Lime Bars

So yeah...lime bars...Fairly simple, which is just as well, because I made them on the wrong day.

Here I was, trying to be the smug mother again baking for the cricket crew. I made the mistake of listening to my husband when he told me that cricket was on Monday again, so I went ahead and made a batch of these. As they were cycling over, I even found a sturdy container, packed them well, and made him get some bungees to strap it to the panier rack. Cricket was to begin at 5:45, so I sent them on their bikes at half past, texting a friend to watch out for Michael if she wanted any of tonight's treat.

At quarter to six I got a call. "So...cricket isn't on...but these bars will keep, right? You can just put them in the fridge and give them out on Wednesday?"

I thought for a moment, and said "Err, I can just make something different then. In the meantime, go to X's house and drop some off there, and then go to Y's house and give some to her, cause I was talking about this recipe with her today as well."

So they set off on their deliveries, and we got a bit more peace and quiet at home.

In the U.S., lemon bars are fairly standard bake sale and coffee shop fayre, but you don't see them here much. This is just a slightly sexed up version of them, using lime instead of lemon, and adding a glaze layer on the top.

A food processor in your life will make the first step VERY easy: just stick some flour, icing/powdered sugar, salt, and butter into a food processor until it resembles breadcrumbs and dump it into your lined 9X13 pan. If you don't have one this size, think about getting one if you want to master a lot of American recipes. Or half the recipe and do it in a square 8 inch pan.

I used a small nutella jar that I now use as a drinking glass to stamp it down a bit.

Then baked it for 10 minutes.

I then poured a simple mixture of limes (zest and juice), eggs, sugar, flour, and baking powder on top, which I had managed to put together during the 10 minutes the base was in the oven, even while managing a 3 year old who wanted a chocolate donut, a request he kept repeating over and over and over and over...

I didn't have any, and told him I didn't intend to get any, so he took my ipad and took a photo of what my kitchen really looks like when I don't zoom in to edit out all the crap everywhere.

The pan went back in the oven for another 25 minutes or so, at which point it came out looking like this.

Once it had cooled a bit I put a mixture of limes (juice and zest) and icing/powdered sugar on as a glaze and let it set while I read about Berenstein Bears on Vacation, at the Doctor, on their Moving Day, with Trucks, Going to School...and then about Fancy Nancy and her Butterfly Birthday.

The bars were now ready for slicing, so the books were abondoned. One day, I might actually learn to make even squares when slicing. Not today.

Then into the box they went on their city adventure. Here they are being lovingly packed in some vintage tupperware which doesn't crack or break when you drop it. This is important for me, as I am really good at breaking stuff. I made the mistake of splurging around Christmas-time on a modern 2 tiered cupcake carrier and broke it the second time I used it. Vintage tupperware, on the other hand was made to last, so we are good pals and shall remain so for a while I suspect.

I'll post the recipe below but here is the link. Soon it looks as if I shall have to focus my efforts on  copying and pasting a lot from the BBC recipe site as it is being shut down!!! Scary biscuits!

"A different take on the lemon bars we all love. I actually prefer them to lemon. This is my favorite bar cookie and I'm asked to bring it when going to a potluck or picnic. The recipe says it serves 36, but you can't eat just one of these delicious, tangy lime bars. You can omit the glaze and sprinkle with powdered sugar if that's your preference."

Ingredients

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup confectioners' sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup butter
• 4 eggs
• 1/3 cup lime juice
• 1/4 cup all-purpose flour

• 2 cups white sugar
• 2 teaspoons grated lime peel, or more to taste
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar
• 2 tablespoons lime juice
• 1 teaspoon grated lime peel (optional)

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C). Grease a 9X13-inch baking dish.
2. Mix 2 cups flour, 1/2 cup confectioners' sugar, and salt in a bowl; cut in butter with a pastry cutter until crust mixture resembles crumbs. Pat crust evenly into bottom of the prepared baking dish.
3. Bake crust in the preheated oven for 10 minutes.
4. Whisk eggs, 1/3 cup lime juice, 1/4 cup flour, white sugar, 2 teaspoons lime peel, baking powder; pour over the crust.
5. Return baking dish to oven; bake until filling is set, about 25 minutes. Cool thoroughly.
6. Whisk 1 1/2 cup confectioners' sugar, 1 tablespoon lime juice, and 1 teaspoon grated lime peel to make a smooth glaze; spread evenly over cooled lime bars. Let glaze set before cutting

