The Homemade Heart

it's a new dawn, it's a new day....

 
I don't subscribe to the tendency in Blogland to declare wistfully that September is really the start of the new year, with that back to school feeling; new jotters, new shoes, good intentions etc.
To me, the new year starts firmly on January 1st. Hogmanay is over, the Christmas tree is still droopily, defiantly standing, and dust has gathered where the house hasn't been properly cleaned for weeks. The sideboard is hosting a remarkable array of sticky necked bottles of port; colourful foreign liqueurs, and exotic gins. The fridge is clogged with bottles of wine, of vastly varying quality. Eating chocolates before breakfast has become the lazy norm, and half a pound of blue cheese smeared onto some thick, crumbly oatcakes has become the supper of choice, eaten half reclined in a favourite chair, whilst catching up with a bit of Christmas viewing. So far, so festive (at least in our house).

After Hogmanay is over, and 1st January has arrived (a date that seemed impossibly distant this time last week), an uneasy awareness creeps in round the back of your neck, and you start to see Real Life hove into view on the horizon. You realise it's half past one and you have been meaning to shower since 9am, and instead sat down with some tea and buttered toast and a few After Eights, and are now witlessly watching '101 Dalmations' on your own. 
Dim recollections of alarm clocks and school uniforms begin to gather behind the temples, and you look around your shattered sitting room, and in to your kitchen, where the fairy lights, strung with Nigella-esque intentions at the beginning of December, now limply illuminate a clutter of dishes from last nights dinner (turkey stroganoff with the last of the roast parsnips), and Christmas cards that never quite made it to the artful display strung along the sitting room wall, are now silted up with the discarded toys from Christmas crackers, some left over wrapping paper, and a pair of reading glasses you have never seen before.
With a surprising stab of something like relief,  you realise that the time has come to bring New Year order to the Post Festive chaos. You jump in the shower, and come out bellowing the familiar war cry 'Black Bin Bags, and Plenty of Hot Water'.

Much as I adore Christmas, I equally relish the Great Clean Up of January 1st (or 2nd). Down come the tree and decorations, out comes the hoover, cloths, scrubbers, and hot soapy water. Drips of candle wax are chiselled off the mantelpiece, ropey Christmas drinks are returned to the cupboard (or discreetly emptied down the sink), furniture is pushed back into position, everyday crockery is returned to the kitchen dresser, and everything is given a wash or polish before being put back in its usual place. Christmas crockery (most of mine is from here,  with some of this for Christmas main course and cheese plates) is carefully stacked away until the first of December next year, always with a silent but heartfelt hope that we will all be here, and all be well next year to once again gather round the table. 
There are usually several trips to the Municipal Recycling Centre with paper and packaging (now there's a gold standard for knocking the last of the festive spirit out of a person). 

With Isaac's encouragement I have made a couple of New Year Resolutions for 2018: to go to my Yoga class faithfully, and get back to writing my blog. Isaac has a quietly insistent manner which is extremely effective in shaming you in to what you have always known you should be doing. He is so true and pure himself, that he brings up the standards of those around him. I mentioned Isaac, briefly in my last post, and for those kind enough to wonder how he is, he is now improving, thankfully, day by day.

I have other plans for the year too; we are planning a desperately needed but low cost refurb of our family sitting room. Our floor needs replaced, which will absorb much of our budget, so I will do what I can with regards to curtains, and cushions, and painting our shabby bookcases etc. I am in love with the  Farrow and Ball paint chart (the actual chart itself is beautiful, never mind the colours), and I am nervously viewing 'upcycling' tutorials on You Tube. I will post photographs of my progress  if I can bear to.

I have lots of quilting plans for 2018 too, and am currently saving hard for a new sewing machine. I adore mine, but it is rather small, and basic, and I would like a more robust model for the projects I have in mind.
In my never ending battle with clutter, I am going to try hard not to allow it to accumulate this year (so hard!), and have already culled my extensive collection of magazine back-numbers. Very hard to discard all those beautiful images and words into the recycling, but of course I feel better for having done it. I have now designated a shallow basket for magazines, which will be emptied on a monthly basis, rather than stacking back numbers for that mythical future day when I have time to re-read them. The fact that I have been subscribing to several magazines for almost thirty years and have never read a back number yet is something which my brain seems unable to compute.
I intend to resurrect the Cookery Calendar Challenge, and will restart that on 1st of February. I am toying with the idea of including cakes and bakes this time, as well as meals ( let me know if you think that is a good idea).

