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.

A little slice of Hollywood

I don't endorse a cookbook lightly. The only cake baking book I have ever recommended to a friend is Mary Berry's Ulitmate Cake Book.  I have had my copy for years and it is properly filthy, which is really how I like to see a recipe book. A pristine copy on a shelf tells you all you need to know about it's dispensable content. Every single recipe I have tried in Mary's book has worked and been delicious. I have baked her recipes for birthdays, Christmas, weddings and funerals and all the days in between.

I am still a sucker for something new and couldn't resist ordering Paul Hollywood's How to Bake recently. Primarily I was interested in the bread baking, but it's got some lovely cake and dessert recipes as well and I have been curious about the lemon curd in Paul's recipe for Mrs Post's Lemon Drizzle Cake since the book arrived. The house has shuddered to it's termly hush this morning and there was a pressing need to clean six weeks of congealed playtime from every surface. So I baked instead.

We like a lemon drizzle in this house. But not from a shop. For me it's got to have a dark crust on the outside with plenty of crunch to the syrupy top. It should be plain without a hint of cloying sweetness.  I want it prepared and cooked in less than an hour with minimal washing up. I made this while I was waiting for a flooring man who was running a bit late.

Cream together 75g butter with 125g of caster sugar, then mix in 150g of self raising flour with 1 tsp of baking powder, a hefty tablespoon of lemon curd, 2 eggs and 2 1/2 tablespoons of full fat milk. Bake in a loaf tin for 40 mins or so at 180°C. While the cake is hot, pour over the juice and zest of 1 lemon mixed with 2 tablespoons of granulated sugar. Leave to cool completely, if you can bear to.

One of the most useful things in my baking cupboard is my pack of Loaf tin liners. As much as it seems very wholesome to fashion your own from a roll of paper, this is a much better solution.

I think there could have been a drop or two more syrup - next time I might bother to ding the lemon in the microwave before squeezing to get a bit more juice. The cake is incredibly soft and light. A sweet taste of summer to soothe away the indignities of the school day.

Fresh walnuts from the Lonely tree

I usually loathe walnuts, little shriveled squirrel brains ruining decent coffee cake. A few years ago on a trip to the Dordogne, I discovered how delicious wet walnuts were so I was excited to find these beautiful fresh walnuts falling off the Lonely tree at school pick-up this afternoon. I discarded the outer shells and filled my cardigan pockets. What's more thrilling than free food? I confess that I don't always manage to use my foraged food and there is a very real risk that these nuts will languish in some plastic pot or other, growing fluff until they hit the compost bin. But for now I'm inspired and planning fabulous Perigordian salad; Pear, Roquefort, rocket and the crumbled nuts with a sharp lemony dressing.

The Lonely tree is a magnificent, mature walnut that stands within my daughter's school grounds, close to the two infant classrooms. It's sprawl of branches hang low, just above head height and it shelters us all from sun and rain as we wait for the straggle of children to appear at the end of the school day. 

The tree used to make me sad. Surely a refuge for those kids who didn't quite fit in? A morose soul sat on the rough tree bench, scuffing the dust in solitary social exclusion. How tragic! Another parent recently enlightened me of the true meaning of the Lonely tree. The children know they can go there if they ever find themselves without a friend at playtime, and then anyone passing will invite the "lonely" child to join their game.