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'...

Poached eggs, chard and pancetta on toast

Ask me about how I feel about the Husband travelling.

Go on. 

I'll shrug, perhaps give you a wry smile, say something like "Well, to be honest I get twitchy if he hasn't been away for a couple of weeks"

A hang over from the fact that we pretty much had a long distance relationship from the day we met, perhaps, that he was often away for weeks, or, even, months at a time, so I was just used to it. I'd miss him, but it was OK. 

The fact is that whatever I say, these days, when he goes away, it's not OK. I miss him, the kids miss him, even the dog misses him. Things always seem to happen the weeks he's away. Busier than normal after school schedules, a car needing to go to the garage, admin to deal with. And then on top of the general busy-ness, we're trying to fit phone calls or facetime in - usually before school & work at the same time as we're finding PE kits and assembling packed lunches - so that we can stay in touch.

Whereas before I could use the opportunity to watch trashy TV too late into the evening, these days, I'm competing with Blue, his new found assertiveness over bed time, and his desire to watch such gems as Top Gear (the irony of mentioning this yet keeping my counsel as to recent events when everyone else has an opinion is not lost on me) or - worse - Extreme Fishing with Robson Green. What is it with 11 year old boys??

He's been away this week, the Husband, and, as usual, it's been a busy one. I feel like I've barely caught breathe let alone eat properly: this week has mostly been a tale of toast for me (not the kids, of course). Sometimes I think that if you got me on the right (or wrong, depending on your point of view) day and asked me what I'd choose for my final meal, it would be toast. Sourdough for preference, spread generously with salted Welsh butter and marmalade. Or perhaps some marmite. Peanut butter and avocado (yes, really. Don't knock it till you've tried it). Mushrooms sauteed in butter. 

This evening, though, I managed something more approximating a proper meal, and truly, this is on the list of possible last suppers. And so what if I didn't get to sit down with it till 9, having chased the 11 year old up to bed. This week's veg box revealed a lush bag of 'bright lights' chard leaves, slices of pancetta - and a free range egg on top. Nothing more than a slice of buttered toast underneath and a grind of pepper on top and you have a meal fit for a king, queen, or knackered working mother. And no, the toast wasn't sourdough, but it was still mighty fine.


This isn't a real recipe, more an exercise in timing; an assembly job - steam the chard, fry the bacon, poach the egg, toast the bread and serve. The perfect meal for a multitasker juggling kids, dogs and day to day life... You can of course use spinach for this instead of chard, and bacon instead of pancetta. One egg or two, it makes no odds, but I insist on free range, soft and poached.

Poached Eggs, Chard & Pancetta on Toast

A couple of handfuls of chard (or spinach), any big stalks separated and roughly chopped
2-3 pieces of streaky bacon or pancetta
1 or 2 organic free range eggs
1 or 2 slices of bread of your choice and butter, ditto

Start off with the chopped stalks in a steamer. Steam for a couple of minutes before chucking in the leaves.

Heat a small non-stick frying pan and start frying the bacon.

Boil a kettle and fill a small saucepan or frying pan. Bring the water back up to the boil and pop the toast on.

Crack the egg (or eggs) into the boiling water and poach for 3-4 minutes till cooked but with the yolk still soft.

When the bacon is cooked to your liking, remove from the heat and drain on kitchen paper. Set aside.

Butter the toast, squeeze the chard to get rid of excess water and pile on to the toast. Top with the egg(s) and add the bacon to the plate. Finish with a grind of black pepper and some peace and quiet.

I'm submitting this to the lovely Dom's new linky, Simply Eggcellent - a great celebration of eggs on the Belleau Kitchen blog.

Christmas Curd

For various reasons including a vomiting child and a cancelled party (both the child and the party being my responsibility), I found myself at a loose end and with excessive amounts of oranges to hand earlier today. 

What to do? 

