Archive for the ‘Preserves’ Category

A Burst Of Sunshine

Monday, February 8th, 2010

With a glut of oranges (read over flowing fruit bowl) and a rapidly depleting store of marmalade I felt the urgent need to get preserving.

Image courtesy of Google Images.

I love preserving, it’s a very cathartic, soothing activity. Regular readers will have come to understand just how much I love preserving but for those of you who would like a reminder or are new readers have a look here.

Preserving isn’t an activity all that easy with an almost 9 week old Italian Spinone puppy by the name of Maximus running around your feet, nosing into everything and generally being a cheeky little pup, requiring you to have eyes in the back of your head.

Sure he looks innocent and sweet enough but let food be smelt and the jumping and yodelling (yes yodelling not typical barking) will commence. Certainly not soothing I’m sure you’ll agree, and then the whole kitchen activity becomes fraught and wracked with anxiety.

I settled on a marmalade that requires no cooking.

No cook marmalade? How can that be so? Doesn’t marmalade need time, effort and hot pans to be slaved over?

All those thoughts went through my head when I noticed @aforkful over on Twitter discussing her latest marmalade, a no cook version which you can read about here.

For conventional marmalade yes, preserving pans and thermometers galore are required, not that is in any way a bad thing, but for this gem of a recipe from Darina Allen, (of the esteemed Ballymaloe cookery school in Cork, and author of many excellent books; including Ballymaloe Cookery Course, from which this recipe comes) you need nothing more than a sharp knife, blender or food processor and a few sterilised jam jars.

Whether this is truly a ‘marmalade’ or not is a matter of debate. I feel it should be named a citrus spread rather than a marmalade. Why? Well the word marmalade derives from the Portuguese word marmelada which actually was a cooked down quince paste; and hence I feel marmalade refers to a cooked product, but hey, whatever it is called, the result is the same – a gorgeous spread.

Conventional marmalades can have a rather bitter edge to them, whereas this one doesn’t. It is bursting with citrus tang with an almost sherbet sweet edge, a real winner.

Find out you’ve run out of marmalade of a morning to have with your toast, well you could have this rustled up in a jiffy, go on trust me.

No Cook Marmalade

  • 5 oranges (organic if possible), roughly chopped and discarding as many pips as possible
  • 1 lemon, roughly chopped
  • 1 grapefruit, roughly chopped
  • Caster sugar, the combined weight of the above fruit, minus 110g
  1. Put all the ingredients into a liquidiser and whizz together.
  2. Then transfer to sterilised jars.
  3. This fresh-tasting marmalade will keep in the fridge for approximately 3 weeks.

We're Jammin'

Tuesday, October 6th, 2009

There is no escaping the fact that autumn is well and truly upon us.  Mornings are crisp and fresh, with your breath misting in the early air and the nights are drawing in earlier and earlier, creeping in some days soon after lunch, or so it seems. Now this is all well and good if you’re inside with a fire (or if you’re really lucky) an Aga roaring, dog curled up on your lap and nothing more taxing to do but think of reading a book or pottering around the house, or dare I say it, giving in to an afternoon snooze. It is a different matter entirely though if however you are out there battling against the elements, rain lashing down, facing the prospect of a long or arduous journey home.

If you’re unfortunate enough to have suffered the latter situation your first food desires will most likely be for that notion of comfort food, homely, warming, sometimes calorific fayre that brings back the feeling of what ‘mother used to make’. Even if you didn’t have the nicety of great home cooked food somehow well made comfort food dishes evoke that nostalgic feeling nonetheless. I maintain it is the smell that does it, the waft of comforting aromas as you open the front door. That and the feeling that you’ve made it home, things can only improve, you’ve reached your sanctuary, your castle and with that you’re going to have a good feed and warm the body and soul.

For me at least the smell of jams bubbling away is one of the most comforting of all; now here’s the mystery, I never smelt homemade jam as a child, my mother never made it and I have no recollection of being at my Grandmothers house while she made preserves, so why the sudden feeling of contentment when I get that aroma waft past my nose? Happen it’s because I’ve only recently become a ‘preserver’ and I seem to have really caught the ‘bug’ for it. I really don’t know.

Damson jam was my latest venture. Until Jo a lovely friend and work colleague of mine brought over 2 kilos of the purple beauties in for me I had never seen, let alone tasted, a damson. I had no idea what to expect from them at all. All I knew is that I didn’t want to eat a raw one!

Damsons like plums and greengages come from a Prunus tree which is a member of the rose family. The true damson, Prunus damascena is a blue black, oval shaped fruit. It makes beautifully rich preserves with a great depth of flavour.

The damson jam is fabulous spread on toast or scones, in fact used as you would any other conserve but there is another great way to promote its talents – as a background flavour in a lovely crumble.

For my mother, crumbles are the autumnal/winter pudding; she would rather a crumble than any other dessert going. My dad is not all the fond, although I’m trying hard to covert him, he’d rather a pie was served. Me? Well I’m torn, I love pies with sweet buttery pastry but I also enjoy a crisp, short, crumble providing it has texture; oh and they’re easier from the cooks view point (i.e. mine) too.

So I bit the bullet as the saying goes and created a mixed fruit crumble that incorporated some of the freshly made jam and the tantalizing delights sitting in my fruit bowl; all delivered by the excellent organic suppliers Riverford. I ended up with a selection of sliced apples, nectarines and plums.

To give further texture I added spelt flakes to the crumble topping, they give crunch and chewiness with a hit of nuttiness. I buy mine from a local organic health shop but if you can’t get hold of them rolled oats would be a good substitution. I also used spelt flour as I’d a small quantity that needed using up, but regular white flour would work just as well.

Clotted cream (also from Riverford) was the order of the day for accompaniments, simple pouring cream, custard or ice cream would also be good. Personally I’d go for a cold accompaniment though as I prefer the hit of hot pudding against cold sauce but it’s up to you.

I had the notion to use my Le Creuset bean pots as individual serving dishes but they were far too big for one, as a cosy pudding for two to share, one pot & two spoons style they’d work well though :)

Another lovely use for damsons is to make cordial, such as I did here.

Damson Jam

  • 1kg damsons
  • 300ml water
  • 1kg granulated sugar
  1. Put the fruit and water in a preserving pan or large saucepan and simmer until the damsons are soft.
  2. Allow the fruit to cool slightly before removing the damson stones, I find it easiest to tip the fruit into a large sieve (over a bowl to collect the juices) and wearing rubber gloves pick the stones out by hand.
  3. Return the fruit to the preserving pan and add the sugar.
  4. Stir over a low heat until the sugar has dissolved and then boil rapidly until the setting point is reached.
  5. Allow to cool for 5 minutes before serving.
  6. Spoon into hot, sterilised jars, seal and allow to cool before labelling.

