My two-year-old is increasingly keen on baking when it’s just us at home and
her older sisters are at school – she knows she’ll have the spoon and bowl to
scrape out all by herself when the cake goes in the oven.
My local fruit and veg shop had raspberries piled high just at her eye level.
She demolished one punnet in her pushchair on the way home; the second was
earmarked for a cake. I’ve had a split packet of desiccated coconut sitting in a
tub on my shelf at home for more months than I can remember – baking with it
seemed a fitting end to this storage annoyance. And the lemon? Simple: lemons
make everything better and brighter. Time for cake! Photograph: Claire Thomson/Guardian
(Serves 6-8) 160g butter 120g caster sugar 2 eggs 100g plain flour 1 tsp baking powder 80g desiccated coconut, plus extra to decorate 2 tbsp milk 80g raspberries For the lemon syrup: ½ lemon, juiced 2tbsp caster sugar Add the raspberries. Photograph: Claire Thomson/Guardian
Preheat the oven 180C/350F/gas mark four, and line and grease a 900g loaf
tin.
Cream together the butter and sugar in bowl with an electric whisk until pale
and creamy – this should take a good five minutes of mixing.
Whisk the eggs and, with the beaters running, add a little at a time to the
butter and sugar. When you have added half the egg, add a tablespoon of flour to
prevent the mixture from curdling.
Add the rest of the egg with the beaters running, then sift in the flour and
baking powder and beat briefly with a large spoon.
Stir in the coconut and milk. The mixture should be loose enough to drop off
the back of a spoon; if not, add a little more milk.
Spoon half the cake mix into the prepared loaf tin. Spread the raspberries
evenly over the surface, then add the remaining cake mix.
Bake for 40-50 minutes, until a skewer inserted into the middle of the cake
comes out clean.
Meanwhile, make the lemon syrup. Put the lemon juice and sugar in a pan and
boil rapidly over a high heat for two minutes, until the mixture thickens and
turns syrupy.
Take the cake out of the oven, spoon over the syrup and sprinkle over the
extra coconut.
Cool on a wire rack before serving.
Ah, nectarines, the smooth-skinned sibling
of the fuzzy peach. Though rarely quite as sweet or juicy as the peach, the two
are often interchangable in cooking. The 1938 edition of Larousse Gastronomique
– the culinary equivalent of going to your nan for relationship advice (wisdom
tempered with intransigence) – says simply, and dismissively, "Voir pêche", so
directing the reader to a million variations on peaches poached in vanilla
syrup, served with raspberries and sweetened cream, and often named after some
early 20th-century starlet.
Well, nectarines also have a great affinity for that triumvirate, while
almonds, aromatic wines and prosecco (think bellini) are also classic pairings.
But if you happen to land some perfectly ripe examples, you could do much worse
than serve them sliced, dusted with a warming spice such as pepper, nutmeg or
clove, and topped with air-dried ham or gooey blue cheese. Fresh, young cheese
works well, too – burrata, say, is gorgeous with nectarine.
Nectarines are sold at such varying degrees of ripeness that one purchase
rarely resembles another; there are even often variations within the same bag of
fruit. To give a few options, today's recipes deal with the fruit at different
stages.
Seared scallops with nectarine and burnt butter
You can get away with under-ripe nectarines here, but the riper the fruit,
the more intense the puree. The dish looks very simple, but the flavours are
rich and interesting. Works with apricots, too. Serves four. 1kg nectarines, halved and stoned 250g unsalted
butter, plus extra for frying 8 large diver scallops (or 12
medium) Sunflower oil, for frying Lemon
juice Sea salt
Stew the nectarines in a splash of water until soft enough to push through a
sieve. Pass through a fine sieve into a jug and set aside.
Heat the butter gently in a pan until it's a deep golden brown and stops
foaming. Tip through a fine sieve into another pan, then leave to cool ever so
slightly. With a hand blender, slowly blitz the still hot butter into the
nectarine puree (much as you would oil into eggs for a mayonnaise). Once all the
butter has been emulsified into the puree, check for sweetness – add a tiny bit
of honey or caster sugar if it's overly sour – then cover with clingfilm and set
aside: keep warm (stand the jug in a pan of hand-hot water) or refrigerate if
making ahead of time.
