Eggy bread. Delicious, but very stinky.

Now that we’re into the warmer months, I’m going to be spending most of my Friday nights until the end of term cooking outdoors with my Guides. A few weeks ago they built a fire to boil water for hot chocolate, but tonight they actually cooked something. Eggy bread. Dip your bread in some beaten egg and fry. So simple. So delicious.

If you build it, they will come
To make things easier to tidy up at the end of the night (and not make a mess of the school yard), we build raised fires using a metal crate, a battered old fridge door, a couple of bricks and a grill. The Guides build the fire themselves, teach newbies how to do it and it all works swimmingly until it comes to actually lighting the fire. They’re all really enthusiastic about lighting it, but don’t seem to get that holding the match aloft in the wind isn’t going to result in a roaring blaze. Tonight, after about ten minutes and twenty matches we had a viable fire.

Lucy: Can I eat a raw one? Me: No. Because I very much do not want to see it again.

Lord of the Flies
Each girl had a job to do, and they took turns taking care of the pan. Ginger gamely volunteered to look after the fire, but decided that involved doing a fire dance rather than keeping it well fed. Anyway, the eggy bread cooked away in batches quite nicely. The first couple were a little bit charred, but they still tasted good. Alex’s batch was perfect – nicely browned on both sides and delicious with it. Once we’d all stuffed our faces, we used the embers to toast off some marshmallows. We normally do this with candles after enrolments, but marshmallows melt and crisp up so much faster on a hot, open fire, it would have been rude not to take advantage of the opportunity. Nom.

While the girls are generally very sensible, they’ve got a little bit to learn about fire safety. As in placing logs on the fire, rather than throwing them on from several feet away. Or employing the same principle when putting the bread in the pan so the fat doesn’t spit. We had one minor burn, but the girls need to know basic first aid to pass their Outdoor Cookery badge so that’s one thing ticked off the list at least.

Guides: Have no scruples about the 7 second rule.

 

Cooking outdoors on a fire you’ve built yourself is pretty cool. However, the smoke is not. It stings when it gets in your eyes, to the extent that you feel like PJ out of Byker Grove following the infamous paintballing incident (I’m sure shouting ‘Dun’can! ME EYES! I CANNAE SEE MAN!’ would be lost on the Guides). It also stinks up your hair and clothes pretty badly. I’m sure the lady sitting next to me on the train on the way home was grateful when I switched seats. I’ve since been in the shower  but can’t get the smell of charcoal off my hands. Delightful.

Soundtrack
As with most cookery sessions at Guides, the only soundtrack is the general chat of the girls and me shouting at them when they take their eyes off the fire. However, this little video has been doing the rounds on the internet and has been stuck in my head for several weeks now. This also made me giggle, although it adds to the cliché that Youtube is just full of cat videos. Whut.

Cake. On sticks. Covered in chocolate.

This Tuesday, I tested the theory that food tastes better if it’s on a stick. Think about it. If someone gives you a boiled sweet, you’re grateful for the gesture, but really you wish it was a better piece of confectionary. Put that boiled sweet on a stick, it becomes a lollipop, and suddenly it’s a much better option.

So when Gillian’s almost sister-in-law had to drop out of a cake pop class at the Make Lounge in Islington, I was delighted to take her place. Cake. On sticks. Covered in chocolate. What more could you wish for?

Gillian mid-decoration

But what is a cake pop?
Whizz up some Madeira cake into breadcrumbs and mush it together with some butter cream so that you’re able to mould it into a ball. Dip your stick into some melted chocolate and pop the cake ball on top. You’ve got yourself a cake pop ripe for decoration.

We each got seven ready-made cake pops, pre-dipped in melted chocolate, further melted chocolate in a choice of colours, sprinkles, edible glitter and all sorts of decorations. The class was led by Louise Hill of Love to Cake (check out her a-maz-ing cake sculptures), who took us through different decoration techniques, from the simple (dip in chocolate, dip in sprinkles) to the downright elaborate (sheep sculpture), and then on to presentation with cellophane and ribbons.

I had so much fun! I’m not much of a cake decorator  – sticking Smarties on butter cream is about the limit of my imagination – so it was brilliant to get creative with some inspiring designs. Louise was a great teacher. She’s obviously passionate about her art, and offered advice and praise throughout the class. There was a kids’ party going on in the studio next door, where they were making bath products. By the jealous looks on their faces, I think both groups knew which had the better deal.

My particular favourite, complete with a chocolate flavoured stalk.

Do they pass muster?
Yep. They taste pretty good, but with the amount of butter cream, chocolate, sugary decorations etc in there, I can’t eat more than one in a single sitting even with my full set of sweet teeth. But that’s ok, cos they’re just as pleasing to the eye as they are to the palate.

The Flatmate Test was passed with flying colours, as Sophie (who had the pig) said they ‘taste as good as they look’, while Dee was particularly pleased with her green and pink butterfly topped creation, saying they reminded her of Indian sweets.