So ends my New Year ramble, thank you for sticking with it, and with me, during my lengthy absence last year. Like a convalescent patient, it is taking me a little time to find my feet again with the blog, but to paraphrase the great Nina Simone, it's a new year, and I am feeling good. (Here's Nina, saying it so much better than I).
 

A quilt for Mum

One of the greatest joys associated with learning how to make quilts has been gradually fulfilling my wish to make quilts for my family. Last spring I made a quilt for Jacob; in the summer I made a quilt for Isaac, and as the nights darkened towards winter, I made a quilt for my wee Mum, for Christmas.
This quilt is not quite single bed sized, though it can be spread over a single bed without looking silly. It is far from perfect, but I am pleased with how it turned out, wobbles included.

The inspiration for this quilt came from Mum's love of wild flowers, and of the walks she took as a child with my Nana, gathering wild flowers along the way. The colours are mainly soft greens, with lots of other muted pastels. The quilt is a combination of hand stitched hexagons and machine sewn log cabin blocks. It is made with a combination of Tilda fabrics, bought online, and some Lewis and Irene fabrics which I bought at my local sewing shop.
I pieced and stitched six groups of hexagons, and then cut them into rectangles. It is hard to cut into hand stitched hexagons as they are so time consuming to stitch, but I needed six rectangles, so had to close my eyes to the sad little hexi halves that were discarded. I stabilised the rectangles with a narrow frame of green, and then added sashing to each  rectangle. They were then stitched together and more sashing added. The backing is a lovely piece of fabric decorated with British herbs, and the binding is more of the same green fabric used within the quilt.
My plan was to quilt the piece by hand, but the stitches seemed too conspicuous for the delicate colours and traditional feel of the quilt, so I machine quilted in simple diagonal lines instead, and was happy with the result.
Mum loved it, and it has been tried in several locations in her house until she found a spot she was happy with.
I am currently working on another hand stitched quilt, which I have been making on and off since last Christmas. I am hand quilting it at the moment and will post photographs when it is completed.
I keep a notebook of quilt ideas, some of which I am sure will never be made, as I would need to live to be 200 to complete them all. I am constantly amazed that, even with my minimal sewing skills, pretty, personal quilts can be created and enjoyed.

Christmas is coming

Christmas is coming; my favourite time of the year, and preparations are in full swing here at Homemade Heart HQ. The tree is up, the mantlepiece is dressed, the fairy lights and candles are twinkling to brighten the short winter afternoons, and long winter evenings.

Unfortunately, my laptop has developed a few problems and has today been sent away for fixing. Composing posts on an ipad is a frustrating business, so today I am here simply to say hello, and hope that your preparations for Christmas are going well. Hope to back soon with longer posts, more photographs, and a festive recipe or two.

chocolate bunnies in abundance

In my last post I was mulling over pudding options for our Easter feast. In the end I made tarte tatin, a classic pudding that I thought suitable for a still-chilly early-Spring Easter such as we have had this year. I didn't make anything chocolate based; there were chocolate eggs, chocolate chicks and chocolate bunnies in abundance, I couldn't in all conscience add to the chocolate load.

I have never (to my own mild surprise) made tarte tatin before, and used a recipe from 'French Leave' by chef John Bourton Race. This is his memoir of a year spent in the south of France with his family, and is full of recpies, and stories of the people he met in his quest to discover new foods and techniques. It was written to accompany a series on television, which I never saw, having picked up the book in a charity shop some years ago, long after the series had aired. It has earned space on my kitchen shelf by virtue of a recipe for cauliflower soup which is truly delicious, and a sentence which I love, describing a particular cake as 'good to eat with a glass of champagne if you have some friends coming round for afternoon tea'. When I bought the book, this suggestion struck me as ludicrously bourgeois, but with the passage of years I now regard as a very nice idea. Thus are our lives and attitudes measured in recipes. Reasons for keeping the book are now further bolstered by this excellent Tarte Tatin which was easy to make yet looked celebratory and appetising, and disappeared very quickly on the day.

