Marmalade IV

Much better this time. The oranges peeled first, and the peel shredded before plonking in pot, as per this procedure.

This time, however, the innards of the oranges were popped into a jug, water added to cover, and then blitzed into a rough pulp with a hand blender, which is one of my favourite kitchen gadgets. (I’d be less fond of it with children on the premises as there are no safety features whatsoever.)

Thence into the muslin, which had been damped first, so it could be tied into a ruthlessly tight knot. Note that it’s worth shopping around for your muslin: the Middle Class Retailer near my office sells a single 46cm square for five quid, whilst Nisbet’s sells a 1m × 10m piece for twenty pounds. That’s £20 and £2 per square metre, respectively. (Lakeland worked out at £6/m² but it comes in 12″ squares, so hardly useful. They are, however, just about the only place that will sell you non posh jam jars.)

The finely shredded peel took only an hour to cook – crucial that it reaches the stage where it can easily be crushed by light pressure between your fingers.

The bag of innards was hoisted out, and popped into a jug with some cold water to cool it down. With the knot being firm I was able to simply hold it by the knot, and twist the bag, to get all the gooey slimey pectin out, which obligingly stuck to my hands, but could be washed off in the aforementioned jug. When I’d finished, the squeezed bag was barely bigger than a single one of the oranges I’d started with. Contents of jug then added for the second stage.

As usual for me, 1.5kg of caster sugar (to an original 1 kilo of Seville oranges) and the whole lot topped up to 3 litres. The usual boiling and waiting for “a set” followed.

Cooled for 15 mins and stirred so the peel would be more evenly distributed when finally popped into jars.

And now, having become almost as obsessive about marmalade as I once was about pastéis de nata, I shall sign off, biding you all a rousing Fat Tuesday, and a suitably mournful Lent.

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Marmalade III

I’m slightly miffed as the season’s first batch of marmalade has failed to set, and is sloshing around those oh-so-carefully sterilised jars, as neither liquid nor something you could get out of the jar with a knife.

Why did it fail? A couple of reasons. It was done with the “whole orange method”, which seems superficially reasonable, except you can’t tell when the peel is properly cooked, and it wasn’t. Also, the squishy peel is much harder to shred. On top of that, I really didn’t cook the bag of pips and pith for sufficiently long, so there simply wasn’t enough pectin on hand.

However, it’s very tasty, and can still be used for cooking: in between the layers in bread and butter pudding, filling pancakes, or maybe one of these.

Once more unto the breach.

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Marmalade II

Found a kilo of Seville oranges in the freezer which I’d forgotten about so made the final batch of marmalade for the season. Did it slightly differently, with the end result being softer, paler, cloudier, and much more orange flavoured.

Oranges were washed and put whole into 2 litres of water, brought to the boil, and simmered for two hours, and then left to cool. Oranges fished out (water retained of course!) and sliced in half. The insides had detached from the peel, and shrivelled slightly, so were easily detached with a metal spoon and tossed into a bowl lined with a two foot square of muslin. The peel was then easily shredded.

The pot, meanwhile, was heated up again, and 1.5kg white sugar dissolved, and the whole lot topped up to 3 litres. Shredded peel returned to pot, along with the juice of two lemons. The muslin was tied into a bag and added as well, after a vigorous squeeze to get all that lovely slimey pectin into the pot.

Once boiling, it took about fifteen minutes to get a set, and yielded 2.5 litres of finished product.

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Chocolate Fondant

Felicity Cloake has done it again, as part of her marvellous How to Make the Perfect… series.

I’ve been sleeping badly (due to a mild chest infection – inconvenient rather than life threatening) and there was a spare egg going to waste, and one thing led to another…

Just follow her very reasonable instructions.

I used a fan-forced oven, so cautiously set the temperature to 180ºC, and the necessary rising and pulling away from the edge of the ramekin took place at 14 minutes, instead of 12.

Best with ice cream, I think.

Maternal Gingerbread

Courtesy of Mother Dearest, origins lost in the mists of time. The recipe I’ve been given is mainly by volume. I’ve faithfully measured out the quantities using metric cups (250mL) but weighing the results just to make sure. To remove any doubt the teaspoon is also metric; five millilitres.

• ½ cup caster sugar (100g)
• ½ cup black treacle (160g)
• ½ cup butter (110g – you don’t need to wrestle butter into a cup measure!)
• 1 level teasp bicarb soda dissolved in a small quantity of hot water
• 1 egg (lightly beaten)
• 1½ cups plain flour (180g)
• pinch salt
• 1 level tsp ground ginger
• ¼ tsp of ground nutmeg
• ¼ tsp of ground cinnamon
• a solitary clove, crushed
• ½ cup milk soured with ½ tsp vinegar

Arteries ready?

