Recipe time!: Elderflower Champagne

A little while ago I mentioned that elderflowers were in bloom all over the hedgerows here at the moment; their little star like flowers grow in cheerful profusion, and they smell beautifully sweet and floral. Inspired by Darina Allen’s wonderful Forgotten Skills of Cooking, I decided to give my own elderflower fizz a go. Theoretically this blend of water, sugar, lemon juice, vinegar, and elderflowers will transform into a sweet and bubbly champagne-ish drink after fermenting in well sealed, sterilised bottles for about two weeks. I tried mine exactly two weeks later, and it was feeling a little lively, but still somewhat flat. I’ll give it another week and see if that improves matters.

It’s pretty much the end of the elderflower season now, but if there’s a tree near you which still has lovely big blooms, which smell sweet and don’t lose petals when gently shaken, give it a go for yourself.


This recipe is from Darina Allen's weekly letter of June 26 2010, available in it's original here

Elderflower Champagne

This magical recipe transforms perfectly ordinary ingredients into a delicious sparkling drink. The children make it religiously every year and then share the bubbly with their friends.

2 heads of elderflowers
560g (11/4lb) sugar
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
4.5L (8pints) water
1 lemon
Remove the peel from the lemon with a swivel top peeler. Pick the elderflowers in full bloom. Put into a bowl with the lemon peel, lemon juice, sugar, vinegar and cold water. Leave for 24 hours, and then strain into strong screw top bottles. Lay them on their sides in a cool place. After 2 weeks it should be sparkling and ready to drink. Despite the sparkle this drink is non-alcoholic.
The bottles need to be strong and well sealed; otherwise the Elderflower champagne will pop its cork.

The Little Things

I must apologise, I have been a little bit remiss in my blogging duties of late. This is probably due to the general malaise I’ve been feeling the past few weeks, a sort of persistent ennui which is very unlike my usual temperament. I think this condition is pretty common in Ireland these days; there is really high unemployment, which has left a lot of skilled and talented people with nothing to do except sit around the house all day drinking tea, eating digestive biscuits and watching E4. (Other people are doing that, right?) The thing is, that sounds like my perfect day off, or a brilliant lazy Sunday, but these are special precisely because they’re a break from regular duties. Doing it all the time is much less awesome, and sometimes it feels like the gulf between never needing to get out of my pyjamas and living in a way which is fun and vibrant and worthwhile is growing insurmountably huge. Hence the malaise. But melancholy, like anything else, can become a habit if left unchecked, and I am doing all I can to get back on the wagon. One thing which is making me feel better is watching my little garden grow. (pictured below) I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing, but so far everything has grown and nothing has died, so I reckon I’m on the right track.

Another is to take advantage of the loveliness of where I live by walking a lot, keeping an eye on the sheep population and the progress of this year’s apple crop at a local orchard.

They may be small things, but at least they’re keeping me sane, and hopefully, when I am back in the business of regular day to day life again, I will be better equipped to deal with those inevitable times of feeling a little bit lost.

What do you do to deal with those lost-at-sea feelings?

Recipe Time! Apple and Raspberry Pie

Baking a pie must be one of the most satisfying experiences in the world. There is a careful craft to making the pastry; it’s not exactly difficult, but it takes practice, and an understanding of your ingredients. Cold butter, cold water, or, going against all other baking protocol, an egg straight from the fridge. You must work quickly in rubbing the butter into the flour until it golden and finely crumbed in texture. Add the icy liquid and combine quickly, quickly, until it just comes together into one piece. Now refrigerate to let the dough relax, I usually give it about 30 minutes at this stage, wrapped in clingfilm. After following a tip from a Rachel Allen book, I now roll my pastry between two sheets of clingfilm, it saves a lot of floury mess (both on the countertop and my clothes), then line my tin, and pop back in the fridge for anything from another half an hour, to overnight. The sight of a tin lined with pastry is lovely and heavy with promise, and almost as beautiful as when it is filled to the brim with fruit and other good things.

A filling of apples makes the quintessential fruit pie, but there are plenty of variations given what’s at hand in the season; rhubarb is delicious, as is a combination of rhubarb and strawberries. Anyone lucky enough to have gooseberries growing in their garden, or a good greengrocer, could make a lovely tart, slightly perfumed perhaps with a head of elderflower (and more on that particular subject soon.) Apples on their own are great with warming spices like cinnamon and cloves, or with the likes of berries, walnuts, or sultanas. And then, from relatively few ingredients and just a little work, there emerges from the oven a gorgeous, fragrant, bubbling pie to reward your efforts.

Here I’ve combined the Irish favourite, Bramley apples, with fresh summer raspberries, which is a fantastic combination. If you don't have Bramleys where you are, use a good cooking apple, like Cortland, Empire, or Granny Smith.

