Coconut Fantasy Cake

You'll forgive my somewhat ridiculous naming of this cake, I know. You just have to understand that I was quite literally blown away by how beautifully soft, light and yet rich it was. A true coconut fantasy, and quite possibly the best use for Malibu there is. Aside from this.

I always used to think that I hated coconut. But now I am a man obsessed. This is known by my friends, who use it to lure me into trying new things. Recently, for example, Clare told me about her new morning lover, 'the Summer porridge', Bircher muesli. I feigned a polite, yet vague, interest, knowing that porridge is good in any season, and carried on with my life.

But then I received the following text, late one night:

Just about to prepare my Bircher muesli for the morning. It will contain dessicated coconut.

Let's be clear about this. I paid attention. Leaving for work the next day, I didn't have a chance to follow her lead but I literally cannot wait to get home and try this Bircher stuff out. I'm going to experiment with coconut and raspberry first, but also want to try getting some pineapple or dried mango in there. Delicious.

Now, I'm going to bring it back to this cake.

It is a genoise. I won't be apologising for that but I will be saying that I feel like nobody makes these cakes except for me. Which I do understand when professionals tell you that they whip egg whites, crush garlic to a paste and do all those other laborious kitchen tasks by hand. Do me a favour and ignore them. Make this. Then tell me.

The thing with lots of coconut flavoured cakes is that they contain coconut in the batter. That's lovely, sometimes, but it does lead to rather a heavy cake. If you want the kind of crumb that holds together in feathery, cloud-like perfection, then you need a genoise. Pure and simple.

Want to do that by hand? Thought not.

The recipe for the cake is here. I made up a half batch and baked it in a 6' deep sided cake tin, slicing it when cool into two layers and soaking each one with 2 tbsps Malibu. It's not a strong liqueur and as very sweet, so there's no need to thin it down with sugar syrup.

The icing is special. Follow me.

Coconut Buttercream

You will need:

3 egg yolks
75g caster sugar
85g golden syrup
250g butter, cool, but squishable
3 tbsp Malibu
2 tsp vanilla extract

1. In a large heatproof bowl, put the egg yolks and beat them on high speed with an electric beater for about a minute, or until slightly thickened.
2. Put the sugar and syrup into a small saucepan and stir until all the sugar is moistened. Then place on a medium heat, stirring constantly until the edges of the mixture start to bubble. Stop stirring and remove the spoon or spatula you were using from the mixture.
3. Allow the syrup mixture to reach a full rolling boil. This means that you should see large bubbles over the entire surface, including the centre. It shouldn't take long.
4. Begin rebeating the yolks again, on medium speed, and immediately pour in half of the syrup. Avoid pouring it directly on the beaters, as it will splash against the side of the bowl. Beat for around 30 seconds then add the remaining syrup in the same way. This time beat the egg yolk mixture until the outside of the bowl is cool to the touch. That will take maybe 10 minutes or so.
5. Add the butter gradually, on medium speed. Once all the butter has been incorporated, add the Malibu and vanilla and beat until smooth.

Use to frost the cake and decorate with grated coconut, which I buy frozen from my Indian supermarket. You could use dessicated if you prefer, or grate a fresh coconut.

Competition!

Guys! I'm such a slacker...

I completely and utterly forgot to let you all know that I have been asked to judge a dinner party competition that you can all enter to win cash. It must have been all the lovely Champagne I drank over the weekend for my sister's birthday... (She drank some too, it wasn't just me. Promise.)

The competition is being held by Taylor Wimpey, who admittedly, don't spring to mind when you think of dinner for friends. But reading through the competition details, I can totally see the idea -

'When you move into a new house, naturally you want to show it off to friends and neighbours as soon as possible (once the unpacking's out of the way, anyway). There's no better way to do this than to get everyone round for a dinner party, allowing you to flex your cookery skills and put that new kitchen through its paces - and officially declare your home a place where guests are welcome.

We're asking bloggers to submit a dream dinner party menu, including a starter, main, dessert and an accompanying wine - you can also include a welcome drink of your own invention.'

 That is EXACTLY what I wanted to do after we moved into our current home. And we wasted no time in getting people round for full on, three course food marathons. So I can't wait to see what entries we receive.

You know who else is judging? Well, other than someone from TW (only fair that they get a say after all), my fellow judge is none other than Ruth Clemens, of The Pink Whisk.

Amazing. I love her blog. (She probably doesn't even know who I am.)