1. Melt the sugar, butter and treacle in large saucepan. Stir gently until sugar dissolved but do not boil.
2. Remove from heat, pour into a large mixing bowl.
3. Add dissolved soda and stir. Yes, it will get very frisky at this point. That’s why I said a large mixing bowl.
4. Allow to cool for around half an hour.
5. Mix in the beaten egg, and the salt and spices.
6. Add flour alternately with the milk. Make sure each consignment of milk is stirred in well before adding next addition of flour or unappetising lumps will ensue. It should be a sort of thick claggy pouring consistency.
7. Pour into a greased and lined loaf tin. It will probably go less than a quarter of the way up the side but you will need the other three.
8. Bake in moderate oven (180ºC, or about 160ºC in a fan-forced) for about fifty minutes. Cover with paper or foil if it begins to brown too early. A metal skewer will come out clean if it’s done.

Suitable for freezing although it keeps well – the bacteria aren’t game to go near all that sugar. Wrap in foil and keep somewhere dark. It’s good served either hot or cold, and even better with some cream.

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Smoked Mackerel Risotto

Smoked mackerel is one of my public vices. I can happily eat the stuff on its own, roughly shoved onto some toast with a squirt of lemon and some pepper. Never had it as a child (we used to have smoked cod, which was a chemical orange colour and horrid) so no nursery associations, but it strikes me as comfort food.

This, then, is a bit of an experiment. Can I combine the slightly sharp smoky fishiness with the gentle ooze of a risotto? The answer is yes, although the results don’t quite taste like risotto.

I used:

• 300g Arborio rice (or your preferred risotto rice)
• a large onion
• 200g smoked mackerel fillets, skinned and flaked into large pieces (or some other hot smoked fish, if you prefer – note that most “smoked” salmon is cured and cold smoked, so not suitable for this recipe)
• 150g shelled peas (frozen is fine, you could maybe use mangetout, but definitely some form of crisp legume)
• about a litre of vegetable stock (fish stock would be too OTT for this)

Make the risotto in the usual way – adding the peas and fish about five minutes before the end.

You probably won’t need any extra salt, but more pepper than usual.

Some people get very sniffy about seafood plus cheese, but I think that stirring in maybe 25g of parmesan is the right thing to do. The sharp salty flavour helps balance the starchy goo.

In hindsight, it really could have done with a bunch of parsley, and maybe some lemon zest. Fresh thyme leaves might be worth a go as well.

Chorizo and Chickpea Soup

Yeah, yeah, tins and packets, but an ideal mid week supper for the braindead. It’s about an hour of elapsed time, but only five minutes’ actual work.

The herbs and spices in this one should be subtle.

• 400g chopped up onions, celery, carrots, whatever (a 400g bag of the pre-prepped stuff from Waitrose is ideal)
• 400g tinned toms (plus equal amount hot water)
• 400g tin chickpeas, drained
• 50g diced or thinly sliced chorizo (or loads more if you fancy)
• a clove or two
• a pinch of
  • dried oregano
  • ground cumin
  • paprika

Gently fry the chorizo to render the fat. Expect this to take about ten minutes.

Add the soffritto, and a pinch of salt. Continue to fry, until soft, stirring from time to time. Again, another ten minutes.

Add the toms, an equal amount of hot water, the chickpeas and the herbs/spices. If you’ve got a bottle of wine on the go, then add a splash.

Adjust seasoning, and simmer for about half an hour. The starch from the chickpeas will thicken it, so you may need more water.

Mince Pies

No major secrets to making mince pies, but you will need to do some calculating and engineering to get the pastry circles the right size. I use muffin tins (in which I’ve made all sorts of things, but never muffins) and aim for a pie about a half an inch deep.

This will use up about half of the mincemeat in the previous recipe, and produce 24 small pies. (I don’t hold with huge deep pies, as they will go soggy.)

My parents used to get very worked up about making pastry from scratch. I don’t think there’s any major secret, other than not letting the fat melt. It helps if you’re the sort of person about whose cold hands people complain.

• 350g plain flour (you could substitute 25g of ground almonds for 25g of the flour if you fancied)
• a pinch of salt
• 75g butter
• 75g lard (you could use all butter but the pastry would not be as crisp nor as light)
• 25g caster sugar (about 2 tablespoons)
• mincemeat (around 500g)

Start by filling a small bowl or large teacup with cold water and putting it in the freezer.

Roughly chop up the fat, and then pop all the ingredients into a large bowl and rub the flour into the fat with the tips of your fingers until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes. Some recipes tell you to do this stage in the blender, which I reckon just creates unnecessary washing up. (If it’s a hot day, or the room in which you’re working has a blazing oven or fire, then there is a slight risk the mix may go slimy, that is, the fat will start to melt. If this happens, wrap in cling film, and pop it into the fridge for ten minutes to recover.)

Retrieve the now icy water from the freezer, and mix it in with your hands, one tablespoon at a time, until the pastry comes together in a ball. There’s enough fat for it not to stick to the bowl. You’ll probably need 5 – 6 tablespoons, i.e. 75 – 90mL, maybe one or two more. Tightly cover the ball in cling wrap, and put it into the fridge for at least 30 minutes to rest. (This is vital, otherwise it will not behave. At all.)

Once the pastry has rested, flour a work surface, and divide the ball into four roughly equal pieces. A single heroic sheet will be too much trouble to roll. Roll the pastry as thin as it will go, without tearing: probably 2-3 millimetres thick.

