The Good Life - Christmas Pudding - Se lancait un défi!

 A hard end to November

The Winter weather has arrived in earnest this weekend, and in the allotment the early November muddy tracks that separated the raised beds were neatly filled with crisp snow this morning. Is there anything left in the beds to eat? Yes there is. The prolific giant woody stalks of the Jerusalem artichokes have finally wilted and their great crop lies perfectly preserved in the undisturbed soil. The spinach has also survived, and to our surprise so has the late crop of lettuce. The most prominent survivors in the allotment are the leeks, Brussels sprouts, and kale, which although battered by recent winds appear to be in reasonably healthy condition.

After only fifteen minutes my hands became bitterly cold and sore. Having quickly got back on the road, I recommenced my search for the final outstanding ingredients to use in my apple and dried fruit Christmas pudding. The shredded vegetarian suet was ultimately purchased in the last of four searches of nearby supermarkets. One would have thought this product would be a well stocked item at this time of year, but sadly the homemade traditional Christmas pudding may be a thing of the past!

My recipe is a little different. It was published in Sainsburys Magazine in November 2004 and it immediately caught my attention because of the rich variety of ingredients. In a similar manner to the first time I embarked on making this recipe, I have been examining my dry stores over the last few days and established a list of the  purchases required. My ceramic pudding bowls remain unbroken and unchiped, but there was no dried apple or shredded suet to be found in the cupboards. I also noticed my ground mixed spice had disappeared! I link some of these observations to Corinne of course, who recently informed me she had cleaned the cupboards, and in doing so questioned  the need for certain items (without querying me). Having recently converted her to chutney, I have decided it is time for another challenge: Christmas pudding. After a brief description of the ingredients there was some hope at hand, but this halted following my description of suet. The initial reaction brought a quizzical look, which quickly turned to one of horror, and incredulity, peppered with French resistance; a look which I am growing accustomed to. Se lancait un défi!

The chopped dried fruit

Amidst the overnight snowfall, it has been a good seasonal adventure gathering together all the ingredients in preparation for this pudding of puddings. The next decision centers around the question of the number to be made, and how much mixture should I make? Ultimately, I decided to add to the recipe and increase the quantities, in order to make a few mini puddings. My first attempt at cooking this pudding involved a different adventure which will not be repeated. I decided to cook them all over the course of a single night as I was working for most of the day. My alarm clock was set every two hours through the night, so that the pots could be refilled with water to the required level, because of the serious risk of the water evaporating entirely and the pot burning. Adopting my experience in offshore racing, and curious ability to deal with sleep deprivation, I struggled through the night with successive steamings of the puddings, finally going to work with the usual, and expected, side effects of unpredictability, crankiness and lack of concentration coming to the fore.

Orange and lemon zest

To make two 1.2 litre puddings you shall require the following: sultanas 250g; raisins 250g; roughly chopped dates 200g; roughly chopped dried figs 200g; roughly chopped dried apricots 150g; roughly chopped dried apple 150g; warmed brandy 200ml; mixture of almonds and hazelnuts 200g; zest of 1 orange and 1 lemon; breadcrumbs 200g; plain flour 75g; ground mixed spice 1 teaspoon; shredded suet 200g; light soft brown sugar 225g; treacle 95g; and 4 lightly beaten large eggs.

Warm the brandy and pour it over the sultanas, raisins, dates, figs, apricots and apple, leaving the ingredients to soak for about a day. Having an inbuilt mechanism for changing a plan at the last minute, I also added about 150g of irresistible prunneaux d'Agen into my mixture of dried fruit. Turning the different fruit over in the bowl a sweet scent begins to emerge from the bowl, but once the warmed brandy is poured over the fruit the room quickly fills with a rich sweet aroma. French brandy might be a little expensive for this recipe, however a Spanish brandy, aged in oak sherry casks, compliments the diverse complexity of flavours in the dried fruit.

