Ultimate Chocolate Peanut Butter Cookies

Posted on August 9, 2010 by Gail Haslam| 8 Comments

It was all in the name of clearing the pantry, I swear it. Also in response to a plantive request to resurrect baking, which has been sadly lacking in this household of late. This is an adaptation of an adaptation of an Elinor Klivan’s recipe.

Ultimate Chocolate Peanut Butter Cookies

Indulgent and very intensely chocolately. I used higher cocoa-solids chocolate to balance out the fat in the peanut butter. They’re crumbly on the outside and a little fudgy in the middle.  Get a very large glass of milk ready.

Ingredients

  • 125g high cocoa chocolate (Green & Black’s 85%*)
  • 4 tbsp crunchy peanut butter (I used Skippy)
  • 150g flour
  • 30g cocoa
  • 1 tsp bicarb
  • 0.5 tsp salt
  • 125g soft unsalted butter
  • 70g soft brown sugar
  • 40g unrefined caster sugar
  • 1 tsp vanilla extract
  • 1 egg, cold from fridge
  • 100g 70% chocolate, chopped

Method:

  1. Set the oven to Gas Mark 3 and line a baking tray with parchment paper.
  2. Melt the chocolate in the microwave, and then stir in the peanut butter once cooled.
  3. Sieve the flour, cocoa, bicarb and salt into a big bowl.
  4. Cream together the butter and sugar and then add the chocolate peanut butter mix.
  5. Beat in the vanilla and egg and the dried ingredients until everything is incorporated. Fold in the chopped chocolate.
  6. Divide into 12 portions (an ice-scoop is useful here)
  7. Cook for 18 minutes, cool on the tray.

One thing that would improve these even more would be throwing in a handful of chopped jumbo salted peanuts. Next time.

*Disclaimer – you can use any high cocoa chocolate, I do work for Green & Black’s and I’m lucky to have quite the supply in the house at the moment.

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Dishoom Restaurant – London’s got it

Posted on July 10, 2010 by Gail Haslam| 6 Comments

I love Twitter. On Thursday night post-movie, we were struggling to find somewhere to grab a bite to eat and I quickly posted as much as we wandered around. Immediately a response from @dishoomLondon popped up: “Come on over, we can squeeze you in!”.  I don’t know if they connected work-me with Twitter-me but I’ve been aware of this Bombay Cafe’s imminent launch for some time as I did some work with them a few months back. It’s like when a good friend is pregnant and you’re anxiously waiting to see if all of the fingers and toes are intact and if they call it Moon Unit. There was an exceptionally clear vision behind this concept – would they pull it off?

When we walked in, I saw architect’s drawings come to life in front of me.  Dishoom‘s walls are lined with framed photographs and original ads from Bombay newspapers. Twisted black electrical cables loop from the light fittings across the room like long ropes of liquorice, between authentically wobbly ceiling fans.  On each marble-topped table sits a plate stand to stack up main course plates, and a canteen of sparkling cutlery for you to help yourself. Dishoom is modelled on Bombay institutions such as the Britannia Cafe and Leopold’s, some of the last outposts of an Iranian cafe culture that has all but disappeared. The detailing in the main dining room, from the glowing filament light bulbs through to the almost Escher-worthy tiling is perfect, the overall atmosphere calming and elegant during our evening visit but with a decided air of bustle coming from the open kitchen and sidealong bar. We watched as the barman made two deep pink Bollybellinis for us (rose, lychee and raspberry). Yeah yeah, you say. But what about the food?

Cafe Crisps with their traffic light system of dips, (I really liked the tamarind, the amber of the trio) and Dishoom Calamari to start. Some of the best, most succulent baby morsels of fresh squiddy goodness I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing.  The marinade is spiced and sweet, almost honey-like. Next up, Bombay Sausages, with shiny caramelised red onions, along with the excellent House Black Daal and the freshest roomali roti and garlic naan. Nom. I could easily see myself heading here for lunch on colder days for just sausages and daal. No, I wouldn’t share the daal, you’ll have to get your own.  Murgh Malai is an unusual cut of chicken with some fat, which is chargrilled and crisped (don’t expect solid cubes of breast) and the Biryani above was moist, spicy and had meat that fell apart throughout it.