Rhubarb and Custard Tart with Butter Crumble

The closest I ever came to running an allotment plot was directly after I read Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, in which she and her family attempted to eat only locally grown food for a year. I signed our family up for a local plot...and was told the waiting list was taking on average 7-8 years. Recently (about 7 years after signing up) we were sent a letter asking us to contact them if we were still interested...I didn't respond.

I mean, I like the idea of gardening and growing my own food. I just don't actually like spending my time doing it. Good weather is so rare here, it seems such a waste to spend it on an allotment when I could spend that time in a park instead and amble down to buy locally grown produce at the farmers' market.

...Or simply cozy up to friends who sweat over their own plots. And friends like these always gift you some of this stuff:

Rhubarb. Glorious, wonderful, heavenly rhubarb. Barbara Kingsolver has a chapter in her book when her family set off on their first week of local eating at the very beginning of spring. Her daughter has one request from the market: fresh fruit. So early in the season, they went with little confidence to their small gathering of farmers' stalls. They had given up hope until they found our cold weather friend: RHUBARB! Admittedly, much like tomatoes are fruit, rhubarb is a vegetable and needs a fair amount of sugar and stewing to make it palatable, but what a flavour it is. And once you have a plant which has established itself, you need do little to maintain it apart from cut it regularly, so it is a lazy gardener's dream, constantly producing a steady stream of stalks, so I am told

One of the mums at my children's school came to the playround the other day armed with four shopping bags of freshly hacked stalks, determined to give all the cuttings away in order to save her family from a plant threatening to take over the back of her house. Three bundles were given away to mums who had previously put in requests, and as she threateningly swung the last sack towards the remaining crowd I did not hesitate to stake my claim to it, quickly snatching the parcel and cradling it carefully for the two mile journey home, pondering what it would become. A crumble was the obvious choice, but I wanted to incorporate a custard element somehow, as well as some orange flavour that others recommended, so I searched and found a recipe for rhubarb & custard pie with butter crumble.

But I'm going to call it a tart, because that sounds fancier and more continental. 

I started by making some pastry from Jamie Oliver recipe. I later realised this was a mistake, as it's a fairly short dough that tears easily, and with a custard pie you really need a leakproof base. Live and learn. But yeah, I put a bit of clementine zest in (oops, no oranges in stock) which was a bit pointless as we couldn't taste them anyway, and blind baked it with my trusty jar of pulses and beans as pie weights. Then in went the rhubarb which I had briefly cooked in a pan with some sugar until the sugar dissolved.

On top of this I poured my custard mixture. The recipe called for single cream, but I didn't have any of that either, so I used the last bit of double cream I had and topped it up with whole milk and a touch of vanilla paste just because vanilla makes everything better.

I baked it until the custard was just starting to set (and the crust just starting to burn).

And then on went the butter crumble mixture which I had whizzed together in the food processor before adding sliced almonds as an afterthought.

Back in it went to let the crumble crisp up and to burn the edges of the pastry.

So yeah...I trimmed off the more, er, caramelised edges.

Then on a plate it went to cool. The recipe said to eat warm, but then I read the comments section (it's ok to read comments sections on recipes) and everyone was all "HELL TO THE NAW SHOULD YOU EAT THIS HOT! IT NEEDS TO COOL TO MAKE THAT CUSTARD SET, YO! "

Well, they didn't say it quite like that, but they all agreed that essentially you need to let it cool, as it keeps cooking as it cools and makes it less of a gloopy mess when you slice into it.

So eventually we did slice into it, and the comments people were right.

It needed that time! Mary Berry wouldn't have liked the soggy bottom, but it was still tasty. 

Now I know what you are thinking: Why not just make rhubarb custard and pour some fresh custard on it? Isn't that pretty much the same thing? Plus a bit of pastry, maybe?

BECAUSE I LIKE THINGS FANCY, OK?