175g plain flour
75g butter, cold
150g + 2tbsp caster sugar
1 egg, fridge cold, beaten
3 bramley apples
150g raspberries
1 egg, beaten (for an egg wash – if there’s any beaten egg left from making the pastry, that’ll do lovely)

1. Cut the butter into small cubes. Put the flour and 1 tablespoon of sugar into a bowl and whisk to combine. Rub in the cubed butter until it resembles breadcrumbs in texture.

2. Add the beaten egg a little at a time, mixing with a knife until the whole lot just comes together in one piece.

3. Tip the dough onto some cling film, and bring it together. Form into a slightly flattened disc shape – this makes it easier to roll later on. Pop in the fridge for 30 minutes or so.

4. After that time take it out of the fridge and cut it in half. Roll one half between two sheets of clingfilm until it fits your tin – I used a 20cm/8in fluted pie dish. Remove one piece of film, then lay the pastry, dough side down, into the tin. Press to fit, then peel off the top layer of film. Roll the second half between the two clingfilm sheets, to fit the top of the pie, with a little overhang. Pop the whole lot back in the fridge until your filling is sorted.

5. Switch the oven on at 180C/350F.

6. Peel and core the apples, then cut into slices/dice, depending on what you fancy. Toss them in a bowl with the 150g of sugar and the raspberries.

7. Take the pie dish from the fridge and pile in the filling. Brush a little water around the rim of pastry. Lay the lid over the top and crimp the base and lid together around the edge with your thumb. Trim any overhanging pastry with a paring knife. If you fancy, use the trimmings to make pretty decorations for the top of your pie – a couple of overlapping circles or some leaves are easy to carve with a knife, or put your cookie cutters to use for stars, hearts, letters, etc.

8. Using a pastry brush, brush the top of the tart with egg wash. Sprinkle with the remaining tablespoon of sugar. Place the pie on a baking tray – useful in case your filling bubbles out anywhere. It’s makes a mess on the bottom of your oven (I know from experience).

9. Bake for about 45 minutes, the top should be golden brown, and the apples tender. Enjoy warm or room temperature, with whipped cream, ice cream, or custard.

Pinny For Your Thoughts?

I never thought of myself as one of those slightly unusual collector types, but reviewing my possessions I have found a couple of recurring trends; I have several teapots, far more eggcups than I will ever have need for, and a kitchen drawer packed full of aprons. I get a lot of these as presents, some for Christmas and birthdays, and others from other people’s vacations, like a beautiful all white Belgian lace one which feels too good to wear. Once in a while I wash and iron them all, and marvel at how these practical everyday items can be so pretty, but by and large I can’t say I’m very kind to them. I need my things to be functional as well as beautiful, and they get covered in melted chocolate, dustings of flour, bits of dough, and various other pieces of cooking detritus. My latest apron acquisition (pictured above) was a gift from my mum, and I have been keeping it especially clean and neat because it’s just so gorgeous. It’s from the Clodagh McKenna Love Aprons range, and these aprons are designed to be beautiful enough to wear when you’re having people over for dinner, which is definitely preferable to wearing one which has the ghosts of meals past imprinted upon it. Pictured above is the one I have, but I have my eye on this vintage inspired floral half pinny too.

Here are a couple of other cute aprons I found while browsing on etsy. Just another reason to get cracking in the kitchen!

Aprons:

Top Left, Day Red LOVE Apron, by Clodagh McKenna's Love Aprons range

Above Left, Love Boquet Full Apron, by Pamwares on Etsy

Above Right, Vintage Inspired Modern Dog Half Apron, by Boojiboo on Etsy

Guilty Pleasures #2

The man I really want to be in the back of a car with...

So has anyone else on this side of the Atlantic seen/tasted these new Walkers crisp flavours? There are very many places where Canada beats Ireland; the existence of brunch, great sourdough, more than say, 3, sushi restaurants in the entire country. But when it comes to the humble spud, we have it covered. My favourite potato based snack food is Tayto Cheese and Onion flavour crisps – a conservative choice perhaps, but they’ve stood me in good stead since childhood, and I am loyal to anything which consistently feeds me. My preferred method of eating them is in a classic Irish dish: the crisp sandwich. Take two slices of white bread, the rubbery sliced stuff is fine here, butter generously, then fill with as much of the crisp packet as you can. Press down gently to make it easier to hold. If in need of something more substantial, some cheddar can be added to the mix. How this has never made it to a book of traditional Irish cooking is beyond me. How half of the population isn’t dying of heart disease is also a mystery.