Now, you’ll need to cut the pastry into large and small circles, for the bases and lids, respectively. You could use a pastry cutter, I tend to use a large tumbler and a small tumbler. Press bases and lids in alternation, so you don’t run out of pastry and find you don’t have enough lids. Using the quantities above, I got enough pastry for about 16 pies on the first attempt. Squish all the off-cuts of pastry into a ball and roll out again to do the rest. I needed to re-roll a second time for the final four.

Get the oven going. I crank my fan-forced up to 200ºC.

Put the large discs into the muffin moulds. Doesn’t matter too much if there are wrinkles etc as these will smooth out during baking. Put about a tablespoon of mincemeat in each pie. Try not to overstuff. Less is more. Pop the lids on. If you moisten the edges, the lids stand a chance of sticking to the bases. (In the photo above you can see that the lids look like they’re about to escape, but are in fact firmly glued in place by the mincemeat: I should have made both bases and lids a whisker larger.)

Twenty minutes in the oven should do the trick. Whip the pies out of the moulds and onto a cooling rack, and dust with icing sugar. (This is purely for visual effect.)

Mincemeat

I my old age I have become reconciled to Christmas and am partial to pudding and mince pies, at least of the homemade variety. This particular concoction is of the right consistency to either fill mince pies or form the basis of a pudding. I initially used Microsoft Excel to do a side-by-side comparison of St Delia, Blessed Eliza, and the hysterical Empire Pudding, converting everything to metric and the same quantities to try and identify the quintessential components and ratios. In the end, old fashioned trial and error worked better.

You’ll need:

• 500g in total of sultanas, raisins, currants, peel (nothing wrong with buying a pre-mixed bag)
• about two large or three small apples (you’re aiming to end up with 200g of grated apple)
• 100g suet
• two lemons: zest and juice
• 125g muscovado sugar
• 125mL booze (dark spiced rum, e.g. Sailor Jerry)
• 25g almonds (flaked and bashed)
• a solitary clove, 1tsp cinnamon, 1tsp nutmeg
• 1tsp ground ginger

Day One. Mix the dried fruit, peel and nuts with the booze, cover with cling wrap and leave over night. I think you should use dark spiced rum for this, although some people say brandy, and some whiskey. Also, pour yourself a very small glass of rum, and when nobody is looking, down it and go, “Arrrr!!!” to commune with your Inner Pirate. If you’re feeling fancy, slip half a vanilla pod under the rum.

Day Two. Zest the lemons, and put the zest, juice, sugar and suet in a saucepan on a low heat, until the suet melts and you get a sloshy goop. Do not try and boil, melt or caramelise: fat, water and sugar on a high temperature is lethal. Add the spices. Grate the apples and add. Now all you need do is stir this into the rest, and combine well. If you’re going to store and “mature” it then you’ll need sterilised jars etc. – I’ve only ever “matured” it for about four weeks. Otherwise, if you’re going to use it immediately, cover at let it at least sit overnight.

Day Three. Ready for action. Mince pie recipe in the following post. To transform into pudding, add one egg, 25g SR flour, and 25g breadcrumbs per 225g of finished mincemeat. The mix needs to be sloppy, so you may need to loosen it up with a splash of Guinness. (Same procedure works on the author.)

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About the suet. I’ve only ever used Atora dried suet. If you can get the Real Thing from your butcher, then good luck. Melting the suet and then mixing it in means everything gets a light coating, which helps preserve things.

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Lesser Piggy Lentils

This used to be a favourite emergency mid week supper at my last shared house.

• pancetta – about 100g – one of those little packets you get in the supermarket and which I always have lurking at the back of the freezer
• a small onion
• 150g lentils (I’m using Puy lentils, ‘cos that’s what happens to be in the cupboard)
• one 450g tin of chopped tomatoes

You will need to:

1. put the lentils in a small pan of water; enough to cover them, and then about another inch or two
2. add salt and a bay leaf (you could add a teaspoon of Marigold Boullion, but since I’m using Puy lentils, they’re powerful enough on their own), bring to the boil, and then simmer until they’re tender; around twenty minutes
3. meanwhile, put the pancetta in another saucepan (two pot shocker!)
   
   and gently fry until dark and crunchy, and all the fat has run off – my pancetta was very watery so had to simmer a bit until all the water had evaporated before it started to fry properly
   
4. slice up the onion and add that to the pancetta, and fry until soft
5. I’ve pushed the onion and pancetta to one side and fried a clove of garlic as well
   
6. about this point, the lentils should be done, so drain them, and then put them in with everything else – that layer of tasty tasty pig fat on the bottom of the saucepan will be absorbed by the lentils
7. finally, add the tomatoes – if you don’t like the dish too fruity, then drain them first, and add the juice gradually until it tastes about right
   
8. cover and simmer for a few minutes to let the flavours mingle – pepper to taste

A good mid week main, or quite an impressive side dish for sausages.

Variations

You might consider:

• adding some chilli at the same time as the onions
• some curry powder
• adding a splash of white wine at some point (possibly into a glass and down your throat whilst cooking)