Best mug cake recipe so far - it still needs tweaking though, as it's a bit too moist, and inclined to mash to a lump under the pressure of the spoon. Needs a little less liquid.
4 tbsp self-raising flour
1 tbsp oil
2.5 tbsp sugar
4 tbsp milk
1 tsp (!) of vanilla extract
It may be cheaper to use vanilla sugar. The extract is expensive.
(Must try a chocolate version of this - I'm thinking 4 of flour, 2 of cocoa, 3 or 4 of sugar, leave out the vanilla but add 1/4 tsp cinnamon, but more experimentation required.)
You'll notice there is no egg. This is not a mis-print. Leaving out the egg removes the rubbery sponginess that often results if the cake is over-cooked. (I'm not sure if this was an innovation by Julie at Table for Two, but that was where I first saw an eggless mug cake so she gets the props for it.)
Mix all together, transfer to a large, greased cup, and cook on high power for 90 seconds.
(Our microwave is 800W, your mileage (and cake) may vary.) Get it out of the cup and into a bowl ASAP so that steam can evaporate from it and not condense and make it soggy.
Tuesday, 2 August 2016
Sunday, 8 March 2015
Quire of Paper
We didn't get to do Pancake Day this year. We vaguely remembered, late, but Paul wasn't bothered and I was unwell. Finally we got round to it today - mainly because we'd been in the market for a decent omelette pan for a while, and actually went out today and got one.
This year I'd seen a couple of recipes for old-fashioned (read: 18th century) thin pancakes, including a recipe for Thin Cream Pancakes (otherwise known as the "Quire of Paper") in Mary Norwak's book on English puddings. I changed the propertions of the book's recipe.... just because, really. It looked like it might be a bit greasy with the butter, but it didn't seem to have enough egg in it. The following made about 20 thin pancakes in an 8" omelette pan.
Ingredients
1/4 pint (5 fluid ounces) thick or double cream
1/4 pint milk
2 ounces butter
3 ounces plain flour
2 eggs, beaten
2 tablespoons brandy - a bit more wouldn't hurt.
Vanilla sugar (granulated or caster) for sprinkling
Optionally, you could add a little orange juice or grated orange zest for flavouring.
You could use half a pint of single cream instead of the double + milk, but that was what I had.
Method
Melt the butter and allow to cool (though not re-solidify).
Put the milk and cream together in a jug and whisk to mix.
Put the flour in a bowl. Add the beaten egg and mix. Whisk in the milk and cream mixture.
Add the zest of an orange if using.
Whisking constantly, pour the butter into the mixture in a thin stream.
Add the brandy and whisk again.
There's no need to let the batter rest before cooking.
Warm a plate (or individual serving plates). Sprinkle with a small amount of vanilla sugar.
Pre-heat the omelette pan to a little over medium (say, 4 out of 6) and melt a little butter in it. Put a small amount (about a tablespoon) of batter in the pan and swirl around to cover the base very thinly (it probably won't reach the edge). Expect this pancake to fail horribly, but it's soaking up excess fat in the pan and helping stabilise the temperature. You can eat this mini-pancake if it cooks successfully, but otherwise don't worry too much. The batter is very rich so you shouldn't need to add any more fat to the pan.
Pour about 3 tablespoons of batter into the pan and swirl around to thinly coat the base. (This was fairly easy for me as I've got a mini ladle holding that amount; failing that, use a 1/4 cup measure but don't fill it to the top - 1/4 cup = 4 tablespoons, or 60ml.)
Leave it. Don't touch it. The edges will start to dry rapidly and start to curl up like paper. Wait until the surface sets, then the pancake will appear to "sweat". When this happens, run a thin spatula round the edge of the pancake and loosen it from the pan. If the pancake starts to bubble before the surface dries, the pan is too hot. Turn down the heat a notch and/or remove the pan from the heat. It's no biggie, just be aware the pancake will colour faster.
When the pancake can be shaken easily around the pan, use the spatula to gently flip it over. It won't take long on the other side. When it can be shaken easily in the pan again, gently transfer to the plate. Get the next pancake on the go, and while it is setting, sprinkle a little sugar over the previous pancake, now on the plate.
Repeat in this fashion, piling up a stack of pancakes, sprinkling a little sugar in between each one. Depending on how long you cook them, they will look either like paper or parchment, complete with crackly, curly bits round the edges.
According to Mary Norwak, the original had over a pint of cream and 9 eggs in it, as well as more butter, but the same amount of flour. That would make an incredibly thin batter; this version is rich (but not overly so) and not too difficult to work - though I wouldn't try tossing these pancakes. Take care when you turn them as they do have a tendency to flop about.
