Recipe: Wholemeal hot cross buns with whipped honey lemon butter

The addition of wholemeal flour makes these Easter classics wholesome and nutty, while the lemony butter adds decadence to homely hot cross buns

Makes 12 buns
250g strong white flour
200g strong wholemeal flour
1 tsp salt
3 tsp mixed spice
1 tsp cinnamon
4 tsp easy bake yeast
50g golden caster sugar
110g currants
50g candied peel
50g butter, room temperature
150ml hand-hot milk
75ml hand-hot water
1 egg, beaten

for the crosses
75g plain flour
5 tbsp water
for the glaze
3 tbsp apricot jam

1 Sieve the flours, salt, mixed spice and cinnamon into a bowl and add the yeast, sugar, currants and peel.
2 Give it a quick stir, then make a well in the centre and drop in the butter, followed by the warmed milk and water, and the egg. Mix well with a wooden spoon and then go in with your hands and knead, adding a little more milk if the mix feels too dry.
3 Cover the bowl with cling film and leave in a warm place to rise for around two hours, or until it has doubled in size.
4 Turn it out onto a floured surface and knead it briefly again, then divide
it into 12 pieces. Roll each into a bun shape in your hands and place onto a baking tray lined with baking parchment, leaving space for each to rise. Cover with a tea towel and leave to rise for a further 45 mins or so, until doubled again.
5 Heat the oven to 220C/Fan 200/425F while you make the crosses. Mix the flour and the water to a thick paste, spoon into a piping bag and pipe on the crosses. Bake for around 15 mins.
6 Meanwhile, heat the apricot jam in a small pan and then sieve it to remove pieces of fruit. Remove the buns from the oven, place on a wire cooling rack, and paint immediately with the glaze. Allow to cool a little before eating, or cool completely and split and toast.

Whipped honey lemon butter

Smother your hot cross buns with this for a true taste of Ostara

110g butter
4 tbsp honey
zest of 1 lemon

1 Chop the butter into cubes and drop it into a bowl of lukewarm water, then leave it for at least five mins, until really soft. Drain off the water and tip the butter, honey and zest into a large bowl.
2 Use a wooden spoon to beat until all is combined and the butter is creamy. Use straight away or put into a ramekin and chill.

This recipe was first published in our March 2016 issue. Our new April issue is on sale now both in shops and via our website and has lots of ideas on how to do Easter weekend well.

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From April issue…

More Easter recipes…

Recipe | nettle soup

Serves 6

Knob of butter
1 onion, diced
2 celery sticks, diced
3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
2 bay leaves
2 large potatoes, peeled and sliced
1½ ltr vegetable stock
1 handful of spinach
3-4 handfuls of young nettles, well washed
Vegetable oil, for deep-frying
Crème fraîche, to serve
Toasted seeds, to serve

1 Melt the butter in a large saucepan, then add the onion, celery, garlic and bay leaves and sweat down for a couple of mins.

2 Add the potatoes and stock and simmer for 30 mins until the potatoes are cooked through.

3 Add the spinach and most of the nettles (saving a handful for deep frying later), then return the soup to the boil and remove from the heat. Allow to cool for a few mins before transferring to a blender. Whizz the soup until smooth, and season with salt and pepper to taste.

4 Pour a couple of centimetres of vegetable oil into a small, heavybased saucepan. Heat the oil over a medium heat until a small cube of bread dropped into it turns golden in about 15 secs (about 180C on a cooking thermometer). Deep-fry the reserved nettle leaves until they are dark green and just crisp, being careful to shield your eyes as the hot oil can spit with some ferocity.

5 Drain on kitchen paper, then drop into the soup with a drizzle of crème fraîche and some toasted seeds.

Taken from Giffords Circus Cookbook: Recipes & Stories from a Magical Circus Restaurant by Nell Gifford & Ols Halas (Quadrille). Photography: David Loftus

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Cake facts | Simnel cake

This light fruitcake, served traditionally for Mothering Sunday and Easter, and layered with marzipan might look innocent enough, but it is, in fact, steeped in mystery and intrigue. 