 

Autumn Fruit Crumble

  • 3 apples, peeled cored and sliced
  • 3 nectarines, diced
  • 6 plums, halved and stone removed
  • 2 tablespoons damson jam
  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 50ml water
  • 100g white spelt (or plain) flour
  • 50g butter, diced
  • 50g demerara sugar
  • 50g spelt (or oat) flakes
  1. Melt the tablespoon of butter in a large frying pan and when foaming add the prepared fruits, toss in the butter until golden and add the jam and water. Stir until the jam has melted and allow to simmer until the fruit is just tender.
  2. Remove from the heat and either pot into individual dishes or a shallow oven proof dish.
  3. Preheat the oven to 180C or the equivalent.
  4. Make the topping, put the flour and butter in a bowl and rub together using your fingertips until you have the consistency of bread crumbs, stir in the sugar and spelt.
  5. Sprinkle the topping over the fruits, mounding it up a little towards the centre.
  6. Bake for about 25 minutes or until crisp and golden.

The Scented Kitchen

Tuesday, September 29th, 2009

It could be argued that when one is making preserves the kitchen is always scented but add flowers to the mix and you really do get the full head on hit of The Scented Kitchen.

The Scented Kitchen: Cooking With Flowers (Francis Bissell) is a very inspiring book to have in your cookery book collection, but it is one that most cooks will use infrequently. It is a shame though because even if recipes are not followed to the letter they could provide inspiration for fresh flavourings to your everyday cooking. There are no photographs which is a shame but not a real down point, let your imagination run away with you. Now if only scratch and smell were available, this is a book where it would work wonders :)

My recipe from this book was the Damask Rose and Black Muscatel Grape Jelly. The black grapes lend a sultry, dark red colour and the rose petals a truly amazing flavour; very fresh and vibrant indeed. I did have to make a few adjustments though because of a lack of ingredients, my version of the recipe will be found at the end of the post.

I used granulated sugar and so ended up with a fairly soft set jelly, perfect for spreading on toasted brioche or scones but it is even better used to top a cheesecake or a small spoon of it on vanilla ice cream, the flavours come alive like that. Should you prefer a firmed jelly swap the granulated sugar for jam sugar as it contains extra pectin to enable easier setting. I however rather like the softness that this jelly has.

You would expect this to be very sweet, floral and dare I say it a little overpowering but it really isn’t so. The rose lends a delicate back note not an overpowering floral punch and the grapes are almost wine like in flavour, the sweetness dissipates into a mellowness that is oh so pleasing.

I am sure that using fresh rose petals would be the ideal way to go but I just didn’t have the luxury of that, no roses in my garden and a dozen red ones didn’t land in my arms :( Dried ones just had to take centre stage instead. I buy them in large bags from The Spice Shop, one of my favourite online retailers, oh how I’d love to visit their store, it must be a heady delight.

I suppose you could say that this jelly is a taste of Middle Eastern or North African warmth to help soothe away our cool weather dreams of the warm sun.

Damask Rose & Grape Jelly

  • 2 large cooking apples
  • 1 litre red grape juice
  • 1 kg black grapes
  • 1/2 US cup dried rose petals
  • 1 teaspoon rose water
  • Granulated sugar as required (see recipe)
  1. Wash and cut the apples into chunks and put them into a preserving pan or large saucepan.
  2. Add enough water to cover them by 2cm or so then simmer until the apples are tender.
  3. Add the rose petals and stemmed grapes and cook until they are soft.
  4. Mash the fruit to extract the juices before straining through a jelly bag (or sieve lined with muslin) overnight. Do not press the fruit or the jelly will be cloudy.
  5. Measure the liquid drained and put it in a clean preserving pan and then measure out an equal volume of sugar, add that to the pan also.
  6. Gently heat the liquid, stirring gently until the sugar has dissolved, add the rose water and then allow to boil until the setting point is reached (check using a jam thermometer).
  7. Pot into sterilised jars, allow to cool and then label.

'Beena

Monday, September 21st, 2009

When I was a young girl if ever I was feeling poorly hot Ribena was the order of the day, it never failed to make me feel better. Now I’m sure the high vitamin C content helped a little but for the most part I dare say it was just that that cup of hot berry drink came supplied alongside a huge dose of love and care. 

This idea of berry drinks making folks feel better was what inspired me to make my latest preserve, cordial. My Dad has recently had a rather chesty cold and so I thought a dose of ‘Beena and TLC were in order. 

I always have a glut of apples sitting in my fruit bowl and I had been lucky enough to have been given a huge bag of damsons by my friend Jo. Flavour combination sorted then; damson & apple :)

The damson or damson plum is an edible drupaceous fruit, a subspecies of the plum tree. Sometimes called the Damask Plum, damsons are commonly used in the preparation of jams and jellies. The plum spirit slivovitz is made from fermented damson fruit, the making of damson wine and damson gin are also popular uses for the fruit.

The original recipe idea is based around the Family ‘Beena from the fabulous book Preserves: River Cottage Handbook No.2 (Pam Corbin); once again River Cottage have produced a book of outstanding quality. Pam Corbin discussed the art of preserving in such a friendly, yet informative way that you almost feel she is there in the kitchen with you, guiding and hand holding as you work at this culinary marvel. For me at least there is nothing better for making you feel like a true cook, or Kitchen Goddess come to that, than making pots of preserves ;)  

The making of preserves is a good way to make the most out of every season, stretching the more bountiful months into the sparser ones and for those of us dedicated to local, seasonal eating that is one joyful experience. I’d rather be eating some strawberry preserve on freshly made brioche in the winter than an imported strawberry that’s for sure. 

Preserves are something I now feel comfortable and confident with but not so long back I really did feel that they would be extremely difficult and such a messy event that I put them off.  It was the making of tayberry & apple jam last October that convinced me otherwise, and yes Pam Corbin’s delicate words didn’t go amiss either. I hope I can convince you, my readers, to venture into the mists of the preservers kitchen too; have a look here at some of the preserves I have blogged to get your taste-buds in action.

One of the easiest places to start must be the making of cordials, you don’t have to worry about setting points, pectin or anything more troubling than making sure you sterilise your bottles. The simplest way to do this is to put them through the dishwasher on the hottest cycle but should you not have a dishwasher or not want to use that method, more information on how to sterilise bottles and jars can be found here.

