The pleasure of baking

Last night the baking mood descended on me, and a recipe I've had my eye on for quite a while is Nigel Slater's chocolate and beetroot cake from Tender, his luscious ode to vegetables. I had the cooked beets (foil wrapped and roasted in the oven a couple of nights ago), I had the choccy once I'd nipped out to the corner shop, and everything else was lurking in the baking section of the cupboard or in the fridge. The full recipe is here, and it's in February's Delicious mag too.

I don't make cakes regularly so when the mood comes, I let it wash me along. The mood is part meditative and part furious concentration - the radio will be on but there will be times when I'm measuring that I'll blank out and miss if Annette has finally told Helen that it was Leon who put the bun in her oven...and then I'll have to listen to The Archers again on Sunday to find out. I need the mood to arrive because baking this kind of cake means there will be many bowls of different sizes perched all over the kitchen, filled with melted chocolate and butter and eggs and flour and beetroot and sugar - all of them needing to be washed later. When I'm in the baking mood I don't mind.

My first baking mood came when I was in my teens, and I spotted a recipe for Grantham ginger biscuits in one of my mother's cookery books. There were no pictures, and I was amazed by the perfect brown pillowy mounds that emerged from the oven, crisp and crunchy on the outside with slightly gooey innards. Baking is a bit of domestic magic. It's magic too how egg whites change from an unappetising clagginess to a whipped sensual cloud.

Out comes my favourite big metal spoon to fold everything together: this is where the meditative part of the mood comes in. With this cake, it takes a while to fold the choc/beet/butter/sugar/ mix into the flour and cocoa. And then the inner hooligan child clamours to lick the bowl.

Then there's another familiar component of the baking mood: anxiety. Will the cake mix actually fit into the baking tin? Or has the bloody author not really tested the recipe and will I be left with (a) horrid stinky bits on the bottom of the oven or (b) a bin bag with sad remnants of uncooked stickiness? (Yes, Nigella, I'm looking at you.) No worries with Nigel: it's a perfect fit.

His cooking times are perfect too. I left the cake in the tin until this morning, then took half the cake into work, where it was greeted with greedy anticipation. This is the culmination of the mood: bringing a gleam in the eye to the cake deprived. Guess the mystery ingrediant, I said. Sam got close with 'purple' but went off course with raspberry; Alex homed in on 'root vegetable' but then got side tracked with carrot. Celeriac, swede, turnip and squash all got a mention but beetroot raised many eyebrows. And soon the cake was gone.

Henri tweeted me in the morning to say she had a recipe for parsnip and walnut cake - that's for the next baking mood.

Red hot chilli

Chilli is one of those dishes I've been cooking as long as I can remember; well, at least since student days in York, a hundred years ago. In those days, it was a fairly simple affair of meat, onions, tomatoes and chilli powder, although I do remember going through a caraway seed phase at one point. Newly inspired by my Pioneer Woman Cooks book, I made one at the weekend, although I departed from her recipe quite a bit. There's a bit of a nod to Mexico with the addition of some cocoa powder, and on a trip to the splendid Spice Shop (opposite Books for Cooks in west London) I stocked up on dried chipotle peppers, so I bunged a couple of those in as well. I was well pleased with the result: it's good and rich with a spicy kick.

My chilli

500g minced beef

1 chopped onion

half a diced red pepper

400g tin of chopped tomatoes

1/2 tsp oregano

1 tsp cumin powder

2 tsp chilli powder

1 tsp good cocoa powder

2 dried chipotle chillis

A good splash of chipotle and jalapeno chilli sauces

400g tins of black beans and red kidney beans

Fry off the onions then add the mince to brown. Add salt to taste. Stir in the tomatoes and pepper, then combine with all the spicy stuff. Simmer for an hour, then about 20 mins before serving, add the beans (which you've strained and washed of the gunky stuff in the tin).

I'm very fond of black beans and on Saturday I spotted a tin of them in the Carribean section of Tesco's - normally I soak the dried ones overnight but it was a lazy weekend.

I served up with some coleslaw and rice cooked off in some summer allotment tomato sauce from the freezer and a handful of chopped coriander. A great winter supper.

The wonders of Washington 2

My tramp round Washington included a search for a bookshop - I had directions to a Borders but didn't find it. Then all of a sudden, I stumbled across it when I wasn't expecting it. The one cookery book I wanted to buy in the US was Ree Drummond's A Pioneer Woman Cooks. I love her website and her story of city girl meets cowboy, falls in love and learns to cook meaty treats for her man and kids on their ranch in Oklahoma. I could have bought it from Amazon, but I wanted the vicarous thrill of buying an all-American cookbook in the US. There it was, in all its glory, so I scooped it up thankfully and began a leisurely browse of the large cookery section. No James Beard, but I did get Mark Bittman's big tome - I think it was the chapter on veggies that closed the deal.

