Sunday, 15 April 2012
Update
Alas, this task has been sadly neglected for the past couple of months, to make way for revision and exams. Two this week, another four in May. Hopefully the summer will allow for far more cooking time than I currently have. These days I'm not entirely sure why I'm putting effort into a degree, other than I sort of enjoy maths (when I understand it), it means I don't have to live at home (a major plus point), and I got here before the huge tuition fee hike (so may as well keep going). But I fail to see myself getting a job which requires the use of this degree, since I'm unsuited to 9-5 work. And I would (probably) detest being an accountant. Which does make you wonder whether it's worth it.
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
A is for Apple (Baked)
When I began this blog, I was hoping it would achieve two things: a) it would make me a spectacular cook (still waiting...) and b) I would find some new, delicious, easy and healthy recipes for everyday use. A few days ago, the latter definitely occurred. As a result, I have been living off baked apples for the past week.
Baked apples represent almost an infinite number of possible flavour combinations, whilst still being healthy and easy to cook. Even coring the apple is unnecessary (or at least, it's asking a lot of a student to own an apple corer).
The basics of a good baked apple:
Choosing your apple: Use an acidic cooking apple, such as a Bramley or Jumbo, to ensure that the final texture of the baked apple is light and fluffy. Most "crisp" eating apples don't bake well, instead just turning dry and hard.
Preparation:Do not peel the apple, since the peel helps prevent it from going dry in the oven. Coring is optional. Some people like to put a filling in the cored apple, such as mincemeat or candied fruit. It is just as easy to put the filling around the outside, if you don't own an apple corer.
Make a horizontal incision around the middle of the apple, just deep enough to cut through the peel. This prevents it from exploding in the oven. (If you have not cored the apple, this step is very necessary).
Place apple in a suitable baking tray and add approximately 4tbl of water. (This prevents the apple going dry and hard.) Add any flavourings you wish. (Remember that if you add honey or syrup, these both have a tendency to burn in the oven, often before the apple is fully cooked. In this instance, you may wish to microwave or part-bake the apple first without the syrup/honey, then finish as normal in the oven). Bake for around 20-30 minutes at 180 degrees C, or ten minutes if you microwaved the apple first.
Ideas for fillings: Walnut, honey and cinnamon, Chopped dates, golden syrup and granola, Dried cranberries and candied orange peel, Caramel syrup.
Baked apples represent almost an infinite number of possible flavour combinations, whilst still being healthy and easy to cook. Even coring the apple is unnecessary (or at least, it's asking a lot of a student to own an apple corer).
The basics of a good baked apple:
Choosing your apple: Use an acidic cooking apple, such as a Bramley or Jumbo, to ensure that the final texture of the baked apple is light and fluffy. Most "crisp" eating apples don't bake well, instead just turning dry and hard.
Preparation:Do not peel the apple, since the peel helps prevent it from going dry in the oven. Coring is optional. Some people like to put a filling in the cored apple, such as mincemeat or candied fruit. It is just as easy to put the filling around the outside, if you don't own an apple corer.
Make a horizontal incision around the middle of the apple, just deep enough to cut through the peel. This prevents it from exploding in the oven. (If you have not cored the apple, this step is very necessary).
Place apple in a suitable baking tray and add approximately 4tbl of water. (This prevents the apple going dry and hard.) Add any flavourings you wish. (Remember that if you add honey or syrup, these both have a tendency to burn in the oven, often before the apple is fully cooked. In this instance, you may wish to microwave or part-bake the apple first without the syrup/honey, then finish as normal in the oven). Bake for around 20-30 minutes at 180 degrees C, or ten minutes if you microwaved the apple first.
Ideas for fillings: Walnut, honey and cinnamon, Chopped dates, golden syrup and granola, Dried cranberries and candied orange peel, Caramel syrup.
Saturday, 21 January 2012
A is for Advocaat and Alain Ducasse's Low fat Pate Brisee (French Shortcrust Pastry)
Advocaat- A liqueur made with beaten egg yolks, sugar and spirit. It is sometimes used in cocktails, especially the snowball. (Larousse, p3).
I decided (for some unknown reason), to make Advocaat and Rum-Raisin muffins. (I used a Nigella Lawson recipe from How to be a Domestic Goddess and substituted 3/4 of the milk for Advocaat). The texture of the resulting muffins was really light, but the taste... my mother described it as "mouthwash". Possibly due to a liberal use of nutmeg in the batter. As always, no photos of failures.
Next up was the low-fat pate brisee recipe from Alain Ducasse here. (Technically the recipe is for pate brisee, it just happens to be low fat.) Most people would question the benefits of this recipe, since the "real" full-fat version probably has a better flavour, texture and is easier to make. However, not everybody can tolerate the amount of fat in the traditional full-fat recipe (including myself), which is where this version really comes in useful.
The recipe works by cutting down the butter to 35g per 400g of flour, then adding 100g of potato starch to maintain the "shortness". I did not have potato starch readily available, so after some research (which concluded that potato flour was primarly used to satisfy religious requirements) I replaced it with cornflour.
My Pate Brisee: Makes about 600g- enough to line two 9 inch tart tins.
400g Plain flour
100g Cornflour
35g Butter
5g Salt
5g CasterSugar
2 eggs
100mls water (approx).
Rub the butter into the flours. Add the salt and sugar. Make a well in the centre, break in both eggs and mix, adding the water as you go. Take care not to over-mix.
Notes on working with this Pate Brisee dough: Care must be taken to roll it out as thinly as possible, otherwise the crust will be particularly dense and chewy. In most cases this dough can be used whenever "shortcrust pastry" is specified. If you're concerned that the lack of fat might be detremental to the taste of the tart, add suitable herbs/spices to the dough (at the point where the salt/sugar goes in). I think that if a vanilla pod and brown sugar were used instead of caster, the result would be indistinguishable from the full-fat version.
I did not roll the pastry thin enough, which is why a photo is not currently included - the tart I was making was a bit of a failure, really.
Edit: Since writing this, it has come to my attention that although potato flour and cornflour are in some respects interchangeable, potato flour swells in volume much more than cornflour, which would result in a different texture in the final pastry. I have yet to be able to try out the recipe using potato flour, but I suspect the result may be better.
I decided (for some unknown reason), to make Advocaat and Rum-Raisin muffins. (I used a Nigella Lawson recipe from How to be a Domestic Goddess and substituted 3/4 of the milk for Advocaat). The texture of the resulting muffins was really light, but the taste... my mother described it as "mouthwash". Possibly due to a liberal use of nutmeg in the batter. As always, no photos of failures.
Next up was the low-fat pate brisee recipe from Alain Ducasse here. (Technically the recipe is for pate brisee, it just happens to be low fat.) Most people would question the benefits of this recipe, since the "real" full-fat version probably has a better flavour, texture and is easier to make. However, not everybody can tolerate the amount of fat in the traditional full-fat recipe (including myself), which is where this version really comes in useful.
The recipe works by cutting down the butter to 35g per 400g of flour, then adding 100g of potato starch to maintain the "shortness". I did not have potato starch readily available, so after some research (which concluded that potato flour was primarly used to satisfy religious requirements) I replaced it with cornflour.
My Pate Brisee: Makes about 600g- enough to line two 9 inch tart tins.
400g Plain flour
100g Cornflour
35g Butter
5g Salt
5g CasterSugar
2 eggs
100mls water (approx).
Rub the butter into the flours. Add the salt and sugar. Make a well in the centre, break in both eggs and mix, adding the water as you go. Take care not to over-mix.
Notes on working with this Pate Brisee dough: Care must be taken to roll it out as thinly as possible, otherwise the crust will be particularly dense and chewy. In most cases this dough can be used whenever "shortcrust pastry" is specified. If you're concerned that the lack of fat might be detremental to the taste of the tart, add suitable herbs/spices to the dough (at the point where the salt/sugar goes in). I think that if a vanilla pod and brown sugar were used instead of caster, the result would be indistinguishable from the full-fat version.
I did not roll the pastry thin enough, which is why a photo is not currently included - the tart I was making was a bit of a failure, really.
Edit: Since writing this, it has come to my attention that although potato flour and cornflour are in some respects interchangeable, potato flour swells in volume much more than cornflour, which would result in a different texture in the final pastry. I have yet to be able to try out the recipe using potato flour, but I suspect the result may be better.
Monday, 2 January 2012
Pink Pralines
Last week, I had five different attempts at making the classic French confection of Pralines Roses (Pink Pralines). They are essentially almonds coated in a pink (or sometime red) crystallised coating of sugar, giving them a knobbly appearance and a crunchy texture. Not to be mistaken with traditional Praline, (in which you never want the sugar to recrystallise) or Sugared Almonds, which are again different.
You can buy Pink Pralines in the UK, (from MSK food specialists), but on a student budget, I cannot.
These minute confections are required as decoration on the Pierre Herme creation of Cake Ispahan, which I (badly) made last week. This is what they're meant to look like:
Having scoured the Google search for how to make "Pink Pralines", to no avail, I then started on the search of "Pralines Roses" and trawling french cookery sites. This was slightly more successful - it did yield recipes, but none of the recipes worked for me.
To cut a long story of trial and error short, there were two main problems with the recipes which I found:
- There was the type of recipe which only required the almonds to have once "coating" of the sugar solution. This invariably resulted in badly-coated almonds.
- The type of recipe which coats the almonds once, then reheats everything (including the once-coated almonds) in the pan again, for another coating. This, invaribly, means that the original coating on the almonds melts, leaving the almonds to come out of the process looking no different to when they went in. (Still badly coated).
So, I had to go my own way with the recipe. Alas, it is still not perfect, but hopefully it's getting somewhere. Here's the final product, which I used to decorate Cake Ispahan with: (This picture was taken immediately after cooking; the longer you leave them, the more they crystallise and begin to look more like the professional picture).
Notes on making Praline Roses (Pink Pralines): Please don't use natural food colourings for this. The first three trials I did were with Dr Oetker Natural Red - natural food colourings are perfect if you want to colour white icing and other goods which are not going to be baked/heated. However, as soon as you heat a natural colouring, the colour changes. In this case, to orange. Also, they tend to have a lingering taste (which is worsened when you have to add more of the colouring to the confection which is being heated, in order to achieve the right colour). Dr Oetker Natural Red has a definite beetroot aftertaste. I have nothing against natural colourings, but in this precise context, they do not seem to give a good result.
Paste, gel or power food colourings are preferable to very runny ones which tend to increase the cooking time. (The above images were both achieved with a tiny amount of Sugarflair "Pink").
The sugar is meant to crystallise, so there's no point doing the standard "washing down the sides of the pan with a pastry brush dipped in water, to prevent crystallisation" during the boiling stage. It does feel slightly wrong not having to do that, though.
