IMBB #17 – A scone and a doughnut walk into a tasteTea event…

As you are no doubt aware, this months IMBB is being hosted by Clement from a la cuisine! That’s the site where the photos and recipes where the photos will literally cause your eyes to burst out of their sockets and splat against the monitor, all whilst you salivate your mouth silly with an unwavering wish to be eating what he’s eating. Yeah, that one, you know it, right? Back to the matter at hand, tea was decided to be the theme of the event this month. Let’s sandwich a poem in;

“We had a kettle; we let it leak:
Our not repairing made it worse.
We haven't had any tea for a week...
The bottom is out of the Universe.”
~Rudyard Kipling

What better way to get a little bit of a casual article rolling than some gentle, relaxing poetry. Picture the scene. You could just imagine sitting down on your sofa with a nice cup of tea whist reading that poem, or some of Kipling’s other works. I was doing the exact same thing the other week, only except I was drinking Dr Pepper, because I don’t like tea. Which is very strange in England; I am often met with scrunched up faces, befuddled by the mere conception that somebody isn’t delighted by the thought of ingesting the world’s only drink that has a cup invented – and named - specifically for using to drink it. If you’re thinking wine right now, I would just like to mention that that’s a glass, not a cup. Plus, tea cups need to complete the exciting ensemble with the addition of a fine tea saucer. Does wine get its own saucer? Hell no it doesn’t.

These fancy cups and plates aside, I still didn’t like tea and this was causing a huge problem for a cooking event that was very much focused on those loathsome leaves. There I was, sitting down in the middle of the night, the radio wailing out some non-offensive alternative-but-not-really (Coldplay’s always a good choice for these days) and I was in a panic. My hands were trembling, my lips were dry and I was considering just giving up on the whole thing. Just thinking about it left me physically drained and emotionally vulnerable. Then I remembered that this was all for IMBB #17 and I missed out on EoMEoTE #8 (Drama Queen Dramafest Dramatisation Edition) and toned it down a bit.

On Clement’s original post, he tells us that he wants us to share our “tea rituals and experiences”. Granted, I could scurry around a field of cookbooks, find something fancy looking that uses some tea and whip up a accompanying article that states that I’ve known this dish for years and swear by it, but that, my friends, would be lying. As it stood at the beginning of the month, my only tea ritual and/or experience is putting it into my mouth and wanting to spit it back out again. I suppose I could also include rubbing tea over paper to make it look aged for various craft projects when I was 11 years old, but I don’t think that’s really IMBB material.

So, what does tea mean to me? I mean, really. A quick wander around town and a look at the little tea shops scattered about the local scenery and its clear; Cream Tea. Not actually a drink combination of cream and tea, instead a little (traditionally mid-afternoon) dish of scones and a fine cup of tea, to bide you over until dinner time. Well, you can also have tea with crumpets or a bun. Hell, even a cake. Or, just biscuits. After a while you’ll probably be having it on its own. Or I’m sure I would if I liked the stuff. I’ll go with Cream Tea though, because I’ll be damned if I don’t love cream.



Cream teas were concocted in Devonshire by monks in the tenth century. No, seriously; some historians have manuscripts with all it written on, so it must be true! Apparently the monks’ monastery was raided by Vikings and stuff which set them back at bit so they enlisted the help of some local guys to help patch it up and fed them bread, clotted cream and jam. Which I’m sure was nice for them; these days a plumber is lucky to get an average cup of tea or coffee. How tea factored into the equation is likely another story, but one that has a simple answer; we can plonk tea alongside anything. Over the years the cream tea has bled out of Devonshire and around the country, taking up prominence in both Cornwall and Devonshire. Here in Dorset, there are plenty of cream tea options out there, just like at almost any decent church fete or community function nationwide. Basically, they’re not hard to get hold of.