 Light brown soft sugar, eggs and treacle

Toast the almonds and hazelnuts in an oven for about 6 minutes, and after allowing them to cool before chopping. Combine them with the orange and lemon zest, breadcrumbs, flour and mixed spice, and the dreaded shredded suet. In another bowl beat together the eggs, treacle and light brown soft sugar. Spoon the egg and sugar mixture into the brandy soaked dried fruit and mix well. Then add the breadcrumb, suet and nuts etc. and gently stir combining all the ingredients well. At this point I introduced Corinne to a mysterious Irish tradition whereby everybody who stirs the pudding mixture is allowed to make one secret wish. During the Celtic tiger era this tradition may have been artificially augmented and exaggerated by greedy individuals who made many wishes, and obviously the wish does not extend to the unrealistic and fantastic, such as ridiculous desires in relation to the Irish Banks, EU and IMF bail outs. She did not grasp the concept immediately. However after a little thought she began to stir, and gave the wooden spoon a decent work out for several minutes.

 
The dreaded shredded suet

I normally let the mixture stand for a while before spooning it into the pudding bowls. When filling the pudding bowls press down firmly before covering with baking parchment, or greaseproof paper. As the pudding expands while cooking it is advisable toput a 2 or 3 centimeter pleat across the center of the sheet and repeat the process with a sheet of aluminium foil. These two covers must be secured well with string around the rim. This is not as easy as it sounds, however it ensures the boiling or simmering water will not get into the pudding bowl.

toasted almonds and hazelnuts

The bowls must be placed in a pot of boiling water reaching two thirds the way up their sides. The steaming pot should be covered well and puddings left to cook for five or six hours. It is important to remember to check the water levels occasionally, and top up with boiling water when necessary, to prevent the pot burning due to evaporation. Once removed from the water allow the puddings to cool, and thereafter check whether or not they are sufficiently cooked. To test, you can insert a skewer into a pudding and if it is cooked the skewer should come out clean.

 The Mason ceramic pudding bowls covered and tied

Before storing the puddings secure a fresh piece of baking parchment and aluminium foil on top of each bowl. When you wish to serve the pudding, it should be steamed for at least two hours. Thereafter it can be turned out and served with whatever sauce, cream, butter or custard takes your fancy. Obviously the common ingredient to all of these embellishments is brandy, and I would also recommend flaming the pudding with warmed brandy. Of course, by the time you have tasted your apple and dried fruit Christmas pudding your secret wish should have come true!

 Six hours later

The Good Life - Indian Summer

Last weekend was spent digging, planting seedlings for the coming months, and picking over what was available in the allotment. The good weather finally arrived as promised and we were basking in the sunshine all weekend. Unusually, there were not many mushrooms to be found. A number of people are walking through and clearing the small birch forests so their growth could be affected. To counteract this disappointment, a number of damson trees close to the allotment are almost ready to harvest; the small deep purple/blue fruit are softening as they ripen through September. Elsewhere we have found hazelnuts and have begun to hang a few small bags to dry them although they are particularly nice when fresh. We decided to limit our take from the allotment this weekend and only picked a courgette, a young injured pumpkin and some sweet corn.

Sunday evening was set aside for a special task. We picked raspberries while killing some time before paying a visit to an orchard just before sunset. The orchard is a feature on a local golf course and many of the trees are not in the best of health and in some cases clearly need attention. We take it upon ourselves every year to collect a few bags of apples rather than having them rot into the ground. They are generally the cooking or bramley apples, but one or two of the trees produce a small eating apple.

The orchard is not easy to get to. You have to trudge through damp fields and steep ditches, and all this in failing Autumn light to avoid the attention of the golfing community. The still evening sunlight cast just enough light for a few minutes when we reached the orchard, but quickly faded and before long it was time to retreat. We returned by a different route through fields of low lying mist making our way up onto a country path above which the evening sky was still tinted with shades of salmon and grey by the sun which had long disappeared over the silvan horizon. In the forests only the darkest of green hues were visible and the pasture field to our left was full of a dense misty fog which spilled over the fencing much like water overflowing from a bath as the track ahead of us was slowly enveloped.

