Baked Scotch Eggs

It was, apparently, Eleanor Roosevelt that said "Do one thing everyday that scares you".

Do I agree that this is a basis for a life well-lived? I think, on balance, yes. I scare myself every day, in negative (driving too fast down narrow country lanes to get the kids to the bus in the morning) and positive (putting myself out there for work - in fact, being freelance scares me low level all the time in a "what if no one wants me to work for them" kind of way then realising that people do want me to work for them) ways, and on balance, I think scaring yourself in a positive kind of way is a good thing. The negative kind of scaring, where nothing positive comes out of it at the end (apart from getting the kids on to the bus, thereby avoiding an additional 20 minutes drive) is not so good.

But this is all fairly pointless pondering for the moment. I don't have to scare myself any more for at least 6 months, because last weekend, I went coasteering and scared the complete bejesus out of myself - in an exhilarating and positive "definitely do it again" kind of way. And this kind of scaring yourself is something I'd totally recommend, and makes me understand exactly what Eleanor Roosevelt was talking about. About stepping out of your comfort zone - in this case, quite literally: 12 m jump into the Blue Lagoon anyone - and surviving. Feeling the fear and doing it anyway never felt so real or so amazing. And when your 9 year old daughter has done it first, really, there's no option...

(this is me, btw, not the daughter)

As I've wittered on ad nauseam on here, the coastline where we live is completely stunning, and what better way to enjoy it than kitted up and with the full immersion of clambering over swimming round, leaping off and generally enjoying the coastline a little bit further away from the madding crowd. Abereiddy, Pembrokeshire was our destination

Celtic Quest Coasteering our amazingly fun, competent, utterly confidence-inspiring guides as we donned wetsuits, helmets, bouyancy aids, gloves and set off for one of the most brilliant and terrifying afternoons I've had for a long time, albeit that I had to spend quite a lot of time trying not to lose my contact lenses....

And to fuel this afternoon of adrenaline, baked scotch eggs: lovely eggs from our new neighbours' chickens, sausage & bacon from the butcher, my latest chilli sauce discovery, from Estelle's Gower Goodies and some homegrown chives... And because they are baked, they are healthy. Or less bad for you than the deep fried variety. Not very scary, but hey, you can't have anything.

Baked Scotch Eggs

for 5 Scotch eggs

5 large eggs - free range, organic, from your neighbour, if possible...
2 shallots, finely chopped
5 fat pork sausages, skinned (about 350g sausage meat)
1-2 tablespoons chilli sauce
1 slice of brown bread, turned into breadcrumbs
good handful of chives (or parsley), finely chopped
3 slices of streaky bacon

You also need a muffin tin - one with deep holes.

Hardboil your eggs - I do this by putting the eggs in a pan and covering to about 1 cm depth with cold water. Bring the water to the boil, then simmer the eggs for around 6-7 minutes. If you over cook them you start to get horrid black lines round the yolk, and also I like the yolks being not quite solid. But if you're pregnant or cooking for babies or small children, you probably wan to simmer for 8 minutes. 

Once cooked for the requisite time, plunge the eggs into cold water to stop them cooking, and leaving the shells till needed.

Turn your oven on to 200C/180 fan.

Gently sweat off the shallots in a little olive oil for 10-15 minutes, then set aside to cool a little.

Combine the sausage meat, cooled shallot, chilli sauce, breadcrumbs, chopped chives and a good grind of pepper until well mixed.

Peel the hardboiled eggs (one of my favourite cooking things to do).

Divide the sausage mixture into 5 and then flatten  a portion of sausage into your hand and wrap an egg in it, squidging and shaping as you go.

When all eggs are wrapped, cut the rashers of bacon in half, then stretch each half with the back of a knife and wrap each sausage-coated egg in a piece of bacon.

Pop each bacon wrapped, sausage coated egg into a hole in the muffin tin and bake for 25-30 minutes.

Remove from the muffin tin onto some kitchen paper to get rid of any more fat which hasn't drained into the bottom of the muffin tin, then leave to cool and enjoy as if it were your last meal, before heading off for adventure...