In any case, Walkers, the same snack company which had Heston Blumenthal on the brainstorming team not too long ago, have a range of new flavours, including Spanish paella, French garlic bread, and Italian spaghetti Bolognese, to name the three types which I snaffled greedily in the back of the car last week. (In the name of culinary research and all that.) And fancy and fun as they were, none could trump my beloved cheese and onion. Despite generally being a liberal, progressive type of gal, I simply can't get past my conservative attitude towards junk food. I always go for the classic option - usually the one most reminiscent of being a kid and spending all of my pocket money in the local corner shop. When it comes to hanging out on the sofa watching tv, I will go for the regular bar of cocoa-butter-heavy milk chocolate over the organic, single estate 70% dark chocolate every time. But surely I’m not the only one with a junk food guilty pleasure or two. Any confessions?

Beginners' Luck

Lime & Basil (Gina) 2010.

This week my friend Liz and I decided it was high time to conquer the challenge of French marcarons. After hearing horror stories of the difficulties, and Liz decidedly rating these little morsels as 9/10 on the hard-to-make scale, we dove in.

We used the recipe for lime and basil macarons from much loved Ottolenghi cookbook. The recipe was appealing because although it gave specific directions on how to best achieve success, it wasn't overwhelming and stupefying. Also, lime and basil! Yum!

And you know what? With two sets of hands and some (limited) patience, the process wasn't nearly as scary as everyone had told us. Not a 9/10 at all. Perhaps only a six. Our marcarons were definitely delicious, although perhaps a bit more rustic looking than fancy-pants Paris patisseries produce. Some work on piping technique is due, but all in all I consider this a triumph.

Along with a potentially large share of beginner's luck, here are some tips that helped us learn to stop worrying and love the marcaron.

1. Sift those dry ingredients. Like, three times.
2. Be really nice to your egg whites. Especially after they enter meringue stage (i.e. fold carefully).
3. Once you've piped your cookies out, don't be afraid to bang the bejesus out of the cookie sheet to get rid of air bubbles - we didn't bang enough.
4. Also, don't be afraid to let them sit out before you bake them. For some magic reason this helps.
5. While they are baking, open the oven door a few times to let some steam escape.

Now go forth, with macaron recipes in hand, and conquer!

And please feel free to share any tips you might know or come across!

A letter of thanks to Eyjafjallajökull

Dear Eyjafjallajökull,

I know you’ve been getting a lot of bad press recently, but I for one would like to say a great, big thank you. When I went to London for three days I had a list of things I wanted to do, and not nearly enough time to do them all. Sure, I managed to go to Notting Hill and see the beautiful food at Ottolenghi; fruit tarts striped with green pistachios, and piles of cloudy, billowy meringues. I browsed in Books for Cooks and Rough Trade in Notting Hill, ate carrot cake and red velvet cupcakes from the Hummingbird bakery at the water’s edge in Hyde Park, and was surprised by the deliciousness of smoked herring tostadas and huitlacoche quesadillas in Wahaca. And all of that was great, and I really enjoyed it. But if it wasn’t for you, Eyjafjallajökull, and your spewing clouds of ash which blanketed Great Britain and shut down airspace, there are lots of things I would not have been able to do.

I would never have made the trip to Brixton market and drank tea from a cup and saucer, poured from a giant gold teapot in Rosie Lovell’s lovely deli and cafe. I wouldn’t have had time to explore Borough Market, to watch the skilled butchers at the Ginger Pig prepare meat, marvel at the beauty of the cheese in Neal’s Yard Dairy, and learn a little more about Montgomery cheddar from their hugely knowledgeable staff. I wouldn’t have sat on the kerb and eaten a chorizo, piquillo pepper, and rocket sandwich from the infamous Spanish deli Brindisa, whose deliciousness left me in silent awe for a full five minutes. I might never have seen the amazingly large but perfectly chosen selection at Foyle’s bookshop, or discovered their beautiful jazz cafe, with its huge windows and plain wooden tables, and I might never have found out that the humble Barry’s tea (my own brew of choice) is seen as a rather fancy cuppa in London. I would never have had such a brilliant catch up with my friend Gill, and we would not have eaten veal stew and pork chops in the original London gastropub, The Eagle, watching the chefs cook the most amazing Mediterranean food on a single stovetop right behind the bar. I may never have gone for a walk in Hampstead and quite accidentally come across the grave of Penelope Fitzgerald in a quiet little cemetery full of cherry blossoms. Or gotten lost looking for a Primrose Bakery in Primrose Hill, but found one behind Covent Garden.

Without you Eyjafjallajökull, it’s very unlikely that I would have ever taken a bus from London to Dublin. And while perhaps being crammed into a vehicle with fifty tired and irate fellow passengers, many of whom had spent days sleeping in airports, wasn’t exactly fun, seeing little sleeping Welsh towns in the middle of the night was. So here’s a big cheers from me. Yes, you may have caused hundreds of thousands of air passengers to be stranded abroad, and in many cases pay extortionate amounts of money to get home. Sure, you may have cost the air industry millions, stopped international mail for a couple of days, and disrupted the everyday workings of life all over the world for a little while. But there were some silver linings, and I would like to heartily thank you for mine.

Yours,

Alison x