Heat a nonstick frying pan on a very high flame. Roll the scallops in oil,
then lay a few at a time flat-side down in the pan. Leave for one to two
minutes, depending on size, until nicely caramelised, then flip. Cook for just a
few seconds more, then add a small nugget of butter and a good squeeze of lemon
– this whole post-flip operation should take all of 30-40 seconds, so the
scallops don't overcook. Transfer the scallops to a tray or plate, pour the
juices over the top, wipe the pan clean and reheat the pan for the next batch.
When all the scallops are cooked, season both sides with salt.
To serve, put a generous tablespoon of warm puree on each plate and place the
scallops on top.
Nectarine and almond tart
Concentrated
flavour: Mary-Ellen McTague's nectarine and almond tart. Photograph: Deirdre
Rooney for the Guardian
Again, you can get away with under-ripe fruit here, because roasting
concentrates the flavour. This can be made with gluten-free flour and/or
dairy-free butter, which makes it a winner in my family. Serves six. 750g nectarines 75g butter at room
temperature 60g sugar (caster is fine, demerera or soft
brown even better) 1 level tsp cinnamon or
nutmeg 20g almonds 20g
sugar 10g water
For the pastry 75g butter at room
temperature 150g flour 10g fresh yeast,
or 5g dried 5g sugar 1 large
egg 2g salt 1 vanilla pod (or 2 drops
extract)
For the pastry, in a large bowl beat the butter into the flour. In a small
bowl, beat the yeast and sugar into the egg, then stir into the flour. Add the
salt and vanilla, and knead briefly until smooth – it will start off very
sticky, then come together all of a sudden. Roll into a ball, transfer to a
lightly oiled bowl, cover with clingfilm and leave in a warm spot to double in
volume (one to two hours).
Halve and stone the fruit. Line a baking dish with nonstick baking paper
(optional, but it will make life easier later on) and dot all over with butter.
Sprinkle sugar on top, then lay in the halved fruit flesh side down.
Bake at 200C/400F/gas mark 6 for 15 minutes. The nectarines should be
softened but not mushy, with the skin lifting away from the flesh, and the
butter and sugar nicely caramelised. If the fruit was very under-ripe, it may
need a few minutes more, otherwise remove and set aside until cool enough to
handle, but still warm; turn down the oven to 180C/350F/gas mark 4. Peel the
fruit, keeping it as intact as possible, then set aside.
Lightly butter or oil a 20cm tart case, tip in the dough and with oiled or
floured hands flatten and press out to fill the tin right to the edges. Arrange
the nectarines on top and scatter over the spices, caramelised sugar, butter and
juices from the oven dish. Leave to prove for 15 minutes, then bake for 20
minutes. Mix the almonds, sugar and water, scatter over the top of the fruit and
bake for a further 20 minutes.
Remove, leave to cool for five to 10 minutes, and serve with vanilla
ice-cream, creme fraiche or a raspberry and almond chantilly: whip 200g cream
with 20g caster sugar and a drop almond extract, then stir in 50g crushed
raspberries.
Nectarine chutney
The traditional way to preserve nectarines and peaches involves dipping them
in boiling water to release the skins, spiking with cloves and covering with
brandy, à la Monet's Jar Of Peaches. My way may involve more work, but it goes
with most cured meat, pâtés and cheese. 1g nutmeg 1g allspice 3
cloves 1g cinnamon 2.5kg nectarines,
stoned, skinned and chopped into 1cm-square dice 150g
white-wine vinegar 125g caster sugar
Grind the spices, and put in a heavy-based pan with the other ingredients.
Cook on a low heat, stirring regularly, until thick and jam-like. Pour into
sterilised jars, seal and keep in a cool, dark place or in the fridge. Unopened,
it keeps for up to two years, and improves with age.
Nectarine and basil ice lollies
This is lovely way to use up wrinkly and over-ripe nectarines – you know, the
ones that have gone so soft, you can squish them between your fingers. Push the
stoned fruit through a sieve (this purees the flesh while keeping the skin in
the sieve), then blitz smooth. Finely shred a handful of basil (or mint) and
add. Stir in whole raspberries (optional) and a splash of water or a slug of
prosecco, depending on your target audience, then check for sweetness. Add sugar
to taste, and freeze in lolly moulds.