Tarte Tatin

Ingredients:

125g unsalted butter

125g caster sugar

6 dessert apples

3 tablespoons Calvados

plain flour for dusting

200g shop bought puff pastry

Method:

Preheat oven to Gas 6/200c

With 100g of the butter, grease a heavy, circular ovenproof pan measuring 20cm across.

Peel and core the apples and cut them in half. Lay them cut side up in the pan, packing them tightly, as they will shrink on cooking.

Put the pan on the stove over a medium heat. As the butter and sugar start to caramelise pour on the Calvados and set fire to it.

Sprinkle the remaining sugar over the apples and dot the remaining butter in little pieces round the pan.

Turn down the heat a little and allow the apples to cook and caramelise to a golden colour; this takes 5-10 minutes.

Put the pan in the preheated oven and cook for a further 10 minutes. Remove from the oven and allow to cool a little.

Once the pan is cool enough to touch safely, roll out the puff pastry into a circle about 1cm thick and slightly larger than the base of the pan. Lay the pastry over the cooked apples and tuck inside the edge of the pan to encase the fruit.

Put the tart back in the oven for about 15 minutes until the pastry is pale golden and puffed up.

Remove the tart from the oven, allow to rest for about 5 minutes. Place a serving dish over the tart, and quickly invert the pan onto the plate, pastry side down.

Serve immediately with generous helpings of double cream.

I used home made plum brandy left over from Christmas as we didn't have any Calvados. It worked very well, imparting a delicious flavour to the apples. I did not, however, flambe . I can steel myself to set fire to the Christmas pudding once a year, but adding further flambes to the cookery calendar seems an unnecessary fuss.

No photographs of the tarte tatin, but a few of the posies from the Easter table. The vases are SylvaC pottery. My Nana had a large SylvaC jug in her house when we were children which I always loved, predisposing me to gather these over a few years from charity shops and eBay. They are now brought out annually with the Easter decorations.

 

 

a busy day ahead

 
It is 8 a.m. on  Saturday morning. Everyone else is still asleep. I am greatly enjoying the silence of the hour. I can hear the clock ticking on the mantelpiece as I sit on my laptop at Mrs Doubtfire. The bird feeders on the cherry blossom trees outside the window are quiet, just one or two draggled sparrows have come for breakfast in the steady rain. Meg greeted me enthusiastically when I came through, but she has now lost interest and has lain down on her bed again, snoring gently, dreaming of muddy walks and rabbits no doubt. Her peaceful presence is comforting.
I have a busy day ahead. Tomorrow is Easter Sunday, and we are having a celebratory meal. Lamb is traditional, but I will be cooking a glazed ham, and making a salmon coulibiac for the non meat eaters (Mum, and me), though everyone else will have some too. Lots of vegetables, and small new potatoes cooked slowly with a slick of olive oil, and plenty of salt and pepper. Pudding is still to be decided; something chocolatey for the boys, and perhaps an apple fool, or something lemony. As you can tell, I haven't done a huge amount of forward planning for this meal, but I am looking forward enormously to having everyone here.
I am confident that by the end of today the house will be tidy, the Easter decorations will be up, the food for tomorrow will be well under way. The big kitchen table will be laid with a bright cloth, and scattered with small posies of flowers. A Lindt Easter bunny will mark each guest's place the table.
However you enjoy Easter, be it for you a religious festival, or, like me, an opportunity to gather dear family and friends together for a celebration meal, I wish you a very happy day. 

In The Lull...

In the lull between Christmas and New Year, I meander through the days in a pleasant stupor. The high excitement of Christmas Day is over, New Year is not quite here, and there are few deadlines, apart from meals and dog walks, both of which have assumed a wandering quality, taking place at any time between waking and sleeping (waking and sleeping arrangements also having taken on a certain fluidity), and pleasing everyone just the same. 

Days are spent reading, sewing, catching up with television, and throwing the occasional wash through the machine, or filling the dishwasher. I am glad when the afternoon darkens, and I can light the candles I have scattered all round the house; partly to enjoy their flickering glow and gentle light, and partly to conceal the fact that the floor hasn't been mopped for days.