Linking this up with the Simply Eggcellent challenge on Belleau Kitchen where for June, 'anything goes'...

Salmon on a board

Food, like music, is something that can instantly transport me to a time or place, intricately associated with feelings - usually happy ones, I have to say - I don't have many bad memories associated with food (apart from tripe).

My memories of 2 trips to the States, for example, are chiefly those of the $10 lobster dinners, corn dogs, and frozen margaritas the Husband and I enjoyed on our first proper holiday together to New Orleans, and of a fabulous salad with deliciously cold white wine my friends and I ate on a roof top garden in Manhattan - very Sex and the City, although we were none of us searching for love, only enjoying each others company for a long weekend...

France is enmeshed with a series of memories for me - lusciously ripe peaches and tomatoes purchased from road side stalls on the south west Mediterranean coast, the freshest tower of fruits de mer eaten in a restaurant on a harbour wall somewhere on the Cherbourg peninsula - the crabs being fished to order out of the sea, snails eaten in various guises, the first - and only - meat fondue I've ever had, at the age of 16, the day after I arrived for an exchange visit with a family that I am still in touch with nearly 30 years later... And salmon, nailed to a board and cooked over a fire, Finnish style, when I was an au pair in my late teens, early 20s.

The salmon always fascinated me. The family I was helping out had moved to an old farmhouse that was being renovated. The kitchen was out of action and we were BBQ-ing most days. The father of the family, Bruno, would appear home from work with various delicacies, and one evening, announced we would be having saumon Finlandais. I can't remember what it tasted like (unusual) but the mere fact that it was cooked in such an unconventional manner and was edible, amazed me. At that point, I hadn't done much in the way of camping...

So it's always been on my mind to recreate this, and it turns out the Husband wanted to try it too, and eager to create some memories (not necessarily food-related) for the kids, we headed down to our local beach, Mwnt, for some late afternoon bodyboarding and a cookout on the beach. I'd like to say we caught our fish but we didn't, but you can't have everything, can you...

And literally, all you do is get a decent piece of wood - we had some oak board, nail your piece of salmon to it,

and wedge it next to your fire while it cooks.

You can always cook some sausages while you're waiting...

I'd love to be able to include beautiful shots here of the food on the beach, perfectly styled, but this is what really happened, - beach food, that we ate...

And another food memory - 6 months pregnant with Blue, in Winchester with the Husband's amazing Great Aunt visiting from Australia, eating juicy cherries in the Cathedral grounds on a blazing hot day. Every time I've eaten cherries since, I've thought of that moment. But we had cherries this evening, after the salmon, bought from a local market garden, Glebelands, this morning. We ate them as the sun finally dropped behind the 'mwnt' itself...

I think perhaps cherries will trigger a new memory from now on.

Food for Thought, Cardigan

The anniversaries are coming thick & fast, aren't they? February seems to be the month for the Recipe Junkie clan to 'do things'. The latest? Well, we've been in Wales a year. 

And it looks like we're staying, with plans afoot for a permanent home, of which more when things are further down the line...

It seems like an age ago we were traipsing round rental properties, looking at schools and generally hanging out in cafes in Cardigan between appointments as the dreadful winter of 2013/2014 raged around us, and I did more than occasionally wonder what on earth we were doing.

Anyway, it's all turned out mostly magnificently. Not saying there haven't been ups and downs, by any stretch, and certainly it's fair to say that what this part of the country has in jaw-droppingly stunning scenery, empty, clean beaches and a slower pace of life is balanced out by various inconveniences. Broadband that could more properly be likened to having a couple of pixies doing tightrope on a very old and frayed bit of string to distribute the 0s and 1s (or whatever code it is these days), for one, and the fact that at the moment, I have to get in the car to do anything. I even have to get in the car to walk the dog who has started to refuse to leave the house on the lead. He goes and sits by the car until I relent and take him down the beach. He simply refuses to go on what was our standard 'round the lanes' walk. I mean, I see his point, but it's not always helpful. And what I'm going to do in summer when many of our favourite beaches are closed to dogs, I don't know.