But yeah, I just stewed the rest of the rhubarb and had it on some yogurt, and that was pretty tasty too. Rhubarb is awesome like that. 

Recipe is here, but I also know how to copy and paste, so it's below too:

Rhubarb & custard TART with butter crumble

• 350g rhubarb
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
• 100g golden caster sugar
• 350g sweet shortcrust pastry
• 1 large egg and 1 egg yolk
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 tbsp plain flour
• 284ml carton single cream

For the topping

• 50g butter
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  , melted
• 50g demerara sugar
• 50g porridge oats
• ½ tsp ground ginger
• Cut the rhubarb into bite-size pieces, then put them in a frying pan with half the sugar and warm through just until the sugar dissolves. Immediately tip the rhubarb into a bowl with the juices and leave to cool. Preheat the oven to 180C/gas 4/fan 160C.
• Roll out the pastry quite thinly and use to line a deep, loose-based 24cm fluted flan tin. Line with greaseproof paper and baking beans and bake for about 20 minutes until the pastry is pale golden and no longer raw.
• Beat together the egg and egg yolk, vanilla extract, remaining caster sugar and the flour. Gradually whisk in the cream with any juice from the rhubarb (you should have a tablespoonful or two). Now spoon the rhubarb into the prepared pastry case and pour the cream mixture over.
• Turn the oven temperature up to 200C/gas 6/ fan 180C and bake for about 20 minutes, or until the custard is very lightly set and there is a thin skin on the top.
• Mix together all the topping ingredients and spoon evenly over the pie. Return it to the oven for a further 15 minutes or until the crumble is golden and the custard set with just a little wobble. The top of the pie may have risen and cracked when you take it from the oven but don’t worry as it will settle back again on cooling. COOL COMPLETELY THEN SERVE

Lemon Raspberry Bundt Cake

(For those who want to skip straight to a copy of the recipe, just go here and use raspberries instead of lemons)

Cricket season has arrived in Edinburgh. What this means is that once a week I take my eldest over to our local grounds for practice. With the sun shining, the children all in their cricket whites, and just the sound of bats hitting their targets, I feel both excited and guilty about being part of it. The pitch is situated in one of the more affluent parts of town, overlooked by a grand mansion with multiple bay windows and a vast garden extending down a steep slope. The views from the pitch extend over to Arthur's Seat and Salisbury Crags and are magnificent in the evening light. Outside are parked family Mercs, Audis, and Range Rovers, and inside the walls lean custom made bicycles that have secure garage storage when at home. Meanwhile the clubhouse itself is just a glorified shed and the club members are prodominantly middle class folk who lean towards the upper end of the spectrum, many obviously eager to climb up, up, up to the top 1%. The club do not discriminate in their members; places are awarded on a first come, first serve basis, but not many working class folk are in the area. So yeah, it all feels just a tad elitist, just not as blatant as an invitation only country club.

I don't have a new coat, a fancy bike, or a flashy car to show off, so instead I bring culinary creations to prove my worth. You see, part of the charm of the place is a folding table set up at the side, quietly selling tea, coffee, juice, and homemade cakes. Parents nibble delicacies and sip tea on wooden benches as they watch their sons practice (yes, all boys, somehow no girls have expressed interest in joining our local club), then at the end a swarm of young men surround the table to clear it of every last crumb, thrusting their 50 pence pieces at whichever overwhelmed mother has been pulled into duty that week. I have carefully avoided the baking table's rota, telling myself if I just bring cake every week I will have fulfilled my duties as a cricket mother without having to endure excessive smalltalk.

But what to bring? Last week I delivered some chocolate chip cookies which disappeared quickly, but I discovered the other day that somehow I'd managed to hide 5 different bags of raspberries in my freezer.  This meant whatever I made this week would have to be dotted with these berries in order to clear out space for the two monstrous bags of Costco chicken nuggets I had more recently shoved inside (don't judge). Aiming for a show-off factor, I pulled down my fleur de lis bundt tin. All it takes is a lot of oiling (hello, cooking spray, where were you when I needed you this week) a lot of cooling, and some tupperware to transport it and BOOM, you've got yourself a fancy cake. It can taste like sawdust, but people will still ooh and aah when they see it.

