Spiced banana bread

Serve it straight up, or for a fancier take on it, make some butterscotch sauce, and serve it over vanilla ice cream. Delicious.

Spiced banana bread

110 g all-purpose flour
100 g whole wheat flour
1/2 tsp cinnamon, ground
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ginger, ground
1/2 tsp cardamom, ground
1 tsp baking soda
2 eggs
230 g sugar
120 ml canola oil (100 g)
3 large bananas, very ripe (340 g), mashed
2 tbsp buttermilk

Mix the dry ingredients together - flour, whole wheat four, cinnamon, salt, ginger, cardamom and baking soda.

Stir together the wet ingredients: eggs, sugar, oil, and then the bananas and buttermilk. Stir in the dry ingredients, and fold until combined.

Pour into a prepared pan (I just butter a springform pan most of the time) and bake at 170°C for about an hour. Check with a cake tester to make sure it's cooked through, and be prepared to cover it with foil if it looks in any danger of burning.

Grandpa Beard's upside-down ginger cake

Last Saturday we had some people over for dinner, namely Mrs FU's parents and her aunt and uncle, and bloody good it was too. I say that because I did most of the cooking. So yes, of course it was bloody good. A gastronomical triumph of gastronomy even. My starter of crab ravioli with a tarragon vinegar butter sauce went down an absolute treat. I would suggest that it's fast becoming a signature dish of mine actually and in years to come it's bound to become a classic, right up there with Henderson's bone marrow and sourdough, Roux Jnr's soufflé Suissesse and Ramsden’s fish and chips.

Mains came in the form of two exquisite racks of handsome Swaledale lamb from the East London Steak Company, cooked medium rare to pink perfection. This was served with a superbly creamy and decadent dauphinoise, potatoes sliced thin and accurate on a mandolin with no hint of fingernails or blood. Greens came in the form of the freshest French beans known to man, shipped from Egypt and plainly steamed to a very precise point, resting right on the fence between raw firmness and pallid flaccidity. All accompanied with a beautiful reduced red wine and balsamic jus (not gravy, jus) with caramelised shallots. A sauce that should have been started by my wife but she was too busy swinging from the chandeliers, swigging from a bottle of Disaronno. I forgave her though. She doesn’t let her down that often and besides, the twins were sleeping over at their other grandparents that night.

She did however find a lucid moment to cut up and serve some stupendously magnificent slices of cake to finish us all off. The cake in question was called Grandpa Beard’s upside down ginger cake, the recipe of which was found in an old copy of Olive magazine and baked my Mrs FU’s fair hand. Now the prospect of a heavy, warm, spiced, flour-based pud does sound a bit off kilter as an option to end to such a fine banquet. It’s unseasonal to say the least and I haven’t got a clue as to who Grandpa Beard is but this cake is a cracker. Naturally, it does also help that Mrs FU is a very fine baker *sound of elbow cracking behind back*. Moreish like McVities Jamaica Ginger Cake yet with the added toffee bonus of juicy pears and crunchy walnut, it is a recipe that I urge you to try. 

I find that the true test of a dish is how it affects ambient levels of sound during a dinner party. The quieter it becomes, the more successful it is and when we plonked down the plates of cake with clotted cream, in front of our guests, well you could have been heard a pin drop. Which is no mean feat considering the volume levels that my father-in-law and uncle-in-law usual talk at. Both builders by trade, they don’t necessarily talk but more like shout, especially at each other and especially when they’ve had a beer or three. I don’t know why we put them together to be honest but next time we have them over, I might just roll in a cement mixer and stack up some bricks next to the table as an extra touch to make them feel at home. Hell, they might even inadvertently start constructing a long wished for shed at the bottom of the garden for me. Now there's an idea.

However, the point is, any dessert that can shut up both these two lovely fellas for more than a minute or two, is the ultimate testimony to its greatness. So like I said, do give it a go. Even if we are in the midst of a happy summer because there is always room in the world for cake.