Some people suggest reheating the left over sugar from the first coating, to form the second coating. This sometimes works and sometimes does not (going horribly granular and difficult to work with), which is why I've given a recipe which uses a lot of sugar but is closer to foolproof.
I have yet to find a way which ensures a complete and even coating on the almonds. Placing the almonds on a baking tray and dripping the coating over does not work, as the sugar coating will set thoroughly in the pan before you've coated anything. Throwing the almonds into the pan seems the best way to ensure that everything is coated, but not necessarily "evenly". All ideas welcome!
Pralines Roses (Pink Pralines)
- A large baking sheet or Silpat
- Icing sugar
- 100g whole, unpeeled Almonds.
400g white granulated sugar
100g / mils water
Pink food colouring
Firstly, toast the almonds in a saute pan, or in the oven for a few minutes. (Not completely necessary for the following process, but it brings out the flavour). Sift a coating of icing sugar over the baking sheet / silpat you will be using. Once the almonds are toasted, place them onto the baking sheet/silpat and dredge in icing sugar.
Place the granulated sugar and water in a pan. Add the required food colouring. (Use the end of a cocktail stick or kebab skewer to pick up a tiny amount of colouring and add it to the pan. Combine and judge whether any more is required.). Now, take half of the contents out of the pan and reserve for the second coating. (This way, both coatings are exactly the same colour. In theory.).
Heat the contents of the pan, stirring with a wooden spoon, until the sugar has dissolved. Add the almonds. Bring to a boil. With the baking tray/silpat nearby, keep testing the sugar solution to see if it has reached the correct temperature, by dripping small amounts of it onto the tray/silpat. When the sugar solution has reached the right temperature, you will notice that the droplets set fairly hard, have a slight golden tinge to them (particularly compared to the first versions which you tested), and you will be able to form a thin strand of sugar between the wooden spoon and the droplets as you drip the solution onto the tray/silpat. When this stage has been reached, turn off the heat and keep stirring the pan, until the mixture becomes "granular". Just before it hardens completely, turn the mixture out of the pan, onto the baking tray/silpat.
At this stage, whilst it's still hot, attempt to break up any huge lumps of almonds which have stuck together, or gained vast amounts of coating. Leave to cool.
This process is repeated again when the almonds are cool, with the reserved batch of sugar/water. (No need to wash the pan out/change pan in between). For this coating, the already-coated almonds (just the almonds, not any of the possibly extraneous coating from the first batch) should be added when the sugar solution has been heated to the right temperature. (Keep the pan on the heat, add the almonds, coat thoroughly, turn off the heat). Pour onto tray/silpat covered in icing sugar and separate any large chucks again.
After two coats, the almonds should be reasonably well-coated. Leave to cool and use as required.
You can buy Pink Pralines in the UK, (from MSK food specialists), but on a student budget, I cannot.
These minute confections are required as decoration on the Pierre Herme creation of Cake Ispahan, which I (badly) made last week. This is what they're meant to look like:
 |
| The bowl on the left is Praline Rose with whole almonds. On the right, similar, but a lower proportion of sugary coating is used to cover crushed almonds. |
Having scoured the Google search for how to make "Pink Pralines", to no avail, I then started on the search of "Pralines Roses" and trawling french cookery sites. This was slightly more successful - it did yield recipes, but none of the recipes worked for me.
To cut a long story of trial and error short, there were two main problems with the recipes which I found:
- There was the type of recipe which only required the almonds to have once "coating" of the sugar solution. This invariably resulted in badly-coated almonds.
- The type of recipe which coats the almonds once, then reheats everything (including the once-coated almonds) in the pan again, for another coating. This, invaribly, means that the original coating on the almonds melts, leaving the almonds to come out of the process looking no different to when they went in. (Still badly coated).
So, I had to go my own way with the recipe. Alas, it is still not perfect, but hopefully it's getting somewhere. Here's the final product, which I used to decorate Cake Ispahan with: (This picture was taken immediately after cooking; the longer you leave them, the more they crystallise and begin to look more like the professional picture).
Paste, gel or power food colourings are preferable to very runny ones which tend to increase the cooking time. (The above images were both achieved with a tiny amount of Sugarflair "Pink").
The sugar is meant to crystallise, so there's no point doing the standard "washing down the sides of the pan with a pastry brush dipped in water, to prevent crystallisation" during the boiling stage. It does feel slightly wrong not having to do that, though.
Some people suggest reheating the left over sugar from the first coating, to form the second coating. This sometimes works and sometimes does not (going horribly granular and difficult to work with), which is why I've given a recipe which uses a lot of sugar but is closer to foolproof.
I have yet to find a way which ensures a complete and even coating on the almonds. Placing the almonds on a baking tray and dripping the coating over does not work, as the sugar coating will set thoroughly in the pan before you've coated anything. Throwing the almonds into the pan seems the best way to ensure that everything is coated, but not necessarily "evenly". All ideas welcome!
Pralines Roses (Pink Pralines)
- A large baking sheet or Silpat
- Icing sugar
- 100g whole, unpeeled Almonds.
400g white granulated sugar
100g / mils water
Pink food colouring
Firstly, toast the almonds in a saute pan, or in the oven for a few minutes. (Not completely necessary for the following process, but it brings out the flavour). Sift a coating of icing sugar over the baking sheet / silpat you will be using. Once the almonds are toasted, place them onto the baking sheet/silpat and dredge in icing sugar.
Place the granulated sugar and water in a pan. Add the required food colouring. (Use the end of a cocktail stick or kebab skewer to pick up a tiny amount of colouring and add it to the pan. Combine and judge whether any more is required.). Now, take half of the contents out of the pan and reserve for the second coating. (This way, both coatings are exactly the same colour. In theory.).
Heat the contents of the pan, stirring with a wooden spoon, until the sugar has dissolved. Add the almonds. Bring to a boil. With the baking tray/silpat nearby, keep testing the sugar solution to see if it has reached the correct temperature, by dripping small amounts of it onto the tray/silpat. When the sugar solution has reached the right temperature, you will notice that the droplets set fairly hard, have a slight golden tinge to them (particularly compared to the first versions which you tested), and you will be able to form a thin strand of sugar between the wooden spoon and the droplets as you drip the solution onto the tray/silpat. When this stage has been reached, turn off the heat and keep stirring the pan, until the mixture becomes "granular". Just before it hardens completely, turn the mixture out of the pan, onto the baking tray/silpat.
At this stage, whilst it's still hot, attempt to break up any huge lumps of almonds which have stuck together, or gained vast amounts of coating. Leave to cool.
 |
| After one coat of sugar. |
This process is repeated again when the almonds are cool, with the reserved batch of sugar/water. (No need to wash the pan out/change pan in between). For this coating, the already-coated almonds (just the almonds, not any of the possibly extraneous coating from the first batch) should be added when the sugar solution has been heated to the right temperature. (Keep the pan on the heat, add the almonds, coat thoroughly, turn off the heat). Pour onto tray/silpat covered in icing sugar and separate any large chucks again.
After two coats, the almonds should be reasonably well-coated. Leave to cool and use as required.
A is for Achar and Adria (Ferran)
Achar - a type of Indian pickle.
The recipe given in Larousse is for a Vegetable (and lemon) Achar, comprising of cabbage, carrots, peppers, onions, ginger, cucumber, cauliflower, french beans and lemons. It requires about two days to create - most of that time is spent steeping chopped vegetables in salt, in order to drain out the water content (a surprising amount of water comes out). Only the lemons in the recipe are actually cooked; the rest of the chopped vegetables receive no cooking time whatsoever. Technically, the cauliflower did not make it into my version - it arrived from Tesco with a few too many slugs in it for my liking.
The recipe is very open to interpretation - no actual quantities of any of the ingredients are given. Which is nice, since you do get to choose what proportions of vegetables you use, but worrying in another way, since it does not say how much salt/vinegar/oil is required in order to sufficiently preserve the final product. Here's my interpretation:
By now, it's been sitting on the kitchen shelf for a couple of days - the bright colours of the various vegetables has receded slightly. However, my main worry (that it would go mouldy/rot) so far has been unfounded. Nobody has dared to taste it yet.
Adria, Ferran - acclaimed Spanish chef, trained at El Bulli.
To fulfil this entry, I did briefly consider spherifying my dinner. However, luckily for me, Mr Adria has published The Family Meal: Home Cooking with Ferran Adria, which includes the recipe for a "Crisp Omelette" - an omelette with ready-salted crisps in it. (Make the omelette as normal, but when you drop the beaten eggs into the pan, add a handful of crisps on top. Continue to draw in the edges of the omelette and swirl the pan (as per usual technique) so that the gaps where you have drawn in the edges are now filled with the still-runny egg mixture.) I did not serve it folded/rolled, since the crisps would've broken up had I done. I'm not entirely sure how this is meant to be served.
I decided not to include a photo of the finished article, since it looked a lot like how you'd imagine a "Crisp Omelette" to appear. I hear it tasted fairly nice though.
Also this week, I finally got around to cooking something from Pierre Herme's Ph10. Making things from this book takes a lot of pre-planning, not least to find a good translation, but also to fully understand the recipes when it has been translated. Here's my first attempt at Cake Ispahan, covered with homemade Pink Pralines and Crystallised Rose Petals:
I accidentally overcooked the sponge. I think it was a consequence of not having exactly the right size cake tins and so having to guess cooking times; I was too worried that if I took it out early, it would sink. Thankfully the cake has quite a firm crumb, meaning that it's fairly easy to cut off the overcooked sides and top crusts without it crumbling everywhere. (And yes, the sponge inside is also bright pink). I'm happy with it as a first attempt, but it's nowhere near perfect.
I'll include the instructions on how to make Pink Pralines in a future post; they're amazing for decorating baked goods, but also for baking things with them in the dough. (Such as the French classic Brioche a praline rose). Yummy.
The recipe given in Larousse is for a Vegetable (and lemon) Achar, comprising of cabbage, carrots, peppers, onions, ginger, cucumber, cauliflower, french beans and lemons. It requires about two days to create - most of that time is spent steeping chopped vegetables in salt, in order to drain out the water content (a surprising amount of water comes out). Only the lemons in the recipe are actually cooked; the rest of the chopped vegetables receive no cooking time whatsoever. Technically, the cauliflower did not make it into my version - it arrived from Tesco with a few too many slugs in it for my liking.
The recipe is very open to interpretation - no actual quantities of any of the ingredients are given. Which is nice, since you do get to choose what proportions of vegetables you use, but worrying in another way, since it does not say how much salt/vinegar/oil is required in order to sufficiently preserve the final product. Here's my interpretation:
Adria, Ferran - acclaimed Spanish chef, trained at El Bulli.