Leaving aside the missing 12th marzipan apostle (that’s Judas, who betrayed Jesus and therefore is not deserving of a marzipan sphere in his name), there are other puzzles… Such as where Simnel cake got its moniker.

There are several stories. Are you sitting comfortably? Then take a slice of Simnel and we’ll begin.

One tale goes that the cake was named for Lambert Simnel, who invented it while working in the kitchens of King Henry VII as punishment for trying to usurp the throne. Simnel, a boy of ten, had been passed off as one of the two princes in The Tower, who were allegedly murdered by Richard III (so not a terribly convincing story, really). He turned out to be a much more convincing kitchen hand though and did so well he was eventually promoted to the position of Falconer by the King. However, we remain unconvinced that Lambert is the true King of Simnel cake. When you’ve made up a whopper like being heir to the throne of England, who’s going to believe you when you say you’ve invented a new cake, after all? 

An even bolder story appears in Chambers’ Book of Days in 1867. This story says that the cake was invented by a couple by the name of Simon and Nelly (we expect you already have a hunch where this is going). They had set about making a cake to mark the end of Lent, using some leftover plum pudding from Christmas. Simon thought they should boil the cake and Nelly was convinced it should be baked. After a brief domestic disagreement they compromised, deciding to boil the cake first and then bake it. And this happy union of baking methods produced a cake that became named after both of them - the Sim-Nel cake. (We’d have gone for Nelsim, had we been young Nell… assuming, of course, that we believed this very tall tale). 

The least charming, most tedious story, is probably the most believable. ‘Simila’ is Latin for the sort of fine, white flour that was used for these Lenten cakes, and it’s easy to see how Simnel would come from simila. We told you it was slightly tedious. There’s no arguing with Latin though (unlike Simon and Henry VII, who it seems were both up for a bit of a disagreement).

The rather fine Simnel cake pictured above is taken from Fitzbillies: Stories & Recipes From a 100-year-old Cambridge Bakery by Tim Hayward and Alison Wright (Quadrille) with photography by Sam A. Harris. You can find the recipe on p23 of our March ‘Blossom’ issue. 

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More from our March issue…

More cake facts…

Recipe | nettle soda bread

Now’s the time to gather treasures from the hedgerows. And then head home and into the kitchen to make this nettle soda bread.

Nettle Soda Bread

Good handful of young nettle leaves and/or wild garlic
½ pint buttermilk
6oz self raising flour (wholemeal or brown)
3oz plain flour
3oz seed & grain bread flour
½ tsp salt
½ tsp bicarbonate of soda

Gather your nettle tips (with gloves on) before they flower. Strip off the stems until you have enough for one large handful of leaves.

Heat oven to 200C/Fan 180/400F

In a blender or large jug, add leaves and buttermilk. Blend until smooth.

Put flour, salt and soda into a mixing bowl. Form a well in the middle and pour in the nettle buttermilk. Quickly mix together with a fork until a soft dough is formed.

Turn out mixture onto a floured surface, lightly need for 2 minutes then form into a round shape.

Put on a floured baking tray. Flatten the top of the dough and score the top in a cross.

Cook for 30 minutes until the dough sounds hollow. Leave to cool on a wire rack.

N.B. You can substitute nettles for ramsons or crow garlic. For a seed top, before baking rub a little buttermilk over the top and add some sedge seeds (found in autumn) or sunflower seeds also work nicely.

 In this month’s Blossom issue, we have a beautiful feature we think you’ll love by Lia Leendertz, in which she looks at cooking and enjoying some of the season’s bounty. Nature’s Table is the first in a new series. Do tell us what you think! This soda bread recipe with photography by Kirstie Young, was first published in our March 2016 issue but it tastes just as good (if not better) four years on.

