Scones | Rebecca

Those dripping crumpets, I can see them now. Tiny crisp wedges of toast, and piping hot, floury scones. Sandwiches of unknown nature, mysteriously flavoured and quite delectable, and that very special gingerbread.
Rebecca
Daphne du Maurier

I have faint memories of picking Rebecca up from the school library shelves when I was in high school - I was quite an ambitious reader at the time, trying to work my way through such classics as Moby Dick (inspired by part from my love of Gilmore Girls I'm pretty sure, I would write down whatever book it was that Rory happened to be reading in an episode). I do faintly remember enjoying Rebecca, but if someone had asked me what the plot of it was in years since then I would have struggled to name anything outside of - dead wife, big house...mean lady? Like many I'm sure, I picked up the book again with the recent release of the Netflix trailer of the adaptation of the story.

I'd forgotten, I think, just how haunting the tale was. The words seem to bring about any memory of feeling like an outsider, and alone - keeping the reader in a state an anxiety almost the entire way through. I finished it only recently, fighting sleep and hurriedly devouring the last few pages before closing them - no one I know has read it recently, but I have the overpowering urge and need to discuss it with someone, to admire the characters and make noises about the wicked Mrs Danvers.

I've made crumpets already, and ginger bread. I haven't however yet tried my hand at scones. Being Australian, the classic British scone is something I've grown up with. A common delicacy at most school bake sales or afternoons at Nanna's, usually served with jam and cream. The recipe is quite simple - the biggest mistake will leave you with flat scones, but honestly, cover them with butter and jam and it will still be incredible tasty anyway.

Scones
Makes approx. 10 - 12
Ingredients
400g self raising flour
100g butter
100g raw caster sugar
1tsp baking powder
185ml milk
1tsp maple syrup
1 tbsp milk
Salt

1. Preheat oven at 220C. Combine the flour, baking powder and a pinch of salt in a owl. Add in the butter and rub in with your finger tips until it resembles wet sand. Add in the raw caster sugar.

2. Pour the milk over the top of the butter and flour mixture, combining until it comes together into a ball of dough - try not to knead it too much during this time otherwise they will not rise properly.

3. You can split the dough into two parts or keep it as one for this next stage. Press the dough down onto a lightly floured surface, using your hand to press it down till it is only around 3cm thick.

4. Prepare a baking tray with baking paper. Press a scone cutter, or the rim of a glass (Whatever you're using to cut your cones out) into flour and press down hard into the dough, pulling out the prepared scone onto the baking tray. Repeat the process with the remaining dough, bringing the scraps together until you run out of dough.

5. Combine the 1 tbsp milk and maple syrup, using a pastry brush glaze the tops of the raw scones with the mixture before placing them into the oven. Bake for 10 - 12 minutes or until the tops are golden. Enjoy hot, with butter and jam and of, course, tea!

Apple and Raisin Tart | The Woman in Black

The landlord recommended a glass of mulled wine, which I drank sitting before the fire, listening to the murmur of voices on the other side of the heavy door leading to the public bar, and his wife made my mouth water in anticipation of the supper she proposed - home-made broth, sirloin of beef, apple and raisin tart with cream, and some Stilton cheese.
The Woman in Black
Susan Hill

Winter has well and faded from my life now, and the sunny weekends that are beginning to spring up are just more of an indication. It's a little odd this side of the world - Halloween was never part of my childhood, outside of the odd mention of it in American television shows or movies, but there was never a night spent trick or treating or dressing up. It seems to be creeping further into Australian culture these days - in cities at least, and I've spent the last few years handing out lollies and icy poles to costumed children each Halloween evening.

A little of the atmosphere of Halloween is lost without the autumn months, instead of pumpkins and falling leaves, we have sunshine and new plants sprouting everywhere. This hasn't gotten in the way of my pre-Halloween reading though, even if it does leave me craving stormy weather and mulled wine.