To fulfil this entry, I did briefly consider spherifying my dinner. However, luckily for me, Mr Adria has published The Family Meal: Home Cooking with Ferran Adria, which includes the recipe for a "Crisp Omelette" - an omelette with ready-salted crisps in it. (Make the omelette as normal, but when you drop the beaten eggs into the pan, add a handful of crisps on top. Continue to draw in the edges of the omelette and swirl the pan (as per usual technique) so that the gaps where you have drawn in the edges are now filled with the still-runny egg mixture.) I did not serve it folded/rolled, since the crisps would've broken up had I done. I'm not entirely sure how this is meant to be served.
I decided not to include a photo of the finished article, since it looked a lot like how you'd imagine a "Crisp Omelette" to appear. I hear it tasted fairly nice though.
Also this week, I finally got around to cooking something from Pierre Herme's Ph10. Making things from this book takes a lot of pre-planning, not least to find a good translation, but also to fully understand the recipes when it has been translated. Here's my first attempt at Cake Ispahan, covered with homemade Pink Pralines and Crystallised Rose Petals:
I'll include the instructions on how to make Pink Pralines in a future post; they're amazing for decorating baked goods, but also for baking things with them in the dough. (Such as the French classic Brioche a praline rose). Yummy.
Friday, 23 December 2011
A is for Absinthe
Absinthe - a famous, or infamous liqueur, absinthe takes it's name from the aromatic plant which contains an alkaloid used since ancient times as a tonic. Wormwood is the principle one of the 14 herbs which are macerated in grape spirit, but hyssop and mint are included. It is famous for it's green colour.
I meant to post this entry a few weeks ago, but got distracted. Having purchased an Absinthe miniature a couple of months ago, I used a couple of tablespoons of it to cook with and gave the rest to a university friend, who was broke and facing an evening of being sober and sociable. Technically I haven't seen her since, but I hear she's fine. I did not try the Absinthe in it's uncooked state - to me, it smelled and looked just like "Difflam Oral Rinse", a mouthwash designed to cure sore throats and mouth ulcers. Useful stuff, but I'd never be inclined to cook with it.
To fulfil this entry in Larousse, I made Candied Pears in Absinthe. (Actually, I admit they were meant to be Poached Pears in Absinthe, but due to a happy accident with sugar-to-water ratios they ended up partly candied, so I thought I may as well keep going and fully candy them). I love candied fruit and until now never realised quite how easy it is to make.
(My apologies for the lack of photos currently in this post - I do plan to remake this in order to provide photographic guidance - originally the pears were eaten before they could be photographed. )
Candied Pears in Absinthe
Notes: (Please read before you commence cooking!)
The pears which you use to make this must be very under-ripe. Completely rock hard and inedible, to be honest. This means that the pears will have the strength to survive the prolonged cooking, without disintegrating. Also, ripe pears would contribute a lot of liquid to the "sugar syrup" which the pears are poached in, meaning that the syrup would have to be cooked far longer to achieve the required concentration of sugar-to-liquid.
Small pears work best for candying, since they take less time to become fully saturated with sugar syrup then a larger pear would - hence there is no time for the fruit to accidentally rot, or begin to ferment. I used a bag of Tesco value pears for this, which turned out the be perfect for the purpose.
I have not used a saccherometer (a hydrometer used to determine the concentration of sugar in a solution) for candying, since I do not have one. I appreciate that this does mean some accuracy is lost when attempting to replicate a recipe, however I personally think that I really good result can be achieved by using visual cues rather than measuring degrees Brix. All pears are not created equal, which cannot be controlled for, so sometimes it seems meaningless to be "over-controlling" over one element of the recipe, such as the concentration of the sugar syrup, when the other element is equally variable. Furthermore, hobs, pans and sugar are variable, as are saccherometer's (to a certain extent), so why complicate matters further by adding Brix readings? At least, that's my reasoning.
- 7 or 8 small pears
- 2 cups granulated white sugar
- 1 cup of water
- Juice and zest of one lemon
A glug of Absinthe, to taste.
(I appreciate that it may irritate some people that I've used "cups" rather than a weight measurement. This would normally irritate me slightly. However in this case it's the "ratio" of sugar to water which is important, not the weight in itself. A mug will do, it does not have to be a specific measuring cup. This way, it's also far easier to scale up or down the recipe as required).
1. Peel the pears and slice in half vertically. You may want to take the time to remove the seeds and stringy bits at this point (using a melon baller is the best way) but it's not completely necessary.
2. Add the water, lemon juice, lemon zest and sugar to a pan, place over a medium heat and bring to the boil, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Add the absinthe. Add the pears to the pan and simmer without a lid on, until the pears are reaching a stage of "translucency" around all the outer edges. (At least 15 minutes, maybe up to 30).
3. Remove the pan from the heat and pour the entire contents into a large Tupperware (sealable) box. Leave at room temperature to go cold - it is during this time that the pears will absorb the sugar and become "saturated".
(If you have done this in the morning, wait until evening and "reheat" according to the instructions below. If you have done the above in the evening, wait until the next morning and "reheat" as below).
The reheating process - this ensures that the entire fruit is candied, not just the layers near the surface.
4. Place the contents of the Tupperware box (pears, syrup and all) into a pan and bring to boil for 5-7 minutes. This prevents the fruit from fermenting, or going mouldy during the "cooling off/saturating time". It also helps the saturating process.
5. Pour the mixture back into the box and leave to cool at room temperature, again.
To store, you can either sterilise glass jars and pour in the pears with the syrup (reheating once more in order to do this in a sterile fashion), or take the pears out of the syrup and roll in granulated / other decorative sugars.
I meant to post this entry a few weeks ago, but got distracted. Having purchased an Absinthe miniature a couple of months ago, I used a couple of tablespoons of it to cook with and gave the rest to a university friend, who was broke and facing an evening of being sober and sociable. Technically I haven't seen her since, but I hear she's fine. I did not try the Absinthe in it's uncooked state - to me, it smelled and looked just like "Difflam Oral Rinse", a mouthwash designed to cure sore throats and mouth ulcers. Useful stuff, but I'd never be inclined to cook with it.
To fulfil this entry in Larousse, I made Candied Pears in Absinthe. (Actually, I admit they were meant to be Poached Pears in Absinthe, but due to a happy accident with sugar-to-water ratios they ended up partly candied, so I thought I may as well keep going and fully candy them). I love candied fruit and until now never realised quite how easy it is to make.
(My apologies for the lack of photos currently in this post - I do plan to remake this in order to provide photographic guidance - originally the pears were eaten before they could be photographed. )
Candied Pears in Absinthe
Notes: (Please read before you commence cooking!)
The pears which you use to make this must be very under-ripe. Completely rock hard and inedible, to be honest. This means that the pears will have the strength to survive the prolonged cooking, without disintegrating. Also, ripe pears would contribute a lot of liquid to the "sugar syrup" which the pears are poached in, meaning that the syrup would have to be cooked far longer to achieve the required concentration of sugar-to-liquid.
Small pears work best for candying, since they take less time to become fully saturated with sugar syrup then a larger pear would - hence there is no time for the fruit to accidentally rot, or begin to ferment. I used a bag of Tesco value pears for this, which turned out the be perfect for the purpose.
I have not used a saccherometer (a hydrometer used to determine the concentration of sugar in a solution) for candying, since I do not have one. I appreciate that this does mean some accuracy is lost when attempting to replicate a recipe, however I personally think that I really good result can be achieved by using visual cues rather than measuring degrees Brix. All pears are not created equal, which cannot be controlled for, so sometimes it seems meaningless to be "over-controlling" over one element of the recipe, such as the concentration of the sugar syrup, when the other element is equally variable. Furthermore, hobs, pans and sugar are variable, as are saccherometer's (to a certain extent), so why complicate matters further by adding Brix readings? At least, that's my reasoning.
- 7 or 8 small pears
- 2 cups granulated white sugar
- 1 cup of water
- Juice and zest of one lemon
A glug of Absinthe, to taste.
(I appreciate that it may irritate some people that I've used "cups" rather than a weight measurement. This would normally irritate me slightly. However in this case it's the "ratio" of sugar to water which is important, not the weight in itself. A mug will do, it does not have to be a specific measuring cup. This way, it's also far easier to scale up or down the recipe as required).
1. Peel the pears and slice in half vertically. You may want to take the time to remove the seeds and stringy bits at this point (using a melon baller is the best way) but it's not completely necessary.
2. Add the water, lemon juice, lemon zest and sugar to a pan, place over a medium heat and bring to the boil, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Add the absinthe. Add the pears to the pan and simmer without a lid on, until the pears are reaching a stage of "translucency" around all the outer edges. (At least 15 minutes, maybe up to 30).
3. Remove the pan from the heat and pour the entire contents into a large Tupperware (sealable) box. Leave at room temperature to go cold - it is during this time that the pears will absorb the sugar and become "saturated".
(If you have done this in the morning, wait until evening and "reheat" according to the instructions below. If you have done the above in the evening, wait until the next morning and "reheat" as below).
The reheating process - this ensures that the entire fruit is candied, not just the layers near the surface.
4. Place the contents of the Tupperware box (pears, syrup and all) into a pan and bring to boil for 5-7 minutes. This prevents the fruit from fermenting, or going mouldy during the "cooling off/saturating time". It also helps the saturating process.
5. Pour the mixture back into the box and leave to cool at room temperature, again.
To store, you can either sterilise glass jars and pour in the pears with the syrup (reheating once more in order to do this in a sterile fashion), or take the pears out of the syrup and roll in granulated / other decorative sugars.
Thursday, 22 December 2011
A is for Accolade, En.
En Accolade - a technique of arranging two pieces of meat or poultry, by leaning them against each other.
I have accidentally left my copy of Larousse at university, so the above definition is not a quote, more of a "what I can remember" from the definition. To cover this, I made Ballotine of Chicken en Accolade. "Ballotine" being the technique of wrapping the chicken around a filling, forming into a "sausage" shape by wrapping in cling-film and poaching in chicken stock to cook.
The ballotine is stuffed with ricotta, spinach and nutmeg mixture, served on a bed of crushed potatoes (home grown, I might add. I think these were the best bit) with caramelised fennel, balsamic tomatoes and potato gnocchi. The sauce is a mixture of basil pesto and white wine. Presentation was never my strong point, but maybe one day I'll get the hang of it.
It was OK. I personally don't think the result was worth the amount of time spent making it. The chicken was dry, although it was interesting to work out how to make a ballotine. And it needed more of a sauce. But it's all good cookery practise.
Also, I thought I'd share with you the baked Spaghetti Squash successfully grown in my back garden last year.
Looks fine, baked fine, but tasted a bit... foul, really. This one was baked with a knob of butter, brown sugar and nutmeg. I've never gotten the hang of how to bake squash - they always have a bitter aftertaste whenever I try it. This one, like so many others, was no exception to the bitter aftertaste. Not sure where I'm going wrong.
