Well last year love was a heart shaped sausage.
The Captain requested 12 inches of the finest pork sausage from our local butcher, and presented it to me as a Valentines supper.
He’s a keeper.

Well last year love was a heart shaped sausage.
The Captain requested 12 inches of the finest pork sausage from our local butcher, and presented it to me as a Valentines supper.
He’s a keeper.
When I was wee we called them macaroons, but I’m going with the zeitgeist and will refer to them as macarons. Whatever you call them, they are the most scrumptious light almondy sweetie bonbons you will ever come across.
I always had this idea that macarons were tricky to make, that they wouldn’t rise properly, that they would just be too solid and not light and airy like they should be. Or that they’d be dry and crunchy instead of deliciously softly moist.
So, what changed my world view of macarons? Firstly it’s that I love them, and wanted to be able to make them. But mostly it was getting chickens. And then once we had so many eggs, I started making my own mayonnaise. And once you make your own mayonnaise you have a plentiful supply of egg whites. And I don’t like meringues much, so macarons were the obvious solution.
Don’t you love your life when macarons are the obvious solution!!
Basic macarons
To make these properly you need a few bits of kit. For starters, a food processor. You know, the kind that whizzes round and round and chops everything up really fine. You’ll also need a piping bag with a large plain nozzle. And your life will be a whole lot easier if you have either a food mixer too to whisk the egg whites.
Before you start, get your piping bag ready with the right nozzle in place, and prepare your baking tray (I line mine with non sticking baking parchment, but you could use rice paper, or a re-useable silicon mat).
Make the chocolate orange filling…
You know what to do now.. spoon (or pipe) some chocolate orange filling onto half of the macarons. And pop a second macaron on top of each, to make lovely macarons sandwich. YUMMY.
The first record I bought was Abba’s Arrival. The second was Blondie’s Parallel Lines. I was a little in love with Debbie Harry. Weren’t we all?
Blondie has stood the test of time. But these days Blondie is less of an aural treat and more of an oral one for me. I have at last discovered the Blondie (as opposed to the Brownie). It’s a squishy tray bake, like a chocolate brownie, but with a caramelly buttery flavour, almost like butterscotch. And of course the regular blondie can be pimped up, by adding all manner of bling. In this recipe I’ve added dark choc chips, brazil nuts, ginger and dried sour cherries. And they rock.
Pimped up blondies
Grease and line an 8″ square baking tray. Pre-heat oven to GM5.
Perfect with an afternoon coffee. A proper real strong coffee.
Other ways to pimp your blondies:
Is salted caramel still on trend? A couple of years ago it seemed to be everywhere. And I was happy. I love that combination of sweetness and saltiness. I adore peanut butter, adore it even more on hot buttered toast with marmite. Or incorporated into a sweet with chocolate and a biscuit base.
So, a simple salty, nutty caramel brittle is pretty much the perfect sweet to make. And it turns out it was pretty much the perfect home-made Christmas present to give to nephews too! (Although obviously not for you, if your nephews have nut allergies).
Salty nut brittleÂ
I popped great big shards of this into kilner jars as Christmas present this year, and they went down a treat. If the shards had been smaller, I might have considered dipping them in chocolate to add to the sugar-salt-nut treatiness. It wasn’t required, but just imagine it enrobed with lush dark chocolate. Mmm.
For more recipes, go to my index here.
Not really, it’s cat’s tongues. Or Langues de Chat biscuits. But I’ll come to them in a minute.
We had some friends over for supper yesterday. We were going to barbecue, which is lovely and simple and just involves prepping a variety of things and then bringing it all together in a communal cook-a-thon on our most excellent portable barbecue (an upcycled old wheelbarrow).
But it’s Scotland in mid-June so the skies opened and it didn’t stop raining all day long. Add that to a cold wind and it was clearly no evening for a barbecue.
