Butterscotch banana loaf cake

Several nights ago I found myself watching ‘Louie’, Louis CK’s show. It was the one where he calls the grocers and orders, among other items, 6 bananas that are misheard as 60 hence he ends up with a lot of bananas. Totally not the point of the show but it got me thinking what I’d do had a large bunch of bananas landed in my kitchen. Little did I know what the cosmos had planned.

For several days now a winter/ tropical storm is bringing out my crave for winter foods and so far soups, casseroles, hot pots and baked apple cakes have already made an appearance in the kitchen and on my plate. The next morning I headed to the farmers market and without a banana thought in my head. Thats not strictly true, secretly I was hoping to find a rare bunch of ripe bananas among the green bunches always sold and as luck would have it I passed by a glowing stand radiating with bright yellow, some would say over ripe bananas past their best days. Perfect for baking, I thought.

At half the price I bought the lot and found myself standing in the kitchen surrounded with quite a few bananas. Whether it was a hunch, intuition, quantum physics or simply a coincidence, I had prepared in advance and had given the subject a little thought. So some I mashed, zip locked and froze for future use, some have now been transformed into a jam, now jarred, and some ended up in a Butterscotch banana cake that I like to refer to as ‘how I like to start the weekend’ cake.

The recipe for this cake was taken from Dan Lepard's latest cookbook.

A food columnist on The Guardian’s food channel, his latest cookbook arrived at my doorstep earlier this week and it’s a hefty one. With over 500 pages featuring hundreds of recipes from sweet to savoury, breads, cakes, tarts, candies and desserts it took me several hours to go over it and dress it up with technicolor ribbons marking all the ‘must bake’ recipes.

Turns out over- ripe bananas was just the place to start. And you never know which bananas tomorrow will bring.

Butterscotch banana loaf cake

Adapted from ‘Short & sweet: The best of home baking',

by Dan Lepard.

This cake begins caramelizing bananas before adding the sticky mixture to the batter. The result is a moist spicy banana toffee loaf that’s light and mildly sweet and pairs wonderfully with a cup of coffee, dunked in a bowl of custard or served with a dollop of sour cream.

For the butterscotch bananas:

2/3 caster sugar

50 ml water

2 bananas, sliced thickly

1-2 tbs unsalted butter

2 tsp vanilla extract or ½ vanilla stick, deseeded

a pinch of sea salt

for the cake:

½ cup caster sugar

¾ cup virgin coconut oil (or any other neutral flavoured oil)

3 medium eggs

50 g plain yogurt

1 cup all purpose flour

½ cup rye flour (of wholemeal/ spelt)

2 tsp of mixed spice ( I prepared a mixture freshly ground cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, Kampot and Melegueta pepper)

2 tsp baking powder

½ tsp baking soda

1. For the butterscotch bananas: pour the sugar and water in a large frying pan and bring to a boil. Continue to cook until the liquid turns to a rich caramel colour. Reduce the heat and add the bananas, butter and vanilla. Cook the bananas in the sauce until they’ve softened. Sprinkle the sea salt then set aside and allow to cool.
2. Preheat the oven to 180C and line a loaf pan with parchment paper.
3. In a bowl, sift the flour, rye flour, mixed spice, baking powder and baking soda.
4. In a separate large bowl mix the sugar, oil and eggs to a thick, yellow batter.
5. Add the caramelized bananas and yogurt and mix well.
6. Fold the flour mixture into the batter, not too much, just until incorporated.
7. Pour the batter into the loaf pan and bake for about 40 minutes. The cake is ready when it turns a tanned caramel colour and a skewer inserted into it comes out clean.
8. Release the cake from the pan and allow to cool on a wire rack.

Where Champagne wishes come true

Turns our 2 weeks in France was just what I needed. I spent the majority of October immersed in the French terroir, enjoying the local food culture paired with wines I never dreamed of drinking.

Freshly baked breads complete with a cracking crust, butter rich pastries, macaroons, guimauve (hand made marshmallows), foie gras, mushrooms of all sorts in shades of autumn, scallops, cheese and charcuterie, Champagne and other local exquisite wines were all present, naturally.