Baking is a small and everyday act that
shows someone you care. As a child in the 1970s, I lived in a commune in
Copenhagen. My parents were very busy changing the world so, at eight years old
in our big communal kitchen, I baked my first cakes. I did not read recipes. I
just mixed everything together, poured the resulting batter into a tin and baked
it. At some point, somebody explained to me that if I started a cake by beating
eggs with sugar, or butter with sugar, I would find I baked lighter,
better-tasting cakes.
My baking developed over the years. As a young woman, studying literature and
being at home with my newborn son, I bought a baking book and worked my way
through it. For my son’s first birthday, we were in the UK and I couldn’t
imagine us all celebrating that milestone without real Danish pastries. So I
learned how to make them, too. Over the years that developed into a set of
recipes that are all part of our family life. I wrote the baking book during an
unsettling year for me and my family. Despite the fact it expanded to take more
time and work than I had ever imagined, the baking became part of a healing
process. Baking can be like that.
Jens Jørgen Thorsen meringue
Jens Jørgen Thorsen was a famous Danish painter. Feel free to use other fruit
instead of figs, if you prefer. Serves 8.
For the caramel cream: demerara sugar 100g
double cream 500ml
For the meringue: egg whites 6 caster sugar
300g salt a pinch
For the topping: figs 6, fresh good dark
chocolate 50g, at least 60% cocoa solids
The day before you need the cake, make the caramel cream. Spread the sugar in
a heavy-based saucepan. Cook over a medium heat until the sugar melts and starts
to colour: it should turn into a light brown caramel. Add one-quarter of the
cream and bring to the boil, stirring constantly. It takes time, be patient.
When the mixture is fully combined, turn off the heat, stir in the remaining
cream, then pour it into a bowl. Cover and chill in the refrigerator
overnight.
For the meringue, preheat the oven to 140C/gas mark 1. Using an electric hand
mixer or a food mixer, whisk the egg whites until stiff, then whisk in half the
sugar, one tablespoon at a time, until very stiff. Fold in the remaining sugar
and add the salt.
Line two baking trays with baking parchment and draw, in pencil, a 24cm
circle on each. Turn the baking parchment over so the pencil marks are
underneath, but still legible. Spread the meringue inside the circles. Bake for
one hour, then let them cool down on a wire rack, still on their baking
parchment.
Remove the paper from the meringues and place the least attractive disc on a
serving plate.
Whip the chilled caramel cream until it is light, fluffy and billowing, then
spread it on the base meringue. Place the second meringue on top. Cut the figs
into quarters and place them on top of the cake.
Break the chocolate into pieces, place in a small heatproof bowl and fit over
a saucepan of simmering water – the bowl should not touch the water. Melt the
chocolate, then remove from the heat.
Dip a tablespoon in the chocolate, then throw it at the cake, channelling
Jackson Pollock (and Danish painter Jens Jørgen Thorsen), until you have a wild
decoration. Serve the cake as soon as the chocolate has set.
Beetroot and bacon muffins
Savoury treat: beetroot and bacon muffins.Photograph: Columbus Leth
Makes 10–12 spelt flour 50g, wholegrain and stoneground plain
flour 150g jumbo oats 50g baking powder
2 tsp bicarbonate of soda ½ tsp salt
8g black pepper 1 tbsp, freshly
ground eggs 3 yogurt 250ml, full
fat olive oil 4 tbsp beetroot 200g, raw
and finely chopped bacon lardons 100g, cooked (or walnuts
100g, toasted) thyme leaves 1 tbsp
Preheat the oven to 200C/gas mark 6. Mix the flours, oats, baking powder,
bicarbonate of soda and salt and pepper in a bowl. In another bowl, beat the
eggs with the yogurt and oil. Stir the wet ingredients into the dry, then fold
in the beetroot, bacon (or walnuts) and thyme.
Cut out 15cm squares of baking parchment – you will need 10 to 12 – and fold
each into a muffin mould. Divide the batter between the moulds and bake in the
hot oven for 20-25 minutes.