Some things about Washington that I loved:

- the coffee: almost universally good (or at least better than the UK), and DC will now forever be associated with the taste of gingerbread latte, thanks to the good offices of Starbucks on a freezing Sunday morning

- American plumbing. It looks old fashioned and wieldy but one WHOOSH! and the bath is full.

- the politeness. We're meant to be the polite types, but US courtesy seems genuinely meant. Not always the case here.

I've had a very lazy weekend, but did stir myself to whip up an American slaw, first made for President Obama's inaugeration dinner and now a firm favourite.

US Slaw

Equal quantities finely shredded white cabbage and grated carrot
Half quantity of finely diced red pepper
An equal mix of mayo (Hellmans is in the fridge) and greek yoghurt
Your favourite vinegar - I used passion fruit vinegar from Fresh and Wild
A handful of caraway seeds

Simply mix your veg and toss with caraway seeds. In a seperate bowl, mix the mayo, yoghurt and a slurp of fruit vinegar. Combine. Serve with whatever you like and stash the remains in the fridge for your lunchbox.

The wonders of Washington 1

So there I am, sitting quietly in the office minding my own business when Alex says: Claire is running her social networking course in Washington next Monday - can you go and be her backstop? Hells teeth! I've never been to the US, my passport expired in July and I don't even have a suitcase capable of venturing outside Europe...sure I can go. Much scrabbling later (fast track passport: brilliant scheme that gives you a passport in four hours, online visa waiver, John Lewis sale half-price wheelie suitcase, pocket size guide to DC and Washington Post foodie guide) and I'm at Heathrow enduring the secondary security check that makes the flight an hour and a half late leaving...but no matter. On the plane I watch Julie and Julia (Eddie has recommended the Julia Child kitchen exhibit at the Smithsonian) and blag a veggie meal which isn't too bad. Then I'm on US soil for the first time, whizzing through immigration and out into the very cold Washington night. I stayed at the St Gregory hotel, and got a very friendly, typically American welcome.

To unwind and gather my thoughts I headed for the bar and carefully eyed the beer on offer. I've never had a good impression of American beer, almost certainly fuelled by the fact the Budweiser once tried to sue the original, and very good, Bud for copyright of the name, even though Czech Bud was being brewed when John Adams was in short pants. I ordered an Amstel but the lovely bartender asked if I'm sure I didn't want to try something American.

Yuengling beer was what she was on about - brewed in Pennsylvania. It's a golden malty beer, and after a couple of sips I was convinced. Every subsequant visit to the bar alerted the staff that a Yuengling was required.

Sunday was my one free day in Washington, so I set off early to get my bearings. After a few minutes heading south, I was at Washington circle, with a fine statue of the general who bested the English keeping watch.

Then the sightseeing proper began. I headed down to the Washington monument then across the park, past a few foraging woodpeckers, to the Vietnam wall and this statue commemorating the work of women during the Vietnam war.

Just south of the wall is the Lincoln memorial. This was what I most wanted to see in Washington and I approached, half expecting to be disappointed by the reality. But the reality far outshone any images I've seen of it. It's huge, and cleverly built so that as you climb the steps, you don't see the statue of Lincoln. Only when you reach the top do you see that extraordinary seated figure.

It is, in the proper sense of the word, awesome. Lincoln stares out to the Washington monument and beyond, to the Capitol. His hands are beautiful. I paused for a moment and read the words of the Gettysburg address, carved to the left of the statue. The US knows how to do municipal art that works.

Tramping back throught the park, I headed for the Museum of the American Indian, one of the Smithsonian's newest ventures.

The building is lovely - all curves and mellow sandiness. It's a tough history and rather disconcerting to follow, as the tribes all have their own history to tell and that's what the museum does, rather than relate the more usual single narrative. The Washington Post guide had said that this was the place to have lunch: the cafe has several different counters all serving the food of different groups of tribes. I settled on the Great Plains counter and chose a chipotle chicken taco with guacamole. The chicken was good but the fried cornbread taco was outstanding.One thing I must learn how to make.

On to the Museum of American History, where I stopped off the look at Julia Child's kitchen.