My latest spooky read in preparation was the classic, The Woman in Black. I flew through this book - as someone that does not enjoy horror films (I should probably stop saying this, as I do like well made horror more so), I thoroughly do enjoy a bit of a scary story in book form. My only other glimpse to the plot of the book was a viewing of the play, The Woman in Black, something that is so incredibly well done I cannot emphasise enough that people should see a production of it when they have the chance.

In line with the somewhat autumn style that Halloween and the almost cosy atmosphere that comes along with it, the food within The Woman in Black has that warmth to it also. Mulled wine, roasted hunks of meat and an array of tarts. We have quite lovely apples throughout the year in Australia luckily, and I really can't go past my favourite, the Granny Smith. It's somewhat sour, tarty and my childhood years were basically formed around having a slightly chilled on in my lunchbox to munch into every recess. In this tart, they turn into a caramelised deliciousness that will have you eating an entire tart in one sitting. True story.

Apple and Raisin Tart
Serves around 6 people 
Ingredients
Crust
550g plain flour
50g caster sugar
220g butter, broken into pieces
185ml milk
Filling
4 apples, I use Granny Smith usually
30g brown sugar
30g caster sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1 lemon, juiced
300g apricot jam
Pinch of sea salt

1. Start the crust of the tart by combining the butter, flour and caster sugar together into a bowl. Use your hands to work the butter into the flour and sugar until it resembles wet sand. Make a hole in the middle and add in the milk, mix until there are no lumps and it comes together into a ball. Wrap in cling wrap and place in the fridge for at least 30 minutes before using.

2. Preheat your oven to 180C approximately half an hour before you're planning to roll the dough. Once the dough has chilled for long enough, remove it from the fridge and roll it out thinly - you should be able to press it into the edges of a tart case without it tearing, but keeping in mind not to have it too thick. Line the dough in the case with baking paper and using baking beans, actual dried beans or rice, weigh the paper down and blind bake the tart case for about 20 minutes. Remove and leave to the side to cool. You can leave the oven on at this stage if you're planning on preparing the rest of the tart straight away.

3. Core each of the apples (you can peel if you want, I tend not to) and slice them thinly. You can do this part however you like - if you want it to be quite neat try and keep each slice the same size, but it really doesn't matter.

4. Once all the apples have been sliced place them into a bowl with the lemon juice, the sugars, cinnamon and sea salt. Mix well so that the sugar and cinnamon covers every slice of apple.

5. Heat the apricot jam lightly until it begins to soften and melt a little - place to the side.

6. Spread a thin layer of the apricot jam across the bottom of the blind baked tart case so it covers the whole bottom of the tart. Place the apple slices across this until they are all in the tart case (any pattern you want to do it fine). Try and avoid getting too much liquid into the tart at this stage, otherwise it will make the bottom quite soggy.

7. Glaze the prepared tart with any remaining apricot jam and place into the oven for 30 minutes or until the apples have softened and the tart case is a golden brown. Remove and let cool before serving. Enjoy!

Bath Buns | The Railway Children

Whenever an Editor was sensible there were buns for tea.
One day Peter was going down to the village to get buns to celebrate the sensibleness of the Editor of the Children's Globe, when he met the Station Master.
The Railway Children
E. Nesbit

Whenever I can't sleep I seem to retreat to the kitchen, making the ridiculous choice to bake something that requires almost 3 hours of proofing time before they can be even baked. While it felt ridiculous at one am, waking up to freshly made Bath buns made it all kinds of worthwhile. I've been rereading classic books from my childhood lately, taking the time in lockdown to dive into a river of nostalgia.

I had never heard of Bath buns before and it took an embarrassingly long time before I realised the name was a result from them originating in Bath, England - not that they were some kind of bun eaten in the bath. They are referenced just once within the pages of the Railway Children - as a treat a lady within the pages enjoys. It made sense that they would likely be similar to the buns Peter buys for the family's tea - the result of an Editor being sensible of course.