The damson & apple cordial is sweet, yet slightly tart and makes for either a refreshing cold drink or a warming and soothing hot one; just perfect for easing a sore throat; it would I’m sure also make a great mixer in alcoholic long drinks. Another use earmarked for it is for drizzling over cakes/cheesecakes, reducing down for dessert syrups and you could also (in a I need jam now emergency) just boil the liquid until setting point is reached. Now how versatile did you really think a bottle of cordial could be? 

I also added some cinnamon to the pan of fruit as I cooked it, firstly because I love the flavour and warmth it gives and secondly because it is used extensively in Ayurvedic medicine, amongst many other things cinnamon is considered a good remedy for irritating cough, common cold, allergic rhinitis, and acute and chronic sinusitis.

When making up hot drink to help soothe a sore throat and aid healing I add a teaspoon of Manuka honey to the cup, as research is showing that active Manuka Honey is effective against Streptococcus Pyogenes, a bacteria which causes sore throats. Propolis is an antibiotic collected by bees and used in the hive to protect the bee colony from disease and bacterial contamination.

I’m keeping a bottle reserved for medicinal purposes and am hoping to make many more bottles besides, now all I need are more damsons :)

Damson & Apple Cordial (to make about 1.5 litres):

  • 2kg damsons, left whole
  • 10 eating apples, cut into chunks but not peeled or cored
  • 500ml water
  • Granulated sugar
  • 1/2 cinnamon stick
  1. Place your fruit in a large saucepan or preserving pan and add 500ml water, bring to the boil and cook until the fruit is soft and the juices are flowing. Remove from the heat.
  2. Pour the fruit mixture into a muslin lined sieve over a large bowl and press the fruit to extract the juices, leave overnight to drip if you have the time, otherwise just as long as you have available.
  3. Measure the liquid and return it to the cleaned saucepan/preserving pan. For each litre of juice add 500g sugar (or to taste) and then heat gently to dissolve the sugar, stirring gently. Bring the temperature up to 90C and then pour into the still hot, sterilised bottles, leaving a 1cm gap. Screw on the lids.
  4. When serving dilute 1:4 with either cold or boiling water.

Early Autumnal Blush

Friday, September 4th, 2009

Autumn (also known as Fall in North American English) is one of the four temperate seasons. Autumn marks the transition from summer into winter, usually in late March (southern hemisphere) or late September (northern hemisphere) when the arrival of night becomes noticeably earlier.

The word autumn comes from the Old French word autompne (automne in modern French), and was later normalized to the original Latin word autumnus. There are rare examples of its use as early as the 12th century, but it became common by the 16th century. Before the 16th century, harvest was the term usually used to refer to the season. However, as more people gradually moved from working the land to living in towns the word harvest lost its reference to the time of year and came to refer only to the actual activity of reaping, and autumn, began to replace it as a reference to the season.

The alternative word fall is now mostly a North American English word for the season. It traces its origins to old Germanic languages. The exact derivation is unclear, the Old English fiæll or feallan and the Old Norse fall all being possible candidates. However, these words all have the meaning “to fall from a height” and are clearly derived either from a common root or from each other. The term came to denote the season in the 16th century, a contraction of Middle English expressions like “fall of the leaf” and “fall of the year”.

Association with the transition from warm to cold weather, and its related status as the season of the primary harvest, has dominated its themes and popular images. In Western cultures, personifications of autumn are usually pretty, well-fed females adorned with fruits, vegetables and grains and wheat that ripen at this time. Most ancient cultures featured autumnal celebrations of the harvest, often they are one of the most important on their calendars. Still extant echoes of these celebrations are found in the mid-autumn Thanksgiving holiday of the United States, and the Jewish Sukkot holiday with its roots as a full moon harvest festival of “tabernacles”. There are also the many North American Indian festivals tied to harvest of autumnally ripe foods gathered in the wild, the Chinese Mid-Autumn or Moon festival, and many others. In the UK it is during the autumn that harvest festivals take place. The predominant mood of these autumnal celebrations is a gladness for the fruits of the earth mixed with a certain melancholy linked to the imminent arrival of harsh weather. This view is presented in John Keats’ poem To Autumn where he describes the season as a time of bounteous fecundity, a time of ‘mellow fruitfulness‘.

The beginning of autumn is a joy for me, especially in a culinary sense. I love the fact that it opens up the season of slow cooked comforting meals such as stews and pies, and, even more so that my preserving pan gets back into some serious action. 

With an overflowing fruit bowl of discovery apples and some lovely plums waiting to be eaten I just knew I had to get the big preserving pan out.

My first autumnal preserve has been an apple and plum jelly which I have named Autumn Blush. It gained its name partly because we are not fully into autumn yet, we have just had a wee blush of it and partly because the jelly is a gorgeous pale rose colour, which reminds me of the pale red blush hue of the apples.

I flavoured the apple & plum jelly with a touch of juniper; although not an obvious choice it worked really well. The juniper added a rich, pungent, resinous note to the jelly; which had a tart background due to the apples and a rich sweetness from the plums. All in all it is very well rounded, I would say it feels like you are ‘eating the apple tree’ but maybe that doesn’t sound too great ;)

Juniper berries have been found in ancient Egyptian tombs, including Juniperus phoenicia and Juniperus oxycedrus at multiple sites. The latter is not known to grow in Egypt, and neither is Juniperus excelsa, which was found along with J. oxycedrus in the tomb of Tutankhamun. The berries imported into Egypt may have come from Greece; the Greeks record using juniper berries as a medicine long before mentioning their use in food. The Greeks used the berries in many of their Olympics events because of their belief that the berries increased physical stamina in athletes.” The Romans used juniper berries as a cheap domestically-produced substitute for the expensive black pepper and long pepper imported from India. It was also used as an adulterant, as reported in Pliny the Elder’s Natural History: “Pepper is adulterated with juniper berries, which have the property, to a marvellous degree, of assuming the pungency of pepper.”

Making a jelly is not a complicated process but it is rather slow, the fruit has to be cooked and then strained overnight to allow the juices to drip freely before getting boiled with sugar the following day until setting point is reached and the jelly can be jarred up and stored. Providing the jelly is put into sterilised jars and sealed correctly it will last for at least six months, after that time I find they start to darken and go a little runny – still edible but not as good as when eaten within the six months.

The colour of the jelly will vary according to which apples you use, I was lucky enough to have pink tinged discovery apples which enhanced the colour but whatever you use it will still taste great :)

I like to spread the jelly on toast or cakes. I often add some to fruit tarts, cakes and pies. It can be served with cooked meats but I don’t really care for it like that.

You can read about how to sterilise your jars here.

I am entering this jam to Virtual Jam Swap hosted by Aimee of Under The High Chair. Aimee’s blog is absolutely lovely and well worth a visit.