Plan B was homemade burgers. So we had a totally retro meal with prawn cocktail to start (with bought-in iceberg lettuce, because when I went to pick lettuce from the garden I discovered the rabbit had been there before me. Grrrr), and strawberry ripple ice-cream for afters, with langues de chat biscuits.
I could get seriously addicted to these biscuits, so it’s just as well that they are ridiculously easy to make. As far as a biscuit goes, I think these deliver the max on Ease of Making vs Tasty Loveliness. And if you’re careful you can make them look utterly professional in a uniform sort of a way.
Langues de Chat
Preheat oven to 200C / GM6. Lining a baking sheet (or two) with greaseproof paper. Find your piping bag, and fit it with a plain nozzle.
These are perfect with ice cream. Or a cup of coffee. Or a bowl of strawberries. Or made into sandwiches with jam, or lemon curd, or chocolate ganache (but do this just before you serve them as they’ll go soft after a wee while).
As an aside, the ice cream I made didn’t work. It turns out that if you don’t put enough sweet stuff in with the cream it stays too hard and feels like solid cream with ice crystals in it. Bah. And in the past I’ve made such nommy ice cream. Never mind. The biscuits were great. So was the company.
Note to self These biscuits only help weight loss if you don’t eat them, or any of the raw mixture. Or perhaps if you limit yourself to only one or two. And I mean only one or two in total, not just one or two at a time. They are seriously more-ish! Â But seriously, they come out as such teeny wee light wee biscuits that they might be good for some people on a diet – one or two biscuits might give you enough of a wee sugary hit, without breaking the calorie bank.
Over a year ago I bought a silicone pan to make wee heart-shaped cakes, intending to make wee treats of love for Valentines Day.
But I left the cake pan in Edinburgh, while I was enjoying Valentines in the country. So that didn’t work.
This year I remembered to bring the cake pan to the country, but had over-indulged so much already over the weekend that there was no way I was going to make any chocolate cakes, however cute and heart shaped they might be.
But this weekend was different.
I had a whole list of things to achieve: long walk with the dogs; drink with his kids in Glasgow; a couple of sewing projects to finish; soup to make; a curry to make (and eat); a greenhouse to clean and set up for the spring seed-sowing; laundry to wash and hang out; candle lit baths to loll about in. And I intended to do some veg bed digging too, but that didn’t get done. All the other things did get completed though (ish). And while I was on a roll, achieving so much, I ended up achieving more too – I made the cutest heart shaped gingery dark chocolate cakes. And it so happens they are perfect with fresh pears, not even poached, just chopped up and put in a bowl with all their juicy loveliness, accompanied by a sweet wee chocolate heart of cakey wonderfulness.
So, this is what I did:
Wee ginger chocolate hearts (or morsels of love)
Pre-heat oven to GM 5 or 6, if you don’t have a silicone cake pan, prepare either a 23cm sandwich tin, or a loaf tin, or put a load of paper cupcake cases in a muffin tin.Â
Delicious warm (heat up for 30s in the microwave) with that blackcurrant icecream I first made a few months ago. Or as I said, just with fresh pears. Or on their own, just as a wee treat with a cup of coffee.
I suspect that they would be mighty scrumptious with a cream cheese icing too.
Or replace the ginger nibs with some frozen raspberries, scrunched, or chopped up, and serve with a raspberry coulis.
Go on, experiment.
I owe some colleagues some home baking. I’d promised one muffins and another doesn’t eat sugar, so it was clearly time to make another batch of  savoury muffins.  It would have been the Parmesan and Courgette Muffins again, if Tesco’s had any courgettes. But at 7pm I wasn’t about to go traipsing round town hunting down a courgette, so beetroots became a worthy substitute.
Now, if only I’d consulted with the facebook fairies before  I went shopping – the recipe could have been enhanced with feta cheese, goats’ milk, smoked salmon and creme fraiche. But there’s always next time.