I only grabbed my i-device once I'd put it in the tin, as I was in a wee bit of a rush, but I just loved the look of the batter so much I had to take a photo. Berries make things look pretty.

,

Then in it went. As the berries were still frozen, and I had limited time, I cranked up the heat 30 degrees higher (Celcius) than the recipe said and chanced my luck. After an hour, it looked like this, which was good because the last time I made it at the lower temp it took over an hour and a half to cook through.

A few hours cooling, then I turned it out onto some parchment paper. A couple parts had stuck, but not too disastrously.

Then a quick stirring of lemon juice and icing sugar for a runny glaze. "IT'S DRIPPING!!!" my three year old son warned me. I reassured him that I meant for it to happen that way, but he just eyed me with great skepticism.

For the record, this is what it looked last time I made it with the slower cooking time and temp...and a more runny glaze:

Off it went to cricket. My pride climbed to unhealthy heights when I saw it was the cake that all the adults chose to consume with their evening cuppa. I don't have a photo of the what it looks like when you slice into it, but it really is inviting: golden cake dotted with fresh red raspberries. My cake lady status was preserved.

The meticulously copied and pasted recipe is below

INGREDIENTS

SERVINGS 12UNITS US

• 1cup butter, softened
• 2cups sugar
• 3eggs
• 3tablespoons lemon juice, divided
• 1lemon, zested
• 2 1⁄2cups all-purpose flour, divided
• 1⁄2teaspoon baking soda
• 1⁄2teaspoon salt
• 8ounces plain Greek yogurt or 8 ounces vanilla, greek yogurt
• 12ounces raspberries
• 1cup powdered sugar

dIRECTIONS

1. Preheat oven to 325*. Grease and flour a 10 inch Bundt pan. Sift together the 2 ¼ cups of flour, baking soda and salt. Mix in the lemon zest and set aside.
2. With an electric mixer, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then stir in 1 Tb. lemon juice. Alternate beating in the flour mixture and the yogurt, mixing just until incorporated.
3. Toss the raspberries with the remaining ¼ cup of flour. Gently mix them into the batter.
4. Pour the batter into the Bundt pan. Bake in the preheated oven for 60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean.
5. Allow to cool 10 minutes in the pan, then turn out onto a wire rack and cool completely. Once cooled whisk together the remaining 2 Tb. of lemon juice and the powdered sugar. Drizzle over the top of the cake.

Samhain Cake

I've done it! Now that I'm British I've made my first authentic Jack'O'Lantern out of a turnip/swede/rutabaga! 

This was actually my third one, as I carved the first two out at work and even won a prize for one of them! As you may guess, they are a lot more work than a pumpkin, but they aren't so messy either. No gloop!

But that left the question: what do do with all the scooped out vegetable innards???? I could have made soup (the obvious choice) or made haggis, neeps, and tatties (a wonderful choice as well) but I decided to try carrot cake's cousin: turnip cake.

It was, er, interesting and not as bad as one might expect. Everyone who has tried it has been pleasantly surprised, but I don't honestly think it will give carrot cake a run for its money. 

If you wish to give it a shot, the recipe is here (and below).

If not, just enjoy the many faces of my colleagues' Jack'O'Lanterns!!!

Happy Hallowe'en!