My eyes strayed to the eggs, and I started to think curd. Specifically, orange curd, having a number of oranges available that were intended for the vast vat of mulled wine I had planned for aforementioned party...

Then I began to wonder if you could lace in that quintessential aroma of Christmas - cloves - into the curd. Such is the way my mind works.

I was making bread sauce in advance of Christmas Day last week, and that smell of clove-y, milk-y, onion-y bread is inextricably linked to this time of year for me, Combine clove with orange and it reminds me of my Granny, who always had a pomander knocking around, Christmas or not, and it reminds me of mulled wine. I mean really. What's not to like?

Since we've moved, one of the things I have definitely missed is the chickens. Our old ladies were unlikely to have made the journey down the M4 and beyond, so we re-homed them, and I have been buying eggs ever since. I was aware that the current stash of eggs were getting on, but marked with the British Lion Egg* logo and a date, I was confident that they would be OK - a change from the hastily scrawled dates I used to add to the eggs of our own chooks as I collected them.

Curd is one of the great things you can make with eggs, although if you're not confident that you have mastered how to boil an egg, you might want to do that first, but then curd has to be one of the things you must make with eggs. You just have to remember that it will take a long time. And during that long time you have to be prepared to stand, stirring, ever-vigilant to avoid turning your fragrant pan-full into lemon (or lime, or orange, or whatever flavoured)scrambled eggs, rather than a deliciously rich and smooth custard. And it simply isn't worth turning the heat up either, for the same reason.

If you're used to sharp lemon or lime curds, this is quite a different animal. Sweet, but not overly so and with a hint of those delicious seasonal flavours, it's almost almondy. In fact it would be delicious with a frangipan topping in a tart (thinking out loud, note to self etc etc) 

Christmas Curd

Makes one delicious jarful

75g butter
50g caster sugar
125 ml sweet, freshly squeezed orange juice
3 large eggs
a couple of pinches of ground cloves and of ground cinammon

Melt the butter in a heavy bottomed pan over a gentle heat, then turn the heat down as low as you can and add in the rest of the ingredients.


Stir continuously with a wooden spoon until a smooth custard forms which will coat the back of a spoon and allow you to draw a line through it with your finger.

Allow to cool slightly then decant into a 350ml sterilised jam jar.

Hide at the back of the fridge and don't tell anyone else you made it.

*This post is sponsored by British Lion Eggs

Builders' Tart

When I wrote about the Cardigan Pizza Tipi a few weeks ago, I didn't mention that pizza is only served from 6 p.m. Go to eat earlier than that, on a warm sunny lunchtime (they do happen in Wales), and you'll find quiche on the menu, but not just any old quiche.

Oh no. Delicious, buttery individual pastry cases packed with perfectly paired, locally sourced (where possible) ingredients; salads bursting with flavour, and freshness, full of sunshine.

I went with the kids and my parents earlier in the summer. Pink was in disagreeable mood. 

"But I don't LIKE quiche. What am I going to eat?"

Unfortunately, the alternative was mushroom soup. Pink has an avowed (and most disappointing) hatred of mushrooms, and I was starting to get a little bit weary of the whinging, which she can keep up for an admirably long time when the mood takes her, when I hit upon the solution.

Yes, I pandered to her.

"Well, look, this one with sausage and bacon in it - that's not quiche - that's a TART."

Problem solved.

I don't really approve of my actions, but needs must and all that, and it was worth it to get her to eat the Builders Quiche that I knew she'd love: sausages, bacon from the local butcher, cannelini beans, the usual eggy cheesy filling. I don't even know why she objects to quiche in the first place - omelette, eggy bread, poached eggs - probably some of her favourite things to eat.

I wanted to recreate the quiche/tart this week for some friends. Off to Dewi James in Cardigan for chipolatas in natural casings and streaky bacon (I got my eggs there too), and, as advised by the pastry chef at the Tipi when we asked him - the best Welsh butter I could find.