Serve warm for lunch or dinner, sprinkled with a little more thyme if you
like, with a crisp green salad dressed with a mustardy vinaigrette.
Rye crispbread
Strip teas: rye crispbread.Photograph: Columbus Leth
Makes 40 strips water 150ml, lukewarm yeast 15g, fresh
(or 2 tsp dry yeast) rye flakes 60g rolled oats
50g stoneground rye flour 50g, plus more to
dust polenta 50g, or use cornmeal olive
oil 75ml, plus more to brush salt 4g
Pour the water into a bowl and add the yeast, stirring to dissolve. Stir in
the rye flakes and oats. Leave to rest for 30 minutes. Now mix in the remaining
ingredients. Mix really well, then knead on a floured work surface.
Preheat the oven to 200C/gas mark 6. Divide the dough into four. On a floured
work surface, roll each piece out as thinly as possible into a rectangle about
25x20cm. Cut each into 10 strips. Lay the strips on baking trays lined with
baking parchment and brush with oil. Bake for 10-12 minutes. You will probably
have to bake these in batches.
Leave each batch to cool on a wire rack while you bake the rest.
Kringle
Roll of honour: kringle with flaked almonds.Photograph: Columbus Leth
Makes 3
For the kringle: whole milk 100ml,
lukewarm yeast 50g, fresh (or 1 ½ tbsp dry yeast)
eggs 3, lightly beaten caster sugar
100g salt ½ tsp butter
350g 00 grade flour 550g
For the filling: almonds chopped, 150g caster
sugar 200g butter 250g rosehip
jam (or apple compote, see below) 300g egg 1,
lightly beaten almonds 50g, flaked
For the apple compote: vanilla pod 1 tart
eating apples 2, such as Cox’s Orange Pippin, peeled, cored,
chopped caster sugar 100g
To make the compote, slit the vanilla pod in half lengthways and scrape out
the seeds with the tip of a sharp knife. Put the apples in a saucepan with the
sugar and the vanilla seeds and bring to the boil, then reduce the heat and
leave to simmer for 20 minutes. Stir the apple mixture together to create a
thick sauce, then leave to cool.
For the kringle, pour the milk into a bowl, add the yeast and stir to
dissolve. Add the eggs, sugar and salt, cover and leave for 30 minutes.
Meanwhile, cut the butter into cubes and, with your hands, rub them into the
flour. When the 30 minutes is up, mix the yeast mixture into the flour mixture.
Knead on a floured work surface until you have a smooth dough. The dough is very
delicate, so you might have to use a bit more flour and handle it with care.
Place in a bowl, cover and leave to rise at warm room temperature for about one
hour.
For the filling, mix the chopped almonds into a paste with the sugar and
butter. Set aside.
Return to the dough. Roll it out on a floured work surface into a rectangle.
Fold it into three, crossways, like a business letter then turn it by 90˚, roll
it out and fold it once more, in the same way.
Now divide the dough into three and roll each out into a rectangle.
Divide the filling into three. Spread each portion along a 4cm strip down the
middle of each dough rectangle. Spread the rosehip jam or compote on top. Fold
the short ends up over the filling and then the long sides, first one side over
the filling and then the other, so they overlap by 1cm. Place on baking trays
lined with baking parchment, cover with tea towels and let rise again, in a warm
place, for 30 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 220C/gas mark 7. Brush each pastry with the egg and
sprinkle with the flaked almonds. Bake for 15-20 minutes, keeping an eye on them
so they don’t turn too dark. If they are looking too dark, reduce the oven
temperature to 200C/gas mark 6.
Cool on a wire rack and serve warm or cold. More baking next week with Trine Hahnemann. To order a copy of her book,
Scandinavian Baking (Quadrille, £25), for £20, go to
guardianbookshop.co.uk or call 0330 333 6846. Nigel Slater returns in a fortnight
How do you get it creamy yet fluffy, have you made the original River Café
chocolate nemesis recipe, and which other gluten-free desserts are worth a
go?