To finish we polished off a Meantime Union – not only does its malty treacle notes hold up well to the meaty carb dishes (it was chosen in a blind trial) but the Grant Wood-esque label works too – and shared a passionfruit and ginger Gola Ice. If they do those for takeaway and this weather holds, they could not only clean up on the Indian food market this summer but could beat the hell out of all the local frozen yoghurt places for the perfect cool-down snack.

Young staff are enthusiastic and friendly. There’s details to admire everywhere, from the cabinets of authentic toiletries in the bathrooms to the house rules on the wall. I can imagine coming here for breakfasts or meetings, sitting in the banquets along the wall (wifi on from today, apparently) and downstairs boasts more tables, a full bar and deep leather-bench booths.  Service, food and atmosphere were great, and this was during soft launch.  They’re fully open from next week.  ’Dishoom’ is the Bollywood equivalent of ‘Pow!’ or ‘Boom!’ and is also a quality, or self-confidence.  Does their food have that ‘dishoom’? Given what we’ve seen so far, I’d say yes. I know I’ll go back. And if they continue as they’ve started, it’s capable of becoming a London institution. Phew.  Dishoom has got all its fingers and toes.

Dishoom, 12 Upper St Martin’s Lane, London WC2H 9FB

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Sam Moody at the Bath Food Festival

Posted on July 7, 2010 by Gail Haslam| 6 Comments

Every once in a while I think “Gawd, I really need to get out of London for a while, for a week, just for a day”. I happily forget that I get a bit antsy when the vista changes from concrete to pasture, and start considering a little cottage in the country with maybe some chickens in the back yard (the cottage would definitely have a yard – and ‘land’ possibly) and me baking bread every morning. Shuddit at the back, thanks. In lieu of living the Good Life though, I’ve found a very acceptable in-between solution.  Food tourism. Not only on an international basis – we’ve taken to booking holidays around what there is to eat at the destination – but the UK has some fantastic food festivals and I’m up for doing the tour. It started this weekend with the Bath Food Festival.

We were there to see Sam Moody, Head Chef of the Bath Priory Hotel. He’s a very amiable chap – I liked how his cookery demonstration was occasionally punctuated by good-natured heckling back and forth with some of his kitchen staff who were in the audience.  He concentrates on using fresh produce with minimal food miles, including ingredients grown in the hotel’s kitchen garden.

During the demo he sous-vided Hinton Estate beef which he gets from Bartlett & Sons butchers in Bath. He generally buys part of a carcass, likely 50%, and the rest of it might end up at somewhere like Le Gavroche. This was for his Wild Mushroom Salt Beef Ragu, made with morel, mousseron and girolle mushrooms and served with fresh asparagus tips. One of the keys to his style of cooking is butter, butter, and some more butter and oh my, does it taste bloody marvellous. Sam reckons that butter for cooking shouldn’t be highly flavoured, as you’re trying to show off the ingredients instead.  I don’t normally need any convincing to get the animal fats out but I’m now even more envious of anyone with the cash and space for a sous-vide. Constant cooking at 48℃ then caramelised in a really hot copper-bottomed pan to brown it, and that beef came out softer than a stick of butter and laden with umami.

Excuse the finger (not mine) in that blurry shot but the audience were fairly voracious. That meat moved faster than when it was alive. Being utterly unshy ourselves, frankly, we grabbed the serving spoon and ate what was left in the pan, and we shared the spoon. Food bloggers – no shame, eh? We also snatched the remains of the beef straight off the chopping board. But see the crowds in the back?  I’d take my chances with the carving knife any day.

The other course was a seafood risotto with carmelised scallops on top, dressed with Richard Vine‘s microsalads (I’m tempted to think that they’re garnish gone frou-frou, but having read up a little I’m very impressed by his green attitude and focus on seasonality).  We didn’t get near a scallop this time either but the risotto was suitably moreish. It incorporated both mascarpone and parmesan, I’d have preferred it without so much of the former as I’m not a huge fan of cream or creamy dishes.  Sam makes risotto daily at the hotel and gave some interesting tips during his demo: get the rice really hot, always start with seasoning to cook the flavour into the rice, and ignore the conventional wisdom to stand there stirring it for hours because if you are using boiling stock then that should keep the rice in motion. As well as the fish stock, they presalt the turbot, sea trout, pollock and sea bass in cubes so it doesn’t just flake apart during cooking.  Herbs included chervil, parsley, tarragon and dill chopped and stirred through.