This year I'd seen a couple of recipes for old-fashioned (read: 18th century) thin pancakes, including a recipe for Thin Cream Pancakes (otherwise known as the "Quire of Paper") in Mary Norwak's book on English puddings. I changed the propertions of the book's recipe.... just because, really. It looked like it might be a bit greasy with the butter, but it didn't seem to have enough egg in it. The following made about 20 thin pancakes in an 8" omelette pan.
Ingredients
1/4 pint (5 fluid ounces) thick or double cream
1/4 pint milk
2 ounces butter
3 ounces plain flour
2 eggs, beaten
2 tablespoons brandy - a bit more wouldn't hurt.
Vanilla sugar (granulated or caster) for sprinkling
Optionally, you could add a little orange juice or grated orange zest for flavouring.
You could use half a pint of single cream instead of the double + milk, but that was what I had.
Method
Melt the butter and allow to cool (though not re-solidify).
Put the milk and cream together in a jug and whisk to mix.
Put the flour in a bowl. Add the beaten egg and mix. Whisk in the milk and cream mixture.
Add the zest of an orange if using.
Whisking constantly, pour the butter into the mixture in a thin stream.
Add the brandy and whisk again.
There's no need to let the batter rest before cooking.
Warm a plate (or individual serving plates). Sprinkle with a small amount of vanilla sugar.
Pre-heat the omelette pan to a little over medium (say, 4 out of 6) and melt a little butter in it. Put a small amount (about a tablespoon) of batter in the pan and swirl around to cover the base very thinly (it probably won't reach the edge). Expect this pancake to fail horribly, but it's soaking up excess fat in the pan and helping stabilise the temperature. You can eat this mini-pancake if it cooks successfully, but otherwise don't worry too much. The batter is very rich so you shouldn't need to add any more fat to the pan.
Pour about 3 tablespoons of batter into the pan and swirl around to thinly coat the base. (This was fairly easy for me as I've got a mini ladle holding that amount; failing that, use a 1/4 cup measure but don't fill it to the top - 1/4 cup = 4 tablespoons, or 60ml.)
Leave it. Don't touch it. The edges will start to dry rapidly and start to curl up like paper. Wait until the surface sets, then the pancake will appear to "sweat". When this happens, run a thin spatula round the edge of the pancake and loosen it from the pan. If the pancake starts to bubble before the surface dries, the pan is too hot. Turn down the heat a notch and/or remove the pan from the heat. It's no biggie, just be aware the pancake will colour faster.
When the pancake can be shaken easily around the pan, use the spatula to gently flip it over. It won't take long on the other side. When it can be shaken easily in the pan again, gently transfer to the plate. Get the next pancake on the go, and while it is setting, sprinkle a little sugar over the previous pancake, now on the plate.
Repeat in this fashion, piling up a stack of pancakes, sprinkling a little sugar in between each one. Depending on how long you cook them, they will look either like paper or parchment, complete with crackly, curly bits round the edges.
According to Mary Norwak, the original had over a pint of cream and 9 eggs in it, as well as more butter, but the same amount of flour. That would make an incredibly thin batter; this version is rich (but not overly so) and not too difficult to work - though I wouldn't try tossing these pancakes. Take care when you turn them as they do have a tendency to flop about.
Sunday, 2 March 2014
Growling from the pan...
Paul broached the subject of parkin the other day. He'd come across the James Martin parkin-and-rhubarb recipe and thought it looked interesting. It'd been many years since I made parkin, and the only recipe I had was so laden with black treacle (and not much else) that it was unpleasantly aniseed-y, and I'd never re-made it.
Doing a quick search for the recipe Paul had seen turned up several related versions by James Martin himself, and that led me to look for a few more to see what (if anything) they had in common - as they all varied a lot from the recipe I had (in Hamlyn's New All-Colour Cookbook). There was some interesting info to be gleaned along the way.
My dad's family came from Lancashire. When I first heard reference to parkin (in the Fivepenny Piece song "Stalybridge Wakes") and asked my dad about it, he told me it was a dark type of gingerbread. Not much more information was forthcoming, so I do wonder if my grannie made it much, if at all; her apple pies, rice pudding and 2-3-4 cakes had already gone into family folklore. According to what I can find online, the Hamlyn's recipe is more like Yorkshire parkin although, according to Effie Perine on Mumsnet (and a few others), the real thing should be made with lard, bicarb and vinegar, and no eggs. Lancashire parkin is paler, with egg and more golden syrup. Having done the research, it seems that James Martin's version is a slightly chewier gingerbread rather than Yorkshire parkin proper.
After all this, I ended up with several recipes, all with varying amounts of varying ingredients. I picked out what sounded good, averaged out amounts of ingredients, and headed to the cooker. It turned out remarkably well (and that's out of the pan; I don't know what it'll be like if it improves with keeping, but I suspect it won't last long enough for me to find out), although it could've done with a bit more ginger. The small amount of black treacle in the recipe is due to me running out. The lack of treacle and thirstiness of rolled oats meant I added a bit more milk. The dark brown sugar means the treacle-y taste comes through, but it's not overly sweet. It's also surprisingly light (at this early stage), which I'm putting down to the bicarb and vinegar.