Pastry's not my forte - I'm not going into that again - and my finished shell, post blind-baking was not a thing of beauty, but I was pleased with the flavour and the butteriness of the pastry as part of the end result; and while that end result might not quite have captured the full essence of the Tipi's own Builder's Quiche (I'm wondering if I was missing some sliced tomatoes), it was definitely getting there.

Builders' Quiche/Tart

Serves 8 generously

Ingredients

300g plain flour
150g best Welsh butter
1 large egg yolk
around 50 ml cold milk

1 large onion
8 rashers of streaky bacon
8 good quality chipolata sausages
2 tablespoons of rapeseed oil
5 large eggs
500 ml semi-skimmed milk
fresh ground salt & pepper
400g can cannellini beans
75g grated cheddar

Method

Make the pastry: in a food processor, whiz the flour and butter to crumbs then add in the egg yolk and pulse to combine. Slowly add the milk till the mixture just starts to come together, then bring it together with your hands, knead it briefly to form a ball, flatten, wrap in clingflim and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Once the pastry is rested, remove it from the fridge.

Pre-heat the oven to 170C.

Line a 28 cm, deep quiche dish and bake blind for 20 mins - I line my uncooked pastry case with greaseproof and add baking beans (because I have them) for this bit, then remove the beans and paper and cook for a further 5 minutes.

At the same time, chop the onions relatively finely, and snip up the bacon in to bitesize strips.

Combine the onion and bacon in an oven proof dish, drizzle over 1 tablespoon of oil, mix together and pop in the oven for about 30 mins, stirring every so often.

Put the sausages in an oven proof dish, drizzle with the remaining oil and pop in the oven too for around 30 mins, shaking the dish every so often (when you stir the onions and bacon).

While the pastry is baking blind and the onions, bacon and sausages are in the oven, whisk up the eggs, add in the milk and the fresh ground salt and pepper.

Grate the cheese, drain the cannellini beans.

Once the case is baked and the onions bacon and sausage are cooked as indicated, you're ready to assemble.

Scatter the onion and bacon mix over the bottom of the pastry case, and arrange the sausages, fan-like, over the top. Scatter over the cannellini beans, then the cheese, finally pour in the eggy mixture on top then return the whole thing to the oven for 30-40 minutes, till it's baked and golden.

I'm afraid my photos of the finished product were rubbish, but I quite liked this one...

Sundried tomato and leek tart - with a little help from Boursin and Lisa Faulkner

Would I like to try some Boursin? But of course I would.

3 great flavours.  - Garlic & herb, black pepper, sun ripened tomato onion & chive.

Garlic & Herb Boursin is definitely a flavour from my childhood. I remember it being in the fridge, reserved mainly for my father. I expect there was an element of  "Too good for us children" going on, so there was a certain amount of excitment that greeted the arrival of this little package of goodies chez Recipe Junkie.
 

Anxious not to deprive my children in the way I was so clearly deprived (oh poor me - not allowed the Boursin), I let them have unfettered access to the Garlic & Herb one lunchtime. This is a decision I will live to regret as they pretty much devoured the lot, leaving the Husband and I barely a look in. Obviously my father was on to something. The black pepper flavour was less popular with the children, well, with Pink, anyway, but I loved it with the Husband's home grown cucumbers. 

I saved the sun-ripened tomato, onion and chive to make a tart inspired by the lovely Lisa Faulkner - there she is with her own pile of Boursin - the lucky thing. Lisa has created some recipes using Boursin, all of which you can find on the website. 

I failed to reproduce her tart exactly, in that I only had a round tin, not a rectangular one, and baby leeks were absent from the purveyors of vegetables I visited on the day I was looking for them. However, this went largely unnoticed, partly because no one knew there were supposed to be baby leeks decorating the top except me and I could live without them, and because stirring half a pack of the Boursin into the usual egg mixture to go in a quiche case over some leeks which I'd genetly softened in some butter, made a very delicious tart indeed, baby leeks or no.

