How do you like them apples? That’s how I feel I should be addressing you, because we really have had a lot of apply recipes by this point in the Edmonds A section. But I love a good flan and this little number is easy …
You may be a bit tired of my Winter and Autumn range of stodgy, warming things that include root crops and apples, and trust me, I’m just tired of Winter, but this is quite a pleasing little loaf and really easy to make. Don’t be …
You know something’s a winner, don’t you, when you’ve adapted from our national treasure, Dame Alison Holst. As you’ll all know, I have a bit of a thing for old-school cook books and recipes. So you can imagine I could not leave Alison Holst’s Simply Delicious cookbook, circa 1975, behind when I found it for three dollars at a Star Boating Club book sale.
I don’t mean to imply, of course, that you need or want to be adapting Alison’s recipes. It’s just that the original of this one, Lemon Cream Cake, calls for a cup of cream. I like my cholesterol as much as anyone, but these days you’re just much more likely to have yoghurt in the fridge.
It’s a great cake for this time of year, when although the dark of winter is lifting a bit, you still want something moreish and warming. And, just to be helpful, lemons happen to be in season, so the rest is common sense. I whipped this up recently to go with a cup of tea following a family roast lunch; it’s so easy that you can get it in and out of the oven before you need to worry about getting any mains cooked.
I generously slathered this one with lemon icing and passionfruit pulp, but it also works very pleasingly with a little stewed fruit. It’s another of my lazy all-in-one bowl baking jobs, and perhaps this is what I like about it most of all.
Ingredients:
Method:
Pre-heat the oven to 180 degrees celsius. Grease a 23cm round cake tin and line the bottom.
Put the eggs, sugar and yoghurt into a medium-sized bowl. Beat them together until thick and creamy.
Sprinkle the lemon rind over the top and fold in the self-raising flour.
Bake for 45 minutes or until the centre springs back when pressed.
When it is cold, ice it if you fancy.
I am so happy it is tamarilo season once more. I love tamarillos. Not just for their cheek-sucking tartness, but also because I think they are one of the most beautiful fruits, with their plump, ruby skins and yellow flesh. Tamarillos, which were once known as …
So, bliss balls are a thing right now. Anyone who reads my blog will know that I take great joy in the retro tried-and-true; the less sexy the better (although I’m sure we all agree that Delia looks a total fox on the cover of this 1982 …
What’s not to love about a cake that you can make entirely in one cake tin? Hardly any dishes and quick to boot. Because, although I love to cook and bake, there are times when I am too greedy or impatient to fuss around. If it’s delicious and you can get it in the oven in under ten minutes, count me in.
I have been fiddling around with this particular recipe for a few weeks now, having found myself in need of a cake on several occasions (mainly the delicious shared morning teas for which my workmates are justly famous, but also once or twice just NEEDING CAKE).
It is adapted from this recipe for six-minute chocolate cake, which I understand is an old Moosewood one. And perhaps this is why I am particularly drawn to this notion, because I have an enduring soft spot for all things Moosewood. I think The Enchanted Broccoli Forest is one of the sweetest cookbook titles of all time. I still rue the day I trustingly lent out my own lovely Moosewood Cookbook, never to be seen again.
I have called this recipe an eight-minute chocolate cake, as I don’t feel I can truthfully say it takes six minutes like its predecessor, since I ask that you zest an orange. But, I promise it’s still eight minutes-quick with a chocolatey, satisfying cake at the end that’s worth the orange zesting. It’s also pretty easy to whip up, as most of the ingredients are generally in the pantry. I like the little dash of ground almonds for the moist and grainy texture the give, but if you don’t have these to hand, just use an extra 1/4 cup flour instead of the almonds, and it still works a treat producing a slightly firmer cake.
You will need:
Preheat your oven to 190 celsius.
Put the flour, ground almonds (if using), cocoa, baking soda, salt, sugar and the orange zest into an ungreased 9 inch round cake tin and mix it together, breaking up any lumps.
Mix together the oil coffee and vanilla and add to the dry ingredients in the tin. Mix the batter until smooth with a whisk or a fork.
Add the vinegar and orange juice and stir quickly. You will see pale stripes in the batter – this is where the baking soda is reacting with the vinegar and orange juice. Stir until the vinegar and juice is just distributed through the batter.
Bake for 25-30 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean. Set aside the cake to cool.
It’s tasty dusted with a little icing sugar and served with whipped cream. Or, as I have done in the picture, it responds well to a hearty dose of chocolate icing.
It is indeed a happy accident, that my arrival at ANZAC biscuits in the Edmonds Cook Book as I head forth in my self-imposed Edmonds Challenge has coincided so closely with ANZAC Day. ANZAC Day always puts me in mind of Aud and Reg, my …
Every Autumn when I start spying lovely plump pears, plums and apples, thoughts of warming fruity goodies are not far behind. This particular little loaf I’m bringing you today has been a long time in the making. It first starting flitting about the corners of my mind a few …
I love walnuts. Perhaps this started with the grand old walnut tree in our garden when I was little. When I wasn’t swinging from it or chasing the chickens that lived at its feet, I was happily crushing walnuts between concrete blocks so I could prise the nuts from their wrinkly little shells. I still remember the pang of pride the day Mum put the mangled results in a small dish at the dinner table for everyone to share, even though the results of my efforts were mainly bits of concrete with the odd bit of bruised walnut flesh.
So I felt a very lucky person indeed when I was offered some walnuts recently, still in their green casings. Of course I jumped at the chance. One of the things I love most about walnuts is their versatility – they will happily partner with savoury or sweet, and can turn an ordinary salad or muffin into something that little bit more scrumptious and gourmet.
I fancied something autumnal and sweet, and after a little research settled on experimenting with candied walnuts spiced up with some maple and cinnamon, borrowing heavily from the caramelising talents of BraveTart who I have learnt from with my candied sugar experiments in the past. And here’s how I got there:
Ingredients:
Method:
Put toothpicks into the walnuts. They get their pretty little stalagmite-like shape from being hung upside-down, so I put a wooden board along the edge of the sink to hang them from and some baking paper in the sink to catch the drips. I also prepared some strips of masking tape for taping the toothpick ends to the board.
Put all of the other ingredients into a small saucepan and bring to the boil, swishing the pan to stop it sticking.
When the sugar is dissolved and the mixture turns amber, put the pot on the wooden board. Take each tooth-picked walnut in turn and dip it into the sugar, coating it generously. Turn it upside down over the the sink so the caramel drips off. Secure and tape the other end to the wooden board. It may look a little like a Game of Thrones-style torture chamber for walnuts, to be honest.
When the caramel has hardened and cooled, pull the toothpick out and you will have pretty little maple walnut teardrops to use as garnish or gobble up as is. They are lovely with ice cream.
These little lovelies simply wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for the mighty Anzac biscuit, which inspired me with its comforting blend of oats and golden syrup. I shan’t be going into too much more detail on this point, because Anzac biscuits will be coming up …