Anyway, back to the original point, one of the cafes I hung out in quite a lot when we were organising the move here was Food for Thought in Cardigan.

We can recommend the squdgy lemon slice

Cardigan is a town of cafes. Something for everyone, and it seems a new one opening every week (well we've had a flurry in the last 3-4 months, and even - gasp - a 'chain' taking up residence in place of the much mourned 25 Mile). But Food for Thought has been around for a bit and I love it. It's great for coffee and cake, and they have a good selection of lunch meals from sandwiches to more substantial specials.

I have to say that since moving here, I've tended to only go there for coffee (until recently it was the only place selling decent coffee open before 10) but they've been upping their game on the food stakes (perhaps in response to the opening of the coffee chain and also an artisan bakery/coffee shop which I'll be visiting soon) and have been filling their Facebook page with tauntingly delicious sounding Asian inspired lunches. So my friend and I indulged ourselves, and went for lunch.

It's warm and cosy - a big bonus when it's either freezing cold, lashing with rain or - worst case scenario - both, I love the semi-vintage decor and combination of chairs and tables or big comfy sofas, the staff are friendly, and the food is good. They can be a little slow, but then, that's life in Ceredigion... 

Chocolate Orange Campfire Cakes

While the rest of the western world is putting up their Christmas trees and decking their halls, I have had my mind on camp fire cooking this last week. Not an obvious train of thought for early December, and the kids have done their best to distract me, warbling away the Welsh Christmas carols that they have been practising what seems like all day, every day, for the last couple of weeks, but today was the Husband's birthday, and as with most years since we've been together, Christmas has to wait until the birthday is done. 

I always feel for people who have their birthdays close to Christmas - or even on Christmas Day itself. My birthday falls at the end of April, and once when I was probably 8 or 9, it coincided with Easter Sunday, and all I got was chocolate eggs. Admittedly they were bigger than normal, but it always seemed to me like a bit of a cop out, like I'd lost out. Not that I'm harbouring any grudges some 34 years later or anything... 

BUT I do feel that if a birthday and another special festival or holiday coincide, you should make a fuss of the birthday person for their birthday as well as doing whatever you do for the festival and not try to wrap the 2 up together. It's hard - and the Husband's birthday is still a few weeks off Christmas - but for example, there's no tree up here (won't be till next weekend at least) and the Christmas cards that have started to trickle in won't get put up on the mantlepiece for a week at least, so that the birthday cards can take centre stage. 

If there was one thing less likely to be Christmassy to celebrate the Husband's birthday, it was a cook out on the beach in early December, but that's what we decided to do. The weather was kind enough, we had good friends to stay and Saturday lunchtime saw us heading off to Penbryn armed with a shelter, waterproofs, blankets, wood, various buckets, spades, boomerangs, sausages, bacon, marshmallows, a vat of soup and the wherewithal to make chocolate orange campfire cakes.

While the fire got going, we explored caves and because the tide was low enough, the beach beyond the one we were settled on, one of the adults got the kids playing minefield - kind of like human battleships - so simple, so much fun - running around in the fresh air on a huge expanse of empty beach.

Fire glowing, and with the light of the day disappearing, we settled in to cook sausages and cowboy meals, and to make these cakes which I'd seen on the internet and decided had to be tried. Part of me couldn't believe they'd work but they did - and some. Essentially you use hollowed out orange skins as the receptacle for cake batter. And yes, you could make your own, but for the purposes of making this up at the beach, I used a box of mix, and took the additional ingredients required - water, oil and eggs - pre-measured in a plastic container ready for mixing up. We did hollow out the oranges before heading beachwards too.

Wrapped in foil, and cooked in the embers of a fire, you get a brilliant moist cake delicately flavoured with orange, more or less depending on how fastidiously you hollow out your oranges.

We will definitely do these again. We whizzed up the orange flesh into juice for breakfast, but you could increase the orange-iness of the cakes by using some orange juice in the place of the water you need to mix up the packet of batter.

