blog I’ve been trying to make sure I include posts that aren’t solely food-related. It probably says something about my gluttony and obsessions that I’m finding this much harder to do than I expected.

Thankfully my friend Alison Trollop has started to place a monthly short story challenge on her blog and it’s helping to get my writing out of the kitchen. Last month she asked for a hundred-word story that had to include reference to a list. My piece is below.

Unlisted memory

Dark streets, deep shadows. A fleeting moment, red hot memory. That evening, that bar. Five drinks in, leaving shortly. A smile, a glance, and then a whisper in my ear: “Come home with me.”

In a heartbeat, I was following. Click-clack of your heels on the pavement told me which way to go. Tick-tock of my brain whirring, asking ‘Should I really be doing this?’ I stalled, pondered, resolution wandered.

Returned, ordered a sixth. Asked the barman if he had your number. Told me you were unlisted. If you read this, call. Wrote my number on a napkin.

Harissa, feta and olive buns

Adaptability has been the keyword for me in the kitchen these last 12 months. As much as I love pouring over cookery books before embarking on a new project, this has been a time for recipes that act as a loose starter but then leave you to go your own way. Recipes that make use of what you happen to have available in the pantry or fridge at the time and don’t require a shopping expedition.

It will be interesting to see how much of this sticks as we slowly start to come out of the coronavirus restrictions. I’d like to think it’s taught me some good habits but have to admit that one of the things I’m looking forwards to is being able to browse again. To spend time looking for strange and unusual ingredients which I’ve got no idea how to use, but know it will be fun finding out.

Before I get too lost in daydreaming about deli trips, I want to share the recipe for the filled bread rolls that were mentioned in yesterdays post. These have become one of my go-to bakes during lockdown. Perfect if you want a plate to impress, as we did over Easter. Equally good if you want to freeze a batch and eke them out over a longer period.

This recipe fits perfectly with the theme of adaptability. I’ve written it as I first saw it in a Benjamina Ebuehi column in the Guardian, but any of the filling ingredients can be switched about. I’ve made versions with various cheeses, sometimes I’ve switched the olives for sun-dried tomatoes and if I’ve been making them for people who don’t like heat, it’s been pesto rather than harissa. Whichever route you go, the result is ten delicious bread rolls.

Ingredients for the bread

400g strong white bread flour
7g fast-action dried yeast
0.5tsp salt
30g caster sugar
240 whole milk – at room temperature
60g unsalted butter – softened
2 eggs

Ingredients for the filling

2.5tbsp rose harissa
100g fetta – crumbled
75g green olives – sliced

Method

Mix the flour, yeast, salt and sugar in a bowl. Pour in the milk, melted butter and one of the eggs. Mix to a rough dough and then knead for approximately 10 minutes. The dough should then be smooth and elastic.
Place the dough in an oiled bowl, cover it and leave it in a warm place to rise until nearly doubled in size. I find this takes about an hour.
Once risen turn out the dough onto a floured surface and roll into a 40cm by 60 cm rectangle. This is easier than it sounds as the dough is very stretchy. If using a rolling pin, cover it in flour first.
Starting at one of the shorter edges of the rectangle cover half of the dough with the harissa, then scatter the olives and feta on top. Fold the uncovered half of the dough over the covered half and gently use the rolling pin to remove any air bubbles.
Now cut the dough into 10, approximately 3cm wide strips. Benjamina suggests a sharp knife for this but I find a pizza cutter works best.
Take each strip and coil it around itself to form a bun, tuck the ends underneath when you finish. Don’t worry if some of the fillings ooze out as you do this. I find it happens every time.
Put the coiled buns on a lined baking tray, cover and leave to rise for a further 45 minutes
During this time preheat the oven to gas mark 5
After the second rise, beat the remaining egg and generously brush each of the buns with it.
Bake for 15 to 20 minutes.
Leave to cool on a rack and then serve.

Alfresco tables

We seem to be on a mad roller coaster of weather at the moment. No two days the same, as it switches from balmy early summer-like sunshine to snow showers with a distinctly January feel to them. Today is a prime example, I have curtains slightly pulled to keep the sun off the screen as I type, but every so often the sky darkens and there are flakes again.

To be honest it’s probably no worse, or better than we should be expecting at this time of year. It’s just that we can now meet friends and family outside, all be it in restricted number, and next week sees the resumption of alfresco service for coffeeshops, pubs and restaurants. This slow lifting of restrictions is turning us into a nation of amateur meteorologists, all keenly watching the weather forecasts and planning where the best outside shelter is for our next cup of coffee.