Since trying this delicious, brioch-y bun I'm full convinced it would be the perfect treat for a celebration at tea time. The flavour of the caraway seeds melds in so lovely with the richness of the dough. Like many classic recipes there are different variations of how these can be made - I chose to fill mine with currants and zest. Some recipes I took a lot at incorporated a sugar cube folded into the unbaked dough of each bun as well, something that I'm definitely interested to try next time.

Bath Buns
Makes 12 buns
Ingredients
2 tsp instant yeast
250ml milk + 2 tbsp for glazing
3/4 cup currants
450g bread flour
225g butter
1 tbsp caraway seeds
30g caster sugar
1 tsp sea salt
Zest of one lemon
Topping
2 tbsp caster sugar
2 tbsp water
1 tbsp caraway seeds
4 - 5 white sugar cubes, roughly crushed

1. Heat the milk until just warm, add in yeast and sugar and leave to sit for a few minutes until it becomes frothy.

2. Combine the flour, caraway seeds and salt in a bowl and work the butter in with your fingers tips until it resembles wet sand.

3. Add in the yeasty milk and mix well until all combined. Leave to rest for about 10 minutes.

4. Tip the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for about 10 minutes, or until the soft has become soft and elastic-like. Lightly oil a bowl, place the dough inside and cover with a damp tea towel. Leave in a warm place for 1 - 2 hours or until doubled in size.

5. Once the dough has doubled in size, turn it back out onto a surface and and press the currants and zest into it - you may need to lightly knead it again to work them in.

6. Divide the dough into 12 pieces that are around the same size. Shape into a ball by using your fingers to form a cage against the table, rolling the dough beneath it. Repeat will all the dough, placing the prepared buns onto a baking paper lined tray - leave a decent amount of space between them as they will expand and rise.

7. Cover the prepared buns with a damp tea towel and leave for another 30 minutes to rise again.

8. Pre-heat your oven to 180C when you have about 20 minutes of rising time left. During this time prepare the sugar glaze for the top as well. Combine the sugar and water in a saucepan and cook on a low heat - the sugar should dissolve after a few minutes. The longer you leave it to cook the stickier it will become, so you can really do this part however you like.

9. Once the buns have doubled in size, using the remaining milk to brush the tops of them before baking them for 20 - 25 minutes. You can test when they're down by tapping the bottom and listening for the hollow noise.

10. Use a pastry brush to spread the sugar glaze over baked buns, sprinkling with the caraway seeds and crushed sugar cubes so they stick to the still wet glaze. Enjoy!

Chocolate Cake | Call Me by Your Name

When I looked at my dessert plate and saw the chocolate plate speckled with raspberry juice, it seemed to me that someone was pouring more and more red sauce than usual, and that the sauce seemed to be coming from the ceiling above my head until it suddenly hit me that it was steaming from my nose.
Call Me by Your Name
André Aciman

Spring is filling the air recently, the days are getting warmer and I've been setting up picnic blankets in the front yard during the past week - spending hours outside with my work computer and notes, soaking up the warmth. It may just be the stricter restrictions that the city has been living with in the past month, but the urge to move to a tiny cottage with chickens, a vegetable garden and somewhere to pick wild mushrooms has been rising a lot.

As picturesque as the above could be, I would miss the streets of Melbourne immeasurably I am sure. I'm contenting myself with ordering seeds and herbs from stores, planting an array of vegetables in pots and containers that line the kitchen table.

I picked up Call Me by Your Name again recently, someone at work mentioned wanting to read more so we've begun a tiny book club, something to keep him more accountable of having reading goals. The first on his list was Call Me by Your Name - the perfect excuse to do a re-read. There is no better time to read this book than spring I think - the words within the pages make me want to spend a spring and summer in Italy, picking fruit from trees and running barefoot around the grass. I'll have to make do with the flourless chocolate cake and raspberry coulis below, a dense, incredible cake that honestly took so many tries to get right. Most flourless chocolate cake recipes require 4 - 8 eggs, and the vegan versions I found had avocado, silken tofu and other substitutes that just don't sound that appealing. Chickpea flour worked a treat though - keeping the dense texture of the cake, but ensuring that it would not fall apart.