Yes, it's the Christmas Holidays. Two weeks at home. (Yay!) Revising for January exams. (Gulp). I currently feel very far behind with revision. Partly thanks to the increased baking opportunities of being at home. Also, partly because I have spent the past couple of weeks drooling over Pierre Herme's Ph 10 book, which my parent's kindly bought me as a joint birthday/Christmas gift. 600 pages, written entirely in French and weighs a tonne. I can't wait to try it out.
I have accidentally left my copy of Larousse at university, so the above definition is not a quote, more of a "what I can remember" from the definition. To cover this, I made Ballotine of Chicken en Accolade. "Ballotine" being the technique of wrapping the chicken around a filling, forming into a "sausage" shape by wrapping in cling-film and poaching in chicken stock to cook.
It was OK. I personally don't think the result was worth the amount of time spent making it. The chicken was dry, although it was interesting to work out how to make a ballotine. And it needed more of a sauce. But it's all good cookery practise.
Also, I thought I'd share with you the baked Spaghetti Squash successfully grown in my back garden last year.
Yes, it's the Christmas Holidays. Two weeks at home. (Yay!) Revising for January exams. (Gulp). I currently feel very far behind with revision. Partly thanks to the increased baking opportunities of being at home. Also, partly because I have spent the past couple of weeks drooling over Pierre Herme's Ph 10 book, which my parent's kindly bought me as a joint birthday/Christmas gift. 600 pages, written entirely in French and weighs a tonne. I can't wait to try it out.
Thursday, 24 November 2011
A is for Amaretto
Amaretto di Saronno - an Italian liqueur flavored with almonds, apricot kernels and aromatic extracts. Larousse p13.
They forgot to mention that Amaretto di Saronno also delicious.
I adore Amaretto, hence skipping ahead slightly to this entry. It brings a whole new dimension to baked goods and also makes a lovely addition to coffee. This entry coincides with my friend M's belated birthday (their twenty-first birthday was late September when very few people were available to celebrate, hence it's being celebrated again, in style) which inspired me to make a batch of di Saronno and Almond Brownies, as an alternative to a belated birthday cake.
One day I will work out how to do food photography.... In real life they looked less messy.
I have also been experimenting with sorbets and gelatos recently; the picture below is Strawberry and Amaretto Granita.
This is based on the recipe for Vegan Strawberry Ice cream by David Lebovitz, the only difference being I used 1 1/2 tablespoons of Amaretto as the in place of kirsch/vodka/Grand Marnier, and golden syrup in the place of honey (I was out of honey). It was yummy. However I would not personally consider this "ice cream" (which actually has a strict definition) - it is vegan (depending on whether you use honey) and is not "rich" in any way. I think it an ice cream maker was used, it would have the consistency of sorbet. Whereas I went with the "freeze and stir hourly" method, which resulted in a granita/sherbert consistency. Wonderful, nonetheless.
I have also had two attempts at ciabatta in the past two days. Both attempts were failures. Looked like ciabatta on the outside, but on the inside the crumb was invariably dense and sticky. And a little too salty. Hoping that the next attempt will be more successful; I think the first couple were under-proved. Number 1 I mistimed; it would have been fully proven when I was in a lecture. So I baked it early, hoping for some oven-spring. None happened. It was a brick. Attempt two was marginally better, but still peculiar.
Today, I learnt not to cook ciabatta before it's proved. I also learnt that the amount of numbers between 0 and 1 is the same as the amount of numbers in the set of all real numbers. And that if two groups are infinite, you can assume they contain the same amount of elements (even though infinity doesn't exist). How long is a piece of string? Why, it's length l.
They forgot to mention that Amaretto di Saronno also delicious.
I adore Amaretto, hence skipping ahead slightly to this entry. It brings a whole new dimension to baked goods and also makes a lovely addition to coffee. This entry coincides with my friend M's belated birthday (their twenty-first birthday was late September when very few people were available to celebrate, hence it's being celebrated again, in style) which inspired me to make a batch of di Saronno and Almond Brownies, as an alternative to a belated birthday cake.
I have also been experimenting with sorbets and gelatos recently; the picture below is Strawberry and Amaretto Granita.
I have also had two attempts at ciabatta in the past two days. Both attempts were failures. Looked like ciabatta on the outside, but on the inside the crumb was invariably dense and sticky. And a little too salty. Hoping that the next attempt will be more successful; I think the first couple were under-proved. Number 1 I mistimed; it would have been fully proven when I was in a lecture. So I baked it early, hoping for some oven-spring. None happened. It was a brick. Attempt two was marginally better, but still peculiar.
Today, I learnt not to cook ciabatta before it's proved. I also learnt that the amount of numbers between 0 and 1 is the same as the amount of numbers in the set of all real numbers. And that if two groups are infinite, you can assume they contain the same amount of elements (even though infinity doesn't exist). How long is a piece of string? Why, it's length l.
Saturday, 19 November 2011
How to make popcorn in a pan.
This pretty much ticks the entry of "Popcorn" on Larousse page 812. Many years ago I attempted to make popcorn in a pan on the stove, deemed it impossible (due to burning) and brought a popcorn machine. But today I'm at uni, the popcorn machine is at home, and I thought I'd have another go, since Popcorn seemed the idea solution of "what-can-I-take-to-friends-party's-to-look-like-a-decent-guest-but-which-isn't-too-expensive" dilemma. The final attempt proved perfectly successful, so I though it appropriate to share the technique with you all. Enjoy!
To cook the popcorn: Coat the inside base of the pan in a thin layer of sunflower oil (approx 1/2 a teaspoon), or another neutrally flavoured oil which will survive a high temperature. Don't use butter or butter/oil blends since they will burn. (You may be able to pop the kernels in a dry pan, however I have not tried it.)
Place the pan on a high heat, let it warm for a minute or two : you want it to be warm-hot, not smoking hot. (Otherwise there's a risk of burning your popcorn, and also a risk of the kernels exploding the second you drop them into the pan, which is both inconvenient and dangerous. i.e you want the pan to be hot, but not yet hot enough to pop the kernels.)
Add your popcorn kernels to the pan (enough to half-cover the base, or fewer) and immediately place the lid on it. Frequently swirl the pan over the heat to ensure that the kernels will not stick/burn to the base of the pan. The kernels will change to a "golden" hue before they pop; this should not be taken to be "burning".
(However any dark brown/black patches, or smell of burning does mean that they're burnt. Burning occurs when the outside of the kernels are heated greatly before the inside has heated enough for it to pop. This is prevented by not "super heating" your pan to begin with. If burning occurs, whether before or after the kernels have popped, discard the batch and begin again, with the pan less hot. Another advantage of making small batches is that if you burn one you haven't wasted all your kernels.)
Maintain the heat and swirling until approximately 1/4 - 1/3 of the kernels have popped (around 1-2 minutes after going into the pan). Now either turn down the heat to it's lowest setting, or turn it off altogether, leaving the pan on the residual heat of the ring (e.g if you have an induction hob). This is enough heat to sustain the popping, but minimises the potential for burning. Maintain swirling the pan until the popping has pretty much stopped, to further prevent burning.
Remove the pan from the heat, but keep the lid in place for another minute or so. This gives you time to prepare any coatings/ flavourings for the popcorn.
A "recipe" for one of my favourite popcorn coatings: Make a dry caramel (add granulated white or unrefined sugar to a pan, carefully cook until mid-golden). In the meantime, sprinkle cinnamon and nutmeg over the dry popcorn, along with 1/4 teaspoon of salt. To the pan of golden caramel, add some toasted flaked almonds. Drizzle the caramel over the popcorn, stirring the popcorn as you go, in an attempt to get it evenly coated. Yummy.
- The pan you use must have a lid. This is imperative, since attempting to contain popping popcorn in a pan without a lid would be disastrous. Also, the lid prevents hot popcorn kernels from leaping from the pan and splattering you, causing burns etc... A clear (glass) lid is useful, since this allows you to check that your kernels are not burning.
- The pan needs to be big enough to allow plenty of room for popcorn expansion. However, it also needs to be light enough for you to swirl it around on top of the stove. (Since popcorn must be cooked with a lid on the pan, the pan must be swirled around to prevent the kernels from burning. You cannot take the lid off and stir the contents.)
- Don't overfill the pan. At most, the popcorn kernels should cover half of the base of the pan (in one layer). (I used a 2 litre pan and 2 tbl popcorn kernels. It made enough to fill 4-5 cereal bowls full). Overfilling the pan will either result in many unpopped kernels, or burnt popcorn. If you want to make a lot of popcorn, make it in batches rather than using a huge pan/huge quantities of kernels. One batch takes around 3-5 minutes.
- Your popcorn kernels should be plain (unflavoured) for cooking in a pan. Microwaveable varieties with added coating/flavourings will burn if you cook them in a pan.
- Never take the lid off and peer into the pan to see how it's cooking. If you must take the lid off the pan during cooking (or within two minutes of turning the heat off), e.g briefly to see if you've burnt it, keep the pan at arms length, tilted away from you. However, if it smells burnt, it probably is burnt, so stop cooking it and begin again.
To cook the popcorn: Coat the inside base of the pan in a thin layer of sunflower oil (approx 1/2 a teaspoon), or another neutrally flavoured oil which will survive a high temperature. Don't use butter or butter/oil blends since they will burn. (You may be able to pop the kernels in a dry pan, however I have not tried it.)
Place the pan on a high heat, let it warm for a minute or two : you want it to be warm-hot, not smoking hot. (Otherwise there's a risk of burning your popcorn, and also a risk of the kernels exploding the second you drop them into the pan, which is both inconvenient and dangerous. i.e you want the pan to be hot, but not yet hot enough to pop the kernels.)
Add your popcorn kernels to the pan (enough to half-cover the base, or fewer) and immediately place the lid on it. Frequently swirl the pan over the heat to ensure that the kernels will not stick/burn to the base of the pan. The kernels will change to a "golden" hue before they pop; this should not be taken to be "burning".
(However any dark brown/black patches, or smell of burning does mean that they're burnt. Burning occurs when the outside of the kernels are heated greatly before the inside has heated enough for it to pop. This is prevented by not "super heating" your pan to begin with. If burning occurs, whether before or after the kernels have popped, discard the batch and begin again, with the pan less hot. Another advantage of making small batches is that if you burn one you haven't wasted all your kernels.)
Maintain the heat and swirling until approximately 1/4 - 1/3 of the kernels have popped (around 1-2 minutes after going into the pan). Now either turn down the heat to it's lowest setting, or turn it off altogether, leaving the pan on the residual heat of the ring (e.g if you have an induction hob). This is enough heat to sustain the popping, but minimises the potential for burning. Maintain swirling the pan until the popping has pretty much stopped, to further prevent burning.
Remove the pan from the heat, but keep the lid in place for another minute or so. This gives you time to prepare any coatings/ flavourings for the popcorn.