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From our March issue…

More foraging fun…

Recipe | leek, butter bean and white wine casserole

Hearty beans and sweet alliums makes this meat-free casserole a modern winter warmer

Ingredients

2 tbsp olive oil
3 small leeks, sliced
2 cloves garlic, sliced
250ml white wine 
¼ tsp chilli flakes 
2 x 400g tins butter beans, drained and rinsed 
750ml vegetable stock 
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 small bunch of parsley, roughly chopped

1 Heat the oil in a large saucepan, add the leeks and garlic with a good pinch of salt and cook over a gentle heat until softened.

2 Add the white wine, chilli flakes, butter beans and vegetable stock, and simmer for 10-15 mins. Stir in the lemon juice and chopped parsley, then season to taste.

This recipe is from our feature Midwinter Food for Friends with plant-based recipes by Lottie Storey, including beetroot and dukkah-topped seed crackers, radicchio with orange and mustard dressing, potato and celeriac mash with shallots and chocolate and Guinness cake with coconut cream. A lovely menu whether you’re a lifelong vegan, are throwing yourself into Veganuary with vigour, or just fancy trying something new. All in the January issue, in shops now.

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More comfort food to share with friends…

How to | do Christmas leftovers better

Photography: Mowie Kay

If you’re about to embark on a week of turkey curry and risotto, stop. Hold our eggnog. We’ve got this. 

We don’t know about you, but much as we love a Christmas lunch, it’s the leftovers that get us really excited. A classic turkey and stuffing sandwich or two is a must, but there are plenty more ways to deal with The Rest of the Bird, and a hundred things to do with your other Christmas leftovers that don’t just involve bubble and squeak. Here are a few of The Simple Things staff’s favourites:

Turkey tonnato (enough for 4)

A tasty Italian lunch

Whizz 100g of mayo, a tin of tuna, the juice of half a lemon and a tbsp of capers together in a blender and set aside. It should be quite thin so it can be drizzled. You may need to loosen it with a little water. Slice enough turkey breast for 4 and lay on a plate. Drizzle over the tuna mayo sauce. Decorate the top with criss-crossed anchovies with little capers in between. Serve with rocket and crusty bread. 

Red cabbage pickle

Fancy up a cold lunch in a flash.

Toss leftover red cabbage with equal parts red wine vinegar and caster sugar. Add a good slug of salt. Cover tightly and leave in fridge for an hour. Serve on Scandi style open sandwiches with leftover smoked salmon, white meat or cheese. 

Nut roast falafel in pitta

A simple and delicious dinner for Boxing Day

Crumble leftover nut roast, then mix with a couple of tablespoons of hummus and some crumbled feta and season well. You can add chopped chill or other herbs if you wish. The amount of hummus and feta will depend on how much nut roast you have left but the mixture should be not too sticky and able to be formed into balls. Roll teaspoon sized lumps of the mix into balls. Pop on a baking tray and cook at 180 fan for approx 10 mins, until the falafels are golden. Serve with pitta, salad, tzatziki and any extras you like. 

Christmas pud truffles

Because all puddings should bring you joy at least twice

Break up and crumble  any leftover pud. Melt a few squares of dark chocolate in the microwave or on the hob. Stir into the crumbled pud and mix well. Add leftover Christmas booze if you wish. Roll the mixture into little bite-sized balls. Melt a little white chocolate and drizzle over the top to look like brandy cream. Put the truffles in the fridge to set. 

All the above recipes should be served with a glow of satisfaction at having used your leftovers well and not become thoroughly sick of the whole festive season. We were inspired to write this blog by the amazing Brussles Sprouts Christmas Tree pictured above. The recipe is from LEAF: Lettuce, Greens, Herbs, Weeds by Catherine Phipps, with photography by Mowie Kay (Quadrille) and we’ve printed the whole recipe in our December issue. One the shops are open again, pop out and buy it (or click on the link below to have it delivered to your door) you’ll find it on p94. You won’t find a better use for your leftover sprouts. 

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More from our December issue…

More festive fun…

Make | molten chocolate oranges

These oozing chocolate treats can be cooked in the embers of a winter barbecue

Whether you’re having a few friends over for a Yule bonfire and some outdoor snacks, or are going ambitious and cooking your whole Christmas lunch outdoors (see our Gathering feature in the December issue) these chocolate puds will put a smile on rosy-cheeked winter faces. And a Terry’s Chocolate Orange will never be quite the same again.

