Picnic food – Vegetable and Feta Pie Recipe

Happy picnic season! Spring leaped quickly towards summer over the past week in London. In response, the parks were immediately filled with keen, white Brit’s bikini-clad or bare-chested, soaking up the available Vitamin D with abandon. We were caught slightly off-guard, wondering what to do with our last remaining bag of smokeless coal. Not the sort of thing that stores well, far too dusty for the hall cupboard.

But an excess of smokeless coal aside, all this sunshine means one thing to me – its picnic season. Long, lazy afternoons on my grandma’s old picnic rug await us over the next few months. These are my favourite days. With my head buried in a novel, or just staring at the cloud formations, and a wicker basket filled with fabulously tasty morsels and uncomplicated treats by my side. Simple pleasures... Sounds cliché? It probably is. For good reason though! Picnics are a relaxing and gentile way to be outside in nature.

During the long summer months in Segur we waste away the hours by the side of Lake Ruffiac, or Vigeous, eating bites of cheese, in between swimming back and forth across the lake. We set challenges, play games, forage for berries. Mid-afternoon someone usually hikes from our secluded place lakeside to the little shop selling ice-cream.

In honour of this sunny week in London Kristoph and I packed a picnic to share with a friend in the late Friday afternoon London sun. I dug out one of my favourite picnic recipes that made use of our last window box grown carrots and beetroots. The key to picnic food is that it tastes good when it’s been lying in the sun a while, can be packed in small containers and withstand a car ride. This pie meets those criteria and is also good straight from the oven, or reheated under the grill. I hope you like it as much as we do. Here’s the recipe:

Recipe:
300 grams shortcrust pastry
6 baby beets roasted and sliced thinly sliced (or one regular large beetroot)
6 baby carrots roasted and thinly sliced (or one regular large carrot)
3 handfuls of chopped purple sprouting broccoli
1.5 cup crumbled sheeps milk feta cheese
1 egg
Olive oil
Ground black pepper

Step One: Preheat the oven to 180C. Roast the whole baby carrots and beets for 30 minutes in a shallow covered dish filled with water (this ensure they remain moist).

Step Two: Roll the puff pastry and place on a greased baking tray. Score the edges. Arrange the carrot, beet and broccoli on the pastry base. Top with the broccoli and then the feta.

Step 3: Lightly beat the egg and wash the pastry edges with it. If there’s egg left over poor it evenly over the pie. Then pop it in the oven until the edges of the pie are golden, around 20 minutes.

What are your favourite picnic treats?      

Happy Spring! Lemon and Ricotta Muffins Recipe

Spring is the time of plans and projects

Leo Tolstoy

It’s finally March! For us that means there are warmer, brighter, lovelier days ahead. And astronomically speaking, the beginning of Spring on 20 March. Thanks to a couple of unseasonably warm days earlier in the week, our Spring bulbs have made their move from their winter hiding places under the soil, straight up into the light above. The daffodils are flowering in our window boxes, ushering in the new season with their tall stems and smiley faces. 

Throughout March, according to my copy of Food For Free, we’ll be foraging for hop shoots, jack-by-the-hedge, morel, nettle, sweet violet and velvet shank. I’m looking forward to making nettle pesto, and bright green nettle pasta. I’m also hoping the tiny sweet violet plants in our courtyard and the hedgerows around Segur will flower, so that I can perhaps make some crystallised sweet violet flowers, as featured here. So pretty, and oh so fancy!   

But as well as foraging, March is the time to begin planting seedlings inside. At our house we’re focusing on stripy heirloom beets, basil, and red and yellow cherry tomatoes. In homage to the season ahead, and the bright light and excitement it brings, I made these lemon and ricotta muffins. The citrus zing and their yellowy colour reminds me of all the things I love about this time of year. I hope you like them. Here’s the recipe:

Recipe

(Makes 12 muffins)

2 cups plain flour

½ cup raw cane sugar

1 cup fresh ricotta cheese

1/3 cup milk

2 eggs

6 tablespoons butter

Zest of 2 large lemons

2 tea spoons baking powder

Two spoons fine white sugar (for sprinkling on top of the muffins)

½ tea spoon salt

Step One: Preheat the oven to 200C. Grease the muffin tin.