A "recipe" for one of my favourite popcorn coatings: Make a dry caramel (add granulated white or unrefined sugar to a pan, carefully cook until mid-golden). In the meantime, sprinkle cinnamon and nutmeg over the dry popcorn, along with 1/4 teaspoon of salt. To the pan of golden caramel, add some toasted flaked almonds. Drizzle the caramel over the popcorn, stirring the popcorn as you go, in an attempt to get it evenly coated. Yummy.
Sunday, 13 November 2011
5th attempt at croissants
Still waiting for my Absinthe and Amaretto to arrive, but in the meantime I have amassed a variety of interesting flours, so I'm aiming to complete a few more of the Larousse bread-based recipes soon.
Friday, 11 November 2011
White Bread
After an overnight rise of around sixteen hours at room temperature, knocking back and then shaping and baking, the White Bread (p135) came out like this:
I'm quite happy with this, since I've never gotten an overnight rise to work before. (They always ended up over fermented). Even though the crumb is quite dense, the texture is surprisingly delicate. I assume that's due to the long rising period. I think this will prove a useful recipe in future - it's very low maintenance yet gives a good result.
(However I still need practice at shaping, slashing and guessing when it's proved. The crumb looks a little underproved, however I was impatient to bake it! I think underproving is also the reason for the air-bubble under the crust, visible on the "sliced-up" photo.)
Overnight Rising White Bread (adapted from Larousse Gastronomique p135)
400ml room temperature water (I actually needed a tiny bit more than this, but it may have just been the brand of flour which I used).
1 1/2 teaspoons dried active yeast
1 teaspoon white or unrefined sugar
675g Strong white flour
15g unsalted butter
2 teaspoons salt
Dissolve the sugar in the water. Sprinkle in the yeast and allow it to dissolve over ten minutes. (The yeast will not "froth" in ten minutes since the water is not warm, however the time allows for the yeast to hydrate properly).
Place flour and salt in a large mixing bowl, rub in the butter. Now pour in the liquid yeast mixture, combine and knead until smooth. (The standard ten minutes of kneading).
Allow to rest at room temperature for 12-16 hours. By this time it will have doubled in size. (It may have even sunk a little, like mine did, however the dough still proved to be perfectly usable. )
Knock back the dough, and shape. Allow to rise again (I left mine about an hour, but it was still a little underproved). Preheat your oven to 210 degrees C and apply slashes to your dough, to allow for even rising. Apply any glaze which you require.
Bake for approximately 40 minutes. (For one large loaf). Additional tray of water in the oven is optional; I used a very small tray of water, for fear of breaking the uni oven.
Note: These timings are for an English kitchen at room temperature in the autumn. If your kitchen is likely to be significantly warmer, decrease the amount of yeast in the recipe -up to half a teaspoon less, and/or use fridge temperature water. Or you could just let the dough have it's first rise in the fridge overnight, but I was trying to avoid this due to minimal fridge space.
If your kitchen is likely to be colder than mine, warm up the water as necessary. You could also add a little more yeast - up to half a teaspoon more.
I'm quite happy with this, since I've never gotten an overnight rise to work before. (They always ended up over fermented). Even though the crumb is quite dense, the texture is surprisingly delicate. I assume that's due to the long rising period. I think this will prove a useful recipe in future - it's very low maintenance yet gives a good result.
(However I still need practice at shaping, slashing and guessing when it's proved. The crumb looks a little underproved, however I was impatient to bake it! I think underproving is also the reason for the air-bubble under the crust, visible on the "sliced-up" photo.)
Overnight Rising White Bread (adapted from Larousse Gastronomique p135)
400ml room temperature water (I actually needed a tiny bit more than this, but it may have just been the brand of flour which I used).
1 1/2 teaspoons dried active yeast
1 teaspoon white or unrefined sugar
675g Strong white flour
15g unsalted butter
2 teaspoons salt
Dissolve the sugar in the water. Sprinkle in the yeast and allow it to dissolve over ten minutes. (The yeast will not "froth" in ten minutes since the water is not warm, however the time allows for the yeast to hydrate properly).
Place flour and salt in a large mixing bowl, rub in the butter. Now pour in the liquid yeast mixture, combine and knead until smooth. (The standard ten minutes of kneading).
Allow to rest at room temperature for 12-16 hours. By this time it will have doubled in size. (It may have even sunk a little, like mine did, however the dough still proved to be perfectly usable. )
Knock back the dough, and shape. Allow to rise again (I left mine about an hour, but it was still a little underproved). Preheat your oven to 210 degrees C and apply slashes to your dough, to allow for even rising. Apply any glaze which you require.
Bake for approximately 40 minutes. (For one large loaf). Additional tray of water in the oven is optional; I used a very small tray of water, for fear of breaking the uni oven.
Note: These timings are for an English kitchen at room temperature in the autumn. If your kitchen is likely to be significantly warmer, decrease the amount of yeast in the recipe -up to half a teaspoon less, and/or use fridge temperature water. Or you could just let the dough have it's first rise in the fridge overnight, but I was trying to avoid this due to minimal fridge space.
If your kitchen is likely to be colder than mine, warm up the water as necessary. You could also add a little more yeast - up to half a teaspoon more.
Thursday, 10 November 2011
Update
Due to a lot of maths, baking has been sadly neglected lately. However I have ordered a miniature of Absinthe and Disaronno Amaretto, which will enable me to tick of at least another two items (once I've baked something with them). At the moment I'm planning to use the Absinthe in Paul A. Young's recipe for Absinthe Truffles. The Disaronno? No firm plans as yet. Potentially going to soak some dried apricots in it, then puree and use the resulting mixture as a filling for croissants. However I have no idea how this would work out, due to the risk of sogginess and whether it would seep out during the final rise. And whether it would even be thick enough to get an adequate amount into the centre of a croissant. It's a work in progress.
At the moment, there is a batch of Larousse "White Bread" (page 135) rising in the kitchen, ready for use tomorrow. I did adapt the recipe slightly, in order to (hopefully) achieve an overnight rising dough; removing half a teaspoon of the (dried) yeast and mixing with cold water, straight from the tap. Currently I'm wondering whether not warming the water at all was a mistake - nothing seems to be happening to the dough. But we'll see in the morning.
There is also a poolish fermenting in the kitchen, in preparation for attempt five at croissants. However this time I will be freezing them just after shaping (without letting them rise). Supposedly, if you defrost them overnight at room temperature, they will be fully risen in the morning. Just in time for breakfast. Not that I'll be eating them, but it sounds like a useful method for when you have guests staying.
At the moment, there is a batch of Larousse "White Bread" (page 135) rising in the kitchen, ready for use tomorrow. I did adapt the recipe slightly, in order to (hopefully) achieve an overnight rising dough; removing half a teaspoon of the (dried) yeast and mixing with cold water, straight from the tap. Currently I'm wondering whether not warming the water at all was a mistake - nothing seems to be happening to the dough. But we'll see in the morning.
There is also a poolish fermenting in the kitchen, in preparation for attempt five at croissants. However this time I will be freezing them just after shaping (without letting them rise). Supposedly, if you defrost them overnight at room temperature, they will be fully risen in the morning. Just in time for breakfast. Not that I'll be eating them, but it sounds like a useful method for when you have guests staying.
Tuesday, 1 November 2011
Croissants, attempt four.
Today, I made croissants. Again. However this attempt has been the best so far.
This improvement was thanks to the intricate step-by-step guidance found on here. This was the recipe which I followed, but used the strongest bread flour I could find instead of "all purpose" flour. Also, I used regular dried yeast in both the poolish and final dough. The brand of butter which I used was also an upgrade upon what I had previous been using.
However, for me, these are still short of perfection for a few reasons; the poolish requires 12-16 hours fermenting (although I left it for around 19 hours and it still worked), but it doesn't easily lend itself to "spur of the moment" baking.
The second reason, and this is just personal preference, but here butter is included in the detrempe (the dough before the layers of butter have been rolled in.) This means it takes slightly more time to prepare, but also results in a sticky-er dough which was less pleasant to work with (which had not been an issue in the previous three attempts).
I would advise using a template to score the croissant rectangles - doing it by eye does not result in consistent sizes. But it seems that, to achieve the standard 7 "layers/ridges" of a rolled up croissant, the sides of the triangle need to be twice as long as the length of the upper edge. (The spirals were made from the offcuts of dough).
I reckon another few of attempts will be enough to get them absolutely perfect. (Luckily, I now own a proper rolling pin! Success!)
This improvement was thanks to the intricate step-by-step guidance found on here. This was the recipe which I followed, but used the strongest bread flour I could find instead of "all purpose" flour. Also, I used regular dried yeast in both the poolish and final dough. The brand of butter which I used was also an upgrade upon what I had previous been using.
However, for me, these are still short of perfection for a few reasons; the poolish requires 12-16 hours fermenting (although I left it for around 19 hours and it still worked), but it doesn't easily lend itself to "spur of the moment" baking.
The second reason, and this is just personal preference, but here butter is included in the detrempe (the dough before the layers of butter have been rolled in.) This means it takes slightly more time to prepare, but also results in a sticky-er dough which was less pleasant to work with (which had not been an issue in the previous three attempts).
As you can see, I did not give the croissants adequate room to rise on their baking tray. I think they may have also been slightly underproven before they were baked.
I would advise using a template to score the croissant rectangles - doing it by eye does not result in consistent sizes. But it seems that, to achieve the standard 7 "layers/ridges" of a rolled up croissant, the sides of the triangle need to be twice as long as the length of the upper edge. (The spirals were made from the offcuts of dough).
I reckon another few of attempts will be enough to get them absolutely perfect. (Luckily, I now own a proper rolling pin! Success!)
Sunday, 30 October 2011
Bloomer Loaf
Today, I am stuck on maths (Mean value theorm and it's applications). I am also out of butter, due to recent croissant making escapades. So, I decided to bake a bloomer loaf. This is one of my favourite bread recipes, from Elizabeth David's Bread and Yeast Cookery - it is a straight dough (no starter, pre-ferment, sponge, biga, poolish or sourdough starters required), taking around 3 1/2 hours start to finish. I have made this numerous times, of which the result has been consistently good.
"Bloomer 1" recipe adapted from Bread and Yeast Cookery . "Adapted" mainly because I'm not sure what a "81-85% wheatmeal flour" is, and even whether it is available these days. Also, her original recipe is also very salty at around 40g salt per kilo of flour - around double what most bakers would consider putting in their bread. Hence, I have halved the amount of salt to result in a more palatable bread. (To me, it seems that many slightly older recipes for bread include far more salt than would be considered tolerable these days - has salt become saltier over the years?)
My recipe for a Bloomer Loaf
600g Strong white bread flour
12g salt
380 g water and milk combined (I usually use 3/4 milk and 1/4 boiling water from the kettle, since this heats up the cold milk to an adequate temperature).
7 g dried yeast (or 1 1/2 teaspoons).