We made our way back to the hotel for afternoon tea. I loved the gardens – especially the fact that they grow some of their own ingredients. When Sam had said during his demo that he’d picked the broad beans in his garden, I thought he’d meant at home. This impression was cemented by the fact that his mum and dad were in the audience to watch, and had brought him some boysenberries for the dessert coulis. They looked very proud of their boy – as well they should be.  I’d love to go and have a proper meal at the Priory, Sam’s cooking is quite special. The hotel is luxurious and quite the hideaway, and Bath is charming.  It will go on the List of Places To Run Away too – possibly before the next food festival too.

Thanks to Sam, Sue and everyone at the Bath Priory Hotel, and to Syamala at Sauce.

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London’s Best Burgers

Posted on June 28, 2010 by Gail Haslam| 11 Comments

Where have I been? What a lax attitude to blogging. It might be fair to say that I’m recovering, after a period of intense dining that firstly almost did me in (in the happiest way) and then propelled me onto a diet (less said about that, the better). I’m also working with a chocolate company at the moment. Cooking, eating and thinking about food had slightly taken over from writing about it for a while.

But it would be a shame and probably a disservice to not document The Week of The Burger.  It was a while ago now, but not easily forgotten.  Technically it started on the Sunday at a friend’s birthday party, with regulation bbq burgers.

Photo from Hankoss's Flickr Stream

The next day, it was Burger Monday. Off to Byron in Islington for El Doble – a double patty and some of Daniel’s special El Doble sauce. As Daniel says, the secret to Burger Monday is the extras that you get such as off-menu combos, and the company. It’s recommended.  We went to the 9:30 sitting, ravenous, and managed to devour an admirable amount of sides too.  Tom was on hand to keep the beers flowing too, with a round on the house. If you’re a burger fan then I’ll bet good money you’ve already found Byron, especially as branches are popping up like mushrooms at the moment. Canary Wharf is spacious and the closest to me, so will probably be my most regular haunt, but I still like what I consider the original, on the site of the old Intrepid Fox in Soho. The loos in Wellington St win Best Set Decoration prize.

Tuesday, the burger theme continued, with Sunday’s party bag (we got sent home with much of the uncooked meat) being turned into more of a meatballs affair with lush tomatoes from Natoora. We made a piquant sauce – I think some of our takehome El Doble might have made it in there along with enough fresh chilli to remove most of my tastebuds. So good, so [much] protein, so far.

From Simon Doggett's Flickr stream

We hadn’t planned Wednesday but Mr D (and half of Twitter) pointed out that Yanni would be at the Florence in Herne Hill. The Meatwagon is literally a moveable feast, as long as you manage to get there early enough and hope that the previous however-many order tickets he’s issued don’t have seventeen items on each one. That night I bumped into an old uni friend who’d been to the previous Meatwagon Florence night, and hadn’t managed to get served. She’d arrived first in the queue that evening. That’s dedication from a woman who’s six months pregnant.

We didn’t get served til almost 10:30, having arrived at 7:15pm. Luckily there were plenty of amenable people around to chat with. And Mr D popped out to chat about something around 9:45 and somehow managed to snare a ‘spare’ burger – I didn’t ask – so I didn’t quite resort to eating beer mats. When the food did arrive, after an utter absence of conversation for about ten minutes where we simply stuffed our faces and felt the rush of blood sugar topping up, I made Mr D promise to not let me order a burger next time, because the Philly Cheese is unsurpassable. (Bear in mind I’d had half a burger already so might have been distracted).

I have a funny feeling that there might have been a burger on Thursday too and I’ve just blocked it from my mind.

For Mr D’s birthday, I’d booked a table at Bar Boulud.  Much lauded chef, equally hyped burgers.  We went with the Piggie (bbq pulled pork on top of the patty) and a Frenchie (confit pork belly) and while I’m almost more tempted to bang on about the amazing charcuterie, they were delicious, beautifully presented and delivered promptly. In stark contrast to the Wednesday, there’s literally no waiting around here which was one of Jay Rayner’s bugbears when he reviewed it, being asked to vacate within two hours. It suited us perfectly, served as an almost OTT brunch and we wandered off across Knightsbridge to Clerkenwell to walk it off.  That was a month ago, and I’m still not sure I have worked off that week.