There were videos of Julia's tv show and by now, I knew her wonderfully plummy accent from the film. The kitchen was warm and welcoming and packed with a lifetime's love of cooking. Outside the museum I paused to buy one of my most useful Washington purchases: a pair of earmuffs. Clamped to my lugs, they saw off the worst of the biting chilly wind. Then on to the National Gallery and the American galleries, where I fell in love with Andrew Wyeth's Wind from the Sea. Sadly, the shop had no reproduction of it. So this will have to do:

I must have walked about eight hours on Sunday, and supper was a rather indifferent bowl of clam chowder back at the hotel.

Lovely bartender: You must try the clam chowder!

Me: Where are the clams from?

LB: Let me check...(after much muttering) They're from our catering company.

Not the provenance I was hoping for.

After watching Claire do a fine day's teaching on Monday, she, Russ, her Penn friend, and I headed for the Tabard Inn, suggested by Katie who was a delegate on the course. Turned out to be a bloody brilliant suggestion.

The Tabard is a series of comfy old fashioned rooms, and Russ introduced me to another great beer: Bell's Winter White, a stonking wheat beer. My respect for American beers steeply increased. After half an hour, we got a table for supper, and very fine it was. I had forgotten my camera so I can't show you the lovely Asian seared salmon I scoffed, but it was damn good.

Tuesday was spent training, then it was back home on the red-eye and though I loved America, it was grand to be home to more snow and British accents. Mouse gave me a terrific welcome then settled down on the sofa to keep a careful eye on me to make sure I didn't go anywhere in the near future.

There's more to tell about the trip - but that can wait til tomorrow.

Happy new year!

Happy new year to all readers and visitors, and may 2010 bring you every food delight that you wish for...my new year kicked off in traditional style with a lovely visit to best mate J in the depths of a snowy Buckinghamshire countryside. Our new year's eve feast began with a starter of smoked scallops and chirizo on  rye-coriander toast: but we'd scoffed it before I had a chance to get the camera out. Next up, and in time to be photoed, was a fennel risotto with parmesan shavings. A good winter warmer. And to finish, fresh pineapple roasted in a spiced butterscotch sauce (a Denis Cotter recipe). I didn't have time to make a coconut ice cream to go with it, but J whipped down to the corner shop and grabbed some fine vanilla ice to complement the hot fruit.

While we were polishing that off, Daisy and Freida were lounging on the sofa in their basket, keeping snug.

My christmas began with a visit to Ely - the farmers market was open on the day before Christmas Eve so I couldn't resist a return. Hard to believe that this was the first snowfall of the big freeze.

The cathedral was all set for the festive season with a fabulous tree.

And just as I'd hoped, there at the market was the lovely Norfolk potter who has furnished me with some great dishes on my last visit. I've lost her card, and don't want to risk getting her name wrong, so full details will have to wait til I find which book her card is marking.

I'd hoped she'd be there so that I could buy J's smaller present - and I got a lovely pottery collander for myself.

J's big present to me was a beautiful tagine: it now has pride of place in my kitchen and I'm planning some yummy Morracan stuff to cook in the coming months. But at the moment I'm all of a slather because I've been asked by work to go to Washington DC for a couple of days to help out on some training. America! I've never been before, and ice permitting, I fly out tomorrow afternoon. I hope to visit the Lincoln Memorial, the cafe at the Native American museum, get to grips with American eggs and hook up with Eddie from Obama Fooderama. Meanwhile: keep warm!

Slow food and food for snow

On a very chilly Saturday morning, I headed down to the South Bank for the Slow Food Festival: yes it was cold, but it was one of those crystal clear winter days that meant a stroll over the footbridge from Embankment was a must.

I arrived about noon, but the stalls were battling the cold and many were still setting up. I had a wander round before settling down to shopping. These cheery guys were at the Buta Kitchen stall, selling preserves and jam from Azerbaijan. Just south of Georgia, it's a region with a proud culinary heritage, and the Buta Kitchen is part of the Buta Festival that's on from now until March. I bought a jar of white cherry preserve - tiny whole cherries glistening in a sugary suspension. I hope the guys have great success.

Neal's Yard Dairy were there, and I couldn't resist getting a hunk of Stickeleon cheese - it tastes how Stilton used to.

I was pleased to see the very nice lady from Casa de l'Oli was there: last year I bought a bottle of lime infused olive oil from here. This year I loved the orange scented oil. It's a tiny family company, run from Catalonia, where the olives grow, and Suffolk.

There was a very unhappy soul behind the Shell Seekers stall - her gas hadn't turned up so she couldn't cook, and she was worried that her ice hadn't arrived either. Surely you don't need that today, I said - oh yes, she said, she had to have it to comply with health and safety regs. Oh dear. I bagged a jar of potted shrimp - cooked last night, said the unhappy soul. I was sorry not to see Oliver's perry at the festival - I hope he'll be back for the next one.

