Bread! I made bread!

As mentioned in the post previous to this one, I made dinner for some friends this weekend, which went okay. They all said it was very nice, but all I noticed were the faults (cracked tart, slightly doughy bread, lack of promised macaroons etc.) Giddy as a child at Christmas to be allowed free-reign in the kitchen, I was determined to make as much work for myself as possible, so I hand-made bread, pastry and ice cream. This is the story of the bread.

I'd definitely recommend making this bread, it's basically a meal in itself, and would be PERFECT for a sunny summer picnic or a BBQ. It also worked pretty well on a rainy February night, due almost entirely to the unholy quantities of cheese within its golden hump. It's also really easy peasy, as long as you have lots of time to hang about waiting for it to prove etc. Normally I think 'oh bread, what a faff, who has time for that in this modern age, yeast, yeah right.' But this is focaccia, and all you really need to do is roll it out and fill it with tasty things.

I started with a KILO of strong bread flour (this is a lot of flour, but it makes a lot of bread, 6 of us only managed half of it, but apparently it freezes well, though I haven't done this yet.) Jamie Oliver told me to dump it onto a clean work surface and make a well in the middle in which to pour water, yeast, sugar and salt. When I've seen Mr Oliver do this on television I've always thought, 'oh how messy, I would definitely end up breaking the walls of the mound of flour and end up with a gluey mess all over my kitchen floor.' I decided to ignore the voice in my head which was shouting 'DO IT IN A BOWL! IT WILL BE MUCH CLEANER AND YOU WONT END UP SCRUBBING YEASTY WATER OFF THE CUPBOARDS FOR HOURS!' and tipped the mountain of flour onto the work surface thus:
All was going great guns until I tried to 'confidently combine the rest of the flour into the well' per the recipe. I broke the well, just as I knew I would. Of course I did, of course. Why didn't I listen to the voice? Why?! My keenness to appear professional to the audience of NOBODY in my kitchen overruled my tried and tested cack-handedness and I had a doughsaster (!) on my hands. The water started trickling, nay GUSHING all over the work surface as I frantically flung more flour at the stream to stem the flow. Eventually I had my small land slide under control, I wiped up the floury paste from the floor, cupboards (even inside, how?) and myself and continued with the next stage. This is what I had:

It was very gloopy and wet and I worried that it would not come together in the prescribed fashion. However my worries were unfounded, and after a bit of bashing about and kneading (dupstep helps to establish a good kneading rhythm, FYI) I had a smoothish dough so I whacked in into a bowl and put it next to a radiator for half an hour to prove. Below are the pre- and post- proving pictures:

Because I'm a truly terrible photographer, and haven't managed to take the before and after shots from the same distance from the bowl, you can't really tell, but the dough has roughly doubled in size. I poked it a bit after proving and it was springy and bounced back, which is a good thing, I think.

Next I got to punch it back to knock some air out of it, and roll it out into a great big rectangle on my beleaguered work surface. Half of the rectangle needed to be tucked into a baking tray, whilst the other half flopped over the side like a doughy duvet:Then came the fun part of filling the bread with delicious soft gorgonzola, fistfuls of grated parmesan and a good grate of cheddar to stick it all together. Bung a couple of handfuls of rocket on top and some marjoram. I used dried as I couldn't find fresh, and it was fine.
Then tuck the duvet end over the cheesy end and press it down hard to seal all the dairy delights inside. Rub the top with oil, sprinkle some salt and pepper artfully over the top and then some herbs. Jamie suggests sage, but I had some fresh thyme handy and that worked too. Leave it somewhere warmish for an hour and then bake for about 40 minutes at 180C. The recipe suggests 25 minutes, but mine was still too pale at that stage, so I left it in a bit longer, just remember to check it regularly. It could have done with a little bit longer as the bottom-side was a bit stodgy, but my friends and I are big proponents of stodgy food, so it wasn't problematic. There you have it, yum! Easy cheesy bread! (Even if it looks a bit like a super-sized pasty...)
Recipe:
For bread:
1kg (just over 2lb) strong bread flour
625ml (just over 1 pint) tepid water
30g (1oz) fresh yeast or 3 x 7g sachets dried yeast
2 tbsp sugar
2 tbsp salt
extra flour for dusting

1. Pile the flour onto a clean surface and make a large well in the centre. Pour half your water into the well, then add yeast, sugar and salt and stir with a fork.

