I always loved visiting Wales when I lived in the UK, and what’s not to love? Â Beautiful countryside, that lovely lilting accent and, most importantly, Welsh cakes. To the uninitiated, these little morsels may present like just another baked good. Â I promise you, they are …
The busy run-up to Christmas is paved with good intentions, namely my intention to publish this post.  So forgive me for missing the boat a little with this one.  I think we can still consider this timely though, as many of us will have tin-foiled lumps …
How do you like them apples? Â 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. Â But I love a good flan and this little number is easy and satisfying, so it’s worth a try if you like the sound of it. Â d
It all beings with a packet of Edmonds butter cake mix.  I haven’t bought cake mix for years. It gives me a little guilty pang and I feel like I should be making my own from scratch.  One of the last times I used cake mix was a formative baking experience back in the mists of time.  I had to produce a cake for Girls Brigade and Mum, sick with the flu and no doubt not feeling up to chaperoning a junior baker in the kitchen, bought me an orange cake mix.  I proudly presented the finished product to the family table and Mum, who probably wanted to eat anything else in the world apart from a vivid orange pile of stodge crafted by a 10 year old, gallantly rose from bed and forced down a bowlful.  Being the anxious kid I was, I decided then and there if anything happened to Mum I would always remember that moment.  Probably a little hysterical on my part (I always was a worrier) but it was a very touching moment nonetheless and I still appreciate her sucking it up for the sake of my feelings.
If you want to make this Apple Coconut Flan, you will need:
Set the oven to 180 degrees celsius. Â Combine the coconut and cake mix in a bowl. Â Edmonds offers you the choice of doing this by hand or with a food processor. Â I don’t think you need a food processor, I did this by hand very easily.
Cut in the butter until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Â In another bowl, combine the stewed apple and lemon rind and put in the bottom of a greased, oven-proof baking dish. Â Spoon the cake mixture over the apples, and then combine the water and lemon juice and pour this over the top. Â Bake for 55 minutes or until pale golden and firm to touch. Â You can serve this hot or cold.
The apple in my version caramelised rather charmingly at the corners of the dish and the coconut toasted up a little in the topping. Â We had ours semi-warmed with some yoghurt and it went down a treat, I hope particularly for my Mum.
You know something’s a winner, don’t you, when you’ve adapted from our national treasure, Dame Alison Holst. Â As you’ll all know, I have a bit of a thing for old-school cook books and recipes. Â So you can imagine I could not leave Alison Holst’s Simply …
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 …
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. Â 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. Â Or, as I have done in the picture, it responds well to a hearty dose of chocolate icing.
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 …
You can tell the state of the economy by the price of a lime, or so the saying goes.  What it’s meant to tell you, I’m not sure, but I can reliably inform you that limes in these here parts cost a small fortune at the …