Whilst I had a lot of fun making them, they’re not really something I’d be making on a regular basis – if a seven inch Madeira cake makes 40+ cake pops, I’d be eating them for weeks on end (cos I’m greedy and probably wouldn’t share). However, they’d be great for a party or for treats for kids.  

Fully pimped cake pops. Good enough to eat.

Soundtrack
Fittingly, pop. Mostly female singers, with a bit of Snow Patrol thrown in. Not quite to my taste, but I’m sure Gillian was impressed with my karaoke Vogue.

Pancakeaganza: Part Two

After Friday night’s mini-yet-ridiculously-slow-to-cook effort, Pancakeaganza 2011 took a more conventional turn last night, with normal pancakes cooked on a normal hob. Karen and Emily came round for a natter and a hell of a lot of sugar and lemon, though in Karen’s case, it was ricotta and watercress. She’s probably the only person alive who doesn’t appreciate the wonder of sugar and lemon. Weirdo.

Emily enters the Pancakeaganza spirit.

The Law of the Pancake
True to form, my first pancake was crap. And most of them afterwards were too. I’m a wimp and won’t toss my pancakes, but I couldn’t wiggle the fishslice to turn them properly. A proper pancake pan might have helped, but since I don’t make them that often, it’s not really worth investing. Sophie, however, turned out to be the Pancake Queen of Chestnut Grove, producing beauties every time! Jealous.

A single batch of batter doesn’t make enough for four people looking for a sugar high. Nor, it turns out, does double quantity. Triple quantity, however…  well, it’s a little bit too much. Once everyone had had their fill, there was enough left over for one last pancake. But after so much sugar (I was yawning a lot by that point… suspect a mini come-down), no-one particularly wanted another one. The batter went in the fridge and I fried off one last pancake for breakfast this morning. Rather annoyingly, it was my best and no-one was around to see it. Hmph.

Better than Fruit n' Fibre

Discussions
Emily asked whether everyone else was giving up anything for Lent. No. None of us. That’ll be an end to that one then.

Are pancakes healthy? Probably not. Especially when you fry them in butter and use enough sugar to make a dentist weep. Perhaps they would be if you used spray oil on a non-stick pan and found alternative fillings. But, butter makes them taste good and lemon and sugar is the ultimate filling. Why mess with perfection? Anyway, lemon juice MUST count as one of your five a day.

Soundtrack
I didn’t listen to anything while making the batter or cooking the pancakes, but I did do the washing up listening to my phone on shuffle. My current favourite is Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx’s I’ll Take Care of U (stick with the video, there’s a bit of dialogue at the start). It seems to be on permanent rotation on 6Music at the moment, and the hook sticks in your head and WILL NOT LEAVE. Not that this is a problem, cos it’s ace.

Pancakeaganza: Part One

Next to Christmas, Pancake Day is one of my favourite times of year. Who doesn’t like them?! So, when it was suggested that  we would make bean can pancakes at Guides on the Friday before Shrove Tuesday I was irrationally excited. I’ve done this activity many times before – back when I was a Young Leader at home it was my activity at outdoor events. I had it down pat. I was the Pancake Queen. That was ten years ago. Here’s how we got on…

Bean can pancakes

Mmmm. Delicious?

You will need:
A batch of pancake batter (I like Good Housekeeping’s recipe )
Butter/lard/oil for greasing
1 empty 400g bean can, washed and label removed
Candle (about half the height of the can works best)
Braddle/awl
Plate
Round bladed knife
Your choice of toppings

Using the braddle, make holes around the top and bottom sides of the can to let the air circulate. Light your candle, put it on your plate and place your prepared can over the top. Grease the top of the can and spoon on some pancake batter. Now wait. And wait some more. They take ages, but once your mini-pancake starts to set you can start to lift it away from the sides using your knife. When it’s ready on one side (probably after ten minutes or so – you are only using a candle), flip it over and wait even longer. When it’s finally cooked through, cover with your favourite toppings and eat. Repeat.

How did we do?
Most of the girls had never made conventional pancakes and therefore had never heard the Law of the Pancake – that your first one will ALWAYS be crap. I explained that they’re perfectly edible, they just don’t look that way. So we went on our merry way and persevered. Most of the girls got on really well and were producing some good, if a little undercooked, pancakes.

Rachel produced the best one of the evening. Bit jealous. She's 11. Bah.

On the other hand one girl repeatedly decided that she had too much mixture on her can and scraped most of it off  so that she had a pool of batter on her plate. She was surprised when her candle (which had practically been floating) tipped over and went out. Hmmmm. What annoyed me most about this was that she continued to put fresh batter on her can and scrape it off, effectively wasting it for the other girls. Where’s the common sense??!!

Toppings were the traditional (and best) sugar and lemon, and golden syrup, which seemed to please every one. The girls even got a bit creative and sprinkled sugar into the batter while it was cooking so that it would caramelise. Good on ’em.