This is what Lisa's version looks like. Alas, I lost my photos in a pre-holiday clear out of the camera.

I also lost the notes I made about what I actually put in my tart, so you can go on your own voyage of Boursin discovery and make it up as you go along, or just make Lisa's.

So thumbs up all round for Boursin in all its flavours and a lovely and straightforward summer supper which everyone enjoyed (even Pink, who is funny about quiche despite loving pastry, and eggs in all other forms, pronounced it delicious and said she would eat quiche like that again).

There are plenty more recipes to choose from too - I'm particularly keen to try the black pepper hotcakes - but this requires the Boursin to stay in the fridge long enough for me to cook with it...

Posh Poached Eggs for the big 3-0

 
I'm a relative newcomer to the Random Recipes challenge, but it's become bit of a fixture for me. I don't have any sort of pattern or routine to my blogging (you may have noticed), but I find myself looking out for the announcement post every month, and then getting my random recipe selected more or less straightaway in order to have a fighting chance of working it into a meal plan somewhere. You see while I'd love to spend hours in my kitchen designing dishes, tweaking recipes, arranging food beautifully on a plate and taking gorgeous photos, the reality is that the food that goes up here is what I've cooked to feed us, there's no room to re-make and take a better photo (or to take a photo at all if we were all so hungry that it got eaten before I'd got the camera out...).




This month, the 30th month of the challenge, the selection criteria for the recipe was the number '30' (Dom, you're so original!). 30th book on the shelf/ves of cook books, 30th page. 

At the time I made the selection, '30' gave me Posh Poached Eggs in a Cup from Leon - Family & Friends. If I made the choice another time, it would be different because the books don't stay in the same order, or even on the same shelves, depending on what I've been up to in the kitchen.

So, Posh Poached Eggs. "That'll be easy to squeeze in somewhere", I thought.

We ended up having it for lunch yesterday, the kids and I, another sultry day (the rain didn't reach us till late last night) when the last thing I wanted to do, really, was make a cheese sauce - or even poach an egg. The things I do.

So you make a cheese sauce using gram flour and butter, quite a lot of cheese and some truffle oil. I didn't have gruyere or truffle oil in the house, so cheddar and some nice olive oil had to do.

You fry some thin slices of chorizo till they are nice and crispy, and poach some eggs, then layer it all up in a cup.

It's delicious. Even Blue, who, as I have bemoaned before, normally avoids cheese sauce with a barge pole, and isn't massively keen on poached eggs, enjoyed it. Result.

The only thing I'd say is that the recipe in the book makes a huge amount of cheese sauce. More than you could possibly use feeding the 4 specified in the recipe, however hungry. The rest of it is in the fridge covered with greaseproof paper. Pasta bake for dinner tonight, then.

Raspberry & Lemon not quite Crisp

There's a story about this dessert, but it may end up being one of those 'you had to be there' ones, so please bear with me.

While we were at my parents' for half term, I took a step back and quietly observed mum in the kitchen - or, more accurately, pondered how she was catering for us. You see, I am acutely aware that I am turning into my mother in many ways, and I wondered if I could learn something by observing the 'future' me (as it were).

We started the stay with chicken fajitas (she knows how much the kids love them). Then a pheasant casserole from the freezer. It didn't go unnoticed (by me) that she uses the same evasive answering of difficult food related questions from the children as I do - I have clearly been taught by a master. She managed to answer 2 or 3 questions about the casserole without actually telling them that there was pheasant in it. There were a couple of Good Food recipes thrown in - a rather interesting beetroot & caramelised onion tart with a carrot and oat pastry/crust which was actually fine, although we all agreed it could have done with some cheese grated on top, and a delicious Pot Roast Beef with onion gravy. 