Step Two: Mix the dry ingredients (flour, cane sugar, baking powder and salt) in a large bowl.

Step Three: Mix the wet ingredients in a medium bowl. Whisk the ricotta, milk, melted butter, eggs and most of the lemon zest (holding some back to top the muffins).  

 

Step Four: In the large bowl, make a well in the dry ingredients, and pour in the wet. Stir gently until mixed. Pour the ingredients into the muffin tray. 

Step Five: Top each muffin with fine sugar and lemon zest. Bake for 20-25 minutes. When the muffins are done, the tops will be golden. Dip a fork in to one muffin to check. If it come comes out clean the muffins are cooked.  

Et voila, enjoy with tea in the sunshine! 

Winter Warmer – Dark hot chocolate with star anise recipe

In 1796 Geronimo Piperni  said the "chocolate is a divine, celestial drink, the sweat of the stars, the vital seed, divine nectar, the drink of the gods, panacea and universal medicine."

As I read this quote between sips of bitter hot chocolate infused with star anise, I feel strongly that I’ve never agreed with any statement more. In this frozen land of Europe, there is no drink with the power to warm me more, or to bring a broader smile to my face.

I can’t help but close my eyes with each sip, allowing the full effect of this divine nectar to pass over me, and through me. Carefully tasting it as it moves from my mouth, and then makes its way slowly, and gently into my stomach, where it sets to work on relaxing and warming my chilly body. 

The temperature here has been well below freezing for days. Inside the house we’re cosy and comfortable, but leaving for any activity requires layers and layers of insulation. Hat, scarf, mittens, coat, two pairs of socks, sheepskin lining in my boots, and finally (and ironically) sunglasses, because it is so incredibly bright at the moment. While such accoutrements were a welcome novelty a few days ago, that novelty has sadly, and fairly quickly faded. Now I find myself inside for most of the day, leaving the house only once or twice for essential missions, and ingredients.

If you, like me, are experiencing freeze fatigue, this decadent hot chocolate may just revive you – at least temporarily. Beware, it’s rich, so I serve it in very small cups. The star anise gives a wonderful aniseed infused compliment to this dark and bittersweet hot chocolate. It’s super simple and quick to make.

Here’s the recipe:

Recipe

1 Litre milk, I use semi-skim, but you can also use whole milk

150 grams chopped dark chocolate, I used Lindt 70% cocoa solids

250mL crème fraiche

2 tablespoons cocoa powder

2 tablespoons dark muscavado sugar (or any brown sugar)

5 star anise (ground with a mortar and pestle, or a spice grinder if you have the patience) 

Step 1: Over a low heat in a saucepan, put the milk, chocolate and crème fraiche. Stir slowly with a wooden spoon, and watch as the chocolate slowly melts. 

 

Step 2: Add the sugar, cocoa and star anise to the mixture saucepan, continuing to stir. Once the chocolate has melted (about 5 minutes), use a whisk to gently whisk the ingredients, ensuring there are no cocoa lumps.

Step 3:  Before serving strain through a wire strainer removing any small fragments from the star anise.   

Et voila! Ideally, serve it fireside and enjoy. If there is any remaining (unlikely in our house) it will keep in the fridge for 1-2 days. Just re-heat it on the stove when you feel the need for a pick me up.

 

Like all bloggers I love reading your comments and thrive on feedback, so please feel free to leave me messages, feedback, and tit-bits below! 

PS:  I'm taking part in the Feburary chocolatelove bloghop, details below:

Vanilla scented lemon and rosemary shortbread cookie recipe

Happy February everyone! It’s officially the last month of winter - in this northern hemisphere anyway. While I have been enjoying the crystal clear days, blue skies and frosty mornings, I’m desperate for spring. Even in my new (vintage) shearling coat I fill chilled to the bone. Added to this I’m desperate for the scent of flowers, the sight of leaves on trees, the sound of birdsong, and the taste of foraged goodies. 