This fall, Under the High Chair is hosting its very first virtual jam swap and quite possibly the first event of this kind in the blogosphere! Come October, this will be the place to show off your home preserves and showcase how you captured summer in a jar.

 

Autumn Blush Jelly

  • Apples, the weight is not important here as it’s the volume that will be calculated later but I roughly used around 5lb of apples
  • Plums, approx 1/3 plums to the apples so here I used about 1.5lb of plums
  • 1 lb of preserving sugar per 1 pint of juice
  • 2 teaspoons juniper berries (but adjust this according to how many apples & plums you have and your own personal preference)
  1. Chop the apples in to quarters (don’t bother to peel or core them) and place in a large preserving pan with the plums and juniper berries, cover with water and allow to simmer for around an hour or until they are soft and pulpy, a potato masher can be used to help hurry the process.
  2. Place the apples in a scolded jelly bag (or muslin lined sieve) over a large bowl and leave to drip overnight, do not press the apples or the jelly will be cloudy.
  3. The following day place the apple juice in the preserving pan with the correct amount of sugar and heat gently, stirring frequently to dissolve the sugar.
  4. Increase the heat to a rapid simmer for around 45 minutes or until setting point is reached, I use a jam thermometer to check the temperature and then put a teaspoon or so of the jelly onto a cold saucer, if the jelly separates when you draw your finger through it, it is ready to jar.
  5. Pour the jelly into sterilised jars and top with a waxed disc before attaching the lids.
  6. Leave to cool.

Personification of Autumn (Currier & Iveslithograph, 1871)

Tastest All The Stars & All The Heavens

Wednesday, September 2nd, 2009

If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens

Robert Browning

A few days back I received an email from the company who arrange most of the product reviews I do (such as this one and this one) saying that they have a new client Kerrymaid and to get things started they have some hampers to give away for the best recipe with Garlic Butter

Those hampers sound utterly marvellous so I had to get my thinking cap on and quickly! 

What could be better than making the garlic butter from scratch? I don’t mean incorporating garlic into butter but literally starting with a pot of double cream and progressing from there onwards? So that is what I did. Detailed photographic instructions on how to make butter can be found here but on this post I am simply going to leave the recipe at the end of the post.

Once the butter had been washed the fun began; I added some finely chopped oregano, lemon thyme and parsley along with some pureed garlic which I had sautéed gently in olive oil to soften but not colour first. This pre-cooking of the garlic leant a sweet flavour to the butter, which lets face it can be rather harsh if raw garlic is used alone. For decorative purposes I put the butter into cupcake cases to set and then peeled them away to present, but you could just as easily pot the butter in a dish or roll it in some greaseproof paper to store in the fridge.

To make the most of the butter I decided to use it in a Provençal style dinner – baked ratatouille with garlic sourdough bread!

Before I start rattling about the ratatouille, I have to tell you about the sourdough bread, or should I say the foolproof sourdough bread. It’s a long while since I attempted sourdough bread and my lovely starter went off to sourdough heaven but I’ve had a hankering to make some and have been putting it off and off; well when ordering some regular dried yeast I came across dried sourdough starter sachets – I just had to buy some.

Following a combination of the Free Bake instructions and a lovely recipe from my bread book of the moment - Bread: River Cottage Handbook No. 3 (River Cottage Handbook 3) by Daniel Stevens I devised a recipe that yielded a deliciously chewy and tangy bread with a delightfully crisp crust. 

Sourdough breads are wild yeast breads, meaning that they take their yeast requirement from the environment in which they are situated, not by adding commercial yeast. It is likely that sourdough originated in Ancient Egyptian times around 1500 BC, and was likely the first form of leavening available to bakers. Sourdough remained the usual form of leavening down into the European Middle Ages until being replaced by barm from the beer brewing process, and then later purpose-cultured yeast. A sourdough starter is simply a combination of wild yeast and ‘helpful’ bacteria colonies (the same kind found in natural live yogurt and the probiotic drinks that are becoming increasingly popular) – the yeast and bacteria live together in a special sort of cooperative existence, with the yeast eating and breaking down sugars from the flour, and the bacteria feeding off some of the breakdown products from the yeast. The yeast provides the leavening action for the bread, but the bacteria are responsible for much of the flavour. Sourdough starters can live forever providing they are looked after properly, often they are passed from generation to generation. Daniel Leader goes as far as to say you have to think of them as a pet – something to feed, love and nurture. I really must get another starter going soon; maybe even today :)

Back to my ‘foolproof’ sourdough, stage by stage here’s what I did.

First I made a sponge with rye and strong white flour, warm water and the culture:

I left it overnight, out on the work top covered with a damp tea towel and when I got up in the morning I had a grand ferment going on:

It was turned into a ‘complete’ dough by adding more strong organic white flour and some salt:

The dough was then kneaded and shaped and allowed to rise three times before being coated in rye flour prior to scoring and baking:

The finished result wasn’t as airy and holey as I would have liked (or as indeed most sourdough loaves are) but I think I struggled as much as anything because of the lack of a proving basket, as you can see the dough is rather saggy and the weight of this will have adversely affected the rise of the bread. That however is a problem now rectified as I bought a couple of proving baskets (and some more goodies beside) from The Bertinet Kitchen; a most glorious website but don’t blame me if you buy more than you wanted or end up spending a small fortune ;)

The bread was still highly delicious though, sweet and savoury with a slight nuttiness from the rye flour too. It makes for perfect toast too, which is where the ratatouille idea sprung from – see there is logic here! I will be entering the sourdough to YeastSpotting of course :)

Ratatouille is derived from the French words ratouiller and tatouiller which according to Alan Davidson (The Oxford Companion To Food) are expressive forms of the verb touiller which means to stir up. Further, Davidson states the first appearance of the word in English was found in Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery, 1877. Actually at that time the word was misspelled as ‘ratouville’ and referred to a meat stew.  In the 20th Century later authors such as Heyraud described the dish as “a ragout of aubergine with tomatoes, courgettes and sweet peppers” eaten throughout Languedoc and Provence.  This author also states that the name Ratatouille was given by the citizens of Nice. No matter who is credited with the dish it is very popular throughout France and in many other countries around the world now; it is a cool summer evenings dream dinner for me :)

The key consideration with ratatouille is to use the very best and freshest ingredients you can lay your hands on; fresh from the garden is best but second to that I’d say go with good organic vegetable delivery or local greengrocers should you be lucky enough to still have one; I don’t much like supermarkets at the best of times and I’m going to be blunt and say this straight – good vegetables and supermarkets do not often go hand in hand. I use Riverford for my organic delivery and I have to say they are utterly fabulous, great array of produce which is of superb quality, excellent friendly service and they don’t airfreight which is a major ethical bonus.