Chocolate Orange Campfire Cakes

Makes around 12

12 large, thick skinned oranges
2 packets of Betty Croker Chocolate Chunk Muffin Mix - or whatever takes your fancy
2 tbsp vegetable oil
2 large eggs
Lots of strong tin foil

Slice the tops off the oranges about 1/4-1/3 down and scoop the flesh out of both pieces taking care not to split the skin. Trial and error showed us that it's better to have the stalk end as the bottom of the larger piece, because you get a little hole in the other end when you scoop out the flesh, but it's not fatal - just use more tin foil when you wrap the oranges.

Empty the muffin mix into a bowl and whisk together your wet ingredients - we needed 2 tbsp vegetable oil, 2 large eggs and 260 ml water - then stir the wet ingredients into the dry mix.

Spoon the batter into the larger parts of the oranges - don't fill more than about half the cavity you've got. 

Top with the smaller piece of orange, double wrap in foil and chuck into the embers of the fire for 25 minutes. You can carry on cooking your sausages at the same time.

After 25 minutes, remove the foil wrapped packages carefully from the fire and unwrap to find a moist delicious chocolatey orangey cake. Probably best eaten al fresco, with a spoon, but fingers will do.

Lamb Saag Balti

We had guests for the weekend and for the first time we couldn''t just skip off to the beach with gay abandon and lashings of ginger beer. I mean we did go to the beach, but our expeditions required planning, waterproofs and a little more thought - mainly to prevent smaller members of the party being blown off the coastal path into the sea.

The problems would not have been insurmountable - and worst case scenario there are always the water slides at Bluestone - a heady attraction some 50 minutes drive from here - to which we have not yet succumbed to (well the weather has been too good) - but, you know, part of the reason people come to this part of the country is for the wild beauty of the coast (of course, the guests have, we hope, come to see us too), and 'wild beauty' we hope we gave them.

As is often the case, the weather forecast's gloomy outlook did not entirely prevail. Yes it was windy, but the rain held off, during the day (mostly) at least. It was warm, and occasionally there was a peek of blue sky.

On Saturday, we ventured south from  Ceredigion into North Pembrokeshire and walked the ruggedly spectacular section of the coastal path south from Ceibwr Bay to check out the Witches Cauldron - a pool accessible from the open sea via an interesting looking cave/tunnel. Something to explore in more detail on a lower tide and, we decided,as the waves crashed round us, echoing up the cliffs like thunderclaps, a calmer day... 

We refuelled on tea and cake (and milkshakes and ice creams) at the fabulous Pavillion Cafe that you should seek out in the Penrallt Garden Centre above Moylegrove should you find yourself in the area, then headed home for sausages and chunky chips for the kids, and this delicious curry for the grown ups.

I found this beauty in Simon Rimmer's book "Men Love Pies, Girls Like Hummus". Not entirely sure I approve of the title, even though in the introduction, Mr Rimmer does defend against accusations of culinary misogyny. For the record, I love pies as much as the next man (and given that the next man is the Husband, quickly followed by Blue, that means I love pies ALOT). I do also like hummus, but given the choice, I'd probably have a pie.

Anyway, enough of this silliness. Whether you approve of the title or not, I first stumbled across Simon Rimmer in the form of "The Accidental Vegetarian" when I was looking for inspiration and veggie food to serve to my mother in law that is colourful and full of flavour - not just brown and over-salted - and have been a bit of a fan ever since. 


I hadn't heard of this book, but I picked it up in The Works when I was looking for something else entirely, and it was only £2.99 - bit of a bargain really when it is full of absolutely rocking dishes. Corned Beef Pot Pie, Wild Boar & Coriander Burgers with Sweet Roasted Peppers, Beetroot & Celeriac Filo Pie (mother in law is visiting again soon), Pork Empanadas and Baked Cuban Spiced Chicken with Rice have all rushed onto my 'must try' soon - like really soon - list.That's the things with cookery books, isn't it? There are some which are beautiful, listing wonderful dishes, gorgeously photographed, that in reality are never going to make it on to your table, and others which you know you will cook from time and time again. Nigella's Kitchen is one of these for me, as is River Cottage Every Day. Of course, which books fall in to which categories will change depending on the cook and his or her circumstances at the time, but Men Love Pies, Girls Like Hummus is absolutely spot on for me right now.