So how do they stack up against each other:

Byron: Consistently great. Easily available. Great value.

Meatwagon: Just about worth the wait. Worth getting home well after midnight.  I’m a sucker for novelty too.

Bar Boulud.  A perfectly conceived, concept burger. Great value set lunch.  Slightly surreal crowd.

In fact, I’ve probably listed them in my personal order of preference.

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The Harmony of Wine and Water

Posted on May 18, 2010 by Gail Haslam| 6 Comments

You might remember the Evening Standard’s Water on Tap campaign from a few years ago.  Their bugbear was that restaurants habitually made you feel rather inferior if you dared to answer the traditional ‘still or sparkling’ with a tentative ‘Tap?’

As much for the rationale that the ice-cubes in your mineral water were made from the Thames anyway, as to assert our freedom to stand up snotty sommeliers, I went along with the campaign. Though mainly to slake thirst, and often a bottle of mineral water would be ordered too. Water is water, water is good, get two litres in somehow, right?  But it rather sat in the background, as it in the photo above.  I didn’t really consider the impact of what was in the water glass on the food that I was ordering, or how it might factor into the whole dining experience. Then I met Andreas Larsson.

S.Pellegrino are probably best known for their eponymous mineral water rather than for their non-carbonated Acqua Panna plus more recently they sponsored the World’s 50 Best Restaurants.  Andreas, World Sommelier 2007,  works with them amongst other clients, as a taster and consultant. It’s not an exaggeration to say that this is a man who loves his job.  And why wouldn’t he? Andreas is affable and obviously thrives on communicating and teaching about his passions – food, wine and taste. I suppose his services are increasingly required as we move through rolling stages of what he calls ‘gastronomic refinement’ – when a food and its market moves from being niche or undiscovered and graduates to encompass increasing levels of speciality, as has happened with coffee and olive oil in the past, for example.

Feeling a touch self-conscious, we set about tasting and comparing tap water, both S.Pellegrino waters and red wine, white wine, champagne and port.  We tried canapés, garlic prawns, rare beef and pastry desserts. Though I guess we wouldn’t have been invited along if there wasn’t a story to tell, it turned out to be fascinating. We started with champagne – so a mouthful of bubbly, chased with Acqua Panna which is described as ‘smooth’ or ‘velvety’. The light fruity and citrus flavours of the champagne still lingered.  Another sip and we brought out the S.Pellegrino.  In direct contrast to the still, it acted like a palate refresher and all traces of the champagne disappeared.  And the tap water? Well, in the context it didn’t fare well. Overwhelmingly chemical and it had to be chased away with mineral water.

We moved on to harmonising with food.  Essentially Andreas would suggest that you consider your water order as carefully as your wine – why spend time and money on a special bottle only to wash away the tastes with a heavily carbonated water, or one that doesn’t stand up to robust flavours?  As a very general guide, pick a (gently) carbonated water to live up to reds and red meat, and don’t drown your Chablis and seabream.  Again it was interesting to see how the beef and a burgundy benefitted from the S.Pellegrino while the Acqua Panna was very soft in comparison.

All in all, it was an intriguing experiment. I can’t promise to always live to Andreas’s standards, I’ll certainly try to consider water choices when eating out in future. It’s all part of the ongoing food education – and it was a delightful afternoon.

We were tucked away upstairs in Hush for the session, and thanks to Jo and Sarah at Grayling for organising.

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Vive La Cheese: La Fromagerie

Posted on April 25, 2010 by Gail Haslam| 7 Comments

At a recent Vive Le Cheese event we tasted both French cheeses and the concepts of bien vivre – or how to live well.  For me, as for many of the people who’d call themselves “foodie”, I suspect, quality of living and food are inextricably linked. Yeah, I pretty much live for food, it seems. That’s why we not only look for interesting dining experiences, but we are willing to hunt for obscure ingredients (or get friends to track them down abroad), make space for any number of unusual kitchen gadgets at the risk of skewering ourselves every time we open a cupboard, and plan holidays around restaurants bookings. Having spent time in France as a teenager I was always entranced by the amount of ceremony around mealtimes and eating there, even for everyday dining.

