Rhubarb and blood orange macarons

rhubarb and blood orange macarons
 Although it is still, at least at times, bitterly cold it does feel like spring has at last raised its head out of the frigid depths of winter. The garden is beginning to come into bloom and the heady scent of springtime blossom seems on the cusp of arrival. The hawthorn has been the first tree to blossom, its delicate white flowers slowly filling the hedgerows and filling the air with their heady springtime perfume as the month progresses.

hawthorn
They were pretty enough that I went out to photograph some this afternoon, though by the end my hands were stingingly cold which reminded me that it does feel unseasonably cold for this time of year, particularly so with the heating having broken down (any thoughts of a short-sleeve shirt coming out of the wardrobe is off limits for now) and so I do feel impatient for a spell of warm weather.
rhubarb and blood orange macarons
At this time of year, there is still very little growing in the garden, especially for fruit, with the first early strawberries and cherries only coming into season in late May, so the crimson crown of rhubarb looks even more prominent. The tart rhubarb here is combined with blood orange in a crisp and chewy almond macaron.
hawthorn
Macarons actually aren't that hard; sure, they may be difficult to perfect but even the worst, most ugly batch I've made, looks aside, actually tasted delicious. I'm not an expert, nor claim to be, however here are some tips for perfect macarons:

1. Give it a bash
For a long time I made my macarons as the recipes stated, even letting them rest, yet they always came out cracked on top and I couldn't work out why. Then one day, I was looking up tips for macarons and it said to hit the baking tray to remove excess air bubbles. So, I made another batch and dutifully did as it said and, although still not perfect, the macarons didn't crack on the top - just by hitting the tray.
rhubarb and eggs for macarons
2. Not too stiff, not to loose
The consistency of the macaron batter should be just right: not too stiff and not too loose. I've heard it described as 'magma', you'll know it's there when if the batter is dropped from a spatula it can sink back into the mixture in 10 seconds. You should err on the side of too stiff: too thin and it will just spread out like a pancake.
hawthorn
3. Spread it out
When piping the macarons, make sure they are far enough apart that they won't spread into each other, 1-2 cm is about right: there's is nothing more annoying than an otherwise perfectly good batch of macarons which has merged into one.
Rhubarb and blood orange macarons

Carrot cake

carrot cake
Spring is supposedly soon upon us and, although the hawthorn and wild cherry seem on the brink of coming into blossom, I think there is still some way to go. This week has rained and poured and, well, more rain (at one point there were even a few out-of-place flurries of snow) until the ground was sodden and puddles abound. I feel like I spent the most of the week staring at the rhythmic puttering of rain drops on the window sill, watching them slowly form into miniature streams running down the pane.

The last withered echinaceas
The last withered echinaceas
I guess because although it seems like months of cold and wet weather, most of it has only been a kind of cold, miserable drizzle with the little actually rain. So for all this I think it did the garden good, with everything feeling decidedly more verdant and refreshed.
A first attempt at 'chiaroscuro' photography
A first attempt at 'chiaroscuro' photography
For the photography, I did some usual shots and then, for the overhead photo I tried 'chiaroscuro' style. Basically this (I am told) involves using a much darker shot with a few highlights to give emphasis on things. I was trying to emulate the style of photographs on Desserts for Breakfast, particularly the over-head shots, although in comparison they seem much... lighter. I quite like the shot but I think I need to angle the light better, which is surprisingly difficult to do with the lack of it, but it was fun giving it a go (and also trying to balance a black sheet and a reflector at the same time as holding the tripod steady).
Rain droplets on a leek
Rain droplets on a leek
So, not quite ready to open-armedly welcome spring, and ice creams and fruit tarts and chilled soups, I decided to stick with a comforting and ever so slightly stodgy cake. Unlike a traditional carrot cake this is much lighter and without a cream cheese frosting, taking inspiration from Scandinavian style spice cakes. Serve it warm with a dollop of crème fraiche as a dessert or have it cold as a cake.
Rain droplets on a leek

Spiced persimmon upside-down cake

Spiced persimmon upside-down cake
 It's funny: I've always though of persimmons (also known as 'sharon fruit') as somehow faintly exotic. It's not that persimmons are particularly uncommon - they're not, maybe it's just seeing their tangerine hued skin and heart shaped-fruit in bleak February that seems to call of warmer climes.
persimmons
So when I saw some persimmons in the shops (ashamedly not a local farmer's market) I thought I'd try some. Although I have had them before, I wasn't sure what they tasted like, although I remember them being quite sweet. So before I did any baking or photography, I sat down and ate one, cutting it into quarters and thoughtfully ate it. As it happened, it tasted somewhat like a spicy, honeyed apricot with sweet, delicate flesh with a slightly waxy skin.
Apparently, there are two main varieties of persimmon: the Fuyu and Hachiya. Fuyu have the appearance of a slightly 'squashed' tomato and can be eaten whilst still slightly firm, like an apple; whereas the heart-shaped Hachiya must be ripened until soft and can be simply halved and eaten with a spoon. For the cake, I used the firmer Fuyu since it had to be sliced fairly thinly and I didn't want it to turn to mush.