This week has been a learning curve for me. I’d naively assumed that a
flourless chocolate cake was the kind of thing you might make when a coeliac
friend was coming for tea, possibly involving some sort of ground nuts or
cornflour.
But after looking at a few recipes, it dawned on me that I was barking up
completely the wrong tree. Though such cakes certainly exist, the classic
flourless variety doesn’t just eschew wheat, but any sort of starchy meal,
giving it a rich flavour and a dense, fudgy or creamy texture that puts it
firmly in the dessert, rather than the teatime, category. (Though, of course,
there’s nothing to stop you inviting that coeliac friend for dinner.)
Flourless chocolate cakes don’t tend to vary much in the ingredient
department: there is chocolate, obviously, plus eggs, sugar and some sort of
fat, usually butter but occasionally cream. The difference, as I discovered,
comes in how they are combined and baked.
The chocolate
Justin
Gellatly’s flourless chocolate cake.
Most recipes use just melted chocolate, but ex-St John pastry chef Justin
Gellatly’s excellently named Bread, Cake, Doughnut, Pudding sifts in some cocoa
powder as well. Having used a combination of the two with great success in my
brownie and my teatime chocolate cake recipes, I know that cocoa comes in useful
when you want a concentrated chocolate flavour without making the cake itself
too sickly, and so it proves here. Though undeniably rich, Gellatly’s cake
manages to be intensely flavoured but less cloying than the infamous River Café
chocolate nemesis (the easy version, obviously; I’m not in the market for the
“kind of cowpat” reported by those unfortunates who trialled the original
recipe).
Gellatly and the River Café both use a relatively small amount of chocolate
and cocoa in proportion to the other ingredients, which proves wise: I find both
David Lebovitz’s Racines cake, from his book Ready for Dessert, and San
Francisco’s Zuni Café’s signature gateau victoire a little too bitter for my
taste, though those with more sophisticated palates may disagree. I do like
Lebovitz’s cocoa nibs, though – these crunchy shards of roasted cocoa bean add
texture and a hit of bitterness to each mouthful. If you can’t find them,
however, they’re not essential.
The sugar
David
Lebovitz’s flourless chocolate cake.
Everyone except Lebovitz uses caster sugar – he goes for granulated, but it
doesn’t seem to make much difference as far as I can tell. The River Café adds
most of the sugar in the form of a syrup, for reasons I don’t entirely
understand, but which someone better at kitchen chemistry than me might be able
to explain – syrups are often used to keep cakes soft and moist, but without
flour, this seems less likely. None of the recipes I try have quite the right
amount of sugar for my liking. Annie Bell’s French
and flourless, from her Baking Bible, is closest, while Lebovitz and Zuni
are too bitter, and the River Café and Gellatly a smidgen too sweet. As well as
striking a balance with quantity, I’m going to sub in a proportion of soft brown
sugar too, for a hint of caramel flavour. I’m surprised that Lebovitz and
Gellatly are the only bakers to make mention of a balancing pinch of salt, which
is helpful for rounding out the flavour of most sweet dishes, but absolutely
essential in a rich dish like this.
The eggs and fats
River
Cafe’s flourless chocolate cake.
Eggs are usually separated and whisked up independently to give the cake a
moussey consistency, which saves it from overwhelming heaviness. The River Café
and Zuni use whole eggs instead, the latter with two extra yolks as well, which
explains why their cakes have the smoothest, densest texture. Gellatly’s cake
contains a far higher proportion of eggs than any other recipe – 11 as opposed
to only four in the Zuni version – which I suspect is why it is incredibly rich
yet surprisingly light. Butter is the fat of choice here; only Zuni chooses
whipped cream instead, diluting the chocolate flavour.
Extras
Annie
Bell’s flourless chocolate cake.
Lebovitz flavours his cake with vanilla essence and espresso, while Zuni uses
just the coffee. Though I can’t pick up much in the way of vanilla, I’m
surprised by how much difference even a little coffee makes – though I’d be
hard-pressed to identify it as a flavour, the bitterness works brilliantly with
that of the chocolate, giving the whole thing greater depth.
Cooking
Zuni’s
flourless chocolate cake.