 Grandpa Beard's upside-down ginger cake

125g plain flour
half tsp bicarbonate of soda
1tsp ground cinnamon
1tsp ground ginger
quarter tsp grated nutmeg
pinch of ground cloves
1 egg
125g light brown sugar
90g black treacle
125ml soured milk (tp create soured milk, add a few drops of lemon juice to fresh milk)
50g melted butter
clotted cream, to serve

topping
50g unsalted butter
100g light brown sugar
400g pear halves
walnut halves, to decorate

Heat the oven to 180C/fan 160C/gas 4. To make the topping, gently melt the butter in a small saucepan, add the sugar and stir for 1-2 minutes. Smooth over the base of a 20cm cake tin with a removable base, 7cm deep. Arrange the pears on top, cut-side down, with a few walnuts around the outside, flat-side down.

To make the cake, sift the flour, bicarb and spices into a bowl, and add a quarter teaspoon of fine sea salt. Blend the egg, sugar, treacle, soured milk and butter in a seperate large bowl, and fold in the flour mixture. Beat with a wooden spoon for 1 minute, and the pour the mixture over the fruit in the tin. Put on a baking tray and bake for 40-50 minutes, until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean (try to skewer a patch with cake rather than a pear....like, doh!). Remove from the oven, run a knife around the edge and set aside to cool for about 10 minutes.

To serve, remove the collar and invert the cake onto a plate or cake stand. Enjoy warm or at room temperature (but avoid chilling), with a dollop of clotted cream on the side if you wish.

Apple, Cinnamon and Cider Cake

Last weekend was supposed to be all about the fiddle-di-dee, emerald pantaloons and general plastic paddywhackery and to a certain extent it was. I definitely enjoyed the craic, thats to be sure, to be sure; celebrating the lives of not one but two Saints. The first being St Patrick, that vanquisher of snakes and snaffler of shamrocks. And the second being Patricia, my Nan, who is more disposed towards profanity rather than piety. But at the grand old age of 80, she has more than earned the right to have her opinions and to wear red hats with purple clothes.

However, rather than drown myself in lakes of the black stuff at her birthday party, I decided that cider should be the drink of choice. Which was rather a daft decision indeed. Cider is lovely stuff. Happy, social, giggly, fermented apple juice that gets you dancing and cheering and chatting with great aplomb but it doesn't half deliver a hammerblow that sends you tumbling down the rabbit hole. After a healthy 4 or 5 pints of Aspalls (probably more) members of my family started to twist and morph into creatures from another, fantastical world; like dwarf extras with hair sprouting at odd angles and grinning inanely under bulbous noses. Looking like cider producers really. And then, the drunken fear began to descend.

My wife, sensing the downward spiral carted me out of the house toute suite and loaded me into the car, where apparently I rested my head on the dashboard for the entire journey home, murmuring softly. And then I woke up in the early hours, on my daughter's bedroom floor, clutching a large, cuddly caterpillar. 

Moments such as these, however surreal, do serve a purpose though and after staring back at my little girl's bright, puzzled eyes, piercing through the gloom of dawn, I decided there and then that I should leave the cider well alone in future. 

Well, for a little while at least.

Yet when I peered into the fridge later in the morning, there was still one bottle languishing there, missed and forgotten. So rather than pour the loopy water down the sink, I decided to have a crack at making an apple, cinnamon and cider cake as featured in Rick Stein's Spain. By all accounts, 'sidra' is quite popular in Northern Spain, around Asturias, Galicia and Basque country and they are partial to cooking with it as well as drinking it. And I am all for the cross-fermentation of ideas. I mean c'mon, booze in cake, whodathunk?

I am not a cakey-bakey sort of person but this was certainly very easy to make. If I had to tweak the recipe, I would suggest baking it for slightly longer, on a lower oven and maybe using a little bit more cider in the sponge. Not that it really needs it, the cake is moist and tart enough as it is, I am just thinking of removing the temptation some more. Still, give this dense, sweet, apple treat a go as it will definitely lift the spirits; especially since the weather remains to be so cold, inclement and poxy.

As for lifting another glass of cider, I think I am going to wait until the summer when I next do that. 

Apple, Cinnamon and Cider Cake

Filling

3 large dessert apples

3 tbsp cider

half tsp of ground cinnamon

40g caster sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract

3 tbsp double cream

Sponge

175g butter

75g light soft brown sugar

75g caster sugar

3 medium free range eggs, lightly beaten

150g plain flour

half tsp of ground cinnamon

1 tsp of baking powder

50g ground almonds

1-2 tbsp of cider

Glaze

300ml of cider

6 tbsp of icing sugar

Method

Preheat the oven to 190C and grease the inside and base of a round 23cm loose-bottomed or clip-sided cake tin.