The cake itself is a twist on the retro upside-down cake, with fresh persimmons in place of pineapple rings and those gaudy glacé cherries. The almond sponge is spiced with cloves, ginger and cinnamon and has a tender persimmon topping - serve warm with a generous scoop on ice cream.
Spiced persimmon upside-down cake

Chocolate hazelnut bundt cake with nutella glaze

chocolate hazelnut bundt cake
Usually, I don't know what I'm going to bake at first: normally I start with an ingredient then think about what I'm going to make with it later. I get out all the cook books, spreading them out across the table and flick through their glossy pages looking for inspiration. By the end they've inevitably sprawled out across the whole kitchen and there's already a mess before I've even got out the measuring scales.

Flicking through the cook books I went through a lot of hazelnut recipes: a hazelnut truffle torte (River cafe) - too rich I thought, spelt and cobnut fairy cakes (short and sweet) - too dainty maybe, and a gianduja gelato (the perfect scoop) - which would have been perfect, but I didn't have any cream on hand unfortunately. In another cookbook I also saw a bundt cake and, taking the idea of the gianduja (a chocolate and hazelnut paste like an Italian nutella) from the ice cream recipe, I thought I'd make a chocolate and hazelnut bundt cake. The cake is nicely moist from the ground and chopped hazelnuts, though still light and fluffy, with just a hint of chocolate from a little cocoa and drizzled with a smooth nutella chocolate glaze. The cake has quite a long baking time (1 hour 15 minutes) but stick with it - it's worth it.bowl of hazelnuts
I actually have a hazelnut tree (although for some reason I've always known it as a cobnut) in the corner of the garden. It's quite a pretty tree, with slightly furry lime green leaves and tall, slender stems, holding delicate catkins at this time the year, coppiced into a crude circle.
catkin
 Though it's not bearing any nuts at this time of the year, in the autumn, around early October, we go out to pick the hazelnuts - hopefully before the squirrels have got to them. Then we spend an afternoon on ladders and buckets trying to pick as many as we can, which becomes increasinlgy difficlt as the low branches are picked and only the just-out-of-reach branches are left. You actually pick the hazelnuts when they're still a pastel green because they have to be matured,until they turn an ochre brown, before they can be used. Once matured they just have to be cracked open, by which time you begin to suspect that it would have been easier to just buy a pack of hazelnuts from the shops. They don't last long though, with most being eaten as they are and only a few actually making it to the kitchen. Those that do are used simply so not to lose the subtle hazelnut flavour that was worked so hard for.
Hazelnut and chocolate bundt cake
Hazelnut and chocolate bundt cake

Ginger, chocolate and pear streusel muffins

Ginger, chocolate and pear streusel muffins I'm very particular about pears, they have to be just ripe. More often than not, bought from the shops they're rock hard. Although some people like them like this, with their crisp, granular texture like a tear-shaped apple; I prefer them when they're melting soft and so juicy that they weep their honeyed juice at the slightest bruise. However, there is a fine line between perfectly ripe and over, at which point they start to become ever so slightly fermented and have a slightly alcoholic whiff (which could be a good or bad thing) which could be as short as just a day or two.
Ginger, chocolate and pear streusel muffins
Pears come in an array of shapes and varieties: from the tall and slender Conference to the more bulbous, round Comice but they all have the characteristic sweetly floral and juicy flesh, though some have a noticeably more grainy texture. Here, I've used the rocha variety, though I admit that they were chosen more for the merits of their small round size rather than anything else.
pears

If I'm prepared, I'll leave them out to ripen in a fruit bowl on a sunny window sill for a few days until they're ripened to my liking (putting them in a bag with bananas apparently also speeds this up). If I'm not prepared though (or too impatient to wait) baking or poaching them brings out their juicy sweetness too. Just sprinkle halved pears with a little brown sugar or honey and bake in a moderate oven or poach in a light syrup until soft and tender. I poached the pears in the muffin recipe for this reason, but if your pears are softer then simply omit this step.
pears for poaching
I first had pears tinned with (instant) chocolate custard as a treat for dessert as a child, and although I like to think I've grown up a bit now (though I'm still partial to custard powder on occasion) the combination of rich, slightly bitter chocolate and sweet, buttery pear still holds. These muffins carry on the pairing of chocolate and pear, with the addition of warming ginger and topped with a spicy streusel and are wonderful, warm for breakfast.
Ginger, chocolate and pear streusel muffins