Most traditionally ratatouille is cooked on the stove top, often with all the vegetables being cooked separately and then being married together in a rich tomato based sauce before serving. My version however discards with tradition and heads straight for the oven in a one pot casserole delight. The kind of simple oven baked meal that you can forget about while you idle your time away, checking emails, tidying round and the like. By the time you return to the oven in a good hours time the vegetables will be softened, the sauce unctuously flavoured ready for the finishing touches.

The finishing touches here are some very good olives and slices of sourdough bread dotted with garlic butter to crisp up while the ratatouille finishes melding together for a true taste sensation.

Serve with plenty of extra (plain) sourdough bread to mop up all the lovely juices. 

Ratatouille is even better the following day, reheated, and that is what I plan to do tonight but this time I’m going to serve it alongside some chargrilled chicken breasts.

Of course making the garlic butter is fun but if you are rushed for time or simply not in the mood to start from scratch why not try Kerrymaid Garlic Butter instead, on their website they say:

Our home County Kerry is known as Ireland’s larder and is renowned the world over for the outstanding quality and excellence our fresh produce has to offer. It’s the dedication to great food which makes our garlic butter taste so good.

Sounds good to me, I’ll be on the lookout for it – unless of course I’m lucky enough to get a hamper with some included ;)

Garlic & Herb Butter

  • 250ml double cream
  • 5 garlic cloves which have been simmered until tender in 2 tablespoons olive oil and then pureed
  • 1 teaspoon chopped parsley
  • 1/2 teaspoon chopped oregano leaves
  • 1/2 teaspoon chopped thyme leaves
  1. Put your (room temperature) cream in the free-standing mixer, with the paddle attachment in situ.
  2. Whip the cream on high speed until stiff peaks form.
  3. Reduce the speed of the mixer to medium and continue beating until the cream begins to go yellowish and clumpy.
  4. Reduce the speed to low and keep mixing, after a few minutes you will see the butter forming and buttermilk being extracted.
  5. Remove the butter from the dish and reserve the buttermilk, wash the bowl well and then place the butter back into the bowl. Cover the butter with very cold water and knead well, repeat the process several times or until the water is clear.
  6. Press the butter (using butter pats or wooden spoons) to extract the water before gently kneading in the herbs and garlic puree.
  7. Pot the butter and refrigerate until needed.

 

Foolproof Sourdough Bread

For the Sponge:

  • 150g strong white flour
  • 100g rye flour
  • 300ml water
  • 1 sachet of Free Bake sourdough culture
  1. The night before you want to bake your loaf, create the sponge: combine the flour, water and Free Bake starter in a large bowl. Mix well with your hands, or very thoroughly with the handle of a wooden spoon, then cover with a damp tea towel and leave overnight. In the morning, it should be clearly fermenting – thick, sticky and bubbly.
  2. Now make your loaf: add the flour to the sponge, along with the oil, if you like (it will make the bread a touch softer and more silky, but is not essential), and salt (which is essential). Squidge it all together with your hands. You should have a fairly sticky dough. If it seems tight and firm, add a dash more warm water. If it is unmanageably loose, add more flour (but do leave it as wet as you dare – you’ll get better bread that way).
  3. Turn out the dough on to a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth and silky. This takes in the region of 10 minutes, but it can vary depending on your own style and level of confidence.
  4. Put the dough in a lightly oiled bowl and turn it so it gets a light coating of oil. Cover with a damp tea towel and leave to rise for an hour. Don’t expect it to whoosh up to twice its original size in an hour, as a conventional loaf does. Sourdough rises slowly and sedately. Knock it back (deflate it) on a lightly floured surface and reshape it into a round.
  5. Repeat stage four twice more.
  6. You now need to prove the dough. You are also going to be forming it into the shape it will be for baking. If you have a proper baker’s proving basket, use this, first dusting it generously with flour. Alternatively, rig up your own proving basket by lining a medium-sized, fairly shallow-sided bowl with a clean tea towel, then dusting it with flour. Place your round of dough inside, cover again with the damp tea towel and leave to rise, in a warm place this time, until roughly doubled in size. This might be only an hour or it could be three or four. Then the dough is ready to bake.
  7. Preheat the oven to its top limit. Have ready, if possible, a clean gardener’s spray bottle full of water – you’ll be using this to create a steamy atmosphere in the oven, which helps the bread to rise and develop a good crust.
  8. About five minutes before you want to put the loaf in the oven, put a baking tray in the oven to heat up. Take the hot baking sheet from the oven, dust it with flour, and carefully transfer the risen dough to it by tipping it out of the proving basket/bowl, upside down, on to the sheet. Slash the top of the loaf a few times with a very sharp, serrated knife (or even a razor blade).
  9. Put the loaf into the hot oven and give a few squirts from the spray bottle over and around it. After 10 minutes, reduce the heat to 200C, give the oven another spray, and bake for a further 25-30 minutes, or until the well-browned loaf vibrates and sounds hollow when you tap its base. Leave to cool completely, on a rack, before you plunge in with the bread knife.

 

Oven Roasted Ratatouille:

  • 100ml extra virgin olive oil
  • 2 red onions, finely sliced
  • 6 small courgettes, cut into rounds
  • 2 red peppers, sliced
  • 8 plum tomatoes, halved
  • 1 tin of tomatoes
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
  • 1 tablespoon fresh lemon thyme
  • 1 tablespoon fresh oregano
  • 100g black olives
  • 3 slices of sourdough bread dotted
  • 50g garlic butter
  • salt and pepper to taste
  1. Preheat the oven to 180C
  2. Place the vegetables (not the olives), herbs, salt and pepper in a large casserole dish and pour over the olive oil. Bake for around 60-90 minutes or until all the vegetables are tender and cooked through.
  3. Add the olives and stir to combine. Place the sourdough slices of bread on top of the ratatouille and dot with the garlic butter. Return to the oven (on top heat if you have it available) and cook for a further 15-20 minutes until the bread is golden and crisp.

Grazie Carlotta

Friday, July 24th, 2009

I’d almost forgotten about the joys of fresh pesto. Basil from the garden, beautiful fresh Italian organic olive oil and top notch Parmigiano cheese, combined with some rich nuts and you’re in pesto heaven. 

I forget about the classics of pasta and pesto, bread dipped in pesto etc etc, during the cooler months but once my basil begins to flourish I’m away to the kitchen to make vast quantities, some for the fridge and some for the freezer, shame it never stays there long enough to last me over the winter – goes to show how good it really is though.