There are a couple of days I can't remember what we had, but my story really starts with a Clare MacDonald smoked haddock souffle thing that was supper one evening. I had grave doubts that the children would like it - Pink is funny with smoked fish (although if it's salmon she's happy) and Blue doesn't do milky eggy savoury stuff (he hates macaroni cheese, cauli cheese all that sort of thing) - but I was pretty happy with the idea. It included bread cubes in the bottom of the dish too, and this had all been pre-frozen. It was a disaster - we all agreed (although not in front of the children!) and as they tried hard not to turn their noses up at it, mum and I had a fit of hastily suppressed giggles. Some you win some you lose, eh, Mum! Before now, I wouldn't have had a bad word to say about Clare Macdonald. I don't own any of her books, but I have plenty of copied down recipes, and the promise of a book for my birthday. It won't put me off, but I won't be rushing to make this one.

Before supper, though, I decided to intervene and make sure there was something the kids would eat - a baked potato or something. Not instead of the souffle, you understand but to go alongside it. As I was doing this, I noticed the pudding mum was planning to make. Another Good Food - chocolate pear crisp. Now, I couldn't do much about the haddock souffle, but I could do something about the pudding. You see, I made this myself a few months back, same recipe, and there was simply not enough topping. One egg white to stretch to 4 ramekins? Well, not in my kitchen it didn't. So with my tale of dessert disaster in mind, she doubled up the topping and it was a big hit. Well, all except for Pink who though it was too chocolatey, but she has some strange ideas about things like that.

Back home, and I decided to use the Pear Crisp idea and turn it into something completely different. A friend who is emigrating shortly donated me the frozen rhubarb and raspberries out of her freezer, so I decided to do this with some of the raspberries, topping them with an almondy, lemony topping and baking in the oven. 

Raspberry & Lemon Crisp

serves 4

approx 240g raspberries (defrosted if frozen), divided between 4 ramekins
2 large egg whites
100g icing sugar
50g ground almonds
zest of a lemon
handful of flaked almonds, for sprinkling

Pre-heat the oven to 160C/140 fan

Whisk the egg white to stiff peaks

Sift the icing sugar into a bowl, and stir in the ground almonds and lemon zest, then fold this through the egg whites. Spoon the egg white mixture onto the raspberries and give the ramekins a couple of taps to get the mixture to settle properly. Sprinkle over the flaked almonds.

Bake in the oven for 20-25 minutes till risen and golden. Leave to cool before serving warm or cold.

The reason why mine weren't quite crisp was because time was marching on and we were desperate to get the kids in bed.  I think that leaving them to cool allows the topping to harden up making them crispy on top. Still, they were pretty good as they were, if a little hot!

By the way, it's my mum's birthday today, so - Happy Birthday Mum! This one's for you!

Poached heads and toasted dustbins

The end of another half term drew to a close on Sunday as we belted back down the M1 to Hampshire.

I know the M1 fairly intimately, and from, the days when the children were smaller, the service stations. While I'd like to say that I would take breaks from the drudgery of driving with small children in the back of the car in more interesting places off the beaten track, the fact is that when you've got a screaming baby in the back seat, you need to stop. NOW. Blue was the dream baby to travel with. Within 30 seconds of being in the car, he would be asleep, only to wake when the car stopped. We could get all the way from Hampshire to Leeds without incident (I never felt the need to wake a sleeping baby). Pink on the other hand... I remember the alarm I felt as she squawked all the way home from the hospital. A baby that didn't sleep in the car (or as it turned out, the buggy)?

Many journies north in the company of Blue & Pink led me to conclude that the ideal place to stop as a woman travelling in the company of small children was Donnington Park East. For some reason the least stressful of all the service stations that I would pass. Just over half way on our journey, very open with plenty of room for a toddler to run about before reaching the exit. Rather a smart 'family' room. I could run through the detractors for all the other ones, but I will only mention that (1) the muffins at Woolley Edge were a disgrace 6 years ago, and (2)  don't get me started on how hideous it is to breastfeed at Leicester Forest East.