All that history has probably left you a little hungry. So let’s have a look at the components in a cream tea. To make a really great one, we don’t need any fancy recipes or overly complicated cooking techniques, but we do need some tip-top quality ingredients. The first few things you’ll need to sort out is the cream and the tea. Clotted Cream is essential, so we’ll have to get some of that. You’ll also want a tea with a full body (I am informed by tea-drinkers that an Assam blend is a super choice for this) and your favourite strawberry jam. For a more authentic ‘olde England’ taste, make – or buy - an apple and strawberry jam. Apples were commonly used in the jam making process because of their copious supplies of pectin, a required element in the construction of any self-respecting jam. Once you’ve made/got yourself all of that, you can move onto the most crucial ingredient; the scone. Now, scones and crumpets are the quintessential English stereotypical food that we all eat whilst wearing our tweed jackets and speaking about the queen in our puh-rah-oh-pah English. I fear that people outside of our little island do not eat as many scones and crumpets as they should, because they taste great. Maybe we’ll cover crumpets another time, but today we’re all about the scone. It’s a wonderful little thing, the beautiful love-child of the cake and the biscuit (cookie?)

Coincidentally, ‘scone’ rhymes with ‘gone’. Let’s not forget this.

Cream Tea
Makes 5 scones, so 10 scone halves. One scone is usually more than enough for one person.

I’m leaving a recipe for jam out of this, because I think experimenting with jams and the like is part of the fun of getting a good cream tea. A quick search around on the internet or a rummage around the local store and you’ll be able to find something you like.

Clotted Cream

If you can get hold of a good quality clotted cream, then go for it. If not, then have a look at the kind of cream you can get hold of. Is it pasteurized or not? If you can, then it’s strange that you can’t get hold of clotted cream, but you can make real clotted cream. If not, then you’ll be able to make something 95% like clotted cream by doing the following with 2 cups of double (heavy) cream. The yield of this is 1 cup, so you’re going to have to kiss 1 cup of it away in the long run. Its ok, clotted cream is twice as delicious. The stuff will keep for about 3 days, by the way, but there’s a good chance it won’t last that long anyway.

1. Place cream over a simmering double boiler until the cream has reduced by about half (to 1 cup). The time this will take will vary on all those annoying outside factors that affect stuff, so keep your eye on it. You’ll know it’s done when it has the same texture as soft butter and a hard, golden crust on top.
2. Transfer this to a bowl – yes, including that crust – and let sit for two hours. Then cover and refrigerate for about 18 hours.
3. Before serving, stir that crust into the cream.

Scones

Ingredients

• 250g self-raising flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• pinch salt
• 45g unsalted butter, cubed and softened
• 1tbsp caster sugar (plus extra for glaze)
• 50g sultanas (raisins are ok)
• 1 large egg
• 100ml milk

Method

1. Preheat oven to gas 4/350 F/180 C. Line a baking sheet with some baking paper. Soak sultanas in warm water for about ten minutes. Drain and pat dry.
2. Sift flour, baking powder and salt into a bowl. Add the cubes of butter and use your fingers to integrate the butter into the flour. Lift your hands out of the bowl as you rub the butter and flour together, to let the mixture get its floury hands on plenty of air (that helps when you bake)
3. Stir in the sugar and sultanas and gently combine
4. Beat the milk and the egg together, then make a well in the middle of the flour mixture and add about half of the mix. Stir in lightly with whatever apparatus you like to stir with. The less stirring you do at this stage, the better rise you’ll get on those tasty scones later on, so be gentle! Add more milk, if required, until the dough is smooth and not sticky. Turn out on to a floured surface and roll out – gently – until the mix is about 2cm high.
5. Using a 7cm cutter, cut as many scones-to-be out of the mixture as you can. Re-roll and try and get a couple more, if possible, and then put them on the baking sheet. Brush with any leftover milk mixture (just use some milk if that’s all gone) and then sprinkle caster sugar on top.
6. Bake in oven for 20-25 minutes, or until golden brown. Put on a wire rack and leave to cool for 15 minutes. Serve within the hour, as a truly great scone is still warm.

Whilst you assemble your scones, brew up your tea (if it’s an Assam blend, it’ll take about 3-5 minutes to steep. If not, well, you’ll just have to follow what your packet says, won’t you?) To assemble, slice the scones horizontally and put a thick dollop of clotted cream on, followed by a generous blob of jam onto each half. Serve alongside your tea and enjoy.