It’s with thanks to both Lorraine and Carla that I have rediscovered this Italian delight, through a fabulous recipe which can be found here. Carla was apparently given this recipe on her travels to the Trapani area of Sicily, an area of Italy I would very much like to visit one day.

This Sicilian pesto differs from what many consider the ‘typical’ pesto – Pesto alla Genovese, (from the region of Liguria), in that almonds are used instead of pine nuts and tomatoes are added too. The verb pestare means “to stomp on,” or to crush, and therefore the word pesto describes a process more than a product.

I didn’t have any tomatoes I was willing to part with for this, they were reserved for a salad later that day so instead I used a little sun-dried tomato paste. It worked very well indeed, although, I do still want to try the original version and use fresh tomatoes; maybe next time.

The almonds seem to give this a slightly creamier, less sharp flavour than pine nuts do. A lovely, fresh and vibrant change.

My first use for this glorious green sauce was as a pizza base topping, more about my pizza making efforts can be read here and here, along with a few tips to help you along too.

Now all I need to do is cook with it some more and soon :D

Ancient Capital Of The Peak

Saturday, June 27th, 2009

The June Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Jasmine of Confessions of a Cardamom Addict and Annemarie of Ambrosia and Nectar. They chose a Traditional (UK) Bakewell Tart… er… pudding that was inspired by a rich baking history dating back to the 1800’s in England.

Bakewell tarts…er…puddings combine a number of dessert elements but still let you show off your area’s seasonal fruits.

Like many regional dishes there’s no “one way” to make a Bakewell Tart…er…Pudding, but most of today’s versions fall within one of two types. The first is the “pudding” where a layer of jam is covered by an almondy pastry cream and baked in puff pastry. The second is the “tart” where a rich shortcrust pastry holds jam and an almondy sponge cake-like filling.

The version we’re daring you to make is a combination of the two: a sweet almond-flavoured shortcrust pastry, frangipane and jam.

So here we have it – the chance to get creative with a Bakewell Tart. I’m so glad though that we didn’t have to recreate the so often seen mass produced horror of a Bakewell like these (sorry Mr Kipling). If we had, I might have had to abstain from the challenge in protest :)

Image Courtesy of Google Images

There can’t be many dishes as controversial as the Bakewell tart. For starters, there seems to be no kind of consensus on its name. We might call them tarts now, but in Bakewell itself, they’re puddings – as they were generally known for hundreds of years. Personally I think of them as a tart but whatever you wish to name them, they are a true delight.

I only live a relatively short drive from Bakewell but this was the first time I’d actually made the infamous tart, err, pudding.

Like many regional dishes there’s no “one way” to make a Bakewell Tart, but most of today’s versions fall within one of two types. The first is the “pudding” where a layer of jam is covered by an almondy pastry cream and baked in puff pastry. The second is the “tart” where a rich shortcrust pastry holds jam and an almondy sponge cake-like filling. The version we were dared to make was a combination of the two: a sweet almond-flavoured shortcrust pastry, frangipane and jam. The only key components were we make the pastry and frangipane to the letter, the jam/filling was up to us and we could make whatever size tarts we wished. 

Flan-like desserts that combine either sweet egg custard over candied fruit or feature spiced ground almonds in a pastry shell have Mediaeval roots. The term “Bakewell pudding” was first penned in 1826 by Meg Dods; 20 years later Eliza Acton published a recipe that featured a baked rich egg custard overtop 2cm of jam and noted, the pudding is famous not only in Derbyshire, but in several UK northern counties where it is usually served on all holiday occasions.

By the latter half of the 1800s, the egg custard evolved into a frangipane-like filling; since then the quantity of jam decreased while the almond filling increased.

This tart, like many of the world’s great foods has its own mythic beginnings…or several mythic beginnings. Legend has it in 1820 (or was it in the 1860s?) Mrs. Greaves, landlady of The White Horse Inn in Bakewell, Derbyshire, asked her cook to produce a pudding for her guests. Either her instructions could have been clearer or he should have paid better attention to what she said because what he made was not what she asked for. The cook spread the jam on top of the frangipane mixture rather than the other way around. Or maybe instead of a sweet rich shortcrust pastry case to hold the jam for a strawberry tart, he made a regular pastry and mixed the eggs and sugar separately and poured that over the jam—it depends upon which legend you follow.

Regardless of what the venerable Mrs. Greaves’ cook did or didn’t do, lore has it that her guests loved it and an ensuing pastry-clad industry was born. The town of Bakewell has since played host to many a sweet tooth in hopes of tasting the tart in its natural setting.

Despite never having made a Bakewell Tart before I wasn’t daunted by the challenge, unlike many I love making pastry, I conquered my fear of preserves a long while back and have made frangipane several times before (just do a quick search in the side bar if you want to read some of my earlier posts about these topics).

I went for a rhubarb and vanilla jam filling and made both some mini tarts and a rather huge tart too. 

The rhubarb jam was made using this recipe, but to the boiling fruit I added a split vanilla pod (seeds scraped out) and about a couple of tablespoons of hibiscus flowers, not for flavour really but to enhance the vivid pinkness of the gorgeous rhubarb.  That’s the pity with rhubarb, on cooking it can look a bit pallid and that just won’t do.

I ended up with a sweet and sticky jam that was still well textured, achieved by cutting the rhubarb into various lengths instead of the uniform chunks specified and not mashing it all to a pulp.  If the jam was going to be for spreading on toast at breakfast I’d probably have gone for a smoother finish but in a rustic pudding like this I believe texture to be nothing but a good thing.

Even before baking the pudding looked inviting, once covered with the pale golden frangipane.

The rhubarb flavour worked really well against the subtle almond backdrop from the soft, delicate frangipane; all encased in crisp, buttery pastry – tart…err…pudding heaven. 