Soundtrack
Just the sound of pre-teens chatting away. Though I did have to correct one of them on the lyrics to Mamma Mia.

Delayed dessert – worth the wait?

I was invited round to Karen’s for Sunday night bangers and mash (horseradish mash – YES!). Being a good guest, I wanted to take something round, but with payday that little bit too far away (a whole six hours no less) for me to afford a bottle of wine I plumped for making dessert instead, trying a new one into the bargain.

Jamie Oliver’s little frangipane tarts

They look like buns. But they are so much better than that.

I finally got Jamie’s 30 Minute Meals the other week (£8.99? Thank you Sainsburys!) and have been itching to try stuff from it ever since. My first attempt was Pregnant Jools’ Pasta (great review here), and this is the dessert that should have gone with it (the irony of me not having the time to do the two together is not lost on me). So as it was delayed by ten days, was it worth the wait?

Save your arms, and some time
Firstly the recipe took a bit longer than the 30 minutes in which Jamie can do two or three other courses. This isn’t his fault though – I’m blaming Sainsburys (yes, I am fickle). The recipe calls for six deep-fill pastry cases, but being unable to find them in the supermarket, I made my own (prob a damn sight cheaper too). Whizzed it all up in the food processor and went on my way.

The filling was mega-easy too – chuck everything in a bowl, mix it all up and then spoon it into the cases over some raspberry jam. The only thing I would say is that mixing up the frangipane with a spoon as the recipe suggests is time consuming and potentially hard work. Save your arms and use an electric hand mixer if you’ve got one. And then enjoy the remnants in the bowl. One of the best things about grown up baking is not having to share your leftover mixture. Raw egg? Pah! It’s still delicious and it’s aaaallll yours!

Nom rating?
Even if I do say so myself, these were amazing. Having a full set of sweet teeth I love marzipan-y things anyway, but the frangipane mixture had a good bite, and the subtle hint of orange zest gave it a pleasant citrus-y tang.  It’s definitely a good idea to split the mixture over several more pastry cases than called for by the recipe – any bigger and they would have been on the wrong side of sickly. My mixture made 12 tarts – the perfect size for a snack with a cup of tea.

The tarts passed the Flatmate Test with flying colours. Karen seemed quite excited to be left with a couple for the next day (her brother apparently had second helpings immediately after I left). Dee said she couldn’t do anything while she was eating hers as she ‘needed to concentrate on it.’ The verdict? So very delicious. And definitely worth the wait.

Soundtrack
These tarts were brought to you by The Very Best of Prince (with apologies for the standard of the site – he doesn’t appear to have an official website?!) – a classic. Prince is the only artist on my iPod for whom the Genius function does not work. Does that make him a genius? Download: Little Red Corvette.

A cure for the common cold – Scottish/Moroccan style

I am full of a cold and have been feeling pretty sorry for myself of late. Eating is practically the only thing that makes me feel better. And that’s not because I’m greedy (though ill or not, I am quite greedy really) – it really has been making me feel better. Last night I thought I’d take it a step further – taking an international approach to clearing my sinuses:

Spicy Moroccan Chicken and a Hot Toddy

Helps you breathe more easily

First appearing in Delicious magazine, this is my go-to recipe for using up leftover chicken. I’ve cooked it so many times I don’t really need to look at the recipe anymore. My flatmate often brings home a rotisserie chicken from Sainsburys and then only eats the breast meat, which I can’t understand. The time she threw away half a chicken because the brown meat is too ‘slimy’ to touch amazes me TO THIS DAY.  However, this is one recipe that she will eat – passed the Flatmate Test ages ago – and never fails to satisfy all year round.

Its sinus-clearing abilities are evident in the title, but you’d think that just comes from the eating. Not the case – natural yoghurt added towards the end of the cooking time cools it down. However, the recipe calls for frying off two tbsps of harissa paste before adding the liquid – if that stuff gets up your nose, you know about it. Never mind getting rid of your snot, it’ll take your head off at the same time. Better than Vicks, and tastier too! 

NB. This is a recipe using up leftovers from an earlier roast chicken recipe in the magazine. It calls for 300ml leftover gravy – I’ve never done it like that. Just substitute 15oml chicken stock, 150ml white wine. Works a treat. 

North of the Border
My meal was accompanied by a hot toddy (50ml whisky, squeeze of runny honey, squeeze of lemon juice, topped up with boiling water). I’m no wine/beverage expert, but I’m pretty sure a sommelier wouldn’t recommend that the two go together. I don’t particularly care. The great thing about the hot toddy is that you have to drink it before it gets cold, which basically means knocking it back. By the time you’ve finished it, you’re too drunk to care you’ve got a cold and you sleep soundly. Result.

Soundtrack
The Boxer Rebellion – The Cold Still. Off to see them in a couple of weeks on the recommendation of a friend, therefore trying to listen as much as possible so I don’t look completely lost at the gig. On the surface, calming. But a little unsettling too… If that’s possible. Download: No Harm.