The house is still full of festive food, and all of it more than edible. We now avoid turkey at Christmas, as no-one ever wanted to eat it the next day. The leftover meat would be frozen on Boxing Day and made in to a curry sometime in February (which nobody wanted then either). After several years of this pointless ritual, coinciding with my meat consumption plummeting to virtual vegetarianism, with the very occasional bacon sandwich, we changed our Christmas Day feast from turkey (with all the trimmings), to ham, beef, and fish (with all the trimmings). This ensures plentiful feasting on the day, genuinely tasty leftovers for many days afterwards, and almost no waste.

Minimal food preparation and ignoring the house being in a state of dusty disarray,  I have plenty of time for reading, and have a pile of delightful bookish gifts to enjoy. I am currently reading Laurie Lee's 'Village Christmas And Other Notes on The English Year'. The writing is sumptuous; lush, specific, poetic, beautiful.

Post Christmas, I also finished my first full- size quilt, which I had been working on throughout the autumn. I  have spent the last couple of evenings stitching the border. As I had opted for the aforementioned candlelight, this felt rather Bronte-esque, stitching diligently in the dim light as the storms raged outside. Here is the finished quilt draped over Isaac's legs. I had barely finished the last stitch when it was pressed into sofa service, which is just as it should be.

A quilt's eye view of the television.

I hope your days in the lull are equally pleasant (and perhaps that little bit more organised than mine). Happy festive times.

The house is quiet.

As I write, it's early on Christmas Eve morning. Everyone else is still asleep. The house is quiet. The radio is humming in the kitchen, and the washing machine is swooshing and swishing the last couple of washes until after Christmas. The tree is glowing beside me, the familiar, treasured decorations gleaming here and there as the reflection of the fairy lights catch the faceted surfaces.

The Christmas cake sits in the kitchen, fatly important in its coat of marzipan, waiting to be iced and decorated later this morning. The gingerbread houses and hearts I baked the other day await icing, they are intended as place-markers on the Christmas table, I am so looking forward to sitting at the kitchen table later to decorate each one with a name; Gran; John, Jonathan, Derek, Penny, Jacob, Isaac. Our dear family Christmas, so precious, so familiar, so much pleasure in preparing for this day of celebration. Not so much a Christian celebration in our house, as none of us are overtly religious, but a celebration of being together as a family, being thankful for and appreciative of our health, our happiness, our peaceful home, our darling boys, my dear wee mum, my darling brother.

My favourite moment on Christmas Eve is when we return from the carol service at our local church, and close the front door. The preparations are complete. The fridge and cupboards are full, the gifts are wrapped, the house is fresh and tidy, the candles are lit. Our Christmas Eve tradition is to have a supper of party food and watch 'Elf' before hanging up stockings for Santa to fill. Very unsophisticated, very simple, and 'very fun' as Isaac used to say when he was small. I hope your Christmas is 'very fun' too. Happy Christmas.

Plum Brandy and writing in the cracks

Home made plum brandy is a gorgeous drink, perfect at Christmas, being rich, aromatic and sweet without being cloying. Just right for sipping in the evening in front of the fire, or to pour into the bottom of a glass before topping up with champagne on Christmas morning. It makes an excellent gift too. I give away bottles of it to those kind souls who drop in around Christmas for a cup of tea or to hand in Christmas cards. Sending someone away with a small bottle of something warming and home-made tucked in their coat pocket feels like the essence of the festive hospitality to me.

Although I have made plum brandy this Christmas, the alcohol and fruit elements are interchangeable, lending themselves to many variations. In recent years I have made bramble brandy and redcurrant gin (particularly delicious!). Home made liqueurs are not a last-minute option, as they have to be started in the late summer. Making the liqueur is the earliest Christmas preparation of every year, and tucking the newly filled Kilner  jars into the dresser cupboard in late August engenders a delightful sensation of preparedness that is sadly lacking elsewhere in my life. We must take our comfort where we can, and jars of plum or bramble brandy do it for me. 

So whilst time may be against you for making and enjoying plum brandy this Christmas, please consider it next summer (I will try to remember to put a reminder on the blog for those who are interested!). This is how it's done:

Plum Brandy

 325g fruit of choice

200g caster sugar

600ml spirit of choice

Check over the fruit, discard (or eat!) any that is over ripe. Stone fruits, or those fruits with a slightly thicker skin, such as plums or sloes, should be  pricked with a sharp knife or skewer; soft fruits such as brambles or redcurrants should be left whole, though any stalks should be removed.