A cream tea is all well and good, but it’s not really what you’re after in an IMBB, is it? Most of the baking comes from making the scone, which doesn’t include any tea whatsoever. The whole thing smacks of “make something without tea and then slap a cup of tea against it afterwards”. Granted, there’s years of tradition and entire British counties who swear by it, but it just lacks the whole ‘cooking with tea’ bit that I’m sure people are more interested in. The only thing we can do is go back to the kitchen and knock up something else.

So, somewhat contrary to what I was saying earlier, I went exploring my cookbooks for a good something that I could base a tea recipe off of. Which leads me to the following question; who likes doughnuts?

Chocolate Tea Truffle Doughnuts

Truffles

Ingredients

• 80g dark chocolate (60% solids)
• 40g unsalted butter
• 3tbsp double (heavy) cream
• 1tsp tea leaves

Method

1. Bring butter and cream to a boil in a saucepan and then add the tea leaves and let steep for five minutes
2. Break chocolate into small chunks in a food processor
3. Pour the cream mix through a fine sieve over the chocolate and then discard the tea leaves. Stir the cream into the chocolate until smooth and then refrigerate for 2 hours, or until firm.
4. To make the truffles, use a melon baler (or other similar spoon) and take a scoop out of the mix. Gently roll into a ball with your hands and then transfer to another bowl and chill in the fridge until ready to be used.

Dough

Ingredients

• 10g yeast or 2tsp dried active yeast
• 150ml tepid milk
• 25g caster sugar
• 400g strong white flour
• 2tsp salt
• 40g unsalted butter
• 2 eggs, beaten

Method

1. Ready your yeast in the milk. If using dried yeast, throw a pinch of sugar in there as well to get those yeast all revved up.
2. Sift the flour and salt into a bowl, and then add the butter. Mix the butter into the dough with your fingertips until the mixture looks like breadcrumbs (you know the routine, right?) Mix in the sugar, and then make a well in the centre.
3. Pour the milk mix into the well, as well as the egg (minus two tbsp for later). Mix to combine.
4. Transfer onto a floured board and then knead until the dough is soft, smooth and elastic. This takes about 8 minutes with my hands. Then place into a lightly oiled container and leave to rise in a warm, humid place until doubled in size.
5. Punch the yeast down, leave to rise again for about 20 minutes and then roll out the dough to 3-4mm. Using a 6cm cutter, make 40 circles of dough.
6. To assemble the doughnuts, place one truffle on one piece of dough, then apply a light brush of the egg mix (were you wondering when we were going to use it?) around the edge of the dough. Press another layer of dough over the top and then seal with your fingers. Repeat this twenty times and you’re done.
7. To cook these bad boys, heat up a deep fryer/fry pan/fry utensil to 180 degrees C and cook for about a minute and a half each. Let cool on a wire rack for a minute and then toss in caster sugar.

These doughnuts were delicious. They have a gentle tea taste that works great with the chocolate, and deep fried dough is so good it's in a world of its own. I definitely recommend knocking up a batch of these when you have the time.

Now all I’m left with is the million dollar question; did this IMBB unlock the door to tea for me? Well, in some respects, yes. The tea I had with the cream tea was nice – certainly drinkable – but it’s definitely not going to become part of my daily like. Cooking with tea, however, was much more successful. I’m eagerly anticipating the other entries into this IMBB to gather some great recipes (fingers crossed for a nice tea-smoked chicken recipe) so I can further enjoy the stuff. Which - I would like to think - is what things like IMBB are all about.

Paper Chef #8 - Belated Roasted Pepper, Spinach and Olive Quiche

Oh man, I think I’m foiled on this one. I’m just adding the finishing touches to this article (whilst waiting for the sun to arrive so I can take photos of this) and, by my watch, it’s 7pm PST – seven hours past the deadline for paper chef. Personally, I’m quite angry with myself and am currently debating whether to attempt to enter this into the competition of not. The thing’s been open for more than a week, dammit. I don’t want to look like a lazy idiot – especially a lazy idiot who thinks he can stroll in six hours late and expect to be taken seriously.

