Daily Bread

My inner voice is considerably more insightful than the one that comes out of my mouth. Throughout August, inny was adamant that I was fast running out of time. Opportunities to lay out under our huge whitebeam tree reading dozing were passing me by. I ignored the dopey wasps crawling over the window frames as I dashed about finding pencil tins and PE kits. I was certain the heavy green fruit of the Black Krim tomatoes in my veg beds would ripen gently in a warm September glow and I would breathe in the sweet rot of Autumn. Our beautiful summer seemed endless, but my subconscious had already noted the dropping leaves.

Term began and the rain came. I haven't seen a single wasp in a fortnight, the toms are surely chutney. And I have completely run out of time.

Now it's all timetables and lost property, alarm clocks and commuter traffic. But back in August I had a little fun with GBBO bread week - I just didn't get around to blogging it. The family demanded breadsticks so I obeyed. I am pretty scathing about the showstopper rounds, cooking doesn't need to be a spectacle - it needs to taste good. Heston has so much to answer for.

I tried Paul Hollywood's green olive breadstick recipe from his How to Bake book. I made half the dough into a green olive mixture as directed and with the other half I experimented with roasted echalion shallot and Roquefort, because it's what I had in. The olive recipe called for 400g of olives which would have been ridiculous and expensive, so I halved it.

I made the dough in the KitchenAid with a dough hook which was super easy. I was so carried away with the ease of the process I misread the bit about the dough trebling, and assumed a normal doubling would take place. 

I'm not sure whether it was the KitchenAid, the proportion of yeast, or the warm evening but the dough was very airy with an amazing cobwebby structure.

Once shaped, the dough sticks require more proving. For this I would have needed five baking sheets and more than the tail end of the baking paper roll. As it was I spent the evening pinging back and forth from the kitchen in fifteen minute intervals, increasingly impatient, flinging bits of dough onto my single baking sheet while the oven belted out 250 degrees. 

Frankly it made very little difference whether the sticks were proved or not. They were all delicious hot out of the oven, the olive generally the favourite. They were sadly revolting after a day or two and I wouldn't bother making them again - at least a day old loaf can be toasted. And it only needs one tin.

Half Baked

My inner/outer geek loves the lure of back to school. New shoes and sharp pencils, I always want to start something as September approaches. August is just too overripe and overgrown.

What better time to begin blogging again than a new series at of the Great British Bake Off? All the satisfaction of fresh challenge paired with the deep joy of autumn telly schedules.

For the first episode, the family gathered round the set like it was 1983. GBBO is about the only regular programme we all watch together.  I knew immediately that I wanted to try a "signature bake" - a variant on a traditional Victoria sponge. I am obsessed with Germanic cakes, heavy with big pieces of fruit and topped with a nutty, crumbly streusel. I just can't get enough of them and imagined the top sponge with a crumble texture and a lovely apple filling through the middle.

I started with a traditional small Victoria sponge batter (three eggs) but replaced a little of the flour with some whizzed up hazlenuts. I made a separate crumble mix of even quantities of Demerara sugar and plain flour with a little less melted butter and scattered it over one of the tins of batter. Then I chucked on a bit more pulverised hazlenut for the sheer hell of it.

I was concerned that the crumble would sink into the sponge as it cooked and a halftime peek into the oven confirmed my suspicions. The only thing left on the surface were the nuts. Nuts. I forged on with filling. With one foxed chicken (poor Bella) and one broody chicken, wasting Sylvia's perfect little eggs on a cake mistake was not an option.

A few Bramley windfalls from the orchard just needed to be heated with a squeeze of honey to make soft pulpy jam. A jar of Confiture de Lait winked at me from the fridge. It seemed like a cheat but the salty caramel was a perfect partner for apple and it was easy to spread on the warm sponge.

The streusel all but disappeared, but the nuttiness of the sponge and the caramel apple filling were delicious. Bread week beckons...

Nesting

The new kitchen has become as familiar as an old friend. It's simple lines are every bit as pleasing to work in as they are to look at. There are still finishing touches to be completed but as Winter drags it's weary, muddy boots all over Spring, I lack the energy for DIY projects. Or blogging!

This morning's run in fierce cold and swirling snow drove me straight to the kitchen to chop and bake and  prepare for some serious feasting. Tomorrow we will satiate our sharp hunger with roasted meats and glorious confections of egg, sugar and cocoa. As the children hunt their eggs in the garden, I will be searching for pink shoots of rhubarb, budding leaves and tiny Tête-à-tête narcissus to dress the table.