Through the short days when there is barely anything to pick or forage, rosemary has been my readily available, abundant friend. Up the narrow, cobbled, medieval lane behind our house there is a rosemary bush growing innocently, and rather triumphantly, out of an old stone wall. It’s not really owned by anyone, the ancient house overhanging it is long deserted, and most of it is growing over the steep cobbled public path.   

I’ve been focused on finding new uses for rosemary all winter. A couple of weeks ago I attempted a lemon and rosemary possett, and while the fusion of lemon and rosemary was fabulous, there were some texture issues. Cream in France is dissimilar to English cream, and I’m still searching for something that will set. Nevertheless, I’ve come across several recipes for lemon and rosemary shortbread and cookies recently. And there are no cream issues with cookies! 

We’re heading to Munich tomorrow morning for a few days to visit my good friend Alice who recently gave birth to gorgeous twin daughters. They’ve been suffering a little with the long Bavarian winter. So I thought I would bake and take with me some cookies, along with a bunch of organic decaffeinated teas that Alice has been missing in Munich.    

The recipe I used is an adaptation from one I found over at Pete Bakes. I chopped and changed a couple of things, adding vanilla seeds, as opposed to vanilla essence to give the cookies a slightly more decadent edge. I also rolled the cookie dough log in chopped rosemary, vanilla sugar and finely chopped rosemary to infuse the edges with an extra zing.

The result? Perfect little cookies that travel well, flavoured with earthy rosemary, which balances beautifully with zingy lemon zest. Beware these cookies are so tasty that once you start eating them it’s really difficult to stop. So before you bake, make sure you’ve got somewhere to take them, or people to share them with.   

The recipe makes around 40 small cookies. You can also roll the dough log and leave it in the fridge for a few days, if you fancy serving the cookies hot.

Recipe

1 cup of unsalted butter (room temperature)

3/4 cup raw cane sugar

2 1/4 cups plain flour

1 egg

½ vanilla bean

1 tbsp fresh rosemary, finely chopped

2 tsp grated lemon zest

1/2 tsp salt

2 tsp vanilla sugar

Step one: Chop the butter into small cubes and together with the cane sugar place in a large mixing bowl. Use a hand mixer to mix the sugar and the butter until the mixture is pale and light in colour.  

Step two: Then add most of the egg, vanilla seeds, salt, sifted flour, and most of the lemon zest and rosemary (hold a little back to roll the dough log through), and mix together. Once the flour is added the dough will morph into a consistency you can knead.

 

Step three: Roll the dough into a log, seal with plastic cling film and refrigerate for an hour or longer.  

 

Step four: Set the oven to 180C. Scatter the remaining lemon zest, rosemary and vanilla sugar on a clean surface. Remove the log from the fridge, unwrap it and roll through the mixture, lightly covering the outside of the log. 

Step five: Once it’s covered line a baking tray with aluminium foil, or baking paper. Cut the log into 5mm slices and place on the baking tray. Bake for 12 minutes, and then cool on a wire rack.   

What do you think? Any other cookie combinations you can recommend?  Or just leave me a comment so I know you stopped by! thanks 

Four-step baked rhubarb custard recipe

We’ve been in London this week. Kristoph has been super busy finish up various pieces of urgent work, and buzzing around our apartment in a whirlwind. I enrolled in five days of intensive French classes. It’s my latest effort to bring my dream of nattering easily with my French neighbours, in French, closer to reality.

I understand quite a lot of French, but I stumble (and that quite frankly, is a generous interpretation) along in shops and restaurants. I do a lot of nodding, “d’accord” etc. And I’m great on the non-verbal forms of communication. But I can’t converse freely, let alone express myself.

So here I am in London, enrolled in five days of French. It’s intense, just four students, myself included, and a jovial Guadeloupe national named Karine. Karine is passionate about the French language, teaching us French, and hearing us speak to her in French. Her energy is contagious and carries us easily though the four hours each day.