Anyway, we ended up stopping at Donnington Park East on our return journey from a week at my parents, and it seemed no less relaxed than I remembered. Over a hideously overpriced coffee and a packet of biscuits provided by my mum, we had one of those conversations that I think I will remember for the rest of my life. "What's for tea?" asked Blue (he is constantly pre-occupied with what his next meal will be, and when). I told him. "Poached heads and toasted dustbins?" squawked Pink, outraged - obviously her mind had been elsewhere at the time.

We got home. Unpacked the car. Sorted things out. Time for poached heads & toasted dustbins...

Rollercoaster parenting and dragon eggs

Parenting. How is it for you? A rollercoaster? That's pretty much how it is for me, and I've only survived 9 years of it. Apart from the admittedly rather extreme parts of my own parenting experience, the thing that really gets me is how one thing leads to another and before you know it, you've been talked into some completely bonkers project or other, feeling vaguely hysterical to boot.

now imagine it large scale, across the Humber

A throwaway comment the other week about how I'd made some bunting for my 40th birthday celebrations, and the next thing I know, I'm helping 1st Overton Rainbows with their contribution to the Helen Skelton/Blue Peter longest string of bunting ever Red Nose Day project. Two 2 metre bunting triangles, no less, to join a host of other flags adorning the Humber Bridge. Felt, scissors, fabric pens, orange squash, malted milk bisc.. oh sorry, those last two were 'tuck', not anything to do with the bunting. Crazy.





This from a woman who remains unshakeable in her belief that glitter was invented by a deeply mysogonist forbear of James Dyson who never spent any time with a toddler and a pot of PVA glue, and 'craft' is what Playgroup was for...

I am not a 'crafty' mummy. I am a reading stories mummy. A running around in a field mummy. A baking cakes mummy (of course). Try as I might (and I really do), I am not good at the whole craft thing. But one thing leads to another...

Blue & Pink are going to a Harry Potter party on Saturday. It promises to be a wonderfully orchestrated affair  - hand crafted 'invitations to join Hogwarts'. There is talk of the Petrificus Totalis game, and the potions lesson. I am torn between total admiration and a kind of snarling resentment - a new bar has been set. I for one am not in the market for competitive birthday parties - although I do own up to once spending 15 hours crafting a Thomas and the Troublesome Trucks birthday cake. 15 hours. In my defence, my son was in the grip of a potentially life threatening illness at the time, but even so - faced with this kind of inventiveness, I must stamp down a little part of me that has judged me on my birthday party enthusiasm and found me lacking...

Blue owns some 'robes' - and Pink has been hankering. The problem is that I MADE Blue's robes for a book day affair - nothing fancy, but Pink was after some herself, and things have moved on and I just haven't had time. So what is she to wear, my diminutive, headstrong, firecracker of a daughter? Well, my friends, I have convinced her to go as Hagrid. I have a curly black fright wig and enough black & brown facepaint to provide her a beard. She can wear some brown trousers and a shirt I modified for Blue to wear as a Celt (it works, I promise). My duffle coat with the sleeves rolled up, and her own pink umberella. 

"And perhaps we could make a dragon egg, Mummy? Hagrid always has a dragon egg"

My heart sinks. But then, one thing leads to another. Does this happen to other people or is it just me? I feel that I owe it to her to make the best of what is essentially a cobbled together affair. Am I really too busy to deny my  daughter? What kind of mother would that make me? A dragon egg? Let me think. Then the lightbulb moment!  A cake was on the cards anyway. There's no need for papier mache and messy balloon coating (which I imagine might be involved in such an endeavour - I can see it now bound to fail) - oh no! - I can blow the eggs. We can paint them! And before I know it, I have uttered those words out loud, so there is no turning back.