Serves 6

6 oranges
120g unsalted butter
135g dark chocolate (minimum 75% cocoa solids), broken into pieces
3 eggs
2 egg yolks
100g caster sugar
4 tbsp Cointreau (optional)
55g plain flour, sifted
Grated chocolate, to garnish

For the vanilla cream

600ml double cream
3 tbsp icing sugar
1 tsp vanilla bean paste or the seeds scraped from 1 vanilla pod

1 Prepare your oranges by slicing the top off each one, about ¼ of the way down – don’t discard the tops!
2 Gently remove the flesh by running a spoon down the sides and pulling the flesh away from the skin. Be careful not to pull out the ‘pith plug’ at the bottom of the orange, as this will create a hole. You can keep the discarded orange flesh in the fridge and have it for breakfast or sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon and serve with ice cream.
3 Next, make the vanilla cream. Pour the double cream into a mixing bowl and add the sugar and vanilla. Using an electric whisk, whip until soft peaks form. Cover the bowl and place in the fridge until ready to serve.
4 In a bain-marie, melt the butter and chocolate together. Once melted, remove from the heat and set aside.
5 In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs, egg yolks and sugar together until light and fluffy. Slowly pour in the chocolate mixture, whilst continuing to whisk on a low speed. Once combined, add the Cointreau (if using) and then fold through the sifted flour.
6 Divide the mixture evenly between the hollowed-out oranges, and replace the orange lids. Carefully double wrap each orange with two layers of foil, watching that the lid doesn’t slip off in the process and that the oranges remain upright at all times. Make sure the oranges are completely sealed in the foil, with no gaps or holes for the chocolate mix to escape through.
7 Place the oranges upright, directly onto hot embers for about 12 mins.
8 Remove from the heat, unwrap and remove the lids. You should have a chocolate sponge with a runny molten middle. Top with the vanilla cream and a grating of chocolate.

These puds were part of our Gathering feature in the December issue with recipes by Bex Long for an outdoor Christmas lunch, including a spectacular hang-roasted bacon-wrapped partridge. Find the rest of the menu in this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More from our December issue…

More chocolate to tempt you…

Bake | Cardamom cake with mulled wine jam

This proper cake is great for festive guests or as a pudding for anyone not a fan of Christmas pud. It’s just one of the festive bakes in our December issue and we liked it so much we thought we’d share it here

Serves 8

For the cake:
120ml milk
10 green cardamom pods, lightly crushed
2 tsp vanilla bean paste
275g plain flour
1 tbsp baking powder
225g unsalted butter
225g caster sugar
3 eggs

For the jam:
240ml red wine
400g plums, pitted and quartered
200g black seedless grapes, plus extra to decorate
2 cinnamon sticks
1 star anise pod
¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg
450g granulated sugar
30ml lemon juice
Half an orange, thickly sliced

For the topping:
250g mascarpone
150g icing sugar
80ml double cream
1 tsp vanilla extract

1 Preheat the oven to 180C/Fan 160/Gas 4. Grease two round 20cm cake tins and line the bottoms with baking parchment.
2 To make the cake, gently heat the milk in a saucepan with the cardamom pods and vanilla paste, letting it simmer for 2 mins before removing from the heat. Cover and cool for 15 mins before straining.
3 Sift together the flour and baking powder in a large bowl and set aside.
4 Using an electric whisk, beat the butter and sugar until pale and creamy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each one. Mix in half the flour, then the milk and remaining flour. Divide batter evenly between the tins and bake for 35-40 mins. Let the cakes cool for around 15 mins before turning out onto a wire rack and leaving to cool completely.
5 To make the jam, add the wine, plums, grapes, cinnamon sticks, star anise and nutmeg to a large saucepan. Cook for 10-15 mins to soften the plums. Add the sugar, lemon juice and orange and boil for 12-20 mins, or until it coats the back of a spoon. Remove the cinnamon sticks, star anise and orange slices then pour into a shallow tray to cool quickly.
6 To make the topping, beat the mascarpone and icing sugar by hand until smooth. Fold in the cream and vanilla and chill in the fridge until ready to use.
7 Sandwich the cakes together with half the mascarpone and a generous spoonful or two of jam. Cover the top and sides with the remaining mascarpone mix. Use a palette knife to smooth the sides of the cake, scraping off just enough of the mascarpone to let the cake peek through. Add grapes and a few dollops of jam.