Full terms and conditions are here. I would say definitely try this one out. There are going to be 3 winners of £100 and 1 grand prize winner will bag £250. Definitely worth a flutter if you ask me!

I'll be back soon with more sugary goodness. Keep it sweet until then!

Crumble Bar Cookies

Again, we thank Instagram (@peterdelicious) for his kindness.

Yesterday, I got bored and made a coconut genoise cake that was as light and fluffy as a little cirrus cloud, wispy, delicate, perfect. But we have made a silent promise to ourselves around these parts to stop jumping about all over the place and try to post in some sort of order. So you can wait for the Malibu soaked wonder and have bar cookies instead.

When I made the panna cotta I was scared it wouldn't be sweet enough, or to be honest that it wouldn't even set, and since I had planned it to be dessert at Brideshead Club, I knew I needed a fall back option. So I made these.

They're the kind of thing your mum would make with you when you were little. Not fancy, quite unassuming. But oh! So delicious. And the perfect use for that nectarine butter that I know you're all wondering what I've been doing with. (It's been porridge topping, as a general rule.)

You could use jam instead. Or, maybe, a little jam and a layer of fresh raspberries. Do you see what just happened there? I set you an assignment. Hop to it. Report back on Monday with both variations and I shall grade them accordingly.

Crumble Bar Cookies

You will need:

135g flour
100g sugar
70g rolled oats
115g butter
1/2 tsp baking powder
pinch salt
jam or fruit butter

1. Grease a 20cm square tin. Line it. Grease the lining. You'll want to give up at this point, I know, but persevere. Set the oven to 180°C.
2. Mix the flour, oats and baking powder together. Rub in the butter until you have a crumble mixture. Add the sugar.
3. Press 2/3 of this sandy mixture into the tin, forming a base. Bake for 20 minutes.
4. Remove from oven; top with jam or fruit butter (as much or as little as you like) and the remaining crumble. Bake for another 15 minutes.
5. Cool in the tin. Slice. Eat.
6. Makes 8 large bars. I like large. You could do 12 or 16 if you prefer.

Panna Cotta

OK, so here's a common theme in my life: repetitive conversation.

I work in the airline industry. One of the best things about my job is that I work with different crew everyday. I mean, think how great it would be for you, office worker, if you could trade that old sour puss in the cubicle over there for a different colleague every day? It is amazing.

But also, frustrating. You can sometimes find yourself talking about the same stuff everyday. Where you're from, where you  live now, what languages you speak... And then you start talking about your personal life. Cats, boyfriends and exes.

But I don't have any of those. So people ask me about my husband. They request to see pictures. I usually say I don't have any (too lazy to find one!), but sometimes I relent, and my soul crumbles a little when I see on their faces that they think I'm the lucky one.

---

They ask how long we've been together and when I tell them (12 years and counting), gasp and ask me what the secret is. Bored with trying to answer that seriously (I rule my house with a grip of iron and he's too scared to leave), my answer is always the same:

"Well, I make a pretty good panna cotta..."

But it dawned on me the other day that I actually had never made a panna cotta, didn't even know how. So I know you'll be pleased to know that my sarcasm has become truth. I do in fact make a pretty good panna cotta.

It took some research. Google will show you that people are quite opinionated about panna cotta and what should or shouldn't go into it, how much gelatine the mixture needs and whether or not the creamy pudding should be served unmoulded or not.

It began to give me a headache, which persisted until I had the wisdom and foresight to think to myself, screw it, I am master of my own destiny. So. This is panna cotta my way. Follow if you wish.

(I stole the buttermilk idea. It was delish.)

Perfect Panna Cotta

You will need:

300ml single cream (or 600ml and don't bother with the next two ingredients)
250ml buttermilk
50ml milk
3 tbsp sugar
1 vanilla pod
2/3 sachet powdered gelatine (I used Dr. Oetker brand and it weighed around 8g)

1. Scrape the seeds of the vanilla pod into the cream. Heat the cream until just below boiling and then allow to cool slightly.
2. Meanwhile, put the milk into a large bowl and sprinkle over the gelatine. Leave for 5 minutes.
3. Whisk the warm milk into the milk and gelatine; add the buttermilk and mix well. Strain into a jug.
4. Pour into 4 125ml ramekins. Chill until set (around 3 hours). Serve at room temperature. Which I did with rhubarb cooked in a little sugar, orange juice and left to steep with the left over vanilla pod.

Brains S.A. Gold Chutney

We all run away from the sadness in our lives. Good things come to an end. We're not always ready to face the truth and it can be a bitter shock, discovering that the joys we've held so close to our hearts are no more.