Our first foray into this new post lockdown world happened last Friday when my partner’s son and girlfriend came to pick up stuff for the new flat they’ve just moved into. It may have been a fleeting visit, but there was a real buzz to planning, cooking and sharing food with other people. One of those things we used to take for granted, now felt quite special. Of course, it was cold, damn cold, sat around a table in the garden when all logic said we should be inside. We even lit the barbecue, not to cook with, just to generate some warmth. But despite the adverse conditions, the fact we were with people we hadn’t seen in months, hearing their news and excitement about the new home made it feel worthwhile.

Inevitably there was more food than we could eat on the day. A piece of beef had been roasted, bread rolls filled with olives, feta and harissa had been baked and salads made. For those with a sweet tooth, there was a peach and rosemary pavlova. Two layers of crisp meringue, sandwiched and topped with vanilla whipped cream and rosemary-infused peaches. The whole thing showered with grated white chocolate.

We may not have finished it, but nothing went to waste, a food parcel was packed up for them to take back to London, some of which they consumed on a mid-trip picnic stop, and we used up the reminder over the course of the Easter weekend.

Hopefully, it won’t be too long before they’re back again and another menu can be planned. I just hope they bring some better weather with them next time.

The olive, feta and harissa rolls are a wonderfully adaptable bake, any of the three filling ingredients can be switched for something else that you may have available in your kitchen. I’ll share the recipe in my next post.

If I can’t go abroad, abroad can come to me.

It’s rapidly becoming apparent that we’re heading towards a second summer where travel outside of the UK isn’t going to be a realistic option. For now, at least the coronavirus news is on the positive side. The vaccine rollout continues apace, the infections numbers are falling rapidly and as I type the third lockdown is scheduled to end on March 29th. It may be good news here but in mainland Europe it’s anything but as several countries go back into lockdown of some form or other and a third wave of the virus appears to be taking hold. Borders are closing again and for all the talk of vaccine passports for those who’ve had their jab, travel still feels a long way off. That seat at a pavement table in Paris, or a beachside bar, is going to have to wait for another year.

All is not lost though, I do have a plan for how I can try new things, taste new flavours and spread my wings. I’ve decided, if I can’t go abroad, abroad can come to me.

I’ve written before about my cookbook collection and this weekend I spent some time sorting through it. The exercise had two aims, one was to trace some recipes I’d been asked to repeat but couldn’t for the life of me remember which book I’d originally got them from. I keep meaning to find a way of marking books with favourite recipes, but it never seems to work. The other aim was to look for new recipe inspiration, something different to cook. It was the second aim, made me realise just how many books I have where at best I’ve cooked a couple of dishes from them and in some cases none at all. That’s when I realised, now is the perfect time to correct this, to open the pages and delve in.

On the shelf, I have books specialising in food from Italy, France, Peru, Israel, Palestine, Nigeria, Spain. Others covering a specific city, New York, Tokyo, Paris, and some which go much broader, the middle east, Scandinavia or Eastern Europe. I even found a Nashville specific book and have no memory of how I came by it. I spent time going through them yesterday and quickly found the inspiration I’d been hoping for

So I plan to pick one book a week, select two or three recipes I’ve never done before and over the next few months I’ll be travelling the world in my kitchen and writing about my experiences here.

Things are starting to look a bit brighter.

As the night pull out and the grass starts to look as if I can’t put off the first cut of the year for much longer, living at home all day, every day seems to be getting ever more wearisome. I do try and motivate myself, to be active and creative, but to be honest it feels like a losing battle at the moment. The very infrequent posts on this blog over the last month a prime example of this malaise.

At least we do have a schedule now for how, in an ideal world, this is all supposed to end. The government has published its roadmap, listing the key dates when they hope to be able to slowly unlock the UK. Schools reopened last week and the next stage is at the end of the month when two households will be able to meet up, all be it outside. Hopefully, the weather will be decent and I’ll be able to get together with my dad for the first time in 2021.

If everything goes to plan, and I accept there are a number of caveats to this happening, the government intends for the final coronavirus restrictions to be removed on June 21st. Then it’s supposedly back to normal, or to use the horrible phrase which makes me cringe every time I read it, the new normal.

This all sounds well and good, but I think getting the all-clear to return to a more social way of life is going to be far from the end of things. Just because we’re told we can, will we really want to. It brought it home to me a couple of days ago when my sister rang to tell me a long planned family wedding, my nieces, was going ahead in July. As much as I want to see it happen, the thought of being one of the dozens of people crammed together for the day’s celebrations feels positively unsettling as I think about it now. After twelve months of social distancing, it’s going to be some time before being close again comes naturally.