I used lovely Welsh lamb from one of the butchers in Cardigan, and the amazing chilli the Husband grew. I also made this on Friday and left it overnight - I think curries and casseroles often benefit from this as the flavours develop, and also I didn't want to be tied to the cooker once our friends had arrived and there was wine to be drunk...

Lamb Saag Balti

Serves 4 (along with dahl, rice and poppadums - we'd had a lot of fresh air, OK?)

1 large onion
3 garlic cloves
a thumb sized piece of fresh ginger
1 large green chilli (check out this bad boy)
1 tbsp each of cumin and coriander seeds
2 cardamom pods
6 large tomatoes
750g diced lamb shoulder
1 tsp turmeric 
I lamb stock cube 
300g baby leaf spinach (or normal spinach, stalks removed)
Vegetable oil for frying

Peel & quarter the onion, peel the garlic cloves, peel and roughly chop the ginger and depending on the heat of your chilli and how much you like, deseed it - and then roughly chop it.

Blend the onion, garlic, ginger and chilli to make a smooth, wet paste.

Dry fry the cumin and coriander seeds in a small frying pan for a couple of minutes till they smell delicious and fragrant, then grind up in a pestle and mortar and set aside.

Bash the cardamom pods a little, then quarter the tomatoes, removing the tough core bit.

Make up the stock cube with 300ml boiling water.

In a large pan,  heat about a tablespoon of vegetable oil and then brown the meat in batches. Set aside.

Add a little more oil to the pan and gently cook out the onion paste till the liquid has evaporated - it will take 10-15 minutes. Stir regularly and make sure the paste doesn't burn.

Once the paste is cooked out, return the lamb to the pan along with the dry seeds and turmeric, the tomatoes and the stock. Bring the pan to the boil, then reduce the heat as low as you can to ensure a gentle simmer and leave to cook for 45 minutes - 1 hour, stirring occasionally.

If you're serving straight away, add the spinach about 5 minutes before the end of the cooking time. If you're serving the next day (or another day entirely) leave the curry to cool and keep in the fridge over night, or freeze. Gently reheat, add the spinach leaves and cook for 5 minutes till the spinach has cooked.

Serve.

El Salsa Mexican Takeaway - on the Welsh coast

You'd be forgiven for thinking we'd quickly hopped over to Central America, to some dusty border country, but no, El Salsa Mexican takeaway is most definitely not in Mexico, but situated in the car park of the fantastic Llwynhelyg Farm Shop (about which more another day), serving up fajitas, burritos, quesadillas and nachos to the hungry of West Wales.

And last night, we were all hungry after a post school beach trip - swimming, crabbing and body boarding with friends who are staying nearby for a week. As they said, themselves, they've been surprised by quite how 'foodie' it is round here. 

They spent yesterday morning visiting the fantastic St Dogmaels local producers market that runs every Tuesday by the Abbey, so I was pleased to be able to further surprise them with top quality Mexican food in Cardigan. Plus, I've been wanting to visit El Salsa for a while now. It made a brief appearance, serving up on weekends a couple of months ago, and is back on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, 4-9, for the summer.




Apart from the slight incongruity of Mexican Food served from a trailer in the car park of a Welsh Farm Shop, there is absolutely every reason to visit this little haven of taste and spice (and of friendly chiquitas cooking and serving the grub) if you're in this area.

Between us we had chicken fajitas, steak burritos, chicken burritos, and the quesadillas, plus nachos - with plenty of jalapenos (not gherkins, as Blue discovered to his surprise!). Now, I've never been to Mexico, but this was pretty darned good. Tasty, with enough spice, but not too much for the kids, the salsa was fresh and zingy, the guacamole full of lime flavour. Coming from a hot country, it's the perfect sort of food to eat after being outdoors in the sunshine, and although it might not have been hot by Mexican standards yesterday, it was warm enough. 

