Showing posts with label apricot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label apricot. Show all posts

Monday, 4 June 2012

Queen's gingerbread

I've never made gingerbread from scratch or panforte, so this cake combines two never-have's. Admittedly, this isn't the first thing you imagine when you think gingerbread, or panforte. Still, it has the characteristics of both. In celebration of the Jubilee, Dan Lepard published this recipe for Queen's gingerbread in the Guardian last weekend, which I promptly made. Lots of firsts went into the preparation. I've never used black treacle before or candied fruit. The list of sugars (yes, plural) for this cake is regal in itself, so this cake will have to be shared. I for one can't stomach more than a very thin slice of this at a time.

I have to admit I panicked a little when I pulled this out of the oven. You really have to let this cool completely. Now, a day old, it is actually starting to taste good. Last night, when it was still slightly warm, the sweetness left a bitter taste on my tongue and made me feel a little ill. It's much better now and my friend, who took home a few slices, said that it's perfect with a cup of tea. The recipe recommends some brandy, but I'm out, and not much of a brandy drinker anyway. This is one to try if you are crazy for gingerbread. But don't eat it on the day of preparation. It remains to be seen if it gets even better with a few days.

 

Tuesday, 25 October 2011

Plenty: The ultimate winter couscous

Ultimate suggests maximality, fundamentality, extremity, the utmost of a given something. So to claim something is the ultimate this or that is no light assertion. Ottolenghi delivers again, though. This is the ultimate winter couscous if there ever was one. Carrots, parsnips, pumpkin, chickpeas, dried apricots and shallots are roasted in the oven with lots of heavenly spices (including cinnamon sticks and star anise) and olive oil. Harissa and preserved lemon peel are added later. The couscous is perhaps the most precious yet, laced with saffron. The richness of flavours is astounding. I'll be making this again on a cold night this winter. Thanks goes out again to my darling neighbours, for the pumpkin.