In between long hours of lectures on the local food culture, history, science, theory, testing and tastings, visits to markets, vineyards and wineries I barely had time for to pinch myself, keep track and make sure this was all really happening. The experience was grand, rich and full, so this is merely an amuse bouche.

A food gypsy at heart, life seems to be the time I spend in between travelling in search of good food; local, seasonal, contemporary and traditional, Haute and bas.

In France, as we all know, mealtimes are never taken lightly, the forks face down (long story), wine is always present on the table to help wash down the food and much of the food is unapologetically drenched in as much butter as it can absorb (it tastes good).

Some of the highlights included an all night guided tour to Rungis market, the largest wholesale market in Europe, exceptional food & wine pairing pedagogical meals, fascinating lectures by leading professionals including Hervé This, the French chemist that in addition to the discovery of the perfect temperature for cooking an egg also coined the term ‘Molecular Gastronomy’. This link is an interesting read.

Rungis market is situated on the outskirts of Paris and we spent a night wondering through the various oversized warehouses, passing by an astonishing cornucopia of fresh fish and seafood, poultry in all shapes, shades, breeds and colours, feathered game birds and cuddly hares, hanging beef carcasses, pork slices, endless stacks of cheese, glistening innards, local and not so mush fruit & vegetables, some seasonal and some less so.

During mealtimes we had a chance to sample the local culinary tapestry, always accompanied with a choice of local wines, sparkling water, bread and at times, butter. Last but never least was dessert, flans and tatins, salted butter caramel, crème brulees, Florentins, glaces & sorbet, tarts and chocolate, it was always there and along with everything else, never taken lightly and never forgotten. Just as I’d have it when I rule my own country.

I could go on forever about the fantastic food, the new friends I've made, the places I saw, the wines I had, the pastries I devoured, the foie gras that melted in my mouth, the Chateau Margaux, the Champagne and all but instead I'll let the images speak themselves.

Au revoir France, until next time.

A taste of Jerusalem

Its been many years since I left Jerusalem to discover the great wide world and all the delicacies it has to offer.

I left the harsh reality, the cold winters, the unbearable gravity of life, politics and religion. They all proved a little too much and I never looked back.

In fact, the further away life took me, the more I was deterred by the city and all it had to offer. Until now.

A recent project has brought me back to the city and I have come full circle, like a perfectly shaped Pita bread.

Food showed me the way back to the city but this time from a slightly different point of view, revealing, along the way, a delicious and distinctly unique foodscape, making Jerusalem easier to digest and easier to love.

East Jerusalem and West, Israeli and Palestinian, Jews, Muslims, Christians and Armenians, Ashkanazi and Sephardic, Secular and Religious, Kosher and Halal, old and new.

Past, present and future.

Nutmeg nutters muffins

Summer is officially over, August 2011 is now a thing of the past. The still, humid evening air has been blown away by a cool evening breeze. I spent the majority of last month glued to my computer, mostly breathing conditioned air and avoiding daylight as much as possible. I may live in the Mediterranean but my East European heritage is impossible to avoid or deny. I like it better when its not hot and humid like the inside of a hamam.

That's right. I’m looking forward to winter, but I should also mention that winter in Tel Aviv is almost perfect. The city shines under shades of grey, as temperatures drop to a comfortable low of 13 degrees Celsius around January and the days are dotted with sporadic rainy days here and there alongside the occasional dramatic thunder storm, for extra effect.

I have decided to welcome fall and bake it into muffin form. Nutmeg and muffins make for a special treat for any nutmeg nutters out there as these aren’t what one might call MILD; we’re talking sharp and pungent treats with one whole grated nutmeg and definitely the next step up from a cinnamon addiction- one that I hold dearly to my heart.

These are best served warm a dollop of sour cream or a thick fruit compote and every bite is reassurance that autumn one step closer.

.

Nutmeg muffins

(12 muffins)

The recipe is slightly adapted from Marion Cunningham’s The Breakfast Book I discovered through Orangette.