Everything comes in either steak, chicken or beans (vegetarian), and there are even little tables by the trailer for waiting, or presumably, if you wanted to eat there. 


It was getting chilly & the kids were tired, so we headed for home with our feast - and a couple of beers - but you could also take it down the beach for a beach feast too...

As well as tasting great (sorry for the rather blurry pictures - I did say we were hungry, and it was a race to get some snaps before the food was gone), it's very reasonably priced - between £5 for a small portion to £7.50 for some of the specials - locally sourced ingredients where possible, and ultra tasty - everything to like.

The only criticism I'd have was that the special pork tacos had sold out by the time we got there, so make sure you pitch up early!

El Salsa doesn't just serve up out of the Farm Shop car park, either - look out for them at festivals: this would be perfect festival food...


Just to be clear - I wasn't asked to write this review, or paid to do so, and the opinions expressed in it are my own.

A final fling - for now

We are the only ones here. It feels only right, a final treat, to have it all to ourselves.

If I could bottle and sell this walk, the sense of calm that I feel as I emerge from the wooded valley onto the beach, the sound of the birdsong, clearer and richer than I've ever heard before giving way to the hush and rush of the waves, I'd be a wealthy woman.

The tide is quite high on this, the day of our final fling on our favourite beach until the Autumn. Alone, but not lonely.

We walk as far as we can, the dog chasing ahead to make sure there are no seagulls in need of a good talking to, before returning to remind me that it's high time I started throwing stones into the sea.

We turn and head back, and I marvel at the fact that we are the only ones who have seen the beach exactly as it is, in this moment. The pattern the waves leave on the shore, the configuration of the shells, pebbles, seaweed and other debris that marks the tideline.

Already the sea is washing away our footprints, imperceptibly shifting stones, reshaping sand. By the time the next visitors arrive, certainly by Autumn, it will be a different beach - although hopefully the same.

Going...

 

Going...

Gone.

 Roll on October.

Vegetable Cawl

I have learnt a lot about my children over the couple of months since we moved, and this will probably sound like a bit of a boast, but they are my kids, and if I can't boast about them occasionally, well who can?

They have shown themselves to be resilient, adaptable, tolerant, good natured and enthusiastic in the face of not inconsiderable challenge and come out mostly smiling. I say mostly because there have been moments, especially for Blue, when it's all got a bit much, but even then, they have managed to get it all back together and on track. I've had moments too (as the fruity peanut butter cookies are testament to), but I've had years of 'character building experiences' to help me deal with this particular one (although, when does ones character stop being built??), where they haven't. And yet, they have done more than just cope.

Another thing I've learnt about them - or perhaps, been reminded of - is that, food-wise,  you can dress something up in another guise, repackage it - rebrand it if you will - and get them to eat something that they would otherwise not have touched.

Now (and yes, another boast) my kids are pretty good eaters - well, Blue certainly is, and in true sloppy attitude to second child - Pink's occasional fads simply don't bother me any more (I've come along way from the woman who once chased a 9 month old round a room with a spoonful of brocoli in cheese sauce...)

But less of the self-congratulation. Good eaters or not, there are some things that just aren't that popular with children, and as far as mine are concerned, this includes soup - lumpy soup in particular. We've made progress over the years, but a soup including barley, chunks of veg - something I would have called vegetable broth, for want of anything more imaginative to call it? You're having a laugh.

So this is where the repackaging comes in. Cawl is a traditional Welsh dish - pronounced cowel (as my kids inform me, with all the authority of those who have been learning something their parents have not yet had time to get to grips with, and not 'call' as I had thought). It's basically a broth which can have anything in it, depending on what's available, but usually includes barley type grains, making it more substantial than a simple soup. It can have bacon or gammon in it, left over chicken, pieces of lamb, or just be vegetables.