Why, why why? I am practically PHOBIC about blown eggs: it's a long story involving Christmas tree decorations and  the words "scarred for life". I could go into it now, but I won't - suffice to say that if my mum (remember, I love her, it's just easy to make the odd joke at her expense) could work out how to leave a comment on my blog, she'd probably remind me (and you all) of all the occasions I have sworn never to blow an egg myself for painting/craft purposes, less so even countenance the idea that I might inflict blown eggs on my children for whatever reason.

The cake required 4 eggs. I equipped myself with a pin and get started.

Getting the pin in is not as tricky as it first seems. But in my delight, I lose my head and put it down on the worktop. My camera is not working. I reach for my phone. 

Crack.

I try again. More luck next time, I get a hole in both ends - a pin hole to blow through, and an ever so slightly larger hole for the egg to slip out of. 

Or not

Can you see the pitiful blob of albumen? It is there. Do you know how much puffing and blowing that took?

In the end, I took a skewer to the 'exit hole', and - success:

OK, so may be I was hoping for a smaller hole

egg!

So I washed out the eggs and made a cake. And mighty good cake it was too.

Now all we need to do is paint the eggs.

Pear & Custard Crumble Cake (or “Goodbye to D.I.Y”)

Now that the dust of Christmas has settled, and we are all getting on (or not) with January, I bring you a cake requires a certain amount of time and faffing in the kitchen. Don’t let this put you off. This time of year, it’s crucial to have some strategies in place to avoid those tedious ‘New Year Projects’, and I guarantee that the strategic wafting of cake before those around you is one such strategy that will absolve you entirely of participation in such projects – for an afternoon at least.  

The Husband's current project is "The Moving of The Greenhouse". Do you see what I mean? This doesn't just involve the physical act of relocating a structure from one area of the garden to another. In order to move the greenhouse, the new site requires to be prepared. Concrete is involved. And straight lines. This is not an area where I am at all qualified, or otherwise competent, nor am I a particularly enthusiastic participant, although I am more than happy to consume the eventual rewards of this endeavour - by moving the greenhouse to the new position, it will benefit from more sun for longer in the year thus extending its usefulness for growing things. Things which I can eventually cook with.

Cake on the other hand? Well that's different. This cake delivers on many levels, being both cake and crumble, and is equally good warm or cold. It contains custard. The ‘faffing’ involves nothing more arduous than making said custard, caramelising some fruit, and knocking up some crumble topping. These tasks, straightforward in themselves, provide the perfect opportunity for hanging out and flicking through the magazine section of the paper of a Saturday afternoon, while rolling out a practiced “No I can’t possibly help you, darling, I just have to keep my eye on these pears”...


Pear & Custard Crumble Cake

Ingredients:

2 tbsp custard powder, 2 tbsp golden caster sugar, 200ml milk, 400-450g whole pears, peeled, cored and cut into chunks, 75ml brandy, 190g light muscovado sugar, 60g oats,       140g unsalted butter, 60g plain flour, 40g ground almonds, 1½ tsp baking powder, 2 large eggs

You’ll also need greaseproof paper and a deep 20cm round cake tin – it’ll be easier if it’s loose bottomed – which you’ve greased and lined. You might want to think about some cream or crème fraiche to serve with it, too. Better to think about it now rather than later, I always say.

Combine the custard powder and caster sugar a bowl and mix to a smooth paste with about 50ml of the milk. 

Heat the rest of the milk in a medium sized pan and when it’s getting close to boiling, pour it onto the custard powder paste and stir together, then pour it all back in to the pan on a medium heat and stir constantly (or whisk) till the custard thickens.


Pour the thickened custard back into the bowl, and press in a piece of greaseproof paper to cover the top of the custard and stop a skin forming. Leave to cool until very firm.


Put the pears, brandy, 50g of the light muscovado sugar and 75ml water into a pan, bring to the boil and cook over a high heat till all the liquid has evaporated. Keep an eye on it, and stir occasionally. Once the liquid has evaporated, set the pan aside.