Ingredients

1½ cups all- purpose flour

½ cup rye flour

½ cup sugar

1 tbs baking powder

1 ½ whole nutmeg, freshly grated

¼ tsp cinnamon

½ tsp salt

1 egg

¾ cup sour cream

¾ cup milk

40 gram butter, melted

1. Preheat the oven to 200C and butter or oil the muffin tins.
2. In a large bowl, mix the flour, sugar, baking powder, freshly grated nutmeg, cinnamon and salt to combine.
3. In a separate bowl beat the egg the add in the sour cream, milk and melted butter and stir to combine.
4. Add the cream mixture to the flour mixture and stir only until there are no streaks of flour. Do not overmix.
5. Spoon the batter into the muffin tins, about 2/3 full. Sprinkle a little cinnamon on top and bake until lightly golden, about 20 minutes.
6. Remove the muffins from the tins and serve warm with butter, sour cream or by itself. Alternatively, cool on a rack and freeze for later use.

Portugal, in a nutshell.

There is no excuse for the utter and absolute neglect.

Well, there is, actually. I barely had time to breath let alone maintain my virtual abode when a wave of intensive commitments washed over, taking every spare moment I had with it. The overbearing heat and humidity aren't helpful and everything seems to be moving in slow motion, with great difficulty.I've managed to squeeze a few minutes for a long overdue post, a quick breather before its back underwater.

I did, however, spend the earlier part of the month in Portugal, though I'd swear it was another lifetime. I finally managed to sort through all of the photos and take the time to digest (not literally, I did that already...) the experience, the local terroir and the food.

The portugal I discovered is rich with wonderful local produce. While the local failed to wow us, venturing into local markets throughout our trip was immensely satisfying. Market stalls displayed a splendiferous array of sea life, greens and fruits and, after sampling quite a few of the local wines, my affair with red wine has rekindled.

Some of the highlights included:

The Francesinha, a Porto specialty and the local version of a Croque Monsieur, consists of a toasted sandwich filled with ham, pork and sausage, wrapped in cheese and soaked in a hot, beer based sauce. Loved the concept, prefer a salad.

Snails in the market, available in bulk or by weight.

Sintra cheese cake, aka Queijadas de Sintra, as well as pretty much all the pastry everywhere we went, is a variation on a recurring theme; egg yolk and sugar. no cheese.

The flaky ribbons that adorned a column adjacent to the sausages stall are dried intestines, complete with a 'meaty' aroma built in.

Breathtaking views along the Duoro river made up for the pastry.

Thank god for fresh summer fruit, ham, cheese and bread.

And fresh sardines, naturally.

Raspberry rye Sunday loaf in waiting

Would you look at this monster?

I’m waiting.

Stuff’s happening, or supposed to. Or at least it should, soon enough.

It’s quiet, and that usually happens before a storm breaks out and yes, a storm in the summer months this side of the hemisphere, the irony.

In the meantime I try to workout, release excess stress that somehow always seems to settle on my shoulders. This is a good time to catch up with friends, eat in places I’ve been putting off and catching up on TV series forever on my to do list. Baking is my stress ball; a bit of dough making, kneading and mixing usually does the trick and it comes naturally with an invigorating aroma that hovers around the house for a good few hours, encouraging deep breaths and thus promoting a general sense of calm.

Its berry season and it feels like such a waste to east the ruby red edible raspberry diamonds straight from the box. Instead, I opted for a raspberry Sunday loaf. Its called a Sunday loaf but I baked it on a Saturday and it lasted the week. The loaf bridges between a quick bread and a coffee cake, the not too sweet loaf has a tanned crust, a buttery mouth feel and a pleasant crumble with chunks of ever-so-slightly sour raspberries bursting with mini tangy explosions that swirl in and around the batter.

Raspberry rye Sunday loaf

The recipe was heavily adapted from Marion Cunnigham’s Breakfast book. The raspberry jam was substituted with a generous quantity of raw berries and I also introduced the nutty flavor of rye flour.