My only defence is that it’s been a real jam packed week. I spent the beginnings of it trapped at my girlfriend’s ball, then I spent most of the early week buried alive underneath a administrative hell ensemble of end-of-academic-year forms alongside start-of-new-term-forms and being forced to make a start on my new coursework pieces. Then, at the weekend, I was being jetted off to a wedding, where drinks were a mere pound and I ended up consuming, in basic mathematical figures, a cubic megaton of beverages and regretting it until now. With Monday soon approaching, I decide that maybe that getting an entry into shape for this month is out of the question. I tried to make something with a tapenade, but I couldn’t work out the specifics. The whole idea seemed dull and flat. Besides, I puggin’ hate olives anyway.

On Monday afternoon I’m walking around town, and the thought hits me; I haven’t had any quiche in a while. I make a mental note to bake a Quiche Lorraine at some point this week. Then I started rolling the idea around in my mind, incorporating the ingredients required for paper chef into my quiche. After all, a quiche can be made of damn near anything. That’s the beauty. And, the secret ingredient (either cream or potato) is required to make the eggy sauce that any quiche that knows his (or her) stuff requires.

And I’ve got about – ooh – four hours to get this together before the deadline. It’ll be a cinch, right? No problem. Of course, as soon as I get home in the evening I’m absolutely zonked – the sleepless weekend is catching up with me – and I only manage to roast the peppers before moving over to the chair, thinking “sure, I’ll just rest my eyes for five minutes” and falling straight asleep, only to awaken at about 2:30am.

Mad panic ensues.

Result of this is that, well, I have the ingredients for the quiche and I’ve made the quiche so I’m going to make a post for my quiche and if it’s too late to enter then that's the price I’ll have to pay for abusing alcohol. There’s always next month!

Quiche, as a dish, is one of those classics that you can always turn to when you’re in a pickle and need to fix up something tasty that looks reasonably glamorous on a plate. If we’re going to be honest, I will put good money on their being a lot of quiche in this month’s paper chef. Why? Well, it’s just a good fit for the ingredients. Plus, like I said earlier, it’s easy glamour.

Etymologically speaking, the original quiche, quiche lorraine, originated in Germany (“quiche” derives from the German “kuche”, meaning cake. The town that invented quiche would later be renamed Lorraine by the French) and it consisted of a basic egg and cream custard and bacon. As the dish shot down the slide of history, cheese has sneaked its way into the dish and its crust – originally bread dough - is now almost always short-crust pastry.

Quiche became popular after World War II in England, eventually enjoying a flutter with mega stardom in the 1970’s. Thanks to overexposure, it was largely held in contempt in the 1980’s; as it was often seen as a vegetarian dish, macho dudes were heavily against it – leading to the publication of books such as “Real Men Don’t Each Quiche”, a satire on the stereotypical man in the 80s – and, like so many celebrities after their career starts to slip, Quiche got depressed. It started hanging about in a bad crowd. It slept with cheap floozies, smoked forty a day, was usually either high on coke or drunk on gin and, in a last ditch effort to make a bit of extra cash to fuel it’s ever increasing addictions, signed a deal to be the face of a dodgy company that launched a terrible series of adverts, proving to be the last nail in the coffin of Quiche’s miserable demise.

Snapshot to 2005, and Quiche has made a bit of a comeback. Sure, it’s not the be all and end all of savoury pies, but it’s quite comfortable where it is. Plus, we all – even tough macho men - know that there’s no such thing as a good picnic basket without at least one quiche involved.

Paper Chef #8: Belated Roasted Pepper, Spinach and Olive Quiche

Ingredients

• 175g Short-crust Pastry. I listen to Delia (but make up about 1/3 more than her recipe, I like to have some more to be on the safe side) on this one, but you can do whatever you want or buy one of those nice ready made pie (7 to 9 inches) dishes. If you make your own, you need to line a 7-9 inch flan ring with your creation. You can do this by:

1. Rolling the pastry out to about 1 and a half times the size of your dish
2. Pressing the pastry around the flan ring and trimming the excess
3. Prick the base with a fork and brush the whole thing with some beaten egg. This will ‘waterproof’ the quiche and stop everything from sogging together in one giant lump.