Ingredients
2 oz lard
3 oz butter
1 oz black treacle (was going to use 3 oz, but didn't have any more!)
6 oz golden syrup
4 oz dark brown soft sugar
6 oz plain flour
6 oz rolled oats (the chunky sort; I used Jordan's but Scott's would do just as well)
2 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp mixed spice
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1-2 tsp vinegar
6 fluid oz milk
Butter (and, ideally, line) an 8" or 9" square cake tin.
Put oven on to pre-heat, gas mark 3 (325F, 170C, 150C fan-assisted).
Put lard, butter, black treacle and golden syrup into a pan over a low heat. Warm through until the fats have melted, but do not boil.
In a large bowl, mix together the sugar, flour, oats and spices. Make a well in the centre.
Pour the syrup mixture into the centre, the put the milk into the pan and put back on the heat (this is just to dissolve the last of the syrup into the milk. Waste not, want not.)
Before stirring, drop the teaspoon of bicarb into the mixture. Then pour in 1 or 2 teaspoons of vinegar and watch it fizz merrily.
Pour in the milk, and stir well. It will be a very loose, battery mixture. Pour into the prepared tin, and bake for one hour. Allow to cool in the pan before turning out.
According to many sources, once cool the parkin should be divided into two, well wrapped into greaseproof paper and stored in an airtight tin for a week before eating. As one commentator remarks, "if you can get it off your teeth in less than 10 minutes, it's too young".
This will definitely get made again, but I'll tweak it with a bit more treacle. If I remember rightly, my sister has our Lancashire grannie's old cookery book; I do wonder if there's a parkin recipe in there. I suspect there is, even if she didn't make it often. It'd be interesting to ring the changes with that, having now made parkin in the Yorkshire style.
Doing a quick search for the recipe Paul had seen turned up several related versions by James Martin himself, and that led me to look for a few more to see what (if anything) they had in common - as they all varied a lot from the recipe I had (in Hamlyn's New All-Colour Cookbook). There was some interesting info to be gleaned along the way.
My dad's family came from Lancashire. When I first heard reference to parkin (in the Fivepenny Piece song "Stalybridge Wakes") and asked my dad about it, he told me it was a dark type of gingerbread. Not much more information was forthcoming, so I do wonder if my grannie made it much, if at all; her apple pies, rice pudding and 2-3-4 cakes had already gone into family folklore. According to what I can find online, the Hamlyn's recipe is more like Yorkshire parkin although, according to Effie Perine on Mumsnet (and a few others), the real thing should be made with lard, bicarb and vinegar, and no eggs. Lancashire parkin is paler, with egg and more golden syrup. Having done the research, it seems that James Martin's version is a slightly chewier gingerbread rather than Yorkshire parkin proper.
After all this, I ended up with several recipes, all with varying amounts of varying ingredients. I picked out what sounded good, averaged out amounts of ingredients, and headed to the cooker. It turned out remarkably well (and that's out of the pan; I don't know what it'll be like if it improves with keeping, but I suspect it won't last long enough for me to find out), although it could've done with a bit more ginger. The small amount of black treacle in the recipe is due to me running out. The lack of treacle and thirstiness of rolled oats meant I added a bit more milk. The dark brown sugar means the treacle-y taste comes through, but it's not overly sweet. It's also surprisingly light (at this early stage), which I'm putting down to the bicarb and vinegar.
Ingredients
2 oz lard
3 oz butter
1 oz black treacle (was going to use 3 oz, but didn't have any more!)
6 oz golden syrup
4 oz dark brown soft sugar
6 oz plain flour
6 oz rolled oats (the chunky sort; I used Jordan's but Scott's would do just as well)
2 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp mixed spice
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1-2 tsp vinegar
6 fluid oz milk
Butter (and, ideally, line) an 8" or 9" square cake tin.
Put oven on to pre-heat, gas mark 3 (325F, 170C, 150C fan-assisted).
Put lard, butter, black treacle and golden syrup into a pan over a low heat. Warm through until the fats have melted, but do not boil.
In a large bowl, mix together the sugar, flour, oats and spices. Make a well in the centre.
Pour the syrup mixture into the centre, the put the milk into the pan and put back on the heat (this is just to dissolve the last of the syrup into the milk. Waste not, want not.)
Before stirring, drop the teaspoon of bicarb into the mixture. Then pour in 1 or 2 teaspoons of vinegar and watch it fizz merrily.
Pour in the milk, and stir well. It will be a very loose, battery mixture. Pour into the prepared tin, and bake for one hour. Allow to cool in the pan before turning out.