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Taken from The New Way To Cake by Benjamina Ebuehi (Page Street Publishing). Photography: Holly Wulff Petersen

More from our December issue…

More festive recipes…

Recipe: Fish pie

Surely the most comforting of comfort foods, great for a crowd and just as good eaten alone on the sofa

In our November issue, Olivia Potts, author of A Half Baked Idea (Fig Tree), talked about how cooking a fish pie helped her grieve for her mother and we all agreed that there’s something very gentle and soothing about both putting together and eating this dish. Baking a fish pie needn’t involve using every pan in your house. In this simple recipe, which first appeared in our November 2015 issue, the veg are included in the pie so you don’t even need a side dish. Spoon it out into a bowl to eat curled up with a blanket or perhaps bring it out for a bonfire night supper with friends.

Fish Pie

You will need

200g boneless white fish fillets
200g skinless salmon fillet (pin-boned)
450ml full-fat milk
750g potatoes, peeled and halved
1 tbsp olive oil
4 baby leeks, finely sliced
3 shallots, diced
2 fennel bulbs, finely sliced
100g butter
2 tbsp plain flour
150g frozen peas
3 tbsp chopped fresh parsley
juice of 1 lemon
salt and freshly ground black pepper

How to make

1 Preheat oven to 180C/Fan 160C/350F.
2 Place the fish in a baking dish, season and pour over 400ml of the milk. Cover with foil and bake for 15 minutes until the fish flakes slightly when pressed with a fork.
3 Remove the fish, reserving the milk. When cool enough to handle, flake the fish into bite- sized pieces and set aside.
4 Place the potatoes in a pot, cover with salted cold water, bring to the boil and simmer until soft. 5 Heat the olive oil in a shallow casserole over a low to medium heat on the hob and sautée the leeks, shallots and fennel until soft. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside.
6 Melt 50g of the butter in the casserole, stir in the flour and cook over a low heat for 2-3 mins. Slowly add the reserved milk and continue to cook until thickened, stirring continuously.
7 Add the flaked fish, sautéed leeks, shallots and fennel, peas, 1 tbsp of the parsley and the lemon juice. Season with salt and pepper.
8 Drain the potatoes and mash with the remaining 50ml milk, 50g butter and rest of the chopped parsley until smooth. Season to taste.
9 Spoon the mash on top of the fish mixture and smooth with a spatula. Trace a pattern into the mash with a fork.
10 Place the casserole into the oven and bake for 20–25 mins or until golden.

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From our November issue…

Autumn tipple | pomegranate and rosemary gin fizz

For a bonfire night gathering or just a dinner with a spooky or autumnal feel, this cocktail is a winner

Ingredients

1 bottle of gin
1 bottle of elderflower tonic water
1 litre fresh pomegranate juice
1 lemon, cut into wedges
6 sprigs of rosemary
1 fresh pomegranate

How to make

1 Mix together 1/3 gin to 1/3 tonic and 1/3 pomegranate juice.
2 Add a twist of lemon and stir with the rosemary sprig (then add the lemon wedge and rosemary to the glass for garnish).
3 Cut the fresh pomegranate in half and scoop out the seeds. Add 1 tsp of seeds to each cocktail.

This cocktail recipe by Kay Prestney is in our November issue, as part of our menu for a murder mystery party, which also includes brie and cranberry bites, apple and celeriac soup, chicken, chorizo and pepper bake and poached pears in red wine. A menu to die for. Find it on p32.