We happily munched the mini tarts with a cup of tea but the large version was served in slices with hot creamy custard – not ideal considering we are now entering the season of summer warmth, but hey ho in the interests of all that is foodie what else could I do? ;)

The recipe:

  • Makes one 23cm (9” tart)
  • Prep time: less than 10 minutes (plus time for the individual elements)
  • Resting time: 15 minutes
  • Baking time: 30 minutes

Equipment needed:

  • 23cm (9”) tart pan or pie tin (preferably with ridged edges) 
  • Rolling pin
  • One quantity sweet shortcrust pastry (recipe follows)
  • Bench flour
  • 250ml (1cup (8 US fl. oz)) jam or curd, warmed for spreadability
  • One quantity frangipane (recipe follows)
  • One handful blanched, flaked almonds

Assembling the tart:

  1. Place the chilled dough disc on a lightly floured surface. If it’s overly cold, you will need to let it become acclimatised for about 15 minutes before you roll it out. Flour the rolling pin and roll the pastry to 5mm (1/4”) thickness, by rolling in one direction only (start from the centre and roll away from you), and turning the disc a quarter turn after each roll. When the pastry is to the desired size and thickness, transfer it to the tart pan, press in and trim the excess dough. Patch any holes, fissures or tears with trimmed bits. Chill in the freezer for 15 minutes.
  2.  Preheat oven to 200C/400F.
  3. Remove shell from freezer, spread as even a layer as you can of jam onto the pastry base. Top with frangipane, spreading to cover the entire surface of the tart. Smooth the top and pop into the oven for 30 minutes. Five minutes before the tart is done, the top will be poofy and brownish. Remove from oven and strew flaked almonds on top and return to the heat for the last five minutes of baking.
  4. The finished tart will have a golden crust and the frangipane will be tanned, poofy and a bit spongy-looking. Remove from the oven and cool on the counter. Serve warm, with crème fraîche, whipped cream or custard sauce if you wish.
  5.  When you slice into the tart, the almond paste will be firm, but slightly squidgy and the crust should be crisp but not tough.

Jasmine’s notes:

  • If you cannot have nuts, you can try substituting Victoria sponge for the frangipane. It’s a pretty popular popular cake, so you shouldn’t have any troubles finding one in one of your cookbooks or through a Google search. That said, our dear Natalie at Gluten a Go Go has sourced some recipes and linked to them in the related alt.db thread.
  • You can use whichever jam you wish, but if you choose something with a lot of seeds, such as raspberry or blackberry, you should sieve them out.
  • The jam quantity can be anywhere from 60ml (1/4 cup) to 250ml (1cup), depending upon how “damp” and strongly flavoured your preserves are. I made it with the lesser quantity of home made strawberry jam, while Annemarie made it with the greater quantity of cherry jam; we both had fabulous results. If in doubt, just split the difference and spread 150ml (2/3cup) on the crust.

Annemarie’s notes:

  • The excess shortcrust can be rolled out and cut into cookie-shapes (heck, it’s pretty darned close to a shortbread dough).

Sweet shortcrust pastry:

  • Prep time: 15-20 minutes
  • Resting time: 30 minutes (minimum)
  • Equipment needed: bowls, box grater, cling film
  •  225g (8oz) all purpose flour
  • 30g (1oz) sugar
  • 2.5ml (½ tsp) salt
  • 110g (4oz) unsalted butter, cold (frozen is better)
  • 2 (2) egg yolks
  • 2.5ml (½ tsp) almond extract (optional)
  • 15-30ml (1-2 Tbsp) cold water
  1. Sift together flour, sugar and salt. Grate butter into the flour mixture, using the large hole-side of a box grater. Using your finger tips only, and working very quickly, rub the fat into the flour until the mixture resembles bread crumbs. Set aside.
  2. Lightly beat the egg yolks with the almond extract (if using) and quickly mix into the flour mixture. Keep mixing while dribbling in the water, only adding enough to form a cohesive and slightly sticky dough.
  3. Form the dough into a disc, wrap in cling and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes

Jasmine’s notes:

  • I make this using vanilla salt and vanilla sugar.
  • If you wish, you can substitute the seeds of one vanilla bean, one teaspoon of vanilla paste or one teaspoon of vanilla extract for the almond extract

Frangipane:

  • Prep time: 10-15 minutes
  • Equipment needed: bowls, hand mixer, rubber spatula
  •  125g (4.5oz) unsalted butter, softened
  • 125g (4.5oz) icing sugar
  • 3 (3) eggs
  • 2.5ml (½ tsp) almond extract
  • 125g (4.5oz) ground almonds
  • 30g (1oz) all purpose flour
  1.  Cream butter and sugar together for about a minute or until the mixture is primrose in colour and very fluffy. Scrape down the side of the bowl and add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. The batter may appear to curdle. In the words of Douglas Adams: Don’t panic. Really. It’ll be fine. After all three are in, pour in the almond extract and mix for about another 30 seconds and scrape down the sides again. With the beaters on, spoon in the ground nuts and the flour. Mix well. The mixture will be soft, keep its slightly curdled look (mostly from the almonds) and retain its pallid yellow colour.

Annemarie’s notes:

  • Add another five minutes or more if you’re grinding your own almonds or if you’re mixing by hand (Heaven help you).

How To Be A Domestic Goddess, A Lazy Lesson.

Thursday, March 5th, 2009

Nothing quite screams Domestic Goddess (or even Kitchen Goddess, lol) like home made preserves does it? Maybe home made cheese might but the sight of neatly labelled jars of home made jam does it for me :)

This is the best jam to start with as it doesn’t need any testing or temperature taking or indeed anything much: you just put the fruit and sugar, separately, into the oven and then, on mixing together, you’ve made your jam. (Nigella Lawson)

It was this description which lured me into trying out this recipe yesterday, not so much as the suitable for beginners part as I don’t consider myself to be a beginner at all by now, but, the not needing anything much part. I had to make some raspberry jam today but the idea of slaving over a preserving pan and hot stove just didn’t appeal, I just wasn’t feeling up to it.

Nigella’s delightful recipe for this lazy Goddess’s jam come from the kitchen essential that is How to Be a Domestic Goddess: Baking and the Art of Comfort Cooking. This is the kind of book you can turn to when you’re in desperate need of a little culinary escapism, by that I mean time in the kitchen without the stress of worrying about complex recipes with a gazillion different stages; great food that brings out the Domestic Goddess in us all (most likely a sweet treat) without too much effort.

Handsfree Raspberry Jam certainly fits the above description easily, all it involves in putting some raspberries in one dish and sugar in another, heating in the oven (180C or the equivalent) for around 25 minutes and then combining them to form a molten ruby red river, before spooning into the waiting sterilised jars. You need equal quantities of fruit to sugar, I used a kilo of fruit and got a small Le Parfait jar and two standard jam jars worth.  The only thing I need to point out here is that the original recipe of Nigella’s uses regular caster sugar, I on the other hand used half golden caster sugar to half jam sugar as I was worried the jam wouldn’t set enough; this gave me a lovely soft set jam. If you can’t get hold of (or don’t want to use) jam sugar I’d be very tempted to add two lemons to the raspberries, juice them and add that to the fruit, then put the lemon halves and pips into a little muslin bag before placing in the fruit tray — it is the pips and skin that hold the pectin, i.e., the setting agent.

Even in its pre-potted state it looks gorgeous doesn’t it, Lovely chunks of whole berry in a ruby red syrup; if you wanted to I suppose you could squash some of the berries to get a smoother jam and even pass it through a sieve to get rid of the seeds but I think they add to the this jams rustic charm.