Back at home I set about cooking a large cake and decided to make a bakewell tart in a large square cake tin I acquired some months ago. This was partially inspired by a slice of bakewell tart my father had brought to me the week before, but I still craved for the rich combination and contrasting flavours of fresh raspberries and a rich almond frangipane. There was to be no half hearted thin layer of tasteless red jam and pale stodge for a frangipane which all too often carries a distinct lingering smell of almond essence.

For the pastry I decided to use a short crust type using a 2:1 ratio flour to butter but also added a desert spoon of almonds and a similar amount of icing sugar. The frangipane was quite rich with 150 grams sugar, 150 grams butter, 150 grams ground almonds, 3 eggs and one egg yolk, some grated lemon zest and a heaped tablespoon of flour with flaked almonds to scatter over the top. (I describe the basics of my simple guide to pastry and frangipane here). Essentially you just spread two or three tablespoons of raspberry jelly on the pastry and scatter the raspberries over the jelly. cover with the frangipane and cook.

I must acknowledge the source of the raspberry jelly which was made by Marie Claire Paillard, a friend of Corinne's from Franche Comte. Marie Claire and her husband Michel pick the wild raspberries, blueberries and strawberries from the forests, pastures and bogs close to where they live in Frasne. On a recent visit I managed to scoop her recipe for the raspberry jelly which read with the rhythm and simplicity of an iambic pentameter, but as usual my English has bludgeoned some of the vibrant life from it.

Here is the recipe for Gelee Frambois

Chauffer les fruits, Heat the fruit
Ensuite les presser ou serrer le jus Then press or strain the juice
mettre poids egal de sucre Add an equal weigh of sugar
Cuit environ 10 a 15 min Cook for 10 to 15 minutes
mettre au pot Place in the pot

I normally add about 100mls of water for every pound of fruit to prevent scorching and then strain the cooked fruit in a muslin bag over night. As regards sugar, Marie Claire's recipe adds slightly less sugar than I would typically add. My ratio is generally 450 grams to 600 mls of juice. Finally, although Marie Claire does not mention it, the jars or pots should always be sterilised. I took the time to try this reduced sugar method with some elderberries and blackberries I picked: it was a soft set jelly with an excellent and strong flavour.

Monday morning was a somewhat rushed affair and I found that every surface was covered with unwashed pots and bowls just as I had abandoned them the night before. Two large bags of apples formed an early obstacle to the day but I eventually sat down to a cup of freshly ground coffee and a large indulgent, and undeserved slice of bakewell tart, while I refused to raise a eye to the clutter of pots and pans.

Sailing to Byzantium - 11

A box of small fish from the Mercato della Ballaro

We are still in Palermo and will remain here until various parts of the engine finally come together. While the new engine has the same bolting pattern as the old engine, the block size is a little different and as a result some parts must be fabricated locally to accommodate these differences in dimensions. I am making a fiber glass box to house the main control panel, which needs to fit into a space where the main electrical boards are located. With the temperatures in the 20s centigrade the epoxy resins should cure quickly and the box can be completely quite quickly.

The old coffee mill

We also have time for other small projects on board. I am cleaning and restoring an old coffee mill which I bought while in France. It has been knocked about a bit and incredibly dirty, but was in working order. The coffee is excellent here as the beans are not over roasted resulting in a beautiful mellow but strong coffee flavour. We currently buy our coffee from the coffee shop close to the Mercato della Vucciria. The shopkeeper has a stylish old black and white portrait of himself at the Victor Emanuel monument in Rome hanging on the wall. He has five jars containingg different varieties of coffee beans and grinds the beans in a grand old electric mill which pushes waves of everchanging pungent aromas into the shop's still air.

The milled coffee beans heat up during the milling process and the wonderfully rich intoxicating scent is the result of the natural oils being released from the beans during this process. The hand mill does not generate heat as it crushes and grinds the coffees beans with the result that the fine grounds it produces should be far superior in quality retaining the esential oils of the bean, which normally evaporate off and are lost when an electric mill is used. This is the theory and in any event I am looking forward to milling my own coffee!