Bien Vivre is Vive Le Cheese’s way of convincing us of how a little effort can be disproportionately rewarding: if you must eat at your desk, then clear a space and put down a proper cloth napkin and have a china plate to eat your Pain Poilâne with some perfectly ripened Brie de Meaux, with a dressed salad.  It’s an admirable concept.  I’m not saying I always manage to do that – of course I don’t – but I do make an effort to cook meals from fresh ingredients.  Is that enough?

Even among those of us who claim a real interest in food, I suspect meaningful engagement is still patchy. We cook when we have time, we like good restaurants, but we also buy ready meals, takeaways and, often, choose restaurants on price rather than quality. The genuine ‘foodie’ hardcore: those people who cook every day, using local, seasonal non-supermarket ingredients; and who always eat at similarly conscientious independent restaurants, is how many? A few hundred thousand people nationally? That isn’t a criticism, incidentally. Britain’s food infrastructure is against us. Who, here, realistically, could completely boycott the supermarkets or Pizza Express, even if they wanted to?

The Kitchen Counter Revolution, Guardian Word of Mouth

I guess I don’t qualify as foodie by the definition above –  I don’t buy ready meals but I mix local retailers along with basic supermarket shopping for a variety of reasons including time and cost. (I’d be Waitrose and Ginger Pig all the way if I could but sometimes the pennies just don’t stretch.) Sometimes organic and Fairtrade are crucial, other times you dash to Tesco. But when you find those shops and retailers who specialise and enthuse about ingredients, and who are willing to share that knowledge, that’s when the true value of a relationship with a retailer comes into its own.

We spent a great evening at La Fromagerie, or Cheese Heaven as it should probably be known.  Vive Le Cheese and Patricia Michelson came together to introduce us to the best of French cheeses along with wine matching and a visit to the Affineur Room to find out more about exactly what happens to cheeses to make them perfect for consumption.  One of Patricia’s firm rules is not allowing people to buy too much cheese.  Yes, really.  Not that there are quotas in operation, but as she explained, sometimes it’s just not the best way to experience food. Cheese is not long-lead. Rather than shifting kilos, she advises people to buy smaller amounts and return to replenish. That way they’re getting the freshest cheese in best possible condition – and unlike many shops, Patricia’s staff spent a lot of time getting the products to the optimum conditions for eating, and promptly.

We tasted a quartet of recipes, made up in La Fromagerie’s kitchen.  You can find all of them here. I was lucky to have snuck into a group with Katrina Alloway and Lucy Bridgers, both wine experts. The William Fevre 2008 Chablis AOC – 100% Chardonnay, was my choice for most of the dishes and Lucy remarked on how neutral and therefore versatile Chardonnay can be, and it complemented the eggs in the divine souffle, the pastry of the tart and the quiche, and the Reblochon fritters.

:: Roquefort PDO and Walnut Soufflé with Spiced Pear Chutney ::

The Chateau Coutet Sauternes-Barsac AOC 2004 was deemed ‘syrupy but in a good way’ when paired with the French Camembert and Fig Tart with Hazelnut Parsley Vinagrette which would make a fantastic dessert for those without a sweet tooth, if that makes sense.

We spent a chilly but entertaining half hour in the Affineur room, where JP talked us through how they prepare and essentially temper the cheeses. Most of the conditioning work is done in the Highbury shop, where they’re brought to temperature and moisture is added, washes are applied as necessary and so on. Affinage is essentially ‘putting your own stamp’ on it.  JP described it as having ‘a little bit of common sense, and a lot of love, for the product’.  Remember the concept of ‘terroir’ or territory when combining food and wine – items from the same region normally do well together as they come from the same ground, like serving Epoisses Affiné with a strong red Burgundy.

When storing cheese at home, double wrap in wax paper or put into Tupperware, and keep it in the fridge drawers or door.  La Fromagerie supply 89% of the London Michelin-starred restaurants and train the employees on how to maintain and maximise the cheese – trim them at the end of the evening, and store on a marble slab that’s cooled from underneath.  Again, they advise that they buy smaller amounts more often.  But don’t forget to use common sense when deciding how long you can keep cheese for – trust your nose, ultimately.  And you can always throw those parmesan rinds into soups or risottos.