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More from our November issue…

More tipples to tickle your fancy…

Recipe: Soul cakes

Soul cakes are an old English traditional cake, sometimes known simply as ‘souls’. The tradition of giving out soul cakes on All Hallows’ Eve dates back to the Middle Ages, when children went door-to-door saying prayers for the dead  On All Hallows’ Eve, All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day, children went ‘souling’, asking for soul cakes from house to house: quite possibly a precursor to trick or treating. This recipe is adapted from one on lavenderandlovage.com.

Soul cakes

Makes 12–15 cakes 

175g butter
175g caster sugar
3 egg yolks
450g plain flour
2 teaspoons mixed spice
100g currants
a little milk to mix 

1 Pre-heat the oven to 190C/Fan 170/375F. Cream the butter with the sugar until it’s light and fluffy and then beat in the egg yolks one at a time. 

2 In a separate bowl, sieve the flour and the spices together and add to the wet mixture along with the currants (reserving a small handful to decorate the tops later). 

3 Mix with a wooden spoon and then add some milk to pull everything together into a dough.

4 Roll out to a thickness of around 1cm and cut out rounds with a biscuit cutter. Use a straight-sided knife to make a slight cross indent in the top of each cake and then push in raisins along it. 

5 Place on a piece of baking parchment on a baking tray and bake for 10 to 15 mins on the fire or in the oven until golden. Allow to cool before eating. 

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From our November issue…

Clever tips for tricky apples

How not to be beaten by bobbing or tricked by a toffee apple this season

We love an apple, but they’ve been causing trouble for millennia, what with tempting innocent folk going about their business in the garden of Eden, causing discord among Greek Gods and all sorts of trouble in Norse legend, too. 

And even today, if you’ve ever tried bobbing for apples or munching on a toffee apple at this time of year you’ll know they can be tricky customers. Here’s The Simple Things’ guide to getting one over on apples this autumn.

How to eat a toffee apple

Here’s how to avoid a very sticky face, sugar in one’s hair and the risk of dropping your toffee apple on the floor and it rolling into the bonfire…. 

Etiquette dictates that one should cut a toffee apple into slices and, indeed, this is the way to eat one if you wish to eliminate all the above risks. Take a sharp knife and a plate and simply slice the apple and remove the core as you would any ordinary (non-toffeed) apple and eat it in bite-sized slices.

The Simple Things method: Open your mouth as wide as possible and take a huge bite at the first pass, showering yourself with shards of sugar, getting sticky bits in your hair and dicing with a trip to the dentist. Because where is the fun, and what on earth is the point otherwise, we ask you.

How to succeed at apple bobbing

Any activity that involves getting wet, probably outside, at the end of October should be undertaken in a wetsuit really. But assuming you’re going to wing it in civvies (or a Halloween costume) here’s how the pros think you should proceed.

Don’t just randomly grab at apples with your mouth. You’ll get very wet. You need to think strategically here and go for one of two methods. Either look for an apple floating right way up with a prominent stalk and try to catch the stalk between your teeth (don’t bother with this method if you have a significant overbite), or pick an apple you’re going for and push it up against the side of the bowl using the bowl as leverage in order to sink your teeth into the apple.

The Simple Things method: Come dressed as a witch in a black bin liner, so the top half of your body is essentially waterproof. Don a swimming cap and nose clip. Take a deep breath and plunge your head into the water, using the bottom of the bowl to push against to get your teeth into the apple. Remove swimming cap and witch bin liner and emerge victorious. 

If you’re making your own toffee apples for Halloween (or just because) you might like to try the recipe for the toffee apples on twigs (above) from Apple by James Rich (Hardie Grant). You can find the recipe on p71 of our October Create issue or buy it in the link below.

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More from our October issue…

More apple activities…

The lost art of squirreling away

Why we love a larder, and why you should, too

Somewhere in the last 50-or-so years, larders were lost and became a bit of a thing of the past. We probably all remember a grandparent or auntie who had a really decent larder. If you were lucky it was a proper cold room with shelves on all four sides, precariously stacked with tins, jars, packets and boxes. Otherwise it might have been an outhouse, or just a particularly big kitchen cupboard. Either way, they were a bit magic. A woman of a certain age could don a tabard, stick her head briefly inside the larder and - ta dah! - emerge with an armful of packets and tins from which a cake would appear, or a jelly filled with fruit, or simply a tin of cocoa powder and a packet of biscuits. 