2. Slowly but confidently, bring in the flour from the inside of the well (without breaking the walls like me, or else water will go everywhere, maybe just use a big bowl?) Continue until you get a stodgy, porridgey consistency, then add the remaining water. Mix until stodgy again, then you can be more aggressive, bringing in all the flour and making it less sticky. Flour your hands and pat and push the dough together with remaining flour.

3. Put some dirty dubstep on in the background and knead the dough for 4-5 minutes until silky and elastic.

4. Flour the top of your dough. Put it in a bowl, cover with clingfilm and allow to prove for around half an hour until doubled in size (ideally in a warm, moist, draught-free place).

For the filling:
extra virgin olive oil
170g (6oz) parmesan cheese, grated
200g (7oz) cheddar (or other good melting cheese), grated
140g (5oz) gorgonzola
handful of fresh marjoram or 2tspn dried
2 large handfuls of rocket
salt & freshly ground black pepper
fresh sage or thyme leaves

5. Once the dough has doubled in size, knock the air out for 30 secs by bashing and squashing it. Roll into a large rectangle around 1 cm/ 1/2" thick. Drape half of it onto a medium-large floured baking sheet, with half hanging over the side. On the half that is on the tray, drizzle about 3 good lugs of extra virgin olive oil, rub it into the dough, then add all your cheeses, rocket and some seasoning. Using your fingers, push it all into the dough.

6. Fold the overhanging dough back on to the dough on the tray, and then push around the edges so that you seal them together, tucking it under a little so it fits nicely onto the tray. Rub the top with a little olive oil and rip over some fresh sage.

7. Heat your oven to 180C while you leave the dough to prove a second time for half an hour, and when doubled in size, bake for around 25 mins until lightly golden and cooked. Allow to sit for around 25 mins before eating, best slightly warm.

(I used slightly less cheese in this recipe and it was fine. This was purely down to reasons of economy though, as I couldn't afford a massive lump of parmesan.)

Finally allowed in the kitchen

Since I moved in with Nana, she has very kindly prepared all of my meals for me. All. Of. Them. This means that my love for and attachment to the kitchen, as well as my control over my diet and therefore my waistline have been compromised. I'm not complaining (really) about having a hot meal served to me upon my arrival home from work, especially as these meals usually involve steak in one form or another. But I do miss cooking.

So I'm very excited to be having some friends over for dinner this Saturday night (Nana is in Somerset on a walking holiday with my parents). I've arranged to 'work from home' on Friday so that I can start the preparations well in advance and be a serene vision of domestic loveliness come Saturday afternoon. I'll probably be perched atop a work surface sipping a gin and tonic whilst everything bubbles and bakes away unbidden. I'll let you know how it goes.

Pizza Express fixes up.

Pizza Express have got Francesco Mazzei on board and he's created some pretty decent pizzas for them *gasp* I was in the King's Road branch (ok, yah) meeting a friend and her little niece Tilly (20 months) for lunch, we went for PE as it's really child friendly and Tilly 'really likes it there'. I'm not sure when I started letting a toddler decide my lunch location, but it worked out pretty well.

Hailing from Calabria, Francesco has brought some stonking ingredients from his 'hood to the pizza chain, including Calabrese sausage and Calabrian oregano and olive oil. He's also brought some fancy pants bits and pieces like truffles, grana padano and oyster mushrooms to the party, which is pretty cool since all the items on the menu come in at under a tenner.

I had the Rustichella (roasted tomatoes, pancetta and grana padano, topped with rocket leaves and a splash of salad dressing) which was like a really nice caesar salad on a pizza base. The pancetta was good and smoky and really crispy, but still with a bit of chew. I was pleased.