The final part of the evening (sadly a little hurried) was tasting 10 different cheeses with Patricia.  I will be going back for the last ones we tasted, the Saint Nectaire, the Epoisses, Fourme D’Ambert and Vache Porte D’Aspe.  Absolutely sublime, particularly the blue. Patricia said that everything in the shop revolves around cheese (I should have asked her what to do with these) and it’s clear how passionate she is about it. This is where the benefit of local or specialist knowledge gets you excited about food again and you start planning dishes, dinners, ingredients sprees.  Her shop was one of the first of its kind and it’s enticing and inspiring. It also made me think about a French cheese tour this summer…

We left with dairy-fuelled glowing faces, and clutching recipe cards to remake the souffles and the rest at home. Next dinner party is definitely going to involve a cheese course. If I let the stuff leave the kitchen.

La Fromagerie, 2-6 Moxon Street, Marylebone, London W1U 4EW 020 7935 0341

Thanks to Patricia and all at La Fromagerie, Vive Le Cheese, and Katrina Alloway

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Banana Date Loaf

Posted on April 14, 2010 by Gail Haslam| 11 Comments

This was kind of an experiment.  I had spotty bananas lurking malevolently in the fruit bowl, gassing the other residents, and a recipe that a friend had recommended.  All good so far. I started off with the first steps of the method and then realised that the butter in the ingredients list was missing from the method. Um… I’d had long conversations this week with (professional and could-be-professional bakers about how baking is a science and you can’t fudge quantities and methods. Then set about fudging the recipe*.

Banana Date Loaf

This makes for a pleasantly squidgy loaf with a slight nuttiness from the spelt flour.  I used a four pans on a six mini-loaf tray – substantial small cakes that are good to slice and eat in squares.

Ingredients:

  • 115g unsalted butter, softened
  • 3 medium bananas
  • 30g honey
  • 2 large eggs at room temperature
  • 110g muscovado sugar
  • 170g wholegrain spelt flour
  • 10g baking powder
  • 50g any dried fruit – I used chopped apricots

Method:

  1. Cream together the sugar and eggs to light ribbon stage
  2. Wonder what to do with the butter
  3. Think “Sod it”, chop the butter up really small and add in, and blitz again
  4. Think “This will never work”
  5. Stick the bowl in the microwave for 30 seconds so it becomes more of a batter, and the butter relents
  6. Put the chopped dates in a small saucepan with a few tablespoons of water and heat gently til the dates ‘melt’
  7. In another bowl, mash the honey and banana and add in any dried fruit
  8. Sift the flour and baking powder into the egg/sugar mixtures, then add the banana mix and the date mush.  Incorporate without overmixing.
  9. Put in lined tins, somewhat sceptically, bake for 20-25 mins or until a cake tester comes out clean
  10. Taste with some trepidation… they say “Woo-hoo! ‘Tis good!”

It should be fine to keep in an airtight tin for a few days, but there’s none left to test that theory. But next time I make it I’m going to try slicing and freezing a couple of the loaves, as well as working out when the butter should go in.  Assuming the cakes are around long enough to be frozen.  I think it would also be good lightly toasted, once defrosted.

*apart from the hit-and-miss method, I did largely substitute ingredients so it wasn’t that fudgy I guess

Here are the instructions I started with:

Preheat oven to 180C/Gas mark 4. Place eggs and brown sugar in electric mixer and whisk to light ribbon stage. Sift flour/baking pwdr into separate bowl. Mash bananas with honey. Combine all, but don’t overmix. Spoon into
tins and bake for 30-35 mins.

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Peanut Butter Chocolate Dime Bar Cookies

Posted on April 12, 2010 by Gail Haslam| 12 Comments

These cookies – essentially from the Canteen book – are perfect for when you haven’t got much time but want to bake.  But like we always say, there are few dishes which can’t be improved by the addition of bacon, cheese or chocolate.  I went for the latter here, along with some more sugar. Yes, even more, in the form of Dime Bar. To the point that the normally impervious boyfriend actually had a bit of a sugar crash later that afternoon. I’m not proud. But he said they were worth it.

They only take 8 mins to cook (a little more more in the demon oven) and are very moreish. As fan of the maple syrup and bacon with pancakes – i.e. the sweet+salty combo, I love these.  There’s a batch with just chocolate added in the oven at the moment – I have high hopes.