Sterilize 1litre Kilner or other jars with an airtight lid (I put jars and lids through a hot wash in the dishwasher, then place in a low oven to dry out).

Pour the sugar into the bottom of the jar, followed by the fruit, then pour over the spirit. Fill to the top and screw the lid on tightly. Invert the jar a few times to encourage the sugar to dissolve and disperse throughout the jar. Wipe the jar/s down with a wet cloth and place them in a cool, dark cupboard. Every few days for the first couple of weeks, take the jars out and give them a gentle shake. Leave for a minimum of three months.

When ready to bottle up, sterilize some pretty bottles and leave in a low oven to dry out. Pour the brandy through a sieve lined with clean muslin or a thin dish towel into a large jug, decant into bottles, wipe down and label.

Next, a brief nod to the fact that I have been absent from my desk for some weeks. No sinister reasons for this, just an increase in family commitments, combined with a particularly hectic November, meant that suddenly it was four weeks since I had sat down to write, then it was five, then six...

I missed writing here, and reading, and generally enjoying the sensation of belonging to a blogging community that embraces its members yet constantly reaches out with welcoming arms. It is a creative, supportive, and kindly community, and I have missed it. I  have realised (once again) that keeping this blog is important to me. It is in part a loose journal of events: when I read an old post (usually whilst looking vainly for a recipe and then suddenly thinking 'Oh, it's on the blog, I'll get it from there') I am very effectively reminded of time and place, the atmosphere of the moment when I was writing. The writing and photographs become an aide memoir and a (slightly haphazard) history of  family life. It is also an exercise in creating short written pieces that others may enjoy reading, and when someone does enjoy something I have written, I am deeply gratified. Gratification is not available by the spadeful, so a little sprinkle of it from blogging friends is warmly welcomed.

I also realised that my writing is done in the cracks; in the little slivers of time between other commitments; writing and photography is something that makes me feel fulfilled, yet it is the first thing to drop when life speeds up. I treasure it, but I don't value it. Having time to write feels like a luxury, not a right. How do you feel about your writing? Do you do it no matter what, or do you constantly push it to the bottom of the 'to do' list?

All being well (and it is) I should be back with another seasonal post pre Christmas. 

The Dalmally Show: a red letter day.

In every family, there are certain red letter days, unimportant to the rest of the world, but of great significance to those involved. Such a day for our family is the first Saturday of every September, when we attend the  Dalmally  Agricultural Show. Dalmally is a village in Argyll, in the southern highlands. It is in Dalmally that my heart lives, specifically in a big white, gabled house with a huge garden running down to the river Orchy. We lived in this house when I was a child, and I still yearn, daily, to live in it now. The village of Dalmally has myriad childhood memories and family connections. Mum's family come from there, my parents met there, and many of my relatives still live locally. To have a weekend every year, when we attend the show, and have a big family ceilidh in the evening, means that Dalmally Show weekend is a much anticipated date in our family calendar.

(highland cattle)

The Dalmally Show was introduced on the show website this year thus:

"Saturday 5th September 2015: Dalmally proudly presents its annual agricultural show; a celebrations of rural community and local produce. This is a well attended show where you will enjoy a range of attractions including the agricultural events on which the show was founded many years ago. These include judging of highland and commercial beef cattle; black face sheep, poultry, dogs, baking, preserves, horticulture, photography, painting, shinty match, trade stands and more"

(view from the show ground)

At the show, we don't go and see the bulls, sheep or poultry being judged, nor do we concern ourselves too much with the beer tent, or the live chain-saw carving or falconry displays. (This year there was even a modest herd of Alpacas on display, looking ruminatively over their pens at visitors.) We do watch some of the shinty (a particularly vicious highland game resembling turbo charged lacrosse, played by young men willing to die in the attempt to score a goal)