The River Café and Zuni both bake their versions in a water bath to moderate
the temperature for a creamier result, but as this is still a cake rather than a
mousse, I prefer it to have a little bit of fluffiness to it. Gellatly manages
to achieve both textures in the same dish by baking two-thirds of his mixture
for 30 minutes, cooling it for 20, adding the remainder and putting it back in
the oven for another 20 minutes, so the bottom is drier and lighter and the top
creamy and dense. It’s a really nice idea, but a bit of a faff. Instead, I’m
plumping for something in between the two – a rich, dense chocolate cake with
just enough fluff to make it worthy of the name. (Serves 8-10) 260g dark chocolate, broken into pieces 260g butter 1 tbsp strong coffee 8 eggs, separated 100g soft light brown sugar 160g golden caster sugar 85g cocoa powder ½ tsp salt 2 tbsp cocoa nibs (optional)
Grease a 23cm cake tin and line with greaseproof paper. Melt the chocolate
and butter together in a heatproof bowl set over, but not touching, a pan of
simmering water. Stir until smooth, then stir in the coffee and set aside to
cool slightly. Heat the oven to 160C/320F/gas mark three.
Put the egg yolks and sugars in a food processor and whisk until doubled in
volume. Turn the machine off and sift the cocoa powder on top of the egg mixture
(don’t just dump it in or you’ll get lumps). Add the salt, then mix on a low
speed until the cocoa is well combined.
Put the egg whites in another large bowl and whisk to the soft-peak
stage.
Gently fold the melted chocolate mixture into the egg yolk mixture. Fold a
third of the egg white into the mixture to loosen it before very carefully
folding the rest in, until the mixture is no longer streaky but an even, rich
brown. Sprinkle the cocoa nibs on top, if using.
Spoon into the tin and bake for 40-50 minutes until just set on top, then
allow to cool in the tin on a wire rack. Serve with something tart, such as
creme fraiche.
With
the news that Britain’s biggest biscuit company United Biscuits has
been sold to Turkish firm Yildiz, we chart the global drift of the UK’s
kitchen-cupboard stalwarts
Big in Turkey … Jaffa Cakes.Photograph: Clive Gee/PA
Those foreigners, they come over here and steal our
biscuits. That was Ukip’s imaginary response to Monday’s newsflash that
Britain’s biggest biscuit maker United Biscuits, guardian of the Jaffa
Cake, Penguin and McVitie’s Digestives, had been gobbled up by little
known Turkish food giant Yildiz for £2bn. But it’s not the first time
that overseas firms have raided our larder …
Jaffa Cakes
These cakey-biscuity hybrids roll off a production line in
Manchester but its parent, United Biscuits – which also owns Jacob’s,
Twiglets and Mini Cheddars – is based in Hayes Middlesex. Yildiz’s
perhaps less well known brands include “Turtles”, “Kat Kat, Tat” and
“Bizim Mutfak” so opportunities for new biscuit variants abound.
Cadbury Dairy Milk
Cadbury Dairy Milk.Photograph: Linda Nylind/Guardian
It’s as British as Hershey’s these days after US food giant
Kraft wrested control of Britain’s favourite chocolatier for £11.6bn in
2010. Dairy Milk is still made in Cadbury’s spiritual home of
Bournville, but its paymasters are based near Chicago, in Deerfield,
Illinois.
Burton’s Biscuits
Jammie Dodgers.Photograph: Sarah Lee/Guardian
Ahh, Jammie Dodgers with that gooey splodge of red stuff in
the middle. Jammies are part of the Burton’s Biscuit (tin) along with
other dunking favourites such as Lyons fig rolls and Wagon Wheels, but
the St Albans company is British no more having been sold to Canadian
investors, the Ontario Teachers’ Pension Plan, for £350m last year.
Weetabix
Weetabix.Photograph: Alamy
The Chinese are literally eating our breakfast these days,
gobbling up British cereal maker Weetabix two years ago in a deal worth
£1.2bn. The takeover by state-owned Bright Food has spawned a number of
spin-offs, with green tea-flavoured breakfast bars, developed in its
Northamptonshire labs, to be exported to China.