• A jug of Royale (1 cup of cream* that has been beaten with two large eggs, with a pinch of salt and nutmeg)
• A roasted red and yellow pepper
• Cooked spinach
• Black olives, sliced in half
• Red Chilli (optional)
• Cheddar Cheese – use your favourite.

* If you're in the US, then you're fortunate because you can just use half-and-half. If you're in the UK (or somewhere without half-and-half on the store shelves), just use 1/2 cup of double cream and 1/2 cup milk.

Method

1. Bake the pastry, by itself, in a oven pre-heated to Gas 5/190/375 for 20-25 minutes, until nice and golden.
2. Heat your oven to 180° C/Gas Mark 4/350° F.
3. Fill your quiche up to about two thirds with an assortment of your fillings; roasted pepper, cheddar, spinach, black olives and - if you want a bit of a kick - the red chilli.
4. Slowly pour your royale over the filling, stopping once it reaches about three quarters of the way up the crust.
5. Bake for about 40-50 minutes, checking on the quiche after about 30. You know it’s done when a skewer comes out clean. Leave to cool for at least half an hour before slicing, to let the egg set.

Naturally, the quiche is a versatile monster that can be experimented with, even down to the kind of flan ring you use; the ones that are just a plain circle or the ones with the itty squiggles that go round the edge. In the same vein, they're good for trying things out; I wouldn’t normally dream of using olives, because they make me want to cry. They didn’t taste too bad in this quiche though, which was a pleasant surprise. One of the upsides of being forced to use ingredients, I suppose. In fact, i'll probably try putting them in some other things.

I think if you haven't made quiche in a while then you should give it a go, for a number of reasons; it's summer, and summer means quiche; they're tasty little custard things; they're a good way of trying out some combinations of this and that. In fact, make a quiche, but take away one thing from the recipe you're following and add something you think will work with the other flavours.

Hey Julienne

A while back, I started coming across the term 'Julienne' a lot when I was reading recipes that referred to peppers (or carrots - but I'm not bothered about them now). What did this mystifying term mean, I wondered. Have they concocted some kind of crazy new way to chop my capsicum-challenged chums? I almost tingled - well, convulsed - at the prospect of learning this venerable gold nugget of slicing information. What could it be? For the answer, I shall quote you epicurious: Foods that have been cut into thin, matchstick strips..



Needless to say, it hardly set my world on fire.

But, nonetheless, it's a good trick to know how to do on some stuff - especially a pepper. With the recent rise of the fajita on our tiny little secluded island, more and more people are making these things at home, abiet with their good friend Senor El Paso (blurgh). Unfortunately for these budding folks, slicing the pepper can cause a nightmare; seeds scattered everywhere, thick unruly slices of pepper that are still connected at the skin and slices that are so vertically challenged they look like babies; common pepper problems that I hear about a lot from my friends and family.

So, how does one rectify the problem? Julienne!

1. Chop the top and bottom off your pepper.
2. Make a vertical cut.
3. Gently lay the pepper out on a board.
4. Slice off the membrane and the other nasty bits.
5. Chop it (skin side down) into itty bits.

Like I said; it's nothing special. But something good to know if you don't already, right?

Beware of Distractions

You know the drill; you're just pottering about in the kitchen, reducing some sauces and the phone rings. It always does just when you're in the middle of something like this, instead of twenty minutes ago when it would have been infinitely more convenient. Nethertheless, you answer it, and get to talking; how much does a suit cost these days? How was your day? What's your take on the Olympic bid? The conversation interests you, so you start to neglect your sauce. You think it'll be ok. How stupid must you be to cack up a sauce, you reassure yourself. With phone in hand, the sauce wanders out of your mind whilst you stroll out of the room and sit down in the comfy chair.

Fifty minutes later, disaster strikes. After scooping the charred remains of whatever was left in the pan, you're left with a thick black stone stuck at the bottom of your pan. Which you then have to clean.

Moral of story; unplug phones whilst cooking.