My friend Naomi had the Mia Sofia, a big white pizza covered in a good quantity of earthy wild mushrooms and allegedly truffle paste, but I couldn't detect any. She was impressed but said that mine was nicer. I wish I'd gone for the third pizza in the new selection, the Calabrese, a spicy rectangular pizza with TWO KINDS of sausage (I'm pretty easily pleased).
I will probably go for it next time. Yes, I can say with my hand on my heart that I will return to Pizza Express for these pizzas. They are cheap and tasty and mark a definite step in the right direction for the ubiquitous pizza chain.

(For the record, Tilly had dough balls, a side salad, bolognese and a strawberry sunday. She ate it all but baulked at the bambinocino.)

Polpo! Polpo! Polpo!

Guys! You probably already know, but if you don't POLPO is the cat's pyjamas! Apologies for all of the excitable exclamation marks, I'm probably still high on food.

My friend Wah booked the private dining room downstairs to celebrate her birthday, so we didn't have to wait in the crush at the bar for 'up to an hour' (an hour! for food!) for a table. We swanned rather self-importantly down stairs muttering 'private dining sweeties, yah yah, we're not waiting up here with the plebs' where we were introduced to our waitress for the night who was just lovely and looked after us very well indeed. The room is jolly enough, bare bricks blah blah blah, but frankly you're so busy congratulating yourself for being in a private dining room that it barely matters.

We had a little cup of prosecco, (on a Wednesday, how louche!) then got stuck into the plate of fried but not greasy goodies in front of us; potato and parmesan croquettes and crunchy lovely arancini which according to Kate tasted 'just like really posh chicken kiev - it's the garlic' (!) They did in fact taste very garlicky, but not much like a kiev at all, owing perhaps, to the absence of chicken... Parma ham and mozzarella crostini completed the pile of startery things to nibble whilst drinking perpetually full carafes of wine.

Then we had pizzetta bianca, crispy shards of baked dough covered in lots of melty cheese and caramelised onions - tres bon. After this the food arrived in insane flurries, plates followed plates followed heaving plates of so much food I could barely move by the time the chocolate pot arrived. It was a tumbler of warm runny chocolate and tasted not dissimilar to chocolate custard in school dinners, which is a compliment believe me.

We gorged on fist-sized polpette in tomato sauce, flank steak with wild mushrooms, frito misto, roast potatoes, spinach with garlic and chilli, bigoli with anchovies and pumpkin risotto for the vegetarian. Since it was a meat and fish heavy feast, our waitress sweetly brought out some roasted vegetables with spelt, not on our set menu, so that the veggies didn't feel hard done by. How kind! Everybody was raving about each plate that appeared in a near constant stream from the kitchen, trying hard to ram more food into themselves than they were truly comfortable with, simply because it was so yum.

When we finally rolled out I was firmly of the opinion that I will return to Polpo, even without the convenience of the private dining room. I'll take my chances with the hoi-polloi at the bar in order to secure a table which I can overfill with tasty tiny dishes of deliciousness.

41 Beak Street
London W1F 9SB.
020 7734 4479.

Pancakes = happy.

Yesterday was Shrove Tuesday and my Nana duly created a two-course pancake fiesta for me. I'd had a rough day including an abortive relaunch at work, a gruelling and fruitless job interview and being soaked through to my underwear by rain, bus-puddles and the drip in my bedroom. Pancakes were a welcome relief.

For my savoury course, I had pancake rolls stuffed with spinach and ricotta, topped with tomato sauce and parmesan, a sort of pancakey cannelloni. It was very nice, but blisteringly hot from the microwave (?) which also made the pancakes a little bit tough. Sad face. Also I'd love it if my Nana forgot blood pressure for a moment and put some salt in things. On that note, I tested my blood pressure on Tuesday using my grandparent's machine (you can buy them to test your BP whenever the fancy takes you in the comfort of your own home, who knew?) and it's perfect. I win. Hooray!