Readers: I have finished the last of the Brains S.A. Gold chutney.

....

Please don't worry. All you need to know is that in time I will heal.

The good news is that, even though I have never mentioned the chutney to you before (despite having made it three times), you can get the recipe in this book.

I can tell you two things. #1 is that I am not going to give any away next time. #2 is that you don't need to use Brains S.A. Gold ale, but that's my local and it's delicious.

Pam says make the chutney in October time, but frankly, you can make it whenever. It's not like swede is seasonal.

Perfect Meringues

@peterdelicious on Instagram

It has just occurred to me that I was meant to maintain a steady stream of posting throughout this long trip I've been on this week and I haven't. Long story short, at some point someone must have coughed on me and now I'm sick. So we're lucky I'm doing this, since I haven't accomplished even half of the things on my 'to do while away' list. If I ever catch the person responsible, I am going to make them pay.

Having fulfilled my recent French fantasy (well, one of them... I don't think I've told you of the one involving chilled Mumm, the penthouse suite of the Hotel de Vendome and an unthinkably large portion of fromage blanc au miel de fleurs. I think that's for another time.), I found myself with egg whites on hand.

A familiar drudgery.

I am sick of freezing them because I never seem to come back to the hard little bags of albumen once they have been squirrelled away in the ice box. So I decided to try turning out some of those huge, billowing meringues that you see under cover of glass in all the Parisian bakeries. They are usually expensive, which irks me, because they're made from just egg whites and sugar, and also make me think of Eton Mess which the French probably don't even know about. Shame.

These are what 1950s American teens would call a 'snap'. And they have gooey middles. I feel it important to point that out. 

Meringues

You will need:

5 egg whites (125g)
250g caster sugar

1. Pre-heat the oven to 180°C. Line a baking sheet with parchment.
2. We're going to go the Swiss meringue route here: dump the sugar and whites into a heatproof bowl and whisk over simmering water until you can no longer feel grains of sugar when you rub a little of the mixture between your fingers. I know this sounds strange, but it works: the sugar will dissolve.
3. Remove from the heat and beat with an electric mixer (for ease) until cool, around 10 minutes.
4. Dollop the mixture onto the prepared sheets, put them into the oven and immediately switch it off. Allow the oven to cool fully before removing the meringues. I left them in there over night and they were fine.

Madeleines

Just recently, while smoking shisha in St. Germain, I reached a decision.

(Before we go any futher, let us just take a moment to be seduced by the alluringly alliterative nature of that statement. Truly, it puts me in the mood to go and order rillettes de veau in Rio De Janeiro, nibble daintily on a bowl of pilaf in Poznan and sip velveteen Merlot in Marlow.)

I wanted to make something French. Not croissants, because I value my sanity. But something exotically unfamiliar and crowd pleasing to hand round with tea after the coq au vin I was planning.

My ability to make any firm plans being weakened by the heavy scent of apple scented molasses tobacco, the idea lay dormant until I reached my kitchen at home some days later, tired, grouchy and wearing an airline uniform that had taken on the aroma of the passenger cabin of a Boeing 777-300ER.

Ultimately, it came down to the fact that I hadn't used my madeleine tray in years. And let's be realistic, it was never going to be croissants, not least because you don't eat them after coq au vin.

(As if that were the only reason.)

I am 80% pleased with how they turned out. Moist, and good flavour, but I want the hump that you get on a commercially produced madeleine. The hump, but none of the oily synthetic taste. I'm thinking I might try adding baking powder, but a friend tells me I just need to bake the batter in those little scalloped boat tins rather than a flat tray. Will I justify the expense? We shall see.

Madeleines

You will need:

30g melted butter
1 tsp vanilla
75g egg yolks (5 medium)
60g caster sugar
45g plain flour
1 tbsp water

1. Pre-heat the oven to 180°C. The madeleines will be in there for  a scant 5 minutes, so make sure it's at temperature as you don't want to leave the batter hanging around.
2. Put the vanilla, sugar and yolks into a heatproof bowl suspended over simmering water. Whisk gently until the yolks are warm to the touch. Remove from the heat and beat on high speed with an electric mixer until thick and creamy. This will take 9 or 10 minutes. You will be bored.
3. Add the water. Whisk in.
4. Sift over the flour and fold in gently. Next fold in the butter.
5. Grease your madeleine tin and fill each indentation half way with batter; bake for 5 minutes. Cool on a rack.
6. Serve dusted with icing sugar. Makes 24 2" madeleines.