I used frozen berries as these wee delights are not in season yet and I refuse to buy the airfreighted, travelled round the world twice, kind that you can get in the supermarket, not only do I think them unethical, bad for the environment and utterly ridiculously priced but the flavour just cannot live up to the handpicked (or at least sent fresh from the farm in the organic fruit/vegetable box) variety. For most jams (in fact for most culinary uses) the berries can be used from frozen, in this case I’d defrost them first, making sure to keep all the juices, otherwise they won’t heat through at the same time as the sugar.

As the raspberries are not heated past boiling point they retain their fresh taste without being overly sweet, and are suited not just to spreading on bread/toast but are great for serving with ice cream, in cakes such as a Victoria Sponge and even on porridge.  I could just rather fancy eating a big dish of creamy porridge topped with a spoon of this scrumptious jam, a very healthy start to the day that would be too. I’d scrap all the lovely ideas for jam listed above though for just a mouthful of one of my Dad’s scones with some of this jam and clotted cream :D

When The Smell Outside's Delightful

Wednesday, February 25th, 2009

You know something good is happening in the kitchen when you you’re walking down the garden path and the smell makes your mouth water as it wafts by; or at least that’s what my mum said when she entered the house the other afternoon; what prompted this? The smell of Seville Orange Marmalade Jelly bubbling gently on the stove. The house smelt lovely, all welcoming and warm; it seemed such a shame to have the kitchen extractor fan on but as I beginning to get engulfed in a cloud of steam I had to relent and push that button.

When I spotted Riverford were selling Seville Oranges I just had to buy some. The best fruits are somewhat heavy, though they won’t ever be as juicy as a Valencia or Navel orange. Pick firm, well-colored fruit with fairly tight and undamaged skins, even on the tree, some Seville oranges will be rough and pebbly, while others will be smooth; this won’t make any difference in their use.

I’m not a big marmalade eater but I had plans to turn them into cakes etc as well as a batch of marmalade; surely it would be a sin not to make some. 

Marmalade has changed over the centuries. It started out rather like a quince paste, the fruit boiled down so it was thick and sliceable. At the end of the 18th century it started to become more refined and jelly-like with fine shreds of orange in it. Bulking it out with peel and sugar was more economical than just boiling down the juice. Now thick-cut and chunky are associated with superior marmalade, but if you’re making your own it’s up to you to have the peel the way you like it. I think it’s the shreds that put me off so I decided to go for a clear jelly marmalade.

Oh and am I glad I did, I’ve never tasted marmalade like it. My morning toast is now slathered with a good layer of marmalade and I’ve more Seville oranges on order; why oh why have I been missing out for so long???

Seville oranges will be around until the middle of March in the UK so why not make the most of them and get preserving? 

The Recipe:

  • 1.5 kg Seville oranges, washed
  • 3 lemons
  • 3 kg jam or preserving sugar
  1. Cut the oranges and lemons in half.
  2. Put the oranges and lemons into a preserving pan and cover with water. Bring to the boil, cover and simmer for about 1 1/2 – 2 hours or until the skins are soft and tender and easily pierced with a small knife. 
  3. Using a potato masher squash fruit to extract the juices.
  4. Pour the mixture into a jelly bag over a large dish and allow to drip overnight, do not be tempted to press the fruit or the jelly will be cloudy.
  5. The following day put the fruit juice into a preserving pan and add the sugar. Bring to the boil and boil rapidly for about 10-15 minutes, skimming off any white impurities every so often, until setting point is reached. The best way to test this is to drop a teaspoonful on to a small plate that has been in the fridge. If it sets after, say, a minute to a marmalade consistency, it’s done; if not, continue boiling it and keep re-testing it. If you want a really thick marmalade, continue to boil until the sugar is almost caramelised.
  6. Then fill into sterilised jam or Kilner-type jars. Store in a cool place for up to 6-8 months

Image Courtesy of Google Images

Of Mist & Mellow Fruitfulness

Thursday, October 30th, 2008

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

Above is a partial section of the opening of John Keats ‘To Autumn’ a famous and moving piece of poetry. It’s a glorious read but to a foodie seems to mean so much more, an understanding of how the seasons change and how it affects our day to day lives and of course our diet.It is considered the perfect embodiment of poetic form, intent, and effect and was written in Winchester on 19 September 1819 and first published in 1820.

To this day the words are still relevant, to many at least, despite the year round availability of goods from supermarkets from far away shores many are reverting back to eating at a seasonal pace; something I wholeheartedly agree with. Sure there are things we need that simply cannot be produced here such as some spices e.g. vanilla, cinnamon and nutmeg to name but a few, as we have totally the wrong climate but all we can grow here we should and as for exporting our ‘home grown’ to import another countries produce of the same goods (such as prawns) I find that utterly disgusting, but once again I digress.

Back to the preserving pot for me, this time spiced apple jelly the produce. Here making the most of the seasonal apples with a little help from far away grown friends star anise and cinnamon, oh and a few hibiscus petals along the way to help with the colouring. The recipe base for which came from the lovely Brenda over on Violet’s Pantry, do check out her marvellous blog.

I used half windfall apples and half sweet dessert apples as I’d some lurking in the bottom of the freezer, but all windfalls or crab apples would be fine.

Fruit jellies are incredibly easy to make, if not a little time consuming as the process is spread over two days. The wait is well worth it though.

Fragrant and gently spiced, giving a warming undertone to the jelly. Perfect for serving on toast/breads or even with roast meats, especially lamb or chicken, either warm or cold.

The Recipe:

  • Apples, the weight is not important here as it’s the volume that will be calculated later but I roughly used around 5lb of apples
  • 1 lb of preserving sugar per 1 pint of apple juice
  • 2 cinnamon sticks (adjust the amount according to how many apples you have)
  • 4 star anise (again adjust to how many apples you use)
  • 1 tablespoon of dried hibiscus leaves
  1. Chop the apples in to quarters (don’t bother to peel or core them) and place in a large preserving pan with the spices and hibiscus, cover with water and allow to simmer for around an hour or until they are soft and pulpy, a potato masher can be used to help hurry the process.
  2. Place the apples in a scolded jelly bag (or muslin lined sieve) over a large bowl and leave to drip overnight, do not press the apples or the jelly will be cloudy.
  3. The following day place the apple juice in the preserving pan with the correct amount of sugar and heat gently, stirring frequently to dissolve the sugar.
  4. Increase the heat to a rapid simmer for around 45 minutes or until setting point is reached.
  5. Pour the jelly into sterilised jars and top with a waxed disc before attaching the lids.
  6. Leave to cool.