Beaten egg, for glazing
Combine the dried yeast with the warm water/milk combination and leave for 5-10 minutes until yeast is frothy. In the meantime, combine flour and salt in a large bowl.
Stir the frothed yeast (so that no "lumps" of yeast remain stuck in the container). Make a well in the centre of the flour and pour in the liquid yeast/milk/water mixture. Mix to form a dough, then knead until it feels silky - 5-10 minutes. Leave to prove at room temperature for 2 hours, then gently de-gas the dough. Leave to rise for another hour.
Shape the dough into a loaf in the normal way (i.e shape into a rectangle on the work surface, then bring edges into the middle of the dough and seal. Repeat a few times for a "tight" finish, then roll the dough over so that the seam is along the bottom.)
Repeat this process once more (flattern the dough into a rectangle and begin again). This helps ensure a tightly moulded loaf, which doesn't spread sideways/flattern too much as it as it rises. After you have done this, "pinch" the edges together to create a really tight finish.
Transfer to a prepared baking tray and leave to rise for 30-40 minutes, depending on temperature of the environment. (By now the dough should have risen noticeably, but should be just short of "fully proven". It should still be handle-able).
Now, this stage may seem slightly fussy, but I have tried making the bread without this stage and the resulting rise is not as good : Carefully tuck the long sides of the loaf under the dough. (Essentially you will be left with a loaf which appears to have been rotated 90 degrees on the tray. So if you are using a baking tray which is long but not very wide, try proving the dough on a silpat or greaseproof paper, so that you can easily rotate the dough to fit the tray again.) I think this step is designed to give the gluten strands a final "stretch" allowing the bread to rise more fully.
Leave the dough to rise for a further ten minutes. In the meantime, prepare the egg wash.
By now, the dough should be very nearly fully proved, but not quite. You still want to be able to slash the top of the loaf without it collapsing on you. So, slash the top of the dough into the pattern you desire. I usually just go for 4-5 long cuts, about 2.5cm deep. ( However I'm only equipped with a slightly blunt knife and a pair of scissors, so this happens to be the best I can do. I'm sure there are many more inventive patterns which could be made.)
Preheat oven to 220-230 degrees C, adding a tray of water to create steam if you wish. (Definitely works if you do not add the water. At uni I omit the waters, since I doubt the uni ovens would survive a large tray of water used to create steam. Nor would the fire alarms.) By the time your oven has pre-heated, the loaf should be fully proved (risen). It should appear slighlty "jiggly".
Egg wash the top of the loaf, put in the oven immediately and bake for 20-40 minutes. (Timings seem to vary a lot.) The loaf will undergo some "oven spring" (the additional rise which happens to dough as it is baked). Some people consider this to be a sign that the loaf is under-proved, and in some respects this is correct. However this recipe always seems to undergo a lot of oven spring, regardless of how much time is spent proofing it (I did the experiments!)
In my opinion, this makes great bread for bacon sandwiches.
"Bloomer 1" recipe adapted from Bread and Yeast Cookery . "Adapted" mainly because I'm not sure what a "81-85% wheatmeal flour" is, and even whether it is available these days. Also, her original recipe is also very salty at around 40g salt per kilo of flour - around double what most bakers would consider putting in their bread. Hence, I have halved the amount of salt to result in a more palatable bread. (To me, it seems that many slightly older recipes for bread include far more salt than would be considered tolerable these days - has salt become saltier over the years?)
My recipe for a Bloomer Loaf
600g Strong white bread flour
12g salt
380 g water and milk combined (I usually use 3/4 milk and 1/4 boiling water from the kettle, since this heats up the cold milk to an adequate temperature).
7 g dried yeast (or 1 1/2 teaspoons).
Beaten egg, for glazing
Combine the dried yeast with the warm water/milk combination and leave for 5-10 minutes until yeast is frothy. In the meantime, combine flour and salt in a large bowl.
Stir the frothed yeast (so that no "lumps" of yeast remain stuck in the container). Make a well in the centre of the flour and pour in the liquid yeast/milk/water mixture. Mix to form a dough, then knead until it feels silky - 5-10 minutes. Leave to prove at room temperature for 2 hours, then gently de-gas the dough. Leave to rise for another hour.
Shape the dough into a loaf in the normal way (i.e shape into a rectangle on the work surface, then bring edges into the middle of the dough and seal. Repeat a few times for a "tight" finish, then roll the dough over so that the seam is along the bottom.)
 | |
| 1. Shape dough into a rectangle on your (oiled or floured) worksurface. |
 | ||
| 2. Bring first edge into the middle of the rectangle. |
 | ||
| 3. Bring 2nd edge into the middle of the rectangle, overlapping the first slightly. |
 | |||
| 4. Use your thumb/fingers to press the edges firmly into the centre of the dough. |
 |
| 5. Pinch together the final edges to create a tight finish. (This is the "seam" which will run along the base of the loaf - gently roll the loaf over so that it is the right way up and place on a greased and floured baking tray). |
Transfer to a prepared baking tray and leave to rise for 30-40 minutes, depending on temperature of the environment. (By now the dough should have risen noticeably, but should be just short of "fully proven". It should still be handle-able).
Now, this stage may seem slightly fussy, but I have tried making the bread without this stage and the resulting rise is not as good : Carefully tuck the long sides of the loaf under the dough. (Essentially you will be left with a loaf which appears to have been rotated 90 degrees on the tray. So if you are using a baking tray which is long but not very wide, try proving the dough on a silpat or greaseproof paper, so that you can easily rotate the dough to fit the tray again.) I think this step is designed to give the gluten strands a final "stretch" allowing the bread to rise more fully.
Leave the dough to rise for a further ten minutes. In the meantime, prepare the egg wash.
By now, the dough should be very nearly fully proved, but not quite. You still want to be able to slash the top of the loaf without it collapsing on you. So, slash the top of the dough into the pattern you desire. I usually just go for 4-5 long cuts, about 2.5cm deep. ( However I'm only equipped with a slightly blunt knife and a pair of scissors, so this happens to be the best I can do. I'm sure there are many more inventive patterns which could be made.)
Preheat oven to 220-230 degrees C, adding a tray of water to create steam if you wish. (Definitely works if you do not add the water. At uni I omit the waters, since I doubt the uni ovens would survive a large tray of water used to create steam. Nor would the fire alarms.) By the time your oven has pre-heated, the loaf should be fully proved (risen). It should appear slighlty "jiggly".
Egg wash the top of the loaf, put in the oven immediately and bake for 20-40 minutes. (Timings seem to vary a lot.) The loaf will undergo some "oven spring" (the additional rise which happens to dough as it is baked). Some people consider this to be a sign that the loaf is under-proved, and in some respects this is correct. However this recipe always seems to undergo a lot of oven spring, regardless of how much time is spent proofing it (I did the experiments!)
In my opinion, this makes great bread for bacon sandwiches.
Friday, 28 October 2011
Croissants, again.
Today, I had a third attempt at croissants. This attempt was far worse than the previous two. This time, I used plain flour (roasted, beforehand. 20 minutes in oven at 180 degress C) and 25% butter, rather than 50%. (Around 50% butter to 100% flour, weight for weight, is normal for croissants, but puff pastry is usually around 25-35 % butter, so I thought that until I had the technique right, I may as well cut down on my butter usage. However this may have contributed to the failure.)
On the bright side, the croissant dough did rise into distinct "layers", but on the downside they didn't rise much. Certainly the resulting croissants were not what you could call "light". Where the croissants had risen, the pastry had either unravelled or split, owing to lack of gluten. (Firstly from the use of plain flour, secondly due to the roasting of the plain flour).
From now on, I will be sticking to strong white bread flour for croissants, even if it is more difficult to roll out. (Yes, I am still using a roll of clingfilm as a rolling pin, due to being a student, and a disorganised one at best. However I have ordered one from Amazon). And 50% butter, even though half of it seems to leak out during the cooking process.
I think that I may have also made the mistake for using salted butter for all attempts. Even though I cook frequently, I rarely buy unsalted butter; there was no need to since everything seemed to have worked out adequately with salted butter. However it seems possible that the extra salt in the butter may be having a detrimental effect upon the yeast - something which I had never previously considered in breadmaking (probably because most bread recipes do not require this amount of butter!) As before, pictures of failures are not worth posting... but as soon as I work out the perfect croissant recipe and technique, I will post it on here for all to use (and so that I never forget it!).
Achieving any form of lightness is still eluding me, I'm resorting to looking at the ingredients on pre-made croissants, to see what I can reasonably improve upon.
Also today, I was considering the use of liqueurs as flavoring in yeasted doughs, however I'm not entirely sure how they would affect yeast action and rising time. Would it be the equivalent to adding a lot of sugar? Guess there's only one way to find out...
On the bright side, the croissant dough did rise into distinct "layers", but on the downside they didn't rise much. Certainly the resulting croissants were not what you could call "light". Where the croissants had risen, the pastry had either unravelled or split, owing to lack of gluten. (Firstly from the use of plain flour, secondly due to the roasting of the plain flour).
From now on, I will be sticking to strong white bread flour for croissants, even if it is more difficult to roll out. (Yes, I am still using a roll of clingfilm as a rolling pin, due to being a student, and a disorganised one at best. However I have ordered one from Amazon). And 50% butter, even though half of it seems to leak out during the cooking process.
I think that I may have also made the mistake for using salted butter for all attempts. Even though I cook frequently, I rarely buy unsalted butter; there was no need to since everything seemed to have worked out adequately with salted butter. However it seems possible that the extra salt in the butter may be having a detrimental effect upon the yeast - something which I had never previously considered in breadmaking (probably because most bread recipes do not require this amount of butter!) As before, pictures of failures are not worth posting... but as soon as I work out the perfect croissant recipe and technique, I will post it on here for all to use (and so that I never forget it!).
Achieving any form of lightness is still eluding me, I'm resorting to looking at the ingredients on pre-made croissants, to see what I can reasonably improve upon.
Also today, I was considering the use of liqueurs as flavoring in yeasted doughs, however I'm not entirely sure how they would affect yeast action and rising time. Would it be the equivalent to adding a lot of sugar? Guess there's only one way to find out...
Monday, 24 October 2011
Croissants, croissants and more croissants.
Still at Uni. My new flatmates are "interesting" characters. Yesterday I attempted Parisian Croissants (Larousse page 330). I seem to end up doing a lot of baking at the moment, usually to relax after a vast amount of work. However I'm currently lacking equipment (it's all at home). These days my rolling-pin is a roll of clingfilm and there's no hope of finding an electric whisk anywhere. Hence I'm making bread/bread based things, since required equipment is actually minimal.
I am a novice at making croissants, my one and only attempt at laminated dough many years ago wasn't a success. On that occasion I overheated the dough, thinking it would aid rising, which caused a lot of butter to leak out.