Make the crumble topping by rubbing together the oats with 40g of the unsalted butter and the muscovado sugar till they form oaty crumbs.


Once the custard is thick and chilled and the pears are cooled, pre-heat the oven to about 180⁰C /160⁰C for fan ovens.


Beat together the remaining butter and sugar, then add the eggs in one at a time, beating well after each. The mixture may look a little curdled but bear with it – or add a little of the flour after each egg.

Add in the flour, ground almonds and baking powder and beat again. Chop up the custard into rough pieces and stir into the mixture, then scrape it all into the lined tin and gently spread it level.


Scatter the pears on top and stir through the cake mixture, then sprinkle the crumble topping on top of that till everything is covered.


Bake for 45 – 50 minutes, and leave to cool in the tin. It will be cooked when the crumble is golden brown and a skewer comes out reasonably clean, but it is quite a damp cake.


Leave to cool in the tin.

Serve the cake with cream and a cup of tea. Alternatively, increase your chances of never being asked to mix concrete or measure straight lines again by bearing a tray with a generous slice of cake and a glass of the brandy (assuming you didn’t drink it all in the kitchen while flicking through your paper) to your New Year Project Monkey and exclaim, adoringly “Oh darling, you are clever – it looks marvellous – I could never have done it as well. Would you like some cake?”

Disclaimer (!): I wrote this post as an application for a cake column (without reference to the greenhouse moving, which is a genuine project). I didn't get the cake gig, but hey ho, we had some good cake, and I thought you'd all like it too. And if you think anyone's moving any greenhouses in this weather, think again...

Coriander & Chilli eggs - for lunch or breakfast!

What a time to be thinking about entering a competition? It's madness here. However, seduced by the possibility of fame, fortune and trip to Australia, I thought "Why not?" and emailed off to enter the Gourmet Garden Blog Off/Cook Off competition.

Next thing I know, a lovely selection of their tubes of fresh herbs arrives in a cute little pouch. While you can't beat fresh herbs, there are loads of opportunities to use these beauties - in fact when they arrived, I'd run out of fresh garlic and chillies anyway, and as fresh coriander often spoils pretty quickly, I can definitely see the advantage of the tube when you need it for flavour rather than as a garnish in particular.

Now, because of one thing and another, I have decided to take the quick and easy approach to my entry (or entries - I have used the tubes quite a lot, but I need to carve out some time to blog them!), so here's the first:

Coriander and Chilli Eggs

Ingredients for 1 (easily doubled)

splash of olive oil
2 tomatoes, deseeded and roughly chopped
1/2 red pepper, deseeded and chopped to similar size
1 tsp Gourmet Garden Coriander
1/2 tsp Gourmet Garden Chilli (or to taste)
1 egg
2 spring onions, sliced
1 tortilla wrap

1 small frying pan
grill proof serving dish (optional if you can put the frying pan under the grill!)




Turn on your grill to medium - high. Heat the oil in a frying pan, add the tomatoes and red pepper, cook for a minute or so to start the juices running, then stir in the Coriander and Chilli.

Once the tomatoes and peppers are semi-cooked and the herbs are nicely incorporated, grind in some salt and pepper, stir again, then take off the heat. If you are using the grill proof serving dish, scrape the sauce into the dish, and quickly make a well in the centre of the sauce (or just make the well in the sauce in the frying pan) and crack the egg into it.

Pop the dish/frying pan under the grill, and cook for 8-10 mins until the egg is cooked. This will depend on how hot the frill is and how close your dish/pan is to the element - keep an eye on it!

If you have room under the grill, fold your tortilla in half and pop it under too for a couple of minutes to crisp up.

Serve the eggs with the tortilla and extra salt and pepper as desired.

I ate this for lunch, and it was very tasty. The chilli was sufficiently spicy and the coriander gave a great flavour to the sauce. If you were feeling brave and a little like a taste of Mexico, it would work well as a kind of huevos rancheros style breakfast.