What we are primarily interested in is the  Industrial Tent. This is where the cakes; biscuits, scones, jams, jellies, and crafts are displayed and judged. This tent is where a competitive spirit, dormant for 364 of the 365 days in every year, comes gushing forth like a well spring, and otherwise composed, gentle folks (like my wee Mum and me) reveal a hitherto unsuspected killer streak. The excitement begins in April, when the show schedule is sent out, and initial decisions are made about which competitions, or 'classes' we will enter. Then comes the preparation. Knitting, sewing or crafts are done first, and stored away carefully. Jams and jellies next; the best jar from each batch put aside for the show. Last comes the perishables; cakes, biscuits, scones, dumplings, pancakes, all made in the few days prior to the show, then transported north the night before (Dalmally is about 70 miles away), in tins and boxes, to finally be delivered to the show ground early on the morning of the show. Those of us who have spent the preceding weeks or months preparing our knitting, sewing, jams, crafts and cakes, lay out our entries, have a last fuss and fret over them, eye up the competition and leave, as the tent closes for a few hours for the all- important judging.

The boys enter competitions too. Now regarding themselves as too mature for the Childrens' tent, they take their chances with the adult classes, entering photographs, the occasional cake, bake, or craft item.

(the judges table, ready for action!)

After leaving our entries to be judged, we go for breakfast, discuss our entries (again), then return to the show late morning. By this time, the crowds have started to arrive, the pipe bands are tuning up, the smells of hot dogs, venison burgers, coffee and beer are adding their aroma to the distinctive whiff of cattle, and most importantly, the tents have re-opened after judging. Now we find out what, if any prizes we have won.

This year was a good year. Jacob got a 2nd for his 'item made of wood', a beautiful toolbox.

 Sadly Isaac did not get placed for his beautiful lemon drizzle cake, but we all ate it after the show, and agreed it was the best non-winning lemon cake we had ever tasted.

I was not placed for my strawberry jam, or my carrot cake, or my custard creams, or my child's knitted pom-pom hat.

However I was a little more successful with my cakes.

 My Celebration Cake, Lemon Drizzle cake and Black Forest Gateaux were all 1sts, and my Lemon Drizzle also earned a Special Award. These together meant that for the first time ever I won a cup, for the overall winner of the largest classes in the baking section. This was very exciting.

My preserves did quite well too.

A 1st for my raspberry jam (a lucky punnet of raspberries I think), two 2nds for spiced tomato salsa and matrimony jam (a jam made from two complimentary fruits, mine was cherry and blueberry), and two 3rds, one for lemon curd, and the other for fruit jelly (I made mandarin).

No photographs of Mum's preserves, but she did exceptionally well, and won a cup (also for the first time) for the most points in the preserves section!

On to handcrafts:

Highly Commended for my knitted wash bag and make up bag, and another for my quilt, which I hand stitched on holiday in the summer, and a 3rd for my button bracelet. I have never made a button bracelet before, and found it a little fiddly, but was happy to be placed 3rd.

My favourite entry, and the one I was most delighted to win, was in the class for 'best use of 1 metre of fabric'.

For this entry, I lined a vintage basket, and covered three books. I made a padded glasses case, a mug cosy, and covered a little tin for biscuits. I made a little caddy for a single teabag. I called my entry 'Tea, biscuits, and a good book'. I was delighted that Mum got 2nd in this class too, for her beautiful child's sun dress, with a little bag, and hairband, and covered hanger.

After the show, in the evening, we had a fantastic family ceilidh; all generations eating, drinking, singing, laughing and story-telling together. This too is an annual institution, and one we would hate to miss. The youngest family member there is 12, the oldest is my redoubtable Nana, who at 95 is the Matriach of the family. She attends the show during the day, and examines all entries with a learned eye. She has been winning baking, preserve-making and gardening competitions for more than seven decades; she knows a good entry when she sees it. She takes a note of exactly who has won what, remarks on how well deserved or otherwise the awards have been, and more remarkably still, remembers what prizes were won the year before. After touring all the tents at the show, she settles down on a camping chair to watch the shinty, which she follows assiduously, and at night, she attends the family ceilidh. She makes a small concession to her mature years by leaving before midnight, but when we visit her next morning, she is up, dressed and ready for an eager discussion about the show, local and family news (aka gossip) and usually sends us on our way with a few pots of her home made jam.

Next time I will share some more photographs of other, non-family entries to the show, and a few more views of  gorgeous Argyll.