For me, there was two big failings in the recipe given in Larousse. The instructions on shaping the croissant are minimal at best, not including the advice about the "snip" on the large edge of the triangle before rolling it up, which helps achieve a neat crescent shape. Found out this information from Google-ing "how to shape croissants".
But what seems worse to me, is the guidance given on how to build the layers of butter in the dough. Here, it guides you to roll out the dough, place on 1/3 of the "softened butter", envelope fold into three and roll out again. (No guidance is given about keeping the dough/butter cold whilst working with it, in order to prevent butter leaking out). This process is repeated another two times. The issue is that no further rolling out is indicated after this stage, leaving the total butter "layers" at 6. Not the standard 32 usually required for good rising. Also, at this stage, the layers are very thick and prone to sliding during the cutting/shaping process.
Having completely followed the recipe and rolled a 45x15cm stretch of dough, I tried cutting two croissants. (The dough was also very thick at this point, impeding rolling up). Upon rolling up the triangles, the layers slid apart. This is when I gave up following the recipe, and instead performed another three butterless "roll and folds" on the croissant dough.
The additional turns and folds did improve the dough, and rolling it out thinner resulted in a better shaped croissant. However, there does seem to be a fair amount of skill required for shaping a croissant, which currently I do not possess. Also, getting them to become "golden brown" in the oven does seem to be a losing battle. I did not take a photo of this batch of croissants - I was not proud of the result. I really do not recommend using the recipe in Larousse for croissants, since there seems to be an issue (or maybe an omittance?) about the number of "fold and turns" required to laminate the dough.
Today, I tried making croissants again, using a different recipe. (The main differences being strong bread flour rather than plain, a milk/water mix than just milk, same amount of sugar and salt, same amount of butter). Butter still goes in over 3 stages, but 3 more "folds and turns" are included afterwards.
The result from this batch is still not "elegant". Baking 'til golden brown still eludes me; parts are pale, parts are brown, parts are black. And I have yet to master correct shaping technique. This time I kept the butter and dough really cold, which worked far better than the "softened" butter approach suggested by Larousse.
I admit that the Larousse dough was far easier to roll out (I assume this may be due to the use of plain flour), which makes me think it was not the dough which was the problem, so much as the instructions. (Having said that, I could not get the mixture to form a dough with the amount of milk given in the recipe. It seemed more like 275-325ml was required just to incorporate all the flour). However I will probably stick to plain flour in future, for convenience and ease of rolling out.
Alas, I cannot comment of the taste of either of these. Having previously had three liver transplants, one of the "standard" side-effects is the inability to tolerate high-fat foods. However I like cooking, whether I can actually eat the end result, or whether I can just look at it. It's the knowledge that I can make it which makes me happy.
Here's a photo of the second attempt at croissants. Clearly there's still much room for improvement.
I am a novice at making croissants, my one and only attempt at laminated dough many years ago wasn't a success. On that occasion I overheated the dough, thinking it would aid rising, which caused a lot of butter to leak out.
For me, there was two big failings in the recipe given in Larousse. The instructions on shaping the croissant are minimal at best, not including the advice about the "snip" on the large edge of the triangle before rolling it up, which helps achieve a neat crescent shape. Found out this information from Google-ing "how to shape croissants".
But what seems worse to me, is the guidance given on how to build the layers of butter in the dough. Here, it guides you to roll out the dough, place on 1/3 of the "softened butter", envelope fold into three and roll out again. (No guidance is given about keeping the dough/butter cold whilst working with it, in order to prevent butter leaking out). This process is repeated another two times. The issue is that no further rolling out is indicated after this stage, leaving the total butter "layers" at 6. Not the standard 32 usually required for good rising. Also, at this stage, the layers are very thick and prone to sliding during the cutting/shaping process.
Having completely followed the recipe and rolled a 45x15cm stretch of dough, I tried cutting two croissants. (The dough was also very thick at this point, impeding rolling up). Upon rolling up the triangles, the layers slid apart. This is when I gave up following the recipe, and instead performed another three butterless "roll and folds" on the croissant dough.
The additional turns and folds did improve the dough, and rolling it out thinner resulted in a better shaped croissant. However, there does seem to be a fair amount of skill required for shaping a croissant, which currently I do not possess. Also, getting them to become "golden brown" in the oven does seem to be a losing battle. I did not take a photo of this batch of croissants - I was not proud of the result. I really do not recommend using the recipe in Larousse for croissants, since there seems to be an issue (or maybe an omittance?) about the number of "fold and turns" required to laminate the dough.
Today, I tried making croissants again, using a different recipe. (The main differences being strong bread flour rather than plain, a milk/water mix than just milk, same amount of sugar and salt, same amount of butter). Butter still goes in over 3 stages, but 3 more "folds and turns" are included afterwards.
The result from this batch is still not "elegant". Baking 'til golden brown still eludes me; parts are pale, parts are brown, parts are black. And I have yet to master correct shaping technique. This time I kept the butter and dough really cold, which worked far better than the "softened" butter approach suggested by Larousse.
I admit that the Larousse dough was far easier to roll out (I assume this may be due to the use of plain flour), which makes me think it was not the dough which was the problem, so much as the instructions. (Having said that, I could not get the mixture to form a dough with the amount of milk given in the recipe. It seemed more like 275-325ml was required just to incorporate all the flour). However I will probably stick to plain flour in future, for convenience and ease of rolling out.
Alas, I cannot comment of the taste of either of these. Having previously had three liver transplants, one of the "standard" side-effects is the inability to tolerate high-fat foods. However I like cooking, whether I can actually eat the end result, or whether I can just look at it. It's the knowledge that I can make it which makes me happy.
Here's a photo of the second attempt at croissants. Clearly there's still much room for improvement.
Sunday, 2 October 2011
Abondance Souffle
So, it's been a while... I am now back at Uni, ready to commence a second year of maths and economics. The Chocolate and Red Wine cake (courtesy of Claire Clarks' amazing cookbook) won first prize in the local Village Show. (I added a chocolate ganache filling to give the cake a little extra height). And if you should decide to make this cake, I highly advise sieving the redcurrant jam used for glazing the cake; unsieved jam resulted in a inelegant glaze.
I finally managed to track down "Abondance" from Norbiton Cheese. Not that it was quite that straightforward; I ordered the cheese then recieved a 'phone call to say that it was not in stock, so my order will be refunded. Which it was. Then the cheese arrived. Hats off to them, the cheese arrived in fairly good condition, proving wrong my concerns about the hygeine of ordering cheese online.
Abondance proved to be a hard cheese with the texture of Parmesan, but the taste of Gouda. I made a Abondance and Spinach Souffle with it:
About 80g of Abondance was more than enough to flavor 500mls of white sauce souffle base. As you can see, I did not precook the spinach, which would have given a better result.
Still looking for an "Apricot-Pays". And now onto "Absinthe"...
I finally managed to track down "Abondance" from Norbiton Cheese. Not that it was quite that straightforward; I ordered the cheese then recieved a 'phone call to say that it was not in stock, so my order will be refunded. Which it was. Then the cheese arrived. Hats off to them, the cheese arrived in fairly good condition, proving wrong my concerns about the hygeine of ordering cheese online.
Abondance proved to be a hard cheese with the texture of Parmesan, but the taste of Gouda. I made a Abondance and Spinach Souffle with it:
Still looking for an "Apricot-Pays". And now onto "Absinthe"...
Friday, 9 September 2011
Today, eventually, I managed to temper a batch of chocolate. This was necessary since, in order to finish my Chocolate and Red Wine cake for the local village show (recipe taken from Claire Clark's amazing cookbook, "Indulge" http://www.amazon.co.uk/Indulge-Perfect-Desserts-Claire-Clark/dp/1906650136/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1315603420&sr=8-1) chocolate rectangles are meant to be used to decorate the outside of the cake.
To make the chocolate rectangles, tempered dark chocolate is spread relatively thickly and hopefully evenly onto acetate sheets. These sheets are then left in the fridge until cold (with the edges pinned down to prevent curling), then carefully divided into rectangles. Then all that's left is to peel the chocolate away from the acetate, without it all snapping or crumbling into a million small pieces. I have attempted this process twice today; first batch went wrong. I did not temper it, because I read in a reputable cookbook that chocolate which is already tempered (i.e any supermarket chocolate) does not need to be tempered again, so long as it is heated very slowly. I failed to heed the "very slowly" part, and instead microwaved the chocolate. Needless to say, the resulting chocolate rectangles were soft and bloomed. Very unattractive - not at all suitable for decorative work.
This meant that I now had a batch of truly untempered chocolate all stuck to acetate sheets, and about half a bar of tempered chocolate. So, I scraped the chocolate off the sheets and tried again. (By this stage I seemed to have used every spare piece of crockery and cutlery in the kitchen.) Using Paul A. Young's (a Chocolatier) method for tempering the chocolate by "seeding", I succeeded in retempering the chocolate which I messed up earlier.
(A summery of the seeding method: Put 2/3 of chocolate required into a heatproof bowl above a pan of cold water. Very slowly, over the course of at least an hour, heat up the water to melt the chocolate. Do not allow the water to boil, or even simmer. Chocolate must not exceed 55 degrees C (which it won't, so long as the water does not boil). When the chocolate is melted, take the bowl off the heat and add the remaining 1/3 of the chocolate. This third must be tempered chocolate, not untempered, since this is used to "seed" the molecules in the heated chocolate into setting in the right formation. Stir until all the chocolate is melted. Cool this mixture until it hits 28-27 degrees, or until it's just beginning to harden. Now, very carefully and slowly, reheat until 32-33 degrees, or until it's just become liquid again, but no further - this is the "working temperature". Heating past this stage will undo all the hard work you've just done.) I actually got interrupted at the cooling stage - fairly sure my chocolate was below 27 degrees when I heated it again, however it still worked just fine.
This, spread onto the acetate and chilled, produced acceptable rectangles, which, most importantly, did not bloom. (Picture of the cake to follow- as yet it is still unsoaked, unglazed and undecorated).
To make the chocolate rectangles, tempered dark chocolate is spread relatively thickly and hopefully evenly onto acetate sheets. These sheets are then left in the fridge until cold (with the edges pinned down to prevent curling), then carefully divided into rectangles. Then all that's left is to peel the chocolate away from the acetate, without it all snapping or crumbling into a million small pieces. I have attempted this process twice today; first batch went wrong. I did not temper it, because I read in a reputable cookbook that chocolate which is already tempered (i.e any supermarket chocolate) does not need to be tempered again, so long as it is heated very slowly. I failed to heed the "very slowly" part, and instead microwaved the chocolate. Needless to say, the resulting chocolate rectangles were soft and bloomed. Very unattractive - not at all suitable for decorative work.
This meant that I now had a batch of truly untempered chocolate all stuck to acetate sheets, and about half a bar of tempered chocolate. So, I scraped the chocolate off the sheets and tried again. (By this stage I seemed to have used every spare piece of crockery and cutlery in the kitchen.) Using Paul A. Young's (a Chocolatier) method for tempering the chocolate by "seeding", I succeeded in retempering the chocolate which I messed up earlier.