Just right for an easy supper. Except I never for one minute thought the kids would go for it, and how wrong I was. The 3rd day at their new school saw them celebrating St David's Day. I had to work hard to persuade the Husband that they could be permitted to go to school dressed in Welsh rugby shirts, but may be the very 'welshness' of the occasion (and the rugby shirts) rubbed off on them, because they came home pronouncing that cawl was so delicious that they had had thirds. Well, you can't let an opportunity like that go to waste, so armed with a packet of country soup mix, this has become a staple of the weekly menu. Not soup, not vegetable broth, but cawl. 

When in Wales, and all that.



Vegetable Cawl

Serves 6, approximately. 

Remember that you need to start this 8-12 hours before you actually want to eat, to soak the country soup mix.

150g country soup mix
1 tbsp olive oil
2 onions, finely chopped
1 large clove of garlic, peeled & finely sliced
2 carrots, peeled & diced
1 bay leaf
4 medium leeks, cleaned and sliced
1.5 litres hot chicken stock (or veg stock if you're vegetarian)
Chopped parsley to garnish if desired

The night before, soak the country soup mix in 500ml water - it needs to soak for 8-12 hours at least.

Heat the olive oil gently in a large pan, and gently fry the onions and garlic for 10 minutes or so till softened, then add the carrots, bay leaf and sliced leek and cook for another couple of minutes.

Drain the soup mix, add it to the pan, then tip in the stock and bring it to the boil. Boil the soup for 10 minutes, then reduce the heat and simmer for another 20 minutes or so.

Serve in big bowls, garnished with chopped parsley, and with crusty bread.

Crust and Crumb: An introduction to sourdough and yeasted bread making with Vicky North

Making bread is one of the most basic pleasures of baking for me. It can also be one of the most frustrating, especially when I decide to 'just knock up a batch' in the morning, before the school run, only to find that I've got a 'wet dough' on my hands, and I end up dashing out of the door, sticky, quick drying dough all over my hands, up my arms, the end of my nose to get the kids to the bus on time... Fortunately, there was no such stress or bother, no deadlines to meet, no school buses to catch last Sunday when I arrived at Manor Deifi, tucked away up a winding lane above the village of Llechrydd, not far from Cardigan.

Over coffee and the most utterly delicious biscotti I think I have ever tasted (made by Vicky), those of us attending the course introduced ourselves and Vicky asked us to share our bread experiences. Despite the course title, none of us were complete bread novices: Tara, the youngest participant had made bread rolls at school, Kate mainly baked soda bread, Jason had perfected a low knead pizza dough which gives awesome results everytime (I'm going to try it!), Marianne bakes bread for the cafe/deli she owns. However, as with any skill, there is always more to learn, a different approach to absorb and we were all keen to get going.

'Super' seeded soda bread

The day is an introduction to sourdough and yeasted breads, and Vicky also incorporates soda bread which works well to show a speedy alternative to the more time-intensive loaves. We started off with a yeasted wholemeal loaf, weighing all ingredients (including the water) and using fresh yeast which is something I've never worked with before. Crumbling it in to the mixing bowl, it feels a little like plasticine, but not unpleasantly so. During the kneading process, Vicky introduced a new technique, as favoured by Bertinet, which involves slapping the dough down onto the worktop, folding it and slapping it down again. Very therapeutic - we were all keen to try it out! We moved on to soda bread, using buttermilk and bicarbonate of soda, and adding seeds to the dough, mixed up and kneaded a white bread dough, shaped the wholemeal loaf for proving and baking, experimented with the white bread dough making sesame-coated breadsticks and a fabulous tear and share cheesy garlic bread, and finally created a sourdough loaf all ready to take home, prove in the fridge, and bake the following day. All that plus a break for coffee and a delicious lunch, and yet at no point did the day feel rushed.

Vicky is hugely knowledgeable about the bread making process, and shares generously, answering questions and volunteering information - including a top tip for greasing tins using spray oil. The day was well organised and impeccably timed. Not only did we achieve everything the course promised, we had great fun into the bargain. On top of that, the bread we baked was truly fabulous - the mouthwatering smell of it wafted over us from Vicky's magnificent beast of a bread oven from the moment the soda bread went in until it was time to go home - and I can honestly say that I don't think I've baked better bread. As the Husband was going away, I froze the soda bread and the wholemeal loaf, when I got home, but the kids devoured the bread sticks and half of the garlic topped tear and share bread for their tea.The sourdough loaf went into the fridge to prove over night, and I fed my sourdough starter that Vicky sent us all home with.