The August Break '15: Last Year

Day thirteen of the August Break, and today's prompt is 'last year'

Last year I turned 50, and had a party. Girls only. No husbands/partners to nurse through the evening or turn their manly noses up at Abba and Dexy's Midnight Runners. The only male was the DJ, who was suitably cowed by the presence of 40+ partying women. It was a brilliant night.

 

keeping it neat

Isaac turned 13 a couple of weeks ago, and half-jokingly requested 'a cake made of chocolate cookies'. Although there was nothing to stop me making a heap of chocolate cookies and sticking them together with icing, I felt slightly at a loss as to exactly how to proceed. Fortunately, I found a recipe in April Carter's 'Decorated' that fitted the bill perfectly.

The cake turns out quite small, about 6"/15 cm diameter, but is very dense, so the given quantity yields about 10 slices. It has a high novelty factor, and went down well with the birthday boy and  friends.

Ingredients

125g butter

85g caster sugar

1 medium egg, lightly beaten

175g dark chocolate, roughly chopped

225g plain flour

1 level teaspoon bicarb of soda

1/2 level teaspoon salt

Method

Beat the butter and sugar together until pale and fluffy.

Add the beaten egg, ensuring all is well combined, then add the chopped chocolate.

Sift all the dry ingredients together and add, beating until all ingredients are well combined, but don't mix beyond that point.

The dough will be quite soft. Place the dough in a clean bowl and cover with clingfilm, or pop into a freezer bag, and chill for a minimum of two hours, or overnight. This step helps the dough keep its shape when it is baked, and should not be skipped.

After chilling, preheat the oven to Gas 3/ 170c.

Weigh the dough, and divide evenly by 8. Roll each eighth into a ball between your palms, and then pat firmly into a flattish disc, about 4"/10 cm across. Place apart on a baking tray, they will spread.

Bake for approx. 10 minutes until just cooked through, golden at the edges, but still slightly soft in the middle. leave the cookies to cool slightly and firm up on the baking tray, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

Icing

200g dark chocolate, broken into small pieces

160g very soft butter

180g icing sugar, sifted

Melt the chocolate in a bowl suspended over a pan of barely simmering water, ensuring the bottom of the bowl does not touch the water. Remove from the heat as soon as the chocolate has fully melted.

Beat the butter and icing sugar together until fully combined, and a creamy consistency. Gently stir in the chocolate; do not beat or the chocolate may seize.

To assemble the cookie cake

Anchor the first cookie onto your chosen serving plate with a dab of icing. Gently spread icing on the cookie to give a thin layer, keeping it neat. Place the next cookie on top and continue to build the cake, taking care not to dislodge the underneath layers as you proceed.

This cake lasts surprisingly well; the cookies acquiring a slightly soft texture due to the layers of icing, which is rather decadent.

Happy Easter

 

a ribbon can be added

At Easter, I like to make food gifts for family, friends and neighbours. This year I decided to make small Simnel cakes. At 4" in diameter, they are small enough to be cute (without venturing into dinky territory), and large enough to provide four or five respectable slices.

Presentation and transportability are important when giving food gifts. I save pretty glass jars from jams and jellies, tin trays from pre packaged meals, plastic tubs that held fruit, all of which can be pressed into service when giving gifts of baking or preserves. These can of course be bought from shops and many worthy websites, but I like to be resourceful, and cupboards full of empty jam jars and small cardboard trays waiting to be used bring me peculiar pleasure.

For the Simnel cakes, I first wrapped a small square of cling film round the bottom of the cakes, so that they could be carried without sticking to the fingers. I wrapped a collar of greaseproof paper round the cake, folded over and snipped at regular intervals to lend a festive air. This was secured at the back with a clean dressmakers pin. Over this, I wrapped a strip of bright tissue paper, holding it in place at the back until I whipped out the pin from the greaseproof paper, and re-pinned through both layers. Then a length of broad ribbon, followed by raffia or baker's string to finish off. Any cakes going a distance in the car will have a further loose enclosure of cling film, or cellophane. A ribbon can be added, and a small pretty label. ( I have found that lowering decorated cakes into cellophane bags is terribly difficult to manage neatly without damage to the cake, so now cut a square and sit the cake on top, bringing up the corners to a point, and securing).