(A summery of the seeding method: Put 2/3 of chocolate required into a heatproof bowl above a pan of cold water. Very slowly, over the course of at least an hour, heat up the water to melt the chocolate. Do not allow the water to boil, or even simmer. Chocolate must not exceed 55 degrees C (which it won't, so long as the water does not boil). When the chocolate is melted, take the bowl off the heat and add the remaining 1/3 of the chocolate. This third must be tempered chocolate, not untempered, since this is used to "seed" the molecules in the heated chocolate into setting in the right formation. Stir until all the chocolate is melted. Cool this mixture until it hits 28-27 degrees, or until it's just beginning to harden. Now, very carefully and slowly, reheat until 32-33 degrees, or until it's just become liquid again, but no further - this is the "working temperature". Heating past this stage will undo all the hard work you've just done.) I actually got interrupted at the cooling stage - fairly sure my chocolate was below 27 degrees when I heated it again, however it still worked just fine.
This, spread onto the acetate and chilled, produced acceptable rectangles, which, most importantly, did not bloom. (Picture of the cake to follow- as yet it is still unsoaked, unglazed and undecorated).
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
Lemon Tart, Shortbread, and Sugar Sticks
Over the weekend I decided to have a barbecue with friends. Well, it didn't go as planned - by the time it came to actually try and cook something on the BBQ, it had gone cold. Despite adding more coal and firelighters to it, the BBQ refused to become hot enough to cook the marinated steaks, which eventually had to be done in a griddle pan, culminating in setting the smoke-detector off just as my parents walked through the front door. Eventually, after thirty minutes on the BBQ, we succeeded in cooking a garlic mushroom. One garlic mushroom. And the supposedly "roasted" peppers remained completely unaffected by the heat. On the bright side, at least it didn't rain.
For dessert that day, I made the Lemon Tart on Larousse page 1061, with an Earl Grey gelato, lemon jelly and honeycomb. I should have been suspicious of the tart recipe to begin with; it says you can substitute 3 oranges or 7 tangerines for the lemons, without changing the quantity of sugar required. This should have indicated to me that the resulting tart would not be the standard sickly-sweet lemon curd flavour - rather, a very tangy lemon tart. However, I realised this upon serving it.
It turns out that timing on this tart is absolutely crucial - it goes in on a 240 degree C oven, for 10-15 minutes. Mother checked on it at ten minutes, stating it was still "liquidy". I checked it after a further two minutes - the half closest to the back of the oven had almost burnt; about 1/3 would have been unservable, assuming you were making it for paying customers rather than friends. Luckily, I was still able to salvage enough portions from the unburnt side of the tart, which in retrospect I could have cut smaller, since I was unaware of just how tangy the tart would be.
Quite a few people left their tart, which doesn't surprise me, considering how strong is was. However the filling is easy to make and quick to cook, even if you do have to continually stare into the oven to judge it's progress and avoid burning. Plus, unlike the standard tarte au citron, this does not require double cream; a huge advantage if, like myself, you are never organised enough to buy more than the basic cookery ingredients in advance. It is likely I will end up making this tart again, although potentially with slightly more sugar in the lemon version. (I do actually like the tart as it is, but I'm not sure that many people would completely share this opinion; if I were making it for guests, especially guests with younger children, slightly more sugar would be required.)
Today, I made Shortbread from the recipe on page 966, for the local Village Show. I added vanilla paste, dried ground rose petals, a few drops of rosewater and a tiny amount of ground cloves for flavour.
Yes, I think I overcooked it slightly - it had 50 minutes on 160 degrees C (the minimum suggested), but it still looks too "golden". The division markings disappeared during baking - I carved them on again afterwards, but this does feel slightly like cheating. The shortbread made the house smell really nice whilst it was baking though. The fluted edge was achieved by using a flan tin, rather than two 15cm cake tins, as suggested in the recipe. I'm considering whether to remake this or not, since to me it looks to golden to win a prize at the show. However I'm currently out of both butter and eggs; bad planning on my part.
Also today I was trying to work out what to make for Christmas presents. On a student budget, this is always tricky. This year it looks like being a cellophane bag of homemade truffles, designed to turn into a hot chocolate drink when dropped into hot milk. Possibly also some homemade Sugar Sticks (sometimes called Swizzle Sticks - a kind of wooden stick with a blob of sugar on the end, used for sweetening tea and coffee). Potentially also a mug, if Whittard of Chelsea have a sale on. Here's my first attempt at Sugar Sticks - (I have yet to cut down the length of the stick).
These were created by combining 75 grams of granulated white sugar with 2 tbl of water, and carefully heating until it has become a mid-caramel colour. Once this has been achieved, add 1 tsp of glucose - this is optional, but it stops the caramel from becoming granular again. Remove from heat, pour onto a strong, greased oven tray. (Heat oven to 140 degrees C at this stage - if the sugar gets too cold and hard, put the oven tray in the oven to heat up again. ) Once the carmel is "pliable" rather than runny, place the end of a wooden skewer into a warm part, aiming to get a "ribbon" of sugar stuck to it; pull the skewer away from the caramel, preserving the strand, and attempt to wrap the strand of sugar around the skewer by twisting the skewer. Keep going until you feel that your sugar stick is big enough.
I did try just repeated dipping of the wooden skewer into the caramel, allowing each layer to dry in between dipping (in a similar method to creating a tapered candle) - it failed. I think as soon as the cold layer went back into the hot sugar, it melted again. Wrapping the caramel around the stick when it had reached a pliable stage was the quicker and easier option. Also, quantities of sugar given here create a very small batch - if you intend to make more than 5 sticks, scale up the batch as necessary. Scaling up has it's benefits, since the sugar will stay warm and pliable for longer. Finished sticks need to be cellophaned as soon as they are cold; sugar is hygroscopic (attracts water), so uncovered sugar, like an unwrapped boiled sweet, goes sticky very quickly. I think that the stickiness will be quite an issue if I do use this idea for Christmas gifts.
For dessert that day, I made the Lemon Tart on Larousse page 1061, with an Earl Grey gelato, lemon jelly and honeycomb. I should have been suspicious of the tart recipe to begin with; it says you can substitute 3 oranges or 7 tangerines for the lemons, without changing the quantity of sugar required. This should have indicated to me that the resulting tart would not be the standard sickly-sweet lemon curd flavour - rather, a very tangy lemon tart. However, I realised this upon serving it.
It turns out that timing on this tart is absolutely crucial - it goes in on a 240 degree C oven, for 10-15 minutes. Mother checked on it at ten minutes, stating it was still "liquidy". I checked it after a further two minutes - the half closest to the back of the oven had almost burnt; about 1/3 would have been unservable, assuming you were making it for paying customers rather than friends. Luckily, I was still able to salvage enough portions from the unburnt side of the tart, which in retrospect I could have cut smaller, since I was unaware of just how tangy the tart would be.
Quite a few people left their tart, which doesn't surprise me, considering how strong is was. However the filling is easy to make and quick to cook, even if you do have to continually stare into the oven to judge it's progress and avoid burning. Plus, unlike the standard tarte au citron, this does not require double cream; a huge advantage if, like myself, you are never organised enough to buy more than the basic cookery ingredients in advance. It is likely I will end up making this tart again, although potentially with slightly more sugar in the lemon version. (I do actually like the tart as it is, but I'm not sure that many people would completely share this opinion; if I were making it for guests, especially guests with younger children, slightly more sugar would be required.)
Today, I made Shortbread from the recipe on page 966, for the local Village Show. I added vanilla paste, dried ground rose petals, a few drops of rosewater and a tiny amount of ground cloves for flavour.
Also today I was trying to work out what to make for Christmas presents. On a student budget, this is always tricky. This year it looks like being a cellophane bag of homemade truffles, designed to turn into a hot chocolate drink when dropped into hot milk. Possibly also some homemade Sugar Sticks (sometimes called Swizzle Sticks - a kind of wooden stick with a blob of sugar on the end, used for sweetening tea and coffee). Potentially also a mug, if Whittard of Chelsea have a sale on. Here's my first attempt at Sugar Sticks - (I have yet to cut down the length of the stick).
I did try just repeated dipping of the wooden skewer into the caramel, allowing each layer to dry in between dipping (in a similar method to creating a tapered candle) - it failed. I think as soon as the cold layer went back into the hot sugar, it melted again. Wrapping the caramel around the stick when it had reached a pliable stage was the quicker and easier option. Also, quantities of sugar given here create a very small batch - if you intend to make more than 5 sticks, scale up the batch as necessary. Scaling up has it's benefits, since the sugar will stay warm and pliable for longer. Finished sticks need to be cellophaned as soon as they are cold; sugar is hygroscopic (attracts water), so uncovered sugar, like an unwrapped boiled sweet, goes sticky very quickly. I think that the stickiness will be quite an issue if I do use this idea for Christmas gifts.
Wednesday, 31 August 2011
A is for Aboukir
Yesterday, I made an Aboukir cake. I also got my new camera working, so here's the first image of the blog!
Aboukir - a french cake, cooked in a Charlotte mould, sandwiched with chestnut cream and coated in a coffee frosting. (I didn't have a Charlotte mould. The sprinkles on the top are ground coffee).
About half of it is still in the fridge. Since most of my family are on odd diets (mother and myself cannot tolerate high fat foods and father is "salicylate free", an anti-allergy diet, and possibly the dullest diet of all time), I had to make a low fat cake for it to have been edible by anyone. So, I made a 4-egg whisked sponge and used Italian Meringue to create the chestnut cream filling and the coffee frosting. I'm hoping that enough boiling hot sugar syrup was used to fully cook the egg whites, but I have my doubts - the volume of syrup was quite tiny compared to the volume of egg whites in the bowl. (Usually I would have used powdered pasteurised egg whites when making icings/frostings, as this completely negates any salmonella risk, however I used my last sachets making my father's birthday cake). Even so, the cake turned out reasonably - mother's still tucking into it as I type. It probably would have tasted better had it not been "low fat", but nobody would have been able to eat it.
Bad news- my pickled beetroot has gone moldy. I'm not sure if my homebrewed ginger beer is also going that way - there's some cloudy bits floating throughout the bottle and some sediment in the base. Not sure if this is supposed to happen.
Still trying to find "abondance" cheese, but have ended up spending the rest of my student buget on a sugar pump, in order to create blown sugar bubbles for a friend's birthday cake. So until my loan comes through in the end of September, I will not be ordering "specialist" ingredients online. The next item, "apricot-pays", looks like it's going the same way as "abondance"; something to order online. Still not entirely sure what an "apricot-pays" is - is it the same as a "sapote", or a "mamee"? 'Tis difficult to order something online, when you're not sure what you're actually looking for...
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