Newcastle Brown Ale
Newcastle Brown Ale.Photograph: Alamy
The carve up of UK brewing giant Scottish & Newcastle
in 2008 saw “Newkie Brown” fall to Heineken. According to the Dutch
brewer’s website it is one of the fastest-selling beers in the US with
its “delicate fruit aroma, and caramel and nutty malt taste” making it
easy to drink. That’s not how we remember it from our student days.
New Covent Garden Soup
New Covent Garden Soup.Photograph: Katherine Rose
The posh soup maker, set up by two North London
entrepreneurs in 1986, is now owned by Hain Celestial, the US food group
which is also home to Linda McCartney’s vegetarian sausages.
The Glenlivet
Glenlivet.Photograph: Alamy
This single malt appears to be Scottish as tartan and
shortbread with the Glenlivet distillery nestled in the dramatic scenery
of Speyside, but it has been owned by French drinks giant Pernod Ricard
for more than a decade.
Sarson’s vinegar
Sarson’s vinegar.Photograph: Alamy
The famous condiment was invented by London vinegar maker
Thomas Sarson in 1794, and according to vinegar lore, you used to catch a
whiff of it brewing as you approached London Bridge due to its nearby
factory. Two years ago, it was one of several brands sold off by Mr
Kipling owner Premier Food’s to Japan’s Mizkan Group.
Italian cuisine varies region-to-region, you can find different traditions
and different culinary expertise all throughout Italy. Italian desserts are no
different. While every Italian region may have its own dessert recipe, these
select few desserts have spread both nationally and internationally. These are
the top ten desserts you owe it to yourself to try if you are in Italy.
10. Struffoli – Struffoli is a traditionally Neapolitan dessert that
consists of marble-sized deep fried balls of dough. They are light on the inside
and crunchy on the outside. They are often mixed with other sweet things such as
honey. While there are a number of ways to present Struffoli, the traditional
way is presenting them with bits of an orange rind, cinnamon taste confection,
and honey. Struffoli is often served warm during Easter and Christmas.
9. Tartufo di Pizzo – A typical pastry product from what is now Calabria. It
is a hand-shaped cake with a heart of chocolate, melted and covered with
sprinkles of cocoa powder and sugar.
8. Biscotti – The full name for biscotti is biscotti di Prato (which
translates into biscuits of Prato). These cakes are twice baked. While still hot
and fresh in the oven, these large almond biscuits are cut. That is why they
remain dry and crunchy after baking.
7. Babà – Even though it may have Polish origins, the Babà is now typically
a product that you would find in Naples. They are liquid saturated yeast cakes.
These are often filled with pastry cream or whipped cream.
6. Ciarduna – Traditionally from Palermo, Ciarduna are sweet pastries. The
pastries are made up from an almond cookie shell that is filled with mascarpone
or ricotta filling. There are also varieties that are filled with powdered sugar
and chocolate frosting or covered in a chocolate shell.
5. Panna Cotta – Originally, Panna Cotta is from the Piemonte region, but
you can now find it all throughout Italy. It is made by simmering together
sugar, milk, and cream, and mixing them together with gelatin. You then let it
cool until set. It is usually served with caramel sauce, chocolate, or wild
fruit coulis.
4. Cassata Siciliana – A round sponge cake that is moistened by liqueur or
fruit juices and has layers of candied peel, vanilla, chocolate filling, or
ricotta cheese. It is covered with a shell of green and pink pastel colored
icing, marzipan, and layered with decorative designs. Not only exceptionally
tasty, but also beautiful to look at.
3. Cannoli – A delicious pastry desert. Fried pastry dough made into
tube-shaped shell form. They are usually filled with a creamy, sweet filling,
often containing ricotta. These are well known in the United States as well.
2. Gelato – The only thing to say about the Italian version of ice cream is
that people do not actually realize what the big deal is about gelato until they
try it. Creamy, rich and yet not filling in the slightest, ice cream how it
should be.
1. Tiramisu – Tiramisu is perhaps the most popular Italian dessert. The
original recipe comes from the northern region of Veneto. Ladyfingers dipped in
coffee, layered with a mixture of mascarpone and egg yolks, flavored with cocoa
and liquor. The original recipe has since been adapted in many different
varieties including cakes and puddings.