Savoury beetroot mufflets (a mufflet being a mini muffin)
8oz plain flour
1tsp baking powder
4 small beetroot, cooked and coarsely grated
2oz parmesan, finely grated
2oz mature cheddar, finely grated
200ml milk
about 1/3 tub of plain yoghurt
1 egg, beaten
75ml olive oil
about 3 -4 fresh sage leaves, finely chopped
Line a muffin pan with paper muffin cases.
OK – they are out of the oven now. They are more like mufflets than muffins, slightly on the wee size, and not quite enough oomph in the flavour. So this is what I would do differently next time:
Go on, have a go yourself – they are too easy.
And yes, they would be just delicious with a dollop of creme fraiche and some smoked salmon on top. Thanks Barry Bryson.
Hilda Gerber’s chocolate sauce is amazing.
It’s amazingly naughty and amazingly rich and for me an amazingly strong memory of Christmas and Hogmanay from my childhood. Â It’s also ridiculously easy to make. Â And once you can make Hilda Gerbers (the sauce is always just called Hilda Gerbers in our family) you can make the infamous Meringue Mountain, all gloriously seventies.
Hilda Gerber was a cookery writer in the 30s and 40s in South Africa. But I knew none of this back when I was a child. A quick google and I discover that her manuscript for Traditional Cooking of the Cape Malays was found and published after her death in 1954. The Cape Malays were the descendents of slaves and political exiles, mostly from Indonesia and Bengal, who were brought to the Cape of Good Hope in the 17th and 18th century by the Dutch East India Company.  Their name derives from the trader language they spoke, called Malayu.  During the apartheid years any Cape Malay who converted from Islam to Christianity was reclassified as Cape Coloured. Their spices and condiments from the East, which arrived on the ships on their way back to Holland, pepped up the blander Dutch recipes in their colonial kitchens.
I intend to seek out some Malay recipes – I think the only one I have is Bobotie from my Aunt Joyce. Â But surely I can get a Bredie recipe from my Aunt Astri? Â And I’ve wanted to make mebos (delicious nuggets of salty-sweet dried fruit) for AGES but I suspect Scotland does not have the climate for drying fruit.
Anyway, allegedly Hilda Gerber used to ask local Malay women for recipes, so she could record them for posterity and compile a recipe book. Â Some of the Malay women silently sabotaged her efforts to create an indigenous cookbook, and would miss out a key ingredient, such as the milk in potato pudding, so any efforts to make it will end up with potato scrambled eggs. Â Hmmm, I’ll bet you’re not wanting to make this chocolate sauce now?
Anyway, all of that I have discovered in the last 24 hours, but Hilda Gerbers (the sauce) has been known to me all my life. Â I wasn’t exactly weaned on it (although if I was it would go some way to explaining my current size) but it was always there on special occasions. Â I suspect the recipe came via my grandmother who lived for many years from the 30s through to the 80s in South Africa. Â So, here we go:
Hilda Gerbers Rich Chocolate Sauce
4oz dark chocolate
4oz icing sugar
4 eggs
8oz butter
Or, instead of just eating it by the spoonful, make a Meringue Mountain.
Make some meringues, the more the better. Â Big ones, little ones, medium ones. Â Crunchy ones and chewy ones. Â Just lots.
And beat some cream, with a wee bit of sugar and vanilla if you want, but it’s not really necessary.
Now make the mountain. Stick some meringues to the bottom of your dish with a dab of cream. Â Now squidge some cream on top of the meringues, so you can add another layer. Â And keep going with layers of meringue and cream until you have a mountain. Â Then pour the chocolate sauce over the top. Â You’ll need to have taken it out of the fridge a while before pouring, or it just won’t pour. Â Think about it, it’s mostly butter and chocolate which are quite solid in a fridge.
You can do all manner of other things with it other than the Meringue Mountain, but remember it is incredibly rich – so you won’t need much of it. Â I suspect it would be good with a teeny tiny chocolate brownie and some vanilla icecream. Â Or have I just gone too far?
Oh, and don’t even think of giving this to pregnant women. Or getting pregnant while you’re eating it. Â DANGER.