But, as post-war kitchens became smaller and fridges ever bigger, the larder fell out of favour, no longer needed as we filled our American-style fridges with food that would last for days and freezers took more of the strain. 

However, in the last decade, larders have been having a moment again, with several big kitchen companies creating beautiful, freestanding larder-armoires, that open their capacious doors as if to hug you to the bosom of their dried goods and tins. And we’re not surprised. Because what is nicer than a larder?

We all aspire to the sort of larder stocked with home-bottled tomatoes, chutney from the allotment and jars of apples dried in a low oven (the sort of larder that calls for large Kilner jars and chalkboard labels). 

But all larders are a joy. The kind you can lean on one Thursday night when the supermarket shut just as you arrived and the fridge is bare, but just at the back of the larder is a packet of dry pasta, a jar of roasted peppers that came in a hamper at Christmas and a bottle of red, and suddenly dinner is saved. Or the sort of larder that seems to be full to the gunwales with flour, currants, rice and other utilitarian things, but you know that one rainy afternoon, if you have a bit of a dig about you will emerge, victorious, with the remains of a homemade fruit cake and a chocolate orange you hid from yourself for just such an occasion.

You don’t even need to have a larder to larder well. Got a shed? Give it a tidy and set up a small book shelf in there for your jars and tins. An outdoor bunker does the job equally well, with the addition of a small storage unit. A cupboard under the stairs makes a good larder, and means you don’t have to set foot outside in inclement weather. Or, for ultimate convenience, dedicate a cupboard in your kitchen to be a larder cupboard and feel the joy every time you open the door. Wherever you choose to create your larder, do make sure it’s mouse and bug proof (there’s nothing sadder than another creature stealing all your hard work). Once you’ve got your space sorted you can set about planning the contents.

There’s an art to squirreling away, you see. Some squirreling requires hard work and forward planning while other aspects require a bit of recklessness and a glint in your eye. You have to consider not only what you might need, but also what you might just fancy. October is prime squirreling time: you can use up the last of the summer gluts making jams, biscuits and other goodies that will cheer the winter months. In fact, we have some fabulous ideas for this from Rachel de Thample in our October issue, everything from marrow marmalade to homemade Worcestershire sauce. But it’s also a good time to stash away a fancy tin of biscuits, some posh chocolates (or maybe simply a Crunchie bar, just for you, hidden on the top shelf behind the butter beans, to be eaten under the duvet with a book on a sad, snowy Sunday). The Norwegians might say: ‘There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes’. We say ‘there’s no such thing as bad weather, only a badly prepared larder’. Get ready to hunker down. 

Our October issue has several recipes from Gifts from the Modern Larder: Homemade Presents to Make  and Give by Rachel de Thample (Kyle Books). Photography by Ali Allen. The ‘Create’ issue is in shops now.

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More things we love about October…

More from our October issue…

Recipe | Ginger snaps

Crunchy, spicy biscuits ideal for eating with pumpkin ice cream

Our October issue has a very special ‘gathering’ feature with recipes for a pumpkin party. It’s got everything from autumnal salads to a fabulously moreish sausage roll and even a pumpkin beer keg. But we have made a date to create the pumpkin ice cream sandwiches pictured above - sweet pumpkin ice cream squidged between ginger snaps and rolled in pistachios. Who says ice cream is for summer?

You can make them using any shop-bought ginger snaps but if you fancy going the whole hog, you can make the ginger snaps using the recipe below.

Ginger snaps

Makes 24

225g plain flour

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp bicarbonate of soda

1 tbsp ground ginger

Pinch of salt

120g unsalted butter

120g caster sugar

5 tbsp (75g) golden syrup

1 Preheat oven to 180C/Fan 160C/Gas 4. Line 2 baking trays with greaseproof

paper.