Chocolate and blood orange tartlets with mascarpone cream

Chocolate and blood orange tartlets with mascarpone cream
 Although it's only February, it seems the first signs of spring are appearing: the pastel green tips of daffodils are poking up from the ground, the first sticky buds are beginning to unfurl and the snowdrop's delicate white bells have come up to brave the frosts.
daffodils poking throught the ground
snow drops
Despite this, I'm feeling a bit under the weather and so I'm not quite ready to wholeheartedly embrace spring quite yet. So to try and kick this cold I've been taking in lots of citrus fruits this week. I'm not so sure this added vitamin C is making too much of a difference but all the same I'm still quite enjoying the citrus bonanza.

In a way, this cold came just in time for the brief season of citrus fruits, blood oranges in particular. Admittedly, blood oranges aren't the cheapest fruit but they have a sharp, citric tartness, crimson red juice and almost raspberry like flavour which you'll only find for a short time in the year, so just buy a few and savour them simply. Equally, you could substitute any citrus fruit for the recipe or use a mix of several instead.
blood orange segment
Normally, I don't actually cook with blood oranges but have them as they are: lazily peeling the knobbly, ruby skin skin. I debated on making a sorbet or ice cream (I almost wish I had) but I wanted something more substantial so I decided on making tart. It's not a difficult recipe: a chocolate tart shell, some mascarpone cream and orange slices: just make sure you chill the dough well and handle it lightly since it's a bit crumbly.

As I sliced the oranges, I was amazed at the range of colours. The first, disappointingly, was a standard orange colour, maybe occasionally tinged with red, the next two were a light scarlet streaked with ruby and the last was a deep, burgundy red - almost maroon. I'm not sure what varieties they were but I bought them from two different places so I guess they must be different varieties.
candied blood orange peel

After peeling the oranges I had quite a lot of peel (I used the river cottage recipe) left so I made it into some candied peel. If you've only ever tried the pre-chopped peel then you'll be amazed at what the homemade is like. It's zesty and almost tangy - a world a way from the bland, waxy shop bought stuff. I don't normally use it in cakes (but if you are going to, don't dip it in the sugar once it's been cooked in the syrup), usually just having as it is or I might even dip it into dark chocolate if I'm feeling luxurious - it's surprisingly addictive.
overhead shot of chocolate and blood orange tartlets with mascarpone cream

Squash and apple crumble with a spelt and ginger streusel

Squash and apple crumble
I could never go on a diet. It’s not that I’m unhealthy: there’s nothing more that I like than some   freshly steamed asparagus (albeit with a knob of butter) but it’s just the idea of restraining  myself at a meal or having to say no to a slice of cake that doesn’t appeal. Anyway, not all desserts are made the same: a slice of chocolate fudge cake is never going to be as healthy as a granita. I like to think I go somewhere in between: a small portion of this squash and apple crumble smothered in custard with a dollop of low fat crème fraiche.

Squashes Squash and apple crumbleAlthough it’s the mid-winter we still have some home grown squashes left. At first I thought 
we’d used them all up so when I found another box, they were too good to resist. They’re easy to grow too and by the end of August their sprawling vines have taken over their patch of the garden (and usually all the other veg). Then, when kept somewhere with a relatively cool and constant temperature – we keep ours in a box on the garage floor, they last for the rest of the winter. Use any type of squash (or even a small pumpkin) that takes your fancy: butternut, acorn or summer; to be honest once chopped and cooked they’re pretty indistinguishable from each other.
A box of winter squashes

Of course squashes are great roasted or baked and in velvety soups but they can also be used in sweet things. Obviously they could be used just as a substitute for pumpkin puree in pumpkin pie but the sweet flavors that make them so good roasted, also make them great in a host of baked goods: muffins, in a tea bread or in a crumble, as here. When used in baked goods, it also gives them moisture and so you can cut down on the butter or oil in the recipe (although for reasons mentioned above that doesn’t worry me too much), as well as giving them a sweet nutty flavor and a sunny hue.