Swede (Rutabega) Nutmeg Cake with Brown Butter Frosting and Salted
Hazelnuts
Ingredients
For the cake:
150g (1 cup, packed) raw peeled and grated swede (rutabega)
3 eggs
175g (¾ cup) sugar
100g (½ cup) plain full-fat yogurt
100ml (½ cup) rapeseed or vegetable oil
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
250g (2 ½ cups) plain (self-raising) flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon bicarb of soda (baking soda)
2 teaspoons ground nutmeg
½ teaspoon salt
For the brown butter frosting:
400g (3 cups) powdered icing sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3-4 tablespoons milk
115g (½ cup) unsalted butter, at room temperature
To serve:
30g (¼ cup) salted hazelnuts, chopped
Instructions
For the cake:
1. Preheat oven to 180C/350F. Grease and line a 9” square cake tin with parchment paper.
2. Beat the eggs, sugar, yogurt, oil and vanilla together well. Stir in the grated swede. Sift in the flour,
baking powder, bicarb of soda, nutmeg and salt and gently stir to combine.
3. Pour into the prepared tin and bake for 25-30 minutes or until an inserted skewer comes out clean. Cool
for 10 minutes in the tin and then turn onto a wire rack, removing the parchment paper, to cool
completely.
For the frosting
1. Put the icing sugar, vanilla and 1 tablespoon of the milk into a large bowl. Set aside.
2. In a saucepan over a low heat, melt the butter and continue to heat until it turns brown and smells nutty.
Pour into the bowl of powdered sugar and beat until thick and smooth, adding more milk if necessary.
3. Top the cooled cake with the frosting and sprinkle with the chopped hazelnuts.

Pumpkin Bars with Cream Cheese Icing

The other day I was chatting to the staff at my son's playgroup when pumpkins came up. We were discussing how true jack'o'lanterns are made from swedes/turnips/rutabagas NOT pumpkins. We who have only ever carved pumpkins have no appreciation for the blood (literally) shed for the creation of these Hallowe'en lanterns in years gone by, now a dying art since pumpkins flood the Scottish shops  in October. I did confess I tend to carve pumpkins out of interest for my children's safety and because you can cook a lot more tasty things with a pumpkin than you can from a turnip. The staff nodded, but then they confessed they had never actually eaten any pumpkin apart from pumpkin seeds. I decided this was no good, that something had to be done.

The easiest solution was these: Pumpkin bars. Easy to throw together, and generally popular with everyone (apart, perhaps, from anyone with a dairy allergy). I first had them when a friend brought some along to another playgroup and immediately asked for the recipe. I'll warn you though, it's Paula Deen....



She's made some not-so-great choices, I know, but she does have some good recipes. Well, I've heard she does, I think I've only tried this one and maybe one other one sometime. I did once gag when I looked at a few of her other ones. So...much...oil...and...sugar...

Speaking of which, you start this one off with some oil and sugar. And this is what it looks like when you've finally run out of your huge Costco bag of sugar and need to throw in some brown sugar.

Some Lidl eggs went in . Then a whole can of pumpkin. I really like that the recipe uses a whole can, so I don't have a partial can taking up space in my fridge/freezer, demanding I organise its use before it grows something/gets frostbite. Alternatively, you could steam, puree, and drain your lantern after hallowe'en and use roughly the same amount as a can of Libby's. Your choice!

Last, but not least, in went some flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon. Costco cinnamon is the best. Really. It's amazing. Go get some now. NOW.

Then in it went into my lined 9 X 13 pan. I love this pan, it makes American recipes possible on a regular basis.

It came out looking like this, then sank a bit, but I didn't care because the knife came out clean which means no one will get food poisoning. 

The icing was a simple mix of a tub of cream cheese (about 180g I think), with roughly the same amount of butter (more butter is required in the UK as we can't get firm blocks of cream cheese here), a splash of vanilla, and perhaps just short of a cup of powdered sugar (though the recipe called for 2 cups) all put into a food processor at room temperature and pulsed until smooth-ish. I then put it in a freezer bag, cut off the corner, and squirted blobs onto the cooled squares.

The staff said I was most welcome to bring these in again, anytime. And another friend who also sampled a portion asked for the recipe too, so Paula Deen, we salute you. 

Ingredients (adapted)

Bars:
4 eggs
1 2/3 cups granulated sugar
1 cup vegetable oil
15 -ounce can pumpkin
2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
Icing:
8 -ounce package cream cheese, softened
7 oz cup butter , softened
1 cup sifted confectioners' sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F/180C

Using an electric mixer at medium speed, combine the eggs, sugar, oil and pumpkin until light and fluffy. Stir together the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, salt and baking soda. Add the dry ingredients to the pumpkin mixture and mix at low speed until thoroughly combined and the batter is smooth. Spread the batter into a greased 13 by 10-inch baking pan. Bake for 30 minutes. Let cool completely before frosting. Cut into bars.