The following day, as instructed, I baked my sourdough loaf. A little lopsided (still haven't fully got the hang of the oven I'm baking with), but gorgeous. Crusty on the outside, soft on the inside. Delicious with strawberry jam, tasty with tomato soup.

With my starter now happily in the fridge, and renewed confidence from the course, I am eager to get back in the sourdough groove, but I also think my use of more 'conventional' yeast will change - there will always be some sachets of quick yeast in the cupboard, but I will use more fresh yeast too. And finally, what I have learned is that a good loaf takes a little time. Not impossibly so, but I have been perhaps a little too slapdash in my approach to kneading - the benefits of a longer knead were much in evidence in the loaves I produced with Vicky. And as all these things are about sharing, I'm also keen to experiment with the low knead technique that Jason, one of the other participants, described, for pizza dough.

It's a brilliant day, and I think would have suited a novice just as well as someone with a little more experience. Perhaps you think it's a long way to come? Well, this is a beautiful holiday area, so it's perfectly possible to make a weekend or even a week of it. And if you were coming on holiday to the area anyway, this would be a perfect day to fit in. Vicky also runs courses for kids - and as it does tend to rain here, this would be a great thing to have up your sleeve. 

Garlic, parmesan & herb tear & share loaf

To get a flavour (a delicious, garlicky cheesey flavour at that) of Vicky's baking, she has kindly agreed to let me pass on her recipe for the 'tear and share' bread. This was baked in a Bundt tin - something I have never got my head around for cakes on the basis that I'd be scared the batter would stick, but I will definitely be getting one because of the awesome results. By baking the bread in a high sided tin, it keeps the resulting bread beautifully soft. And I know sometimes you want crust, but sometimes, you want delicious, soft bread. 



For 1 quantity of white bread dough (roughly a loaf's worth)

435g strong white flour
7g sea salt
7g fresh yeast, crumbled
230g tepid water
14g olive oil

For the Garlic Butter with Parmesan and Italian Herb topping:

100g butter, melted

1 egg, beaten

25g Parmesan cheese, grated finely

2 cloves garlic, grated

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp dried Italian herb

Bundt tin

Spray oil for greasing the tin (a personal favourite!)

Mix and knead one quantity of dough: 

• Weigh all the ingredients into a bowl and work together with a bread scraper initially (if you have one).
• Splash the work top with a little water (not flour!), and tip the rough dough out onto the work surface and start kneading.
• Knead the dough for 10-15 minutes by hand until you have a beautiful smooth and stretchy dough.
• Scrape out the mixing bowl then return the ball of dough to the bowl, cover with clingfilm and leave in a warm place to prove for one hour.

Meanwhile prepare the topping - in a small bowl, mix the melted butter, egg, Parmesan, garlic, salt and dried herbs altogether and set aside.

When the dough has doubled in size, roughly after an hour, tip out onto your work surface and divide into 12 equal boules.

Dip each one into the garlicky butter, cover well and pop into the bundt tin.

Drizzle any remaining butter over the nestling boules and then place the tin into a large plastic bag. Seal and place in a warm spot, ready to prove for a good forty minutes, until the dough is voluminous and noticeably increased in size.

Bake at 190C for 30-40 minutes until risen and golden brown. Allow to cool for five minutes before tipping out and placing on a wire rack. You will have a deliciously tender crumb to your bread as the dough has steamed as it's baked, thanks to the high sides of the bundt tin which traps the moisture in as your bread bakes.

You can find out more by visiting Vic North Bakes . If you're local to Cardigan, you can also take the opportunity to eat Vicky's delicious bread on a regular basis by joining her bread club.


I was delighted to accept an invitation from Vicky North to attend 'Crust & Crumb - an introduction to baking'.I was not required to write a blog post, and the opinions expressed are my own.