Extremely recommended toasted and slathered with salted butter.

(makes 1 loaf)

Ingredients

2 cups all purpose flour

1 cup rye flour

½ cup sugar

4 tsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

100g butter, chilled and diced

2 eggs

1 cup fresh or frozen raspberries

¾ cup milk

For the glaze

2 tbs butter

2 tbs apple jelly jam (or any other jam you have or like)

1. Preheat the oven to 175C then butter and flour a loaf pan.
2. In a large bowl, use a fork to combine the flours, sugar, baking powder and salt.
3. Add the diced chilled butter to the mixture and use your fingers to ‘rub’ the butter into the flour mixture until the wole thing resembles coarse sand.
4. In a separate bowl, beat the eggs. Add the milk and mix until combined.
5. Pour the milk-egg mixture and the fresh berries into the flour mixture and stir only until no flour streak show. The mixture will be lumpy.
6. Spoon the batter into the loaf pan and bake until the loaf is a golden tan and a skewer inserted in the centre comes out clean, about 1¼ hours.
7. Leave the loaf in the pan for 15 minutes before turning it onto a rack.
8. Prepare the glaze: in a small saucepan combine the butter and jelly. Stir and bring to a simmer. Strain the glaze and once the loaf has cooled, spoon over the loaf.

The far road to clafoutis

Cherry season is on and, while experimenting with the luscious stone fruit I was finally presented with the opportunity of making Clafoutis. Now that I did I cant believe it took me this long to discover it.

The name, Clafoutis, always conjured images of a flan- like crème, and looking at cook book images of it, I had imagined an shaky eggy dessert. Not that there is anything wrong with that. It just isn’t the sort of thing want to get up and start cooking, let alone eating.

It all began in Florence, almost 2 years ago now. A Latteria down the road from where I lived, one of the few left in the city was recommended to me, mainly for its cakes.

Back in the day this was the place people would come to by milk, cream and cheese. Today the few left milk bars offer light meals, coffee and cakes.

One day, after work, I stopped by and ended up with a slice that resembled cheesecake but was in fact far Breton, a typical dense baked custard pudding made in Brittany (France) with prunes soaked in Armagnac peacefully resting at the bottom. It came complete with a dollop of fresh thick cream, and sceptic as I was holding a spoonful in hand; I was forever changed after one mouthful. I tracked down a fantastic and embarrassingly (in the good sense of the word) simple to make recipe by Trish Deseine, which I have since prepared it at numerous occasions.

Once my aversion to the concept of flan was eradicated a whole new world of baked batter opened up and the Clafoutis was soon to follow. Rather similar to a far, its origins lay in Limousine and instead of prunes glazed cherries float in the batter. Often, the pits included for extra flavour, which also ups the risk factor during eating, like when eating an entire fish, bones and all. This sort of Clafoutis demands a certain concentration and multi tasking skills.

Superbly easy to make and sensationally titillating, cherries are now in season and so there really isn’t any other way.

Individual Cherry Clafoutis

Serves 8

400 gram (about 2 cups) fresh cherries, pitted or whole

½ cup AP flour

¼ tsp salt

2 fresh eggs

2 tbs sugar

½ cup milk

1 tsp fine vanilla extract

1 lemon, zested

A pinch of nutmeg, ground

1. Preheat the oven to 220°C and butter the muffin tins.
2. Using a food processor or a medium bowl and a hand whisk, beat the flour, salt, eggs, sugar, milk and vanilla extract until combined, for 1 minute.
3. Stir in the lemon zest and nutmeg and set aside.
4. Place 4-5 cherries in each muffin tin and pour the batter on top.
5. Bake until the Clafoutis have risen and the edges have a tan, about 20 minutes. Make sure not to open the oven door while baking as the Clafoutis may collapse.
6. Remove the Clafoutis from the oven and allow to rest for 5 minutes. Using a sharp knife, carefully cut around the Clafoutis and release it from the tin.
7. dust with powdered sugar and lemon zest and serve immediately.