*Note: this recipe needs a strong binder since it's flourless - chickpea flour works quite well. But if you do eat eggs, you can remove the chickpea flour and instead replace it with 4 eggs.

Chocolate Cake and Raspberry Coulis
Ingredients
Cake
200g almond meal
2 tbsp cocoa, sifted
150g caster sugar
100ml milk
1 tbsp apple cider vinegar
1 tsp bi-carb soda
9 tbsp chickpea flour *see note
9 tbsp water
1 tsp vanilla extract
200g butter
180g dark chocolate, chopped
30 ml coffee liquor or coffee
Raspberry Coulis
150g raspberries, if using frozen leave the water out of the recipe
60g caster sugar
30ml water
Juice of one lemon

Cake

1. Preheat your oven to 160C and prepare a springform tin, grease it well and layer with baking paper.

2. Combine the chickpea flour and water together, stir well. It should become quite thick - you don't want it too watery. Put it to the side for now.

3. Combine the butter, dark chocolate, cocoa and coffee or coffee liquor in a sauce pan and heat on a medium heat. Stir as it melts so it all becomes combined into a smooth mixture and add in the vanilla. Put to the side to cool.

4. Mix the apple cider vinegar and milk together and place to the side to let it curdle into buttermilk.

5. Combine the almond meal, bi-carb and sugar together in a large bowl and add in the melted chocolate mixture, the chickpea and water mix, and the buttermilk. Stir well - you don't want lumps of the chickpea mix to remain solid in the batter.

6. Pour the batter into the prepared tin and bake for 60 - 70 minutes. Check on it frequently - if you're not using eggs, under baking this cake runs the risk of it collapsing and not holding together properly.

7. Test to see if it's ready by inserting a skewer, if wet batter comes out it's not done. When it has cooked, let it cool completely before removing from the pan.

Coulis

1. Combine all the ingredients into a saucepan and heat over a low heat. Cook for around 10 - 20 minutes or until the raspberries begin to mush together into a sauce and the sugar has dissolved.

2. Once done, cool in the fridge and it will thicken. I like my sauce with the seeds and whatnot in it, but you can strain it out if you want a smooth sauce.

3. Serve with the cake and enjoy!

Blood Orange Marmalade | A Bear Called Paddington

'I daresay you'll be wanting some marmalade.'
A Bear Called Paddington
Michael Bond

My life has been taken over by marmalade while in lockdown. I've made so many batches of it now I've taken to sending it off to friends across the country, with my fingers crossed that there are no leakages within the journey (only one so far and I kind of blame the post for that!).

Despite never really taking to marmalade in my youth - who would want orange flavoured sugar when you could have jam? - it's begun to take up a spot in my cupboard in recent months. I still stay away from the traditional orange marmalade, but the flavours with a more sour or tart note have definitely grabbed my focus. I've sampled so far blood orange, pink grapefruit, kumquat, tangelo and a few other varieties - but the blood orange has almost definitely solidified itself as a favourite.

Of course, there's no other book that this meal could be from other then Paddington. I don't think much of an explanation is required there.

Blood Orange Marmalade
Makes approx. 1 ltr of marmalade
Ingredients
5 - 6 blood oranges
1 k of white sugar
2 lemons
Water

1. Half and juice all the oranges into a bowl. Use a spoon to scrape the flesh, pips and white membrane of the oranges out as well, keeping them to the side.

2. Using a sharp knife, slice the peels of the oranges thinly - you want the strips to not be more than a few inches long and quite thin. Place into the bowl with the juice. You want around 1 litre of juice now, so if it's too low add some water to compensate.

3. Gather all the insides of the oranges together (seeds, membrane, flesh etc) and using a cheesecloth (or anything else that will work), make them into a bundle with the cloth. Place the cloth bundle into the bowl of juice and refrigerate the entire lot overnight.