Peanut Butter Chocolate Dime Bar Cookies

Makes 15-20

  • 75g butter
  • 90g caster sugar
  • 110g muscovado sugar
  • 1 egg
  • 1 tsp pure vanilla extract
  • 120g peanut butter (I used smooth)
  • 75g porridge oats
  • 80g roasted salted peanuts, chopped
  • 60g plain wholemeal flour
  • 1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
  • 50g chopped chocolate (I used Montezuma chocolate buttons)
  • 50g mini Dime Bars, chopped

Method:

  1. Preheat the oven to gas mark 3, 165
  2. Cream the sugars and butter until pale and fluffy
  3. Add the egg and vanilla and mix well
  4. Add in all the other ingredients
  5. Spoon out walnut sized balls onto a baking sheet, flatten slightly
  6. Bake for 8 mins or until golden brown
  7. Leave to cool and set on the sheet for 15 mins before moving to a wire rack to cool completely

The Canteen Cookbook is published by Ebury

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Brunch Extreme at the InterContinental Park Lane

Posted on April 11, 2010 by Gail Haslam| 9 Comments

At the beginning of brunch at the InterContinental London Park Lane yesterday, someone from the hotel asked me if I’d ever been there before.  A Park Lane hotel? No, not recently and not without a corporate event to attend. I imagine many London-dwellers are the same – generally when we want to go out to eat or drink, we don’t think of hotel restaurants or bars as a first option.  Those lovely Qype people folks arranged for a small group of people to go to the Cookbook Café and find out precise what they have to offer, and to see if we should reconsider.

One of the massive benefits of going to a venue with Qype, apart from the company, is that you get the best service imaginable, lots of attention and often special access – in our case, Paul Bates, the executive chef joined us for brunch and talked us through the menu.  The vast, bottomless bellini’d menu.  That’s right, folks. Choose from five different type of nectar then add Crémant de Bourgogne, swirled together in a champagne flute til the cows come home. Or til 4:00pm, I suppose, when the brunch finishes.

You start off with the Market Table – a buffet which starts with a bread selection and cold meats, and homemade piccalilli and chutney. Then it explodes into more lunch-like salads (vast bowls of chickpeas, greek salad), fruit salad.  There are pastries, juices and coffee of course too. Round to the other side of the table and it’s filled with local cheeses and sashimi.

::  Tuna Tataki ::

:: Lucious pepper salad ::

:: Seasonal preserves ::

While the group made a trip – or two – to the buffet, Paul chatted to all of us about the inspiration behind the menus and the cafe itself. As the name suggests, it’s inspired by cookery books and at first they used to faithfully reproduce dishes from the books that are on sale around the room. Nowadays they occasionally use some of the recipes for inspiration, especially when catering for events but create the menus themselves.  On sunny day like yesterday, it felt bright and airy in there – well, air-conditioned of course.  We were sitting up at the rear of the room, almost on a mezzanine level which would be great to book out for a big group. The diners were a mixture of a sloaney young crowd who looked to have been staying at the hotel, possibly for a wedding, couples, tables of ladies who appeared to be there specifically for the food and who were making numerous visits to the buffets. Can’t blame them.

:: Eggs Benedict ::

If you fancy something hot along with the Market Table, you can move on to the Full Breakfast option. Eggs any way, hash browns, bacon and sausages, potato cakes or a freshly baked waffle.  Go for the waffle. Also available on the À la Carte, we shared plates of these and the American-style pancakes.  The maltyness, the light crispy texture, and the plethora of toppings (chocolate sauce, maple syrup, that instrument of the devil that is clotted cream, fresh compote, waxy pistachios) made it my favourite part of the menu.  Ok, of that part of the menu.

Sticking with the more traditional brunch items, we also ordered the eggs benedict and most of tried the Corn and Scallion pancakes with wild rocket and scrambled eggs, both very good with sunshine yellow yolks spilling out of the eggs which are sourced from Berkshire. Reducing food miles is a concern for the hotel – as Paul reasonably pointed out, food that is procured locally costs less, is fresher and is seasonal.

On to the lunch dishes.  Yes, that’s right. We were only halfway through.