So for now I’ll keep taking things one step at a time. Yesterday I had my first coronavirus vaccine, the second due in twelve weeks. I had to go into the centre of Norwich to get it and afterwards took the opportunity to wander the deserted city centre streets, the first time I’d been there since before Christmas. I found a takeaway coffeeshop that was open and in some March sunshine with a shot of espresso and a shot in my arm, things started to look a bit brighter.

I’ve been simmering clementines.

I’ve been simmering clementines. Not an activity I’ve ever considered before, but after a very successful outcome, one I’ll be returning to.

Before I go any further I should point out it was all in the name of baking. In particular the baking of a soft, sticky cake which has gone straight onto the ‘can we have that one again please’ list in our house.

Amongst the ever-growing list of things I’ve missed these last twelve months, the joy of bookshop browsing ranks highly, in particular the cookbook sections of said shops. I’ve done some book buying via online options during lockdown, but to my mind cookbooks, more than any others, need to be picked up and fully perused before you make your decision. If the shop knows it’s stuff there will be somewhere comfy to sit with a coffee as you decide if these are recipes you want to own and make.

A couple of weeks ago I gave in and took the plunge. Ordering The New Way To Cake by Benjamina Ebuehi. I may not have been able to browse beforehand in the way I like, but I’d seen several of Benjamina’s recipes in the weekly Guardian food section and they were enough to make me think this would be my type of book. I’m pleased to say that two bakes in, the first an apple and hazelnut cake, it most definitely is.

An unexpected bonus of this bake was the wonderful smell in the kitchen after the clementines had been gently simmering for an hour on top of the oven. It was very nearly as good as the scent of freshly baked bread. Another one to consider if I ever manage that range of kitchen scented candles.

The cake uses a mixture of polenta and ground almond rather than flour. Mixed with the pulped clementines it produces a very soft texture which seems to get stickier still as the cake ages. It put me in mind of cakes I’ve had in Italian cafes or restaurants. A cake that wants a little bit of creme fraiche or vanilla ice cream on the side and a very good espresso to follow.

Benjamina’s recipe does make a very substantial cake. I halved everything for my first attempt and it worked fine. However if you have a good appetite, I’ve listed the full ingredients below.

Ingredients

6 clementines
6 eggs
275g caster sugar
150g ground almonds
85g polenta
1tsp baking powder
0.25tsp ground ginger

Method

Grease and line the bottom of a 23cm cake tin. Preheat the oven to gas mark 5
Put the clementines in a saucepan of water, bring to the boil and then lower the heat to a simmer. After 20 minutes change the water, bring it back to a simmer and leave for a further 30 minutes. The clementines should now be very soft. Cut them into quarters, leave the skin on but remove any pips. Place the quarters in a food processor or blender and pulse until smooth.
Whisk the eggs and sugar until smooth. Fold in the clementine puree. Then stir in the polenta, almonds, baking powder and ground ginger.
Pour the batter into the prepared tin and bake for 45 to 55 minutes.
The cake may brown quite quickly. Check after 30 minutes and if needs be cover it with foil for the remainder of the bake.

If All Else Fails,There’s Cake

It’s my sisters birthday today. I won’t share her age, a gentleman never tells, but let’s just say it’s a landmark one. The sort which in a more normal time would have been marked with hugs, kisses and a big family get together. Instead, she’ll be having a quiet day at home and other than her husband and daughter, it’s phone calls and possibly Zoom for everyone else. One thing she will have though is a cake. If all else fails, there’s cake.

I’ve just come off the phone with her and part of the conversation was soundtracked by the sound of my niece whisking together buttercream to use on her mother’s cake. Apparently, like so many other people, my niece has become a keen baker during lockdown. I was getting a running commentary from her mum on the clouds of icing sugar in their kitchen, a commentary so graphic that I almost felt I can taste the sugar from here.

I’m sure there will be candles on the cake, a glass of something nice to drink, and despite the low key day she’ll enjoy herself and have some happy memories. It may not be the way she planned, but if all else fails, there’s cake.

Like so many families, we haven’t seen each other for months now, to be honest, I’ve almost lost track of how long it has been. We haven’t been able to see dad either. He formed a social bubble with a friend and together they’ve kept each other company during lockdown. As much as we’d like to see him it’s been good to know that he’s safe and well. We both call him regularly and it’s never long before the conversations get around to food. Cooking and baking have been part of his lockdown routine and I think he’s rather taken by surprise at how much he’s enjoying it. I think mum would have been quite proud of him.

Yesterdays announcements about the slow easing of lockdown over the coming months have at least given us hope it won’t be too long until we can all get together again. The only problem I envisage when we do, is who’s going to do the baking. Because if all else fails, there’s cake.