Following my main course pancake I had pancakes filled with stewed apples and cinnamon with vanilla ice cream (Mackies, which is nice and milky and old-fashioned). It was spoiled only by being forced to watch a program fronted by Ben Fogle, who I hate for no good reason. All in all, rubbish day was saved by decent pancakes. Lesson learnt.

Now however comes the misery and leanness of Lent. I've not given anything up, I'm still trying to think of something that I won't miss too much, but I think I may have missed the point rather?

Mission Macaroon: Phase 1.

After visiting the legendary La Duree tea rooms in Paris and munching as many of their delicious but pricey little macarons as I could afford, I made an attempt to recreate the experience in the slightly less salubrious surroundings of my living room. Needless to say, it wasn't quite the same. My confections lacked the finesse of the Parisian counterparts, and drinking my tea from a chipped mug took the shine off the experience somewhat. I also realised that there's a reason the tiny biscuits are £2 each, it's because they're bloody fiddly to make.

I made a batch of macaroons for a friend's birthday a while back; they were too big and sweet and looked a bit mangled and hulking. I also managed to cover my entire kitchen with ground almonds and icing sugar and the whole thing was just a messy disastrous effort. I was fairly discouraged from ever attempting anything requiring such a level of delicacy again.

Never say never. Having read another blog about macaroon making, I was inspired anew, and decided to give it another bash (though obviously there was absolutely no bashing whatsoever, just light folding and fervent hoping.)

I followed the directions to the letter. I watched the informative videos recommended online. I even read not one but two supplementary recipes for extra tips. I left my batter to stand for 40 minutes before baking. I reduced the cooking temperature after 10 minutes and baked for a further 5. I left the biscuits to cool completely (overnight!) before easing them from the tray.

I'd like to tell you that this labour resulted in perfect macarons, second only to the La Duree rounds of pastel perfection. I was half-way there. The biscuits themselves were much better than my previous attempt which had been too spongey and gooey, these were crisp on the outside, shattering at the bite and giving way to a chewy centre which I was very pleased with indeed. I don't think mine rose enough, perhaps my eggs weren't whipped stiffly enough, or maybe my ham-fistedness knocked most of the tiny bubbles out, but no matter, it just meant that they were a bit flatter than I'd hoped they might be. I made a white chocolate ganache, which was too soft and dribbled down the sides of the biscuits, making them look quite slap-dash. Or rustic, depending on how charitable I'm feeling towards myself (but macaroons are not supposed to be rustic.)

I used around 70g of ground almonds and 80g of icing sugar as my batter was a bit loose and I couldn't easily pipe it. Also make sure you use a medium egg, and I sloshed a touch more rose water in, as mine weren't very rosy, I suggest around 1 tbspn. Mine omitted pistachios from the ganache, simply because the tiny Tescos near my office had none, though I think they would be a splendid addition.
Recipe:
Ingredients

40g sieved ground almonds

65g sieved icing sugar

1 egg white

15 caster sugar
tsp rose extract
crystalised rose petals to decorate

Ganache ingredients
50ml double cream

60g white chocolate
20g crushed pistachios

1. Place some non stick greaseproof paper on a baking tray and set aside. Sieve ground almonds straight onto the scale until you get 40g (70g). You only want the finest pieces, no lumps! Then gently mix the icing sugar and ground almonds together. Again, no lumps please.

2. Whisk the egg white with the ELECTRIC WHISK until it is nice and frothy then add the caster sugar and continue whisking on a high setting until it is a stiff glossy meringue like mixture. At this stage add the rose water and any colourings you fancy, I used a teeny drop of pink to make them look suitably rosy.

3. Slowly add some almond and sugar mix to the meringue and fold in, in one direction. You should repeat this about 4 or 5 times but no more. If you move the meringue around to much you will remove the air that's beaten into it.