According to many sources, once cool the parkin should be divided into two, well wrapped into greaseproof paper and stored in an airtight tin for a week before eating. As one commentator remarks, "if you can get it off your teeth in less than 10 minutes, it's too young".
This will definitely get made again, but I'll tweak it with a bit more treacle. If I remember rightly, my sister has our Lancashire grannie's old cookery book; I do wonder if there's a parkin recipe in there. I suspect there is, even if she didn't make it often. It'd be interesting to ring the changes with that, having now made parkin in the Yorkshire style.
Saturday, 7 July 2012
Caaaaaake!
Today's is Paul's birthday, so I baked a cake. This is the first cake I've made in months, and the first two-pan cake I've cooked in years - in fact, I can't remember the last time I did. It was our ninth wedding anniversary on Thursday, and I might have made a Victoria sponge at some point in the last nine years, but I don't remember.
Three years ago, for his 40th, I made a large carrot cake for the party. This year, I did coffee and walnut, just to ring the changes. It didn't turn out too badly...
...so I thought I'd put the recipe down so I can remember how I did it.
Three years ago, for his 40th, I made a large carrot cake for the party. This year, I did coffee and walnut, just to ring the changes. It didn't turn out too badly...
...so I thought I'd put the recipe down so I can remember how I did it.
Monday, 4 June 2012
Twisted butternut squash soup
Well, there is a post with actual content on the way, but wisdom teeth on the move resulted in me feeling like someone had punched me in the head today, so not much got done. Late afternoon, @guineapig66 tweeted about making soup with butternut squash, which started me drooling so I decided to make some. And it turned out so remarkably well - albeit more like purée than soup, but that's not a criticism - that I decided to write it down so I don't forget it.
The best go-to advice for cooking butternut squash I've found is at Kalyn's Kitchen. I discovered this site a few years ago while low-carbing and, though Paul and I both fell off the wagon, there are a number of recipes on Kalyn's site that have become regulars, roast squash with Moroccan spices among them.
Ingredients
1 medium squash, peeled, deseeded and diced
2 tsp spice mix
1 tbsp olive oil
1 medium onion, quartered
2 sticks of celery, trimmed
2 medium (or 3 small) carrots
1 pint (or more) vegetable stock
Pre-heat oven to 200°C (about 400F, gas mark 6ish).
Mix the spices with the oil, and coat the squash with it.
Put the carrots and squash in the oven for 20-30 minutes. Then add the celery and onion and cook for a further 30 minutes. Stir every 15 minutes or so.
When the vegetables are soft (but not coloured, unless that's your thing), add to a saucepan, add the stock and simmer for 10 minutes - to help the flavours meld and make sure the veg is cooked right through.
When done, cool a little then blend with a stick blender. The soup will tend to thicken as the veg breaks down, so you may need to add more stock, or just hot water. If you don't have a blender you can mash the veg, though the onion might give you a bit of aggro. Stick blenders are well worth the money for soup-making.
My only slight criticism of this was that it was very sweet in the finish - probably from roasting all the veg, but partly from the squash being the type of squash it was. Younger celery, or more of it, might have offset this (as celery tends to be slightly bitter); alternatively, potatoes could be boiled in with the stock to make the flavour less intense. It's only a minor quibble though - with bread and butter this was a very good tea.
The best go-to advice for cooking butternut squash I've found is at Kalyn's Kitchen. I discovered this site a few years ago while low-carbing and, though Paul and I both fell off the wagon, there are a number of recipes on Kalyn's site that have become regulars, roast squash with Moroccan spices among them.
Ingredients
1 medium squash, peeled, deseeded and diced
2 tsp spice mix
1 tbsp olive oil
1 medium onion, quartered
2 sticks of celery, trimmed
2 medium (or 3 small) carrots
1 pint (or more) vegetable stock
Pre-heat oven to 200°C (about 400F, gas mark 6ish).
Mix the spices with the oil, and coat the squash with it.
Put the carrots and squash in the oven for 20-30 minutes. Then add the celery and onion and cook for a further 30 minutes. Stir every 15 minutes or so.
When the vegetables are soft (but not coloured, unless that's your thing), add to a saucepan, add the stock and simmer for 10 minutes - to help the flavours meld and make sure the veg is cooked right through.
When done, cool a little then blend with a stick blender. The soup will tend to thicken as the veg breaks down, so you may need to add more stock, or just hot water. If you don't have a blender you can mash the veg, though the onion might give you a bit of aggro. Stick blenders are well worth the money for soup-making.
My only slight criticism of this was that it was very sweet in the finish - probably from roasting all the veg, but partly from the squash being the type of squash it was. Younger celery, or more of it, might have offset this (as celery tends to be slightly bitter); alternatively, potatoes could be boiled in with the stock to make the flavour less intense. It's only a minor quibble though - with bread and butter this was a very good tea.
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