:: Pinkly perfect lamb and implausibly creamy mash ::

:: Gently spiced Monkfish ::

:: Courgette tart ::

I never would have guessed that I’d choose the vegetarian option as by far my favourite of these choices. Sweet roasted vegetables and buttery pastry. It even surpassed the lamb and duck-fat roasted potatoes for me.

To finish, we felt it obligatory to try the desserts trolley (that makes it sound insubstantial, or a chore – it wasn’t.)  Ok, I admit it, I saved space.  Here’s the plate I liberated (to share, honest).

:: Desserts selection ::

Clockwiseish from top left: Nutmeg creme brulee, hazelnut brownie, chocolate torte topped with praline and nuts, baked cheesecake, champagne mousse with raspberry jelly, Bakewell tart. I particularly loved the cheesecake, it was creamy without being claggy, and utterly moreish.

We finally, reluctantly left the table – though we’d dined for almost three hours, and moved off for a tour of the kitchens (photos on Flickr) exiting through Theo Randall’s restaurant. You can see some of the spirits in his backlit bar above – it’s somewhere I’d certainly like to come back and visit. It was named Italian Restaurant of the Year 2008 in the London Restaurant Awards and I’ll also be looking out for his book Pasta, coming from Ebury in June.  We visited the 7th floor club and then said our final goodbyes before dispersing gradually back into the sunshine for the rest of the afternoon.

Stars *****

Yes, it was a treat but our experience yesterday made me reconsider looking into what London’s top hotels have to offer. The brunch at the Cookbook Café offers bewildering amounts of choice, with literally something to suit everyone. Take a group, get everyone to plump for the £39 Bubbles and Brunch option and linger for a Bloody Mary or Bellini fuelled catch-up session.

Thanks to TikiChris, Qype and the lovely Esther, Charles and of course Paul at the InterContinental

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Macadamia Orange Macarons with Caramel Filling

Posted on April 9, 2010 by Gail Haslam| 11 Comments

I had egg whites in the fridge and couldn’t think of anything to make that wasn’t meringue-based.  Ok, not strictly true. I’ve been obsessed with macarons for a while. Yes, I am using the poncy French spelling. That’s because I am particularly obsessed with the French, perfumed, pastel morsels served up by the likes of Pierre Herme and Laduree. Though the first ones I ever made were pistachio, to a Nigella recipe, to ensure that I had something suitable for a coeliac friend who was coming to afternoon tea. That’s the basic recipe that I used to start off this version.

The Macarons:

Ingredients:

  • 75g macadamias
  • 125g icing sugar
  • 2 large egg whites
  • 15g caster sugar
  • 1 tsp orange essence

Oven – 180, Gas Mark 4

  1. Grind the macadamias and icing sugar in a food processor.  Probably more finely that I did, as it led to a barely but visibly bumpy surface to the cooked macarons.
  2. Add the orange essence to the eggs, then whisk the two egg whites til stiff but not dry. Add the caster sugar. Whisk til stiff.
  3. Fold the whites into the macadamia sugar, gently.
  4. Pipe on to a parchment baking sheet.
  5. Allow to sit so they form a skin.
  6. Cook for 10-12 minutes, then cool on the sheets.

I put two trays in the (non-fan, bane of my life) oven and the bottom ones cracked slightly, so will know not to do that again.

Caramel Filling by Girl Cook in Paris:

For the filling, I knew I wanted to do some sort of caramel. I spent some time drooling over researching macarons (like Edward’s amazing ones, with lots of tips too) and went with Diane’s step-by-step, including mise-en-place tutorial. I still feel a little limited because I don’t have a stand mixer, and waited for the boyfriend to come home to help. Supervise. Take me to the A&E with burns.

In fact it’s simple, and safe as long as you follow the instructions.

I did wonder if it was going to work, beating the cooled caramel in with cream cheese and butter.

It did. I piped this glorious splodgy cream onto the paired up macarons and found that I had half a piping bag left over.  So I filled some experimental chocolate tartlet shells (experiment is a nice way of saying I screwed them up) with the remaining mixture, and popped a sliver of chopped Montezuma milk chocolate button on top.

I dropped some of these off yesterday to various people in town – because if we eat all of them, frankly we’ll turn into Teletubbies. Would you like some?

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