4. Scrape the mix into a piping bag, and pipe small discs of similar sizes onto the greaseproof paper. Leave about 2cm between each one. Bang the tray on the counter to flatten them out a bit. (This didn't really do anything for mine but give it a go and see. Don't do it so hard that they fly across the room) Leave them to sit for 40 mins.






5. Preheat the oven to 160c and bake for 10 mins, then reduce the heat to 140 and bake for a further 4-5 mins.


6. Cool completely on a wire rack and get on with the ganache. Heat the cream for about a minute then add the chocolate off the heat and stir until melted, whisk with the electric mixer until its a paste then stir in the pistachios and place in the fridge to cool and set.

When all is cooled and set, put a blob of ganache in the centre of the bottom of one macaron and stick another on, so they're mirroring each other. Use a tiny bit of ganache to stick a petal on top of each macaron.

I'll keep trying until I attain macaroon perfection. It will be along road, but I'll get there in the end.

Wild and Wood

Further lunchtime adventures with Miss Polly Button has led to a dreary afternoon improved by a long black coffee at Wild and Wood on New Oxford Street. The teeny cafe has an adorable cosy panelled snug and a droolingly good display of cakes, pastries, sandwiches and home made breads in the window. For today, it was just a coffee, very strong and very cheap (£1.20) but I will certainly be back. Followed by a stroll around the British Museum and two cigarettes, it was pretty much a faultless lunch hour.

Oh Bamboula...

Dining in Brixton, as I frequently do owing to the fact that ALL of my friends moved there, I come across a lot of Caribbean food. Bamboula, just opposite the town hall does a good trade in the old favourites (friiiied chicken, jerk, curry goat, plantain, festival etc), and has the added bonus of a very reasonable take-away menu and special offer boxes of Jamaican joy. The inside is decorated like a primary school teacher's idea of the Caribbean, with bright colours, bamboo fencing, fairy lights and maps of Jamaica adorning the walls. Jolly enough if perhaps not the most authentic in the area.

Where Bamboula falls down is on it's service. Last week before a cinema visit, a friend and I popped in for a bit of Wednesday night jerk before watching Precious (which is awful by the way, terrible made-for-tv rubbish: avoid.) Our waitress came to take our order, which she achieved, only to return 4 minutes later and ask if she could take our order. We explained that she already had and were greeted with incredulity and complete blankness. It was like somebody had stolen her brain between our table and the kitchen. She returned once more to the till and verified that she had indeed taken our order. Well yes, we said, we know. Sigh.

Surprisingly the food arrived, and was almost what we'd ordered. Always order more plantain than you want, as only half of it will ever arrive. This is a universal rule of Bamboula.

My jerk chicken was very good as ever, deep and sweet but lip-tinglingly spicy, but was overwhelmed by a hulking pile of coleslaw on the side. Really, far, far too much coleslaw, and I LIKE coleslaw. It wasn't home made either, which it usually is in Bamboula, maybe they didn't have time that day, I don't know.

There was a big hoo-hah when we asked for the bill concerning the card machine, which our hapless waitress seemed to have no idea how to operate. She, being merely incompetent and seemingly lacking in short-term memory, was a vast improvement on previous encounters with Bamboula staff, who range from surly to abusive.

If this place could sort out their staff and service, then it'd be a great place to sample Caribbean food minus the intimidation I often feel in other Brixton restaurants.

12 Acre Lane
London SW2 5SG
020 7737 6633

The Book Of Apertures

Yesterday I went to the launch of The Book Of Apertures in Farringdon as a guest of Hannah Osborne of Amelia's Magazine. The book is a collection of poems, short stories and illustrations by the Lazy Gramophone arts collective. The collaborative work is absolutely charming, and the editor Sam Rawlings was very nice indeed. Try and get hold of a copy of the book; whilst you won't love everything in it, it's diverse enough to please everyone in one way or another. The book focuses on the swirling mythical world which surrounds our real life, the modern fairy stories within are illustrated delightfully with original drawings.

Look out for Hannah's article about the book at Amelia's Magazine and try to get to a book launch if you can, they're pretty fun and you get to feel quite important.