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.
Ladies and gentlemen, we have finally hit the International Dishes section of the Edmonds Cook Book. As I make my way alphabetically (and rather slowly, I do admit) through the Edmonds Cook Book, the A section to date has yielded a fair bit of baking and …
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 …
You could be forgiven for thinking my Edmonds Challenge had gone off the boil somewhat…truth is, it had, and for that I apologise. But, dear readers, we are back on the boil, quite literally in fact, as today’s recipe includes broccoli, boiling water and a saucepan.
A while ago, I promised a run of almonds as I worked my way through almond recipes in the ‘A’ section of our national treasure the Edmonds Cookbook, and indeed they did as I grabbled with some new treats, including devilled almonds and almond biscuits.
Today we greet the last entry in the ‘Almonds’ section, Broccoli with Almonds. And can I say, what a delight. Lightly cooked broccoli covered with lemony butter and toasted sliced almonds. Oh yum.
This happy marriage of food with butter and nuts has its own official culinary term, ‘amandine‘, which means food cooked with butter and seasonings and garnished with a sprinkling of almonds.
Edmonds’ own take on this delight, a ‘Broccoli Amandine’ if you like, is a little gem. Easy and tasty, it would be a classy and delicious accompaniment to any supper. I chose to accompany mine with a little brown rice for lunch and can report this was a very satisfactory pairing.
The recipe is below…enjoy.
Edmonds Broccoli with Almonds
500g broccoli, cut into florets
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons lemon juice
salt
pepper
2 tablespoons toasted sliced almonds
Cook the broccoli in salted, boiling water until it is just tender.
In another saucepan, melt the butter and add the lemon juice, salt and pepper.
Drain the broccoli.
Add the almonds to the butter mix and spoon this over the broccoli.
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 …
Herman came into my life my accident. My plans were to have morning tea with my sister and gorgeous little niece. This did happen. But what I didn’t expect was to leave my sister’s house with my very first sour dough starter for my own Herman the German Friendship Cake.
Herman is the chain letter of sour dough. A lucky Herman recipient is given a portion of sour dough starter and instructions on how to feed, love and nurture Herman for 10 days. On the tenth day, Herman is split into four portions. Three are given away to new Herman owners to start the process again. The fourth portion is kept to be made into one’s very own Herman sour dough cake or bread.
I love the savoury chewiness of sour dough. Ever since reading the lovely Clotilde’s sour dough adventures on Chocolate&Zucchini I’ve been keen to try my own but just a little too scared. My unexpected acquisition of Herman was just what I needed to kick-start my own sour dough adventures. Herman and I were meant to be.
Sour dough starters are rather fascinating. The happy little bugs and bits who occur naturally in flour develop into a culture that will rise dough if they are left for long enough and treated to water, refreshment and the right temperature. And so, Herman took up residence on top of my microwave. Devotedly following the Herman instructions, I heartily stirred Herman each of the first four days. He was developing an interesting bubbly texture.
On day four, the instructions informed me, Herman is hungry. Dutifully, I fed Herman (or refreshed him, as it is known in sour dough parlance) with 1 cup of flour, 1 cup of water and 1 cup of sugar. Days five to eight: more stirring. My Herman now had a sticky-looking top and plenty more bubbling.
Day nine was a big day. Three quarters of my Herman were packaged up and shipped off to their new homes. It was time to turn my mind to baking for day 10.
The Herman website has plenty of delicious ideas for when it’s time to bake your Herman. My sister made the original Herman, and it is indeed lovely. I played around with the original recipe, borrowing heavily from my most favourite Christmas cake recipe, Nigella’s chocolate fruit cake (because why wait until Christmas to make a delicious cake?). Prunes, chocolate, orange and coffee combined to make this Fruit and Chocolate Herman. This recipe produces a dark, dense cake with a pleasant hint of spice.
Fruit and Chocolate Herman
Ingredients:
Grease a 23 cm round cake tin and line the bottom. Heat your oven to 180 degrees celsius.
Stir the flour, cocoa, baking powder, brown sugar, mixed spice and vanilla essence into your Herman starter, which will be in the large mixing bowl as per the Herman instructions. Add the eggs and mix in.
Next, tip in the prunes, raisins, currants and cranberries. Add the orange juice, zest and the espresso coffee, and stir all ingredients together.
Pour the cake batter into a 23cm round cake tin. Bake for 50 minutes until a skewer inserted into the middle comes out clean. Cool on a cake rack.
It was time to slay the mighty parsley-beasts. I felt a little regretful about this, as they had done me proud by growing all green and bountiful, despite my doing very little to help them. But, many leaves had been picked for many dishes, and …