Saturdays always involve a shopping adventure to the markets and in particular the Mercato della Ballaro. I had been hoping to try the ricotta cheese made here and Palermo, which is very different to the feeble excuse for the chalky and dry ricotta sold in Ireland. In Palermo each ricotta cheese is individually stored in its own basket which in turn sits in a big bath of whey. The consistency of the cheese is dense and damp; very much like a mozerella but less elastic, and it has a rich and almost sweet taste.

The Palermo ricotta cheese with egg yolks and egg whites

Purchasing this wonderful ricotta seemed to be the perfect opportunity to try a recipe I found for gateau du fromage blanc from a book entitled "Bonne Cuisine d'Aujourhui", edition du Club du France Loisirs, 1989. It could be a possible sposa bene (good marriage) of Italian and French cooking. The published recipe is not perfect as it does not describe what to do with half the sugar allocated, but I think I have solved this mystery. Also some of the ingredients were not readily accessible here in Palermo and I have substituted the coarsely ground almonds for whole hazelnuts (I have no idea how the latter could have worked).

The whisked egg whites, blended egg yokes and bowl containing the remainder of the ingredients

The basic ingredients I used were as follows; 150 grams butter, 150 grams caster sugar, 150 grams ricotta cheese, 150 grams coarsely ground almonds, 6 eggs, zest of one lemon and a pinch of salt.

Egg whites being folded into the mixture

Firstly, cream (blend) the butter with hallf the sugar. After seperating the yolks from the egg whites, whisk the yolks with the remaining sugar until they are twice their original volume. In another bowl whisk the egg whites till they form stiff peaks. Mix together the ricotta, coarsely ground almonds, lemon zest, salt, creamed butter and sugar mix and the blended egg yolks. Then gradually and carefully fold in the whisked egg whites. Once entirely combined, the mixture can be spooned into a greased sprinform tin, and then placed into a moderate oven at approximately 150 degrees centigrade. The published recipe recommended cooking the cake for about 35 minutes. However, my cake took just over an hour. The tip here is to check it after 40 minutes and treat it like a sponge using a clean knife to test if tthe mixture is completely cooked.

Cooling on deck!

Once the cake has cooled it can be released from the tin and placed on a plate. Just prior to serving, I sprinkled two spoons of icing sugar on the top of the cake which seemed appropriate and it looked the part! The book, full of recommendations, suggested serving a rose Anjou with the cake. However, we chose the Italian option once again and served it with a chilled sparkling Lambrusco rose which was a fitting end to our comfortable afternoon meal. The cake was just moist and rich, yet remained light with gentle flavours coming from the combination of ricotta, almonds and lemon zest. We have not been too greedy over lunch, and despite a few approving comments from Italian visitors on board, a good portion has been kept to one side to be served with a chillled sweet Marsala wine [Malvasia Sicilia, Duca Di Castelmonte] to take the final heat from this hot day at sunset. The harbour is still and calm, and the lights have just illuminated the roads that lead up to the mountain villages and passes that hang over this great city. Ciao!

Baking in January - pear and apricot frangipane

Gateaux at Hirsinger, Arbois

December in France is a celebration of food and drink, and in particular there is a focus on the traditional patisseries and chocolatiers which produce decadent cakes and chocolates. Having stayed a few nights in Arbois, in the Jura region, I had the opportunity to see the displays of gateaux, marrons glacees and chocolates at Hirsinger, one of the finest chocolatiers and patisseries in France. Entering the shop you become intoxicated with the heady scent of rich chocolate which lures you towards their counters, and a purchase.

Returning home after Christmas through Paris with Corinne meant I could indulge myself with a brief excursion to gaze at the fashionable creations on display at Laduree and Fauchon. Time did not allow a visit to the Le Notre boutique patisserie, which was a shame because Mr. Le Notre, a legend and creator of the revolutionary "Opera" gateau, had just died at the grand old age of 88.

An iced cake with macaroons at Laduree, Paris

In the busy run up to Christmas in France, the media focus their attention on the patisseries of Laduree and Le Notre, flagships of their art, as they produced their own elegant and exclusive examples of the traditional buche de noel. The interviews gave a brief tantalising glimpse into the kitchens or cuisines of these establishments. The cameras panning around allowed us to see the chefs at Laduree attentively finishing the buches, encrusting the rich butter icing with a variety of macaroons using the skill and care of an instrument grade jeweller.

When I passed Laduree there was a reverent queue outside which was casually organised and watched over by a rather gruesome undignified looking security guard. Why? It appears that no recession on the planet can reduce the demand for the dainty colourful macaroons that are the trademark of Laduree. Fauchon was more sedate and modern displaying its culinary creations with a confident bravado in its wraparound windows.

Carre frambroise from Fauchon, Paris

Installed back in my humble small open plan kitchen dining & living area, I felt inspired by the modern alchemy I had witnessed in the gateaux cares (square cakes) and mignardises (a fancy french word for small cakes), but obviously less so by the English language which rarely does justice to these delicacies. I wanted to make a cake or tart, but gradually realised my limitations in setting out to use the ingredients that were easily available. In my local supermarket I was able to purchase pears from Portugal and apricots from South Africa. It almost felt as disappointing, wasteful and decadent as standing in line at Laduree, but it appears very little locally produced fruit is sold by Irish shops and supermarkets.

The night before baking, I poached 10 apricots in a white wine and vanilla syrup; 250mils of water, 50gs of sugar, glass of white wine and a vanilla pod.

Making pastry is far from difficult. However, some rules apply because if the pastry is poor the tart might be edible but will certainly be miserable. Pastry requires good baking flour and chilled butter, mixed and rubbed together in a 2:1 ratio. If you feel tempted to use something other than butter try to remember the words "edible" and "miserable" and you might be inclined to change your mind. Anthony Bourdain in his book "Kitchen Confidential" chose more caustic remarks to reinforce his viewpoint on this topic.

It is a distinct advantage in making a good shortcrust pastry to have a pair of cold hands. During Winter this is rarely a problem for me, but I ritually runs my hands under cold water during the warmer months. Having rubbed the flour and butter together to a breadcrumb consistency, add two or three tablespoons of cold water and mix until all the ingredients combine (if using 200gs of flour and 100gs of butter). If the mixture remains dry add more water, and if it becomes too moist add some more flour. Then place your pastry in the fridge for half an hour or more.

While the pastry is resting in the fridge you can make the frangipane. For my 8 inch square baking tin I use the following ingredients: Butter -125gs, Sugar - 125gs, Ground almonds - 125gs, Eggs - 3, Flour - 2 heaped tablespoons.

In a food processor blend the butter and sugar for a few minutes until well combined. Thereafter add the eggs one by one mixing all the time. At this point you can add some vanilla extract if you wish. Thereafter, add the ground almonds and flour and pulse two or three times, as the mixture should not be overworked with these ingredients. If the mixture appears too runny add a little more flour.

My pear and apricot frangipane tart before it went into the oven

Take the pastry from the fridge and roll it out on a floured surface until the pastry is about 4mm thick. Grease your tin with butter, dust with flour and lay in the pastry. Trim the pastry and neaten the edges. After straining the apricots and reserving the syrup, tear away the fleshy fruit of the apricots from the stones, and place on the pastry in the baking tin. With a spatula spread the frangipane mix evenly over the apricots. Having pealed, cored and cut in half three or four pears, place them neatly on the frangipane mixture. The pears can be fanned by carefully slicing the base of the fruit, which among other things gives a nice effect when glazed. Without further ado, place the tart in a preheated oven at 180C and cook for about 45 minutes. The frangipane is cooked when it has risen and is well browned. You can also dip a knife into the tart and if it comes out clean the tart is cooked.

Once taken from the oven, leave the tart to cool for 10 minutes. In the meantime, place two tablespoons of apricot jam into a small saucepan with two tablespoons of the reserved apricot syrup and bring to the boil. Thereafter, liberally brush the glaze onto the tart and leave to stand and cool. The vanilla enriched apricots provide a wonderful luxurious edge to the standard pear and almond tart and if you are prepared to use just about every piece of kitchen equipment you own I am sure you will not be disappointed with this tart.

The glazed apricot and pear frangipane tart

As a postscript I have to admit that I always make a little too much pastry. This can be put down to a deliberate attempt at gluttony, but it does allow me to experiment a little. I have uploaded a photograph of a few apple and apricot glazed tarts which I made with the pastry cuttings and left overs. The remnants of the apricot glaze also came in handy to decorate these little fruit tarts.

Amsterdam: Patisserie Holtkamp, Sinterklass and Zwart Piet

For the last seven years I have been visiting Amsterdam during the second week in November and every year I was delegated the task of acquiring a birthday cake. This proved to be more difficult than one might have thought and I would spend an afternoon walking around Amsterdam trying to find cake shops and patisseries who might produce a cake to order and furthermore ice birthday greetings on the cake to the lucky individual involved. As far as I could discern there was no tradition of giving or presenting a birthday cake which also meant that buying birthday candles was a near impossibility.


From year to year various shops would have closed, and or not be prepared to produce a cake. Two years ago I happened upon a patisserie called Holtkamp at 15 Vijzelgracht. The smooth channeled lines of the wooden shopfront and Art Deco leaded glass panels are a stylish introduction into a decadent world. Painted swirls of stylised patterns repeated around the interior of the small shop complete the decor, and within that small space were showcased a selection of the most luxurious and beautifully prepared cakes, pastries and tarts.


In the past most cities would have had their celebrated patisseries, being the center of people's attention for any special occasion. Many of these patisseries present their specialities produced to a very high standard, which are quite particular to them and their city, and only imitated elsewhere. Holtkamp stands out as one such patisserie in Amsterdam producing cakes and other confections that you might only find in Holland or indeed Amsterdam.


Among the cakes and tarts on display are the pastries such as the amandal boterstaaf, which is a rich glazed butter pastry roll with a sweet almond paste centre. Other cake shops sell a variation which is called speculaas-staaf and has whole almonds dotted in line on top of the pastry.


I generally visit Amsterdam in November at a time when the arrival of SinterKlaas and Zwart Piet by steamboat into the city is celebrated. This festival takes place in mid November and is celebrated throughout Holland, Flanders and parts of Alsace. For the first time visitor to Holland there is something of a culture shock when you see the locals blackening their faces, wearing read lipstick, moorish costume, and wearing afro-wigs, wandering about the streets playing music and handing out sweets.


The tradition is that SinterKlaas [Saint Nicholas] and his assistant Zwart Piet [Black Peter] arrive from Spain to deliver gifts to all the young children who have been good in the past year, on the eve of the feast of Sinterklaas on the 6th December. In the weeks leading up to eve of Sinterklaas, children traditionally left a carrot by the chimney for Sinterklaas' horse. If the children were good Zwart Piet would climb down the chimney and leave a chocolate letter, the first letter of the child's name, a marzipan animal or speculas-staff. If the children were bad Zwart Piet would leave a pile of sticks or an old shoe - a possible signal that if behaviour did not improve these implements might come into play!!


December is upon us and I am travelling to Spain tomorrow to do a little work, and thereafter spending Christmas in France. Little traditions such as the festivities surrounding Zwart Piet and Sinterklaas, the marzipan sweets and almond cakes in the low countries make these celebrations special, are unique to these regions and come as a complete surprise to me. It has been a few years since I was in Spain during December, and I look forward to tasting their seasonal turron, and other sweets and cakes. While I have never spent Christmas in France, I am likewise looking forward to experiencing their traditions first hand and possibly savouring a slice of bouche de noel.