Coconut cake

Coconut cake


 I tend to see an ingredient and, with a childish impulsivity, get excited about it and feel compelled to buy it. Then later when I get home, think about what it might be used for. This is worse with spices and dried ingredients where I set off looking for something more conventional like peppercorns or salt then become tempted by row upon row of exotic foods: marrons glaces, clover honey, dried rose petals; all wonderful, but not exactly necessary. Then I get home and, since they aren’t going to go moldy or go off their best in the immediate future, stash them away somewhere in a dark, lonely cupboard. This does mean though that I end up having quite a few ingredients in the store cupboard and when the time does come for them to be used, I’m already prepared.

Coconut cake
Although some people use coconut on a regular basis, aside from the occasional coconut macaroon, I rarely use it, so it seemed quite a novelty to use coconut cream, milk and desiccated coconut in one dessert – in fact I went quite coconutty (sorry) for it. Coconut’s sweet nutty flavor can be quite subtle and I debated whether to fill the cake with a lime curd or soak the sponge in a rum syrup but I’ve decided to let the coconut speak for itself simply.

Coconut cake

Lemon curd and a sourdough bread

Lemon curd and a sourdough bread
In the middle of winter, a bowl of sunny lemons bring a certain, zest (to use a pun) to the kitchen: I might even have them just to look at on a gloomy day. By the end, the kitchen smells like a Sicilian lemon grove and my hands are tenderly stinging from the lemon’s sharply acidic juice.

I always have some lemons in the kitchen, and use them in almost everything; curd is one of the few times where they stand on their own. The key to a good curd is in the zest, from where the more delicate and fragrant lemon flavor comes from, rather than the harsher acidity of the juice. Use a sharp grater (which unfortunately I myself don’t have, resulting in a pathetic struggle with my blunt utensil to remove that elusive zest), taking care to only take the thin, yellow zest off the lemon, avoiding the bitter pith beneath.

Lemons and oranges
Aside from the obvious slathering on toast and spooning directly from the jar, try it as a base for tarts, topped with fresh fruits and berries, folded into softly whipped cream for a quick mouse or stir it into some milk or cream to a pourable consistency and churn into a tangy lemon ice cream.

I’ve included a recipe for bread, since (in my mind at least) there is nothing -almost, as satisfying in having both homemade bread and curd for breakfast. The recipe works for either sourdough (as I’ve used) or the more conventional baker’s yeast. If you haven’t yet started a sourdough starter, I highly recommend doing so. I haven’t included a tutorial here as there are lots of really good tutorials that others have written, a quick Google will uncover many. At its most basic though, all it involves is stirring together some flour and water and giving it some time for the naturally present yeast and bacteria to ferment it. Then once started, it is just a case of getting into the rhythm of sourdough breads: don’t expect it to double in size in an hour or two, rather let it rise slowly - looking around the 4 hour mark instead. Sourdough or not, the smell of bread baking in the oven is one not easily beaten.
Lemon curd




Forced rhubarb and custard tart

In the grim, monotonous depths of winter, bright, shockingly pink forced rhubarb comes as quite a relief. Its sharp, bright flavors come as a welcome respite from all the stodgy gluttony of the  festive season. Its sharp flavor works well with other zingy ingredients such as orange, and ginger, but also with more mellow, floral and spicy ingredients such as vanilla, cardamom and  strawberry.

Forced rhubarb and custard tart

Forced rhubarb can be fairly expensive and so its precious stems are perhaps best enjoyed simply stewed along with a little sugar and just the scantest dribble of water, served with thick Greek yoghurt. After photographing, I had a 1 stick of rhubarb left, and to lazy tired to make anything with simply dipped it into a bag of sugar and ate like a possibly-slightly healthier sherbet sweet. Rhubarb's also work wonderfully with more savory ingredients, particularly with mackerel, where rhubarb's sharp flavor cuts through the oily  mackerel.

Apple, honey and almond frangipane tart

Apple, honey and almond frangipane tart
Winter is the season for baking; on those grim days when there is a constant drizzle of rain and the clouds hang low in the sky, producing a myriad of cakes and pastries never seems so . Baking can also capture the flavors of the season too: warm pies, dense, steaming puddings and spicy fruit cakes all seem perfectly suited to the weather now, and are even better with a generous slug of custard. Here, nutty marzipan scented frangipane, sweet honey and warm apples combine for a wonderful tart. Use a good, floral runny honey for this, I used orange blossom, but I think clover would be really good too

Challah


Challah
Challah is a soft, fluffy braided bread enriched with with eggs and olive oil. It has a soft, moist texture that is just slightly sweet, owing to the sugar in the recipe. Its deep, golden braids and burgeoning white interior really catch the eye on the table. I chose to do a 3 strand challah (which I struggled enough with) but you could do 4, 5, 6 - I've even heard of 12 strands- depending on your proficiency.

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