2 Sift the flour, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda, ginger and salt into a large

bowl. Cut the butter into cubes and rub into the flour until the mixture

resembles fine breadcrumbs.

3 Stir in the sugar. Add the golden syrup and mix together well. Bring it all

together with your hands to make a smooth ball of dough.

4 Break off small walnut-sized pieces, roll into balls and place on the lined

baking trays. Allow space between each ball as they will spread during cooking.

5 Bake for 10-15 mins until the ginger snaps have spread and turned golden

brown.

6 Leave to cool for 5 mins on the baking trays before using a spatula to

carefully move them to wire racks to cool completely.

Don’t forget to buy the October ‘create’ issue for the rest of the recipes for our pumpkin party.

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Eat | Wild September Salad

Eating out in the wild this month? Why pack a salad when you can scour hedgerows for woodland treats?

Al fresco dinners take on a new, more exciting element in early autumn. You can still enjoy mild days and longer evenings but also bring out more robust flavours and warming dishes that just shout ‘Autumn’ at you.

In our September issue, we have a very special ‘gathering’ feature we’ve called Into The Woods, with recipes by Rachel de Thample. It’s all about cooking over a fire and making the most of the great outdoors before the days become shorter, with everything from koftas and flatbreads to pear crumble and apple hot toddies. We particularly liked this simple Wild September Salad, which you can serve as part of this campfire feast or at any late summer, early autumn picnic. Just find your way to a likely looking hedgerow and see what nature has provided.

Leaves to look out for

Yarrow Feathery leaves resembling camomile – delicious aniseed flavour.
Alkanet Use the smaller, newer leaves and pretty blue flowers, which taste like cucumber.
Three-cornered leek Looks like wild garlic, tastes like wild garlic, but its triangular stems enjoy a late flush in early autumn.
Wild rocket Resembles farmed rocket, although the leaves range from greyish green to dark green. Smells peppery.
Shepherd’s purse Its tiny love-heartlike seed pods have a nice punchy, mustardy flavour.
Wood sorrel Small clover-like leaves, only smaller and tinged bronze; lemony tasting.

(There’s a good hedgerow food guide at wildfooduk.com.) Wash freshly picked leaves well, then pat dry with kitchen towel. Tumble together in a large bowl to mix and either pack into flatbreads or serve as a side with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil.

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Bake a basic sourdough loaf

This month marks Sourdough September and we can’t think of much that’s more worth celebrating

As summer draws to a close our minds turn to home comforts, particularly those that involve flowery hands and warm smells emanating from ovens. For our September ‘Begin’ issue, we visited Sourdough School to begin finding out from sourdough guru Vanessa Kimbell how to make that delicious, crusty, chewy bread. You can read all about it on p22 of the issue. To give you a flavour, though, we’ve posted one of Vanessa’s simple sourdough recipes here. Don’t say we aren’t good to you. You can find out lots more about sourdough at The Sourdough School.

Allow yourself about 3 –4 hours for the dough to be mixed, folded and shaped ready to place in the coldest part of the fridge to prove overnight.(If you are new to bread making, you can, instead of shaping the dough and putting it into a banneton, grease a 2lb bread tin liberally with butter, let the dough rise in it overnight in the fridge and then bake as per the recipe instructions below.)

Equipment:
A large mixing bowl
A round cane banneton
2 clean tea towels
A Dutch oven or La Cloche
A large heatproof pan, a sharp knife or ‘lame’ to slash the dough with

Ingredients:
300g water
100g sourdough leaven (made with your starter)*
100g of stoneground organic wholemeal flour
400g organic strong white flour
10g fine sea salt mixed with 15g of cold water
25g rice flour mixed with 25g of stone ground white flour (for dusting your banneton)
Semolina to dust the bottom of the baking surface

Makes 1 loaf

Late afternoon

In a large bowl whisk your water and starter and mix well. Add all the flour and mix until all the ingredients come together into a large ball.

Cover with a clean damp cloth and let