To make the icing: Combine ingredients in food processor and pulse until smooth. 

Apricot & Almond Tart

Last week, my family and I travelled over to Northern Ireland to visit some family. While there, my husband's cousin asked if I would be willing to make the pudding for the family's Sunday dinner while the others went to Sunday services, and I happily agreed to this plan.

When we entered the kitchen, a Jamie Oliver cookbook was thrust upon me with this Frangipane plum tart recipe.
A few pages earlier was the pastry recipe.

Now, I had expected something like, you know, a crumble, to throw together easily at a leasurely pace, not something that requires about 6 hours if you follow the recipe to the letter. On top of this, we were short of a few ingredients, we didn't have the right size tin, and there were no pie weights (or dried pulses) to hand for blind baking the pastry.

I managed to put some semblance of a tart together in the end (improvising with garden stones for pie weights) which was, er, rather "caramelized" on top, but it was eaten enthusiastically by the adults and even by a couple of adventurous children (my kids were more interested in ice cream, sadly). Pleasantly surprised by it, I resolved to go home and make a similar one, in a more suitably sized tin, and with apricots rather than plums as I love me some apricots.

Yesterday morning, I was faced with a question: should I clean up the flat while my two older kids were at school, or should I make a tart? A couple hours later, this emerged from the oven:

It looked a bit sad, really, so I looked at the recipe again and saw that it suggested an apricot jam glaze. I didn't have any of said ingredient at that moment, so off I went to get the kids, picking up jam on the way. After depositing kids at gymnastics with their father, I dashed home, quickly microwaved some jam, and spread it over the top:

Ahhhh...better. It was then shoved into a bag and brought into work, served with posh Sainsbury's custard. One colleague was disgusted when I said I'd brought apricot tart, but then she saw it and decided she had to try some...there were no crumbs left on her plate. So if nothing else, I convinced someone to eat apricots yesterday. Get your 5 a day every day, people. 

Jamie Oliver's fancy recipe page is here, but I've also copied and pasted below...and as I did this, I just realized I completely left out the oranges when I made this. Ooops: 

Apricot Tart 

from Jamie Oliver's Magazine

INGREDIENTS

• 500g sweet pastry
• 12 ripe apricots, halved and stones removed (or 2 x 400g tins apricot
halves, drained)
• 100g sugar, plus extra for sprinkling
• 4 tbsp apricot jam
• Crème fraîche or ice cream, to serve (optional)

Filling
• 300g ground almonds
• 225g sugar
• 225g butter, at room temperature
• 3 heaped tbsp flour
• 4 eggs
• Zest of 2 oranges, juice of 1
• 1 vanilla pod, seeds scraped out (or
1 tsp vanilla bean paste)

1. Preheat the oven to 180C/gas 4. Place the pastry on a floured surface and roll out to the thickness of a £1 coin. Lift over a rolling pin then unroll it onto a 28cm fluted tart tin. 
2. Gently ease the pastry into the tin, making sure it is pressed into the fluted edges. Trim the edges with a sharp knife and pierce the pastry base a few times with a fork. Chill in the fridge for 30 minutes – this will stop it shrinking when baked.
3. Meanwhile, blitz all the filling ingredients in a food processor so it forms a thick paste.
4. Once chilled, place the pastry in its tin on a baking tray and loosely cover with a sheet of baking paper, letting it hang over the edges. Fill with baking beans or rice.
5. If using fresh apricots, place them cut-side down in a large shallow pan with the sugar and 275ml of water, then cook over a medium heat for 3–4 minutes, or until slightly softened but not mushy. 
6. Bake the pastry case blind for 15 minutes, or until slightly coloured, then remove from the oven. Take out the baking paper and the baking beans or rice, and return the pastry to the oven for a further 10 minutes. Once it has a nice colour, leave it to cool slightly before adding the filling, then press in the apricots, cut-side up. Sprinkle with sugar and bake for 40–45 minutes, or until the filling has almost set and is coloured on top. 
7. Heat the jam in a small pan over a medium heat until melted. Brush over the tart to glaze, and leave to set. Once set, serve with crème fraîche or ice cream, if you like.