4. The next morning place a plate into the freezer so it's ready for when you need to test the marmalade.

5. Transfer the juice, cut peel and bundle of the orange insides into a large pot and bring to a slow simmer. Leave on the stove for around one hour - or until the peel has softened. Leave to cool.

6. Remove the pieces of peel and place to the side for later. Strain the juice, getting rid of any flesh parts of the orange that may have snuck in, making sure that you liberally squeeze the cloth bundle, getting as much juice from it as possible. The juice likely will reduce when you cooked it - so measure it and add water in if needed - you should have 750ml of it.

7. Place the strained juice back into the saucepan onto a medium heat, adding in the juice of both lemons. Add in the sugar and stir until it dissolves. Add the peel back in and bring to the boil.

8. Leave to boil for around 10 minutes - to test if the marmalade is ready, take the plate from the freezer and drop a spoonful of the marmalade onto and wait around 20 seconds. Use the spoon to push the marmalade across the plate - if it wrinkles when pushing, it's ready.

9. Leave the marmalade to cool before distributing it evenly into clean, prepared jars. Enjoy!

Pâté | The Camomile Lawn

True, he stayed out most days until after dark, but he always came back in time for tea at five and stayed in from then on to talk to her, if she would listen, to Max, if he was home, and tirelessly to Max's musical friends, who frequently stayed to supper, samples the pâtés, compotes and cooked meats with fresh vegetables with which Monika stuffed into the hampers.
The Camomile Lawn
Mary Wesley

My city may be on lockdown but I'm still going to do it in style. And by in style, I mean by eating an entire cheeseboard and drinking excess amounts of bubbly wine. This entries recipe comes from The Camomile Lawn, a beguiling look into the lives of closely connected individuals before and during WW2. I've had this book on my shelf for many months before I finally picked it up to read, and I'm quite glad I did. I've read it more than twice already now since the start of this year - working the characters words and expressions into my mind to think back on.

I'm sure that their meals during WW2 weren't exactly made up of enormous cheese boards covered in fruit and a range of (vegan) speciality cheeses, but oh well. It likely wasn't a mushroom based pâté either - and while I have faint memories of eating actual pate when young and not hating it - these days my tastes run much towards the non-animal based alternatives to classic foods such as these ones. The mushroom is fantastic in it - it has an almost meaty texture and flavour, especially when cooked with the rest of the delicious ingredients.

Pâté
Ingredients
300g oyster mushrooms, roughly chopped
200g button mushrooms, roughly chopped
1 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp beef stock + extra if needed
2 tbsp + 1 tbsp butter
1 bay leaf
2 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced
2 shallots, thinly sliced
20g walnuts, crushed
2 sprigs of fresh thyme
30ml tsp sherry
Sea salt
Fresh cracked pepper

1. Melt 1 tbsp of butter in a pan on medium heat - once melted add in the mushrooms and thyme and cook until they begin browning. Add a little salt and pepper at this stage, cook for another few minutes and then remove from the heat and place to the side.

2. Add another tbsp of butter to the pan and add in the shallots, cook until caramelised - around 5 minutes, then add in the walnuts and the garlic, cook for another few minutes before adding the mushrooms back into the pan, along with the beef stock and bay leaf.

3. Leave it lightly simmering in the pan until the liquid reduces down and then transfer to a blender or food processor, remembering to remove the bay leaf and any stems from the thyme. Deglaze the pan with the sherry, cook for a couple of minutes before adding it along with the olive oil into the blender or food processor with the rest of the ingredients.

4. In a pan melt the remaining tbsp of butter and place to the side to cool.

5. Season the mixture well with salt and pepper before blending until it is smooth. You can add a little more sherry or oil in during this time if it's too thick to blend properly.

6. Fill a ramekin or container to nearly the top (depending on the size of your container you may have enough for two!), and pour the melted butter on top to seal it.

7. Place into the fridge for at least a few hours to firm up and then enjoy with a cheeseboard, on a sandwich - or spooned directly from the jar.