I’m about to go make a batch to have on Christmas Eve.
Thank you Nigella. Â They’re in the oven, so I don’t know yet if they are to die for, or a waste of some perfectly good ingredients. Â The constituent parts were scrummy (well, I had to lick the spoon after scraping the brownie batter into the tin, and the baconny-syrupy scraps on the plate were just asking to be licked up).
But really? Â Bacon in chocolate brownies? Â I totally see where you came from with this – bacon and maple syrup pancakes are divine. Â And as a child I remember the treat that was bacon with fried bread and honey. Now, whatever happened to fried bread? Â Did the health Nazis get rid of it for good? Possibly not the worst decision ever made, but still divine in my childhood memory.
Anyway, Nigella sent me a recipe for Bacon Brownies. Â Well, she didn’t just send it to me, it was sent out to anyone who subscribed to whatever style thingy she’s guest editing this week. Â And now I’m wondering if it was all just a big hoax, to see what muppets would actually make it. Â Well, here I am, prize muppet! I give you Bacon Maple Brownies, inspired by Nigella, but not exactly the same.
Bacon maple brownies
Preheat oven to 190C / 375F / GM5
(OK, now I see why my finished brownies seem even gooier than they should be, I had the oven not quite hot enough).
Grease and line a 25cm square brownie tin. Â Or Nigella does it in a throw away tin, of course she does. Â Her hands aren’t made for washing up. Â And it’s so much easier to take a gift of brownies when you pop in to your neighbours if they are in a throw away dish!
100g thin rashers of streaky bacon, snipped or chopped into teeny weeny pieces
2tsp maple syrup (or golden syrup)
150g unsalted butter
250g soft light brown sugar
75g cocoa powder
150g plain flour
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
4 large eggs, beaten
150g chopped chocolate (dark, or milk)
Don’t tell anyone what is in them
Mine are out of the oven now and I’ve decided it’s not a hoax – they are divine. Â That sweet yet salty hit of a wee nubbin of bacon is just perfect in the rich gooeyness of the brownie. Â They may not be glamorous, but oh my god they are tasty.
Earlier this year we had a glut of blackcurrants. Â I picked them on a Sunday in the sunshine, cutting whole branches from the bushes and then sitting in the sun on the terrace picking off the juicy black fruit. Â Over 9lbs of fruit, all topped and tailed (not that they needed any topping, or was it tailing) and stored in plastic tubs in the freezer till I had more time to turn them into loveliness.
This weekend was the time.  And the loveliness was Blackcurrant Ripple Icecream.  Why have I never made this before?  It’s amazing and oh so simple.  Thanks to Xanthe Clay and the BBC Good Food website for this deliciousness.  I’ve slightly altered the recipe, but literally only slightly.  You can find the original and a gorgeous picture here http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/11802/blackcurrant-ripple-ice-cream
Blackcurrant ripple icecream
200g blackcurrants (if frozen, leave them out for a while to defrost)
50ml apple juice
100g golden caster sugar
600ml double cream
large tin condensed milk
2 tsp vanilla extract
Enjoy. Â Delicious with langues du chat biscuits, or similar. Â Oh, did I mention I also made the most scrumptious langues du chat this weekend? The Great British Bake Off has been inspiring me!
As an alternative, make up the ice cream mixture and fold in either shop bought or homemade lemon curd. Â I don’t know why you’d buy it, it’s simple to make and so much tastier when it’s not packed full of preservatives (and when was it ever going to last 6 months in our house anyway?). Â But as I was saying, this ice cream is just delicious as a lemon ripple instead of blackcurrant ripple. Â Try it. Â Next I’m thinking of a butterscotch ripple, but suspect it will be too sweet – you need the sharpness of the lemons or blackcurrants to cut through the soft sweetness of the condensed milk in the ice cream.
Or, if you want to make Blackcurrant Cordial, or an alcoholic Blackcurrant Liqueur, then take a look at how I do it here.
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