Decorating Simnel cakes with a thick disc of marzipan and marzipan balls is easy. The cakes are traditionally placed under a hot grill to give the characteristic toasted look (or blow-torched of course), however I make life much easier for myself by brushing some Sugarflair paste concentrate in 'Chestnut' on the marzipan balls instead.

I used (marginally adapted) Jane Brocket's recipe  from 'Vintage Cakes, tremendously good cakes for sharing and giving'. Full of old fashioned, hard working cake recipes, this is a book I have turned to many times. I made double quantities, which gave me five x four inch cakes. Single quantities give one x eight inch cake. 

Ingredients.

500g marzipan

400g mixed dried fruit (raisins, sultanas, currants)

50g mixed peel

50g glace cherries, rinsed, drained and quartered

finely grated zest of one orange and one lemon

175g plain flour

1 level teaspoon baking powder

2 teaspoons mixed spice

175g butter at room temp

175g light soft brown sugar

4 L eggs

2 tablespoons apricot jam

icing sugar, for dusting

Method

Preheat oven to Gas 2

Roll out 400g of the marzipan on a surface dusted with icing sugar, and cut two 20cm discs, using your intended cake tin as a guide, pressing the top rim into the marzipan and cutting slightly inside the lines. Lay aside, wrapped in cling film. Keep any scraps wrapped in cling film and set aside.

Grease and line cake tin.

Place dried fruit and grated zest in a bowl.

Sift dry ingredients in a bowl.

Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy using electric hand held whisk or stand mixer, until light coloured and fluffy.

Add the eggs and flour alternately until the mixture is thoroughly combined.

Tip in the dried fruit and zests, mixing by hand until thoroughly combined.

Spoon half the mixture into the prepared tin, then drop in one of the pre-cut discs of marzipan. Spoon the remaining mixture into the tin, and smooth with the back of a spoon.

Bake for 2-2 1/2 hours, until well risen. Bear in mind the marzipan layer will be soft and sticky when  sticking a skewer or cocktail stick in the cake to test for done-ness, so might give a misleading result. The top of the cake will be firm, and dark golden brown.

Place on a wire rack and allow to cool before turning out.

When the cake is completely cold, brush the top generously with the apricot jam, warmed slightly to help it spread. Cover with the second disc of marzipan, pinching the edges if liked, to give a crimped effect. Roll the remaining marzipan, and any scraps from making the discs, into eleven equal sized balls, placing one in the middle, and the rest evenly spaced round the cake. Brushing the undersides of the balls with a little water helps them stick. Grill very carefully, or blow torch very carefully, or brush with colouring as I do. Decorate with pretty ribbon.

The smell of spices, citrus, and cake wafting round the kitchen signal 'celebration' to me, and making fruit cakes, at Easter and Christmas is one of the great pleasures in life. Happy Easter.

brighten and cheer

Christmas decorations and adornments brighten and cheer the house at this time of year.

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What changes do you like to make bring a festive feeling to your home at Christmas?

cosy corner

A cosy corner to write cards and wrap gifts in brown paper and string ready for the Post Office.

 

earlier than usual

 This year, we put our tree and decorations up on the weekend of the 6th/7th, a week earlier than usual, I suspect this may become the norm in future years as we have all loved it.

The boys were a huge help in lifting down all the boxes from the loft, then they helped coax the branches of our (artificial) tree into shape, after a year squashed in its box.

The fire was on, and our well worn Christmas playlist was dusted off and played at ear splitting volume.

A couple of hours work had the tree up, and decorated, we stood back to admire our handiwork. Christmas was officially 'On' in our house!

 

 

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a little sentimental.

There's always some sadness when christmas comes to an end in our house; I start looking fondly at our tree and decorations, feeling a little sentimental about the christmas just gone, knowing that in a few days everything will be packed away for another year.

So many decorations have happy associations, or have been collected over the years, each going in its alloted place in the house every christmas; a reassuring ritual.

Who knows what 2014 will hold? Hopefully by next christmas I will be mistress of this shiny new blog and be sharing friendly posts a couple of times a week, blogging about the joys and trials of family life, baking,and general homey stuff. I do hope you'll join me.