By now, I was getting very cold, so I headed up to Covent Garden, and fell into Waterstone's. Dan over at Essex Eating has been full of praise for the Eagle Cookbook, and there it was. After reading the recipe for smoked haddock with horseradish mash, I felt like eating the book. I bought it instead, and home again, put some black beans on to soak for the Eagle's Black Bean Soup. Just as well really, as I was greeted by a snow storm when I emerged from Tottenham Hale station this evening.

Here's my lemon verbena plant, just outside the kitchen door.

And here's Mouse, demanding to know what all the white cold stuff is.

So now the soup is on the simmer, and I'm set for warming supper.

Black Bean Soup (adapted from the Eagle Cookbook)

250g black beans, soaked overnight

1l veggie stock (I used Marigold)

4 small red onions

2 colves garlic

2 sticks of celery

1 tsp chilli flakes (or a whole red chilli)

2 heaped tsp cumin seeds

400g tin of chopped tomatoes

a bunch of coriander

a gloop of creme freche or sour cream

Drain the black beans from its soaking liquid, cover with fresh water, bring to the boil. Then drain the beans again and add stock. Return the beans to a gentle simmer.

While the beans are doing their thing, sweat the onions, garlic, chilli and celery. When the veg are transparent, add the cumin seeds and cook gently for a few minutes. Add the tomatoes and the coriander and cook gently for about 20 mins. Then tip the veg mixture into the beans and the stock and let it bubble gently for at least half an hour. Check the seasoning: I added salt and a pinch of sugar.

What you do now depends on how you like your soup's texture: I blitzed a quarter of the soup in the blender then added it back to the unblended liquor. Simmer gently to make sure all the beans are soft.

Serve with a dollop of creme freche or sour cream and a slice of the loaf of your choice.

A black beauty. Thank you Dan for a great recommendation.

A winter warmer

There must be something in the air...as the snow fell on Wednesday, I felt an overwhelming urge to make macaroni cheese. And today Fiona, over at The Cheeselover, (she's author of the very delicious book The Cheese Course) has been blogging and twittering about this fantastic comfort blanket of a supper. Fiona's running a competition and this doesn't quite count as an entry, so I'll have to return to it before mid-Jan.

My recipe, which was based on my mum's (which undoubtedly came from Good Housekeeping), underwent a spring clean last year after I'd leafed through Angela Nilsen's excellent Ultimate Recipe Book.

Angela's excellent version has influenced mine in a few ways - make the bechemal sauce a bit slack so that once the macaroni goes in, the whole thing doesn't seize up; use a cheese mix of half chedder and half gruyere to ensure maximum cheesiness;and cheesy crumbs! Angela likes a tomato topping and so do I: not to everyone's taste, especially those to whom tomatoes are the devil's work.

I discovered I had no chedder, so my cheese was a third Lancashire and two thirds Gruyere. The final dish goes into an oven for around 20 mins, then under the grill to brown off the crumbs. Last night I was starving so didn't wait for the full toasting of the crumbs.

But it went down the hatch pretty damn quick. Yum. A perfect antidote to chilly nights and snowy blizzards.

Bathroom blues

Apologies for the much-longer than anticipated break in transmission which was caused by (a) BT mucking up my land line and losing broadband for a while (b) being away from London for work and most eventfully (c) the return of Brian and his merry gang of Vassily and Min Yang for the installation of my new bathroom. I've been here in Tottenham for over nine years and the one room I've done nothing to is my bathroom. It was a monument to mank. A horrible yellowish bathroom suite, including a much-loathed corner bath as there was no room for what I like to think of as a proper bath. No shower. Peeling paintwork. A tongue and groove panelling which made tiling an impossibility. But when Brian took a look, he had a solution: knock down a wall and build a new one. After several gulps and examining the bank balance, I decided to go for it.

Here's Brian in the remains of the room - after we'd discovered that the old wall was the Victorian brick. A heavy layer of dust descended on the house and the study where the pc is was off limits for nearly a fortnight.

But it was such a relief to see the old bath languishing outside, waiting for its graveyard.

Bake for builders is my motto, and during their time here, I treated the team to a pecan and date loaf and banana blondies, which went down a storm. A reveal shot is now in order, so here's the old bathroom...
Yuk yuk...and here's my new one:

Slate tiles on the walls and floor (Brian insisted on a tiled floor), and a couple of orchids to complete the look. Brian, Vassily and Min Yang did a fantastic job - thank you. And while they were at it, I decided to get a radiator for the landing, which Mouse has claimed as her own. More cooking, reviewing and general food chat is now back on the agenda - I hope you'll stick around.