Sweet Pastry

Ingredients

• 250 g plain flour , plus extra for dusting
• 50 g icing sugar
• 125 g good-quality unsalted cold butter , cut into small cubes
• 1 orange , (optional)
• 1 vanilla pod , halved and seeds scraped out (optional)
• 1 large free-range egg , beaten
• a splash of milk

Method

Everyone needs a good, basic pastry recipe, and this is one you can rely on. It’s easily adaptable if you want to add extra flavours like orange zest or vanilla – or even a pinch of nutmeg or cinnamon – and is really simple to knock up. If you have any pastry left over, simply wrap it in clingfilm and freeze it to use another time.

You can make your pastry like this by hand, or pulse it in a food processor. From a height, sieve your flour and icing sugar into a large mixing bowl. Using your fingertips, gently work the cubes of butter into the flour and sugar until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. If using orange or vanilla for extra flavour, either finely grate in the zest of your orange or add the seeds from the vanilla pod and mix again.
Read more at http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/eggs-recipes/sweet-pastry/#TmktueWtSKiK2L57.99

Sweet and Strong Hare

On Saturday mornings, when all in my household are well and the weather is not too horrific, you will find me at our local farmers' market. It is a relatively small affair, with only some 30 or so stalls in total on a busy week, but there you can find items you really can't find easily in your local supermarket. The vegetables are ugly and obscure, the eggs don't just come from hens, and the hand crafted items are, well, very obviously hand crafted, shall we say.

The main draw for me is the meat. Puddledub bacon is the best bacon you'll find in Scotland. Really. And you can get great other cuts of really good meat at far cheaper prices than the butcher would offer for the same stuff. For example, the chickens I buy there I pay about £10 for (which is still pricey compared to a supermarket factory farmed bird, I know) but at the butcher's the same bird will cost you £25.

The first time I tried hare was when my husband brought home a bloody, skinned carcass from the farm where he worked and announced it would be dinner. I was skeptical, but he prepared jugged hare it was, indeed, very flavourful. Hares are far bigger than rabbits, so you really get a good amount of meat off of one of these violent creatures.

My preferred recipe now is one found in a book my mother sent me, an Italian cookbook named The Silver Spoon, which is some kind of Italian institution (or so its cover tells me). Its secret ingredient is chocolate - a small amount is all you need to add complexity and depth to the sauce enveloping the hare. You basically just slowly simmer the meat in some booze and stock until it is tender, then add sultanas and simmer some more, then some nuts, dark chocolate, vinegar and a tiny bit of sugar. Once that all comes together, it's easiest to just remove all the meat and put it in the sauce for simple serving, which we did alongside some roast potatoes and cauliflower in cheese sauce. No calories were counted in the creation of this meal.

For a good cauliflower cheese I recommend you try Nigella Lawson's recipe. For the next time you bag yourself a hare, try this recipe below:

Sweet and Strong Hare

from The Silver Spoon

serves 6-8

Ingredients:

2 Tbsp olive oil

25g butter

40g smoked bacon bits

1 hare, cut into pieces

2 Tbsp plain flour

175ml red wine

175ml meat stock

1 bay leaf

50g sultanas

25g pine nuts or sliced almonds

25g plain chocolate, grated

1 tsp white wine vinegar

t tsp sugar

salt and pepper

Method:

Heat the olive oil and butter in a pan, add the bacon bits and hare and cook over a medium heat, turning and stirring frequently, until the pieces of hare are browned all over. Season with salt and pepper, sprinkle with half the flour, mix well and cook for about 10 minutes. Pour in the wine and stock, add the bay leaf, lower the heat and simmer for about 1 1/2 hours. Meanwhile, put the sultanas in a bowl, add warm water to cover, and leave to soak for 15 minutes, then drain and squeeze out. Stir the sultanas and pine nuts into the pan and simmer for a further 30 minutes. Mix together the chocolate, the remaining flour, the vinegar, sugar and a pinch of salt in a bowl, then stir in 3-4 Tbsp water. Pour the mixture into the pan and bring just to the boil. Taste and add more salt if necessary. Serve the hare covered in this ancient chocolate sauce.