One of Karine’s homework tasks was to listen to as much French material as possible. Obligingly, I tuned our DAB kitchen radio to France Radio London before and after classes each day. Having French on in the background, subtly and gently entering my subconscious, is actually quite lovely. I barely notice it on, until I hear a word that is in my (limited) vocabulary. Then I feel very pleased.

Food has this week been playing second fiddle to my linguistics pursuits. Our dinners have been quick, simple, with few ingredients and little thought. After four straight hours of attempting to move my mind around the nuances of French grammar, I’ve had little motivation to construct complicated dishes.

And so today’s recipe is an abridged version of a Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall rhubarb and custard tart, included in last week’s Observer. Loving the combination of rhubarb and custard, but without the time to make a sweet pastry case, nor to blind bake it, I dropped the tart. Instead I baked the rhubarb and custard in individual ramekins.

The result is fabulous. The slightly tart rhubarb is complemented beautifully by the citrus tang of the orange juice and rind, and enriched by the vanilla infusion. The finished product – served chilled, is a lovely winter treat.

Here’s the recipe, it makes four individual portions. Hugh’s original tart is available here:

500 grams rhubarb (cut into 5cm lengths)

 Zest of ½ orange

Juice of half an orange

6 tbsp caster sugar

250ml double cream

1 vanilla pod, split (cut it in half, you’ll need half for the rhubarb and half of the custard)

5 egg yolks (save the whites for an egg-omlette)

Step One: Preheat the oven to 200C. Mix the rhubarb, half of the caster sugar, half of the vanilla, the orange rind and the orange juice together in a bowl. Make sure the rhubarb is coated. 

Step Two: Transfer to a roasting tin. Roast for 25-30mins, until the rhubarb is soft. Remove from oven. Then turn the oven down to 130C (you'll need the oven again for the custard). 

Step Three: Make the custard. Heat the cream and the remaining vanilla in a pan until the cream is scalded. Whisk the egg yolks with the remaining sugar, then pour into the cream. Remove the vanilla bean, scraping any remaining seeds into the custard.

Step Four: Place the rhubarb into ramekins, dividing it evenly among the four. Pour over the custard. Bake for 40 minutes, until the custard is set. Pop it in the fridge and serve cold.   

  

Please note that vanilla beans are expensive – so don’t immediately discard them. The spent bean casing will have retained quite a bit of its flavour post use, so dry the two halves out and drop them in some caster sugar to infuse for a vanilla sugar.

Also if you have any rhubarb left over, don’t discard it. Swirl it and it’s juices into yoghurt for an excellent breakfast!

Hawthorn berry syrup

It’s the time of year when Hawthorn trees are laden with bright red berries. It’s only autumn but the bright red berries against the backdrop of brilliant green, remind one of Christmas!

The berries of the Hawthorn tree have been used for thousands of years in the Greek culture to treat a variety of health issues.  In China, the berries are made into a tea, which is drunk to promote the health of the circulatory system, treat angina, high blood pressure, as well as stomach problems.

I used the hawthorn berries we collected in Devon over the weekend, to make a honey infused syrup. We served it today on pancakes with mixed autumn berries. Here’s the recipe.

Recipe

Two cups hawthorn berries

One jar of honey (200mL)

Muslin cloth (to strain berries)

Bring two cups of hawthorn berries to the boil in two cups of water. Once boiling simmer the berries for 20 minutes. The water will reduce the liquid should become a brownish/red colour as the juice leaches from the berries.

Strain the berries, retaining the water. Once the berries have cooled slightly, strain through a muslin bag, squeezing out the remaining liquid into the berry stained water.

Return the liquid to the stove top. On a low heat, simmer the hawthorn berry juice together with the honey. Stir slowly until the honey has melted fully into the berry juice. Remove from heat and leave to cool. Once cooled, pour into a glass jar, or bottle and leave to set overnight in the fridge.

Serve the hawthorn berry syrup with pancakes, or use as a sweetener for tea. It tastes delicious, is very healthy, and should keep for 3-4 months in the fridge. Enjoy!!