Quarter, core and peel the apples and slice them thinly into a bowl. Stir in the cider, cinnamon, sugar, vanilla extract and the cream.

For the sponge, cream the butter and the sugars together in a mixing bowl until light and fluffy. Gradually beat in the eggs, adding a tablespoon of flour with the last couple of additions to prevent curdling. Strain off any liquid from the apple mix and pour into the sponge mixture, beating in well with a spoon. Then sift in the flour, cinnamon and baking powder and gently fold in. Stir in the ground almonds and enough cider to give a 'dropping' consistency.

Spoon half the sponge mixture into the prepared tin and scatter over half the apples in a thin even layer. Spoon over the remainder of the sponge mixture and then scatter over the top, the remaining apple slices. Sprinkle lightly with a teaspoon of sugar.

Place on the middle shelf of the oven and bake for about 50 minutes until a deep golden brown and cooked through. A skewer pushed into the centre of the cake should come away clean but if it needs cooking further, place some foil over the top of the tin to prevent catching and bake for a further 10 minutes.

Once cooked, leave to cool in the tin for 10 minutes, then remove from tin and leave to cool further.

For the glaze, pour the cider into a small pan and boil rapidly until reduced to 2 tablespoons. Tip into a small bowl and leave to cool. Beat in the icing sugar and drizzle over the cake and leave for a few minutes to set. 

Serve cut into wedges.

 

Cakey-bakey ingredients

Handling eggs

Bad cider

Good apples

Cake

Grandpa Urchin's Scene Stealing Tunisian Orange Cake

Ever since the great whole lamb in a pit extravaganza, I have repeatedly had demands for the recipe for the cake that my dear ol’ Dad brought along that day. And I do have to say that this irks me somewhat. After the extreme amount of effort I put in, digging a hole in the ground and setting fire to it and cooking a whole frigging lamb for 10 hours, by and large, a lot people seemed to be more interested in the frigging cake that was dished up afterwards. I love him to pieces but the old devil certainly knew what was doing that day, turning up with a twinkle in his eye. I would even go so far to say that he purposely made his legendary Tunisian Orange Cake just to steal some of my thunder. Seriously, I am sure he did. In fact I know he did (Freud would have a field day with this). However, it is a very lovely cake. Moist, tangy and quite simple to make. I had some more today at a family get together and this time he made not one but two (See? See what I mean!?) As always, it disappeared in seconds so I begrudgingly got the recipe of off him.

Here it is.

Tunisian Orange Cake

50g slightly stale white breadcrumbs

200g caster sugar

100g ground almonds

1 ½ tsp baking powder

200ml sunflower oil

4 eggs

Finely grated zest of 1 large unwaxed orange

Finely grated zest of ½ unwaxed lemon

For the citrus syrup

Juice of 1 unwaxed orange

Juice of 1 unwaxed lemon

75g caster sugar

2 cloves

1 cinnamon stick

Method

1. Line the base of a 20cm round and 5cm deep tine with greaseproof paper, then grease and flour the tin. Mix the breadcrumbs with the sugar, almonds and baking powder. Whisk the oil with the eggs, then pour into the dry ingredients and then mix well. Add the orange and lemon zest. Pour the mixture into the tin, place in a cold oven and turn on the heat to 180C.

2. Bake for 45 minutes to 1 hour or until the cake is golden brown. Check with a skewer by inserting it into the middle, if it comes out clean it’s done. Cool for 5 minutes before turning out onto a plate.

3. Meanwhile, make the citrus syrup. Put all the ingredients into a saucepan and bring gently to the boil, stirring until the sugar has completely dissolved. Simmer for 3 minutes. Remove the cinnamon stick and cloves from the syrup.

4. While the cake is still warm, pierce it several times with a skewer, then spoon the hot syrup over the cake allowing it to run into the holes. Leave to cool. Spoon any excess syrup over the cake every now and then until it is all soaked up. Serve with cream or a dollop of Greek yoghurt if you fancy it.


Now if you’ll forgive me, I am going to sit in a darkened room and listen to ‘The End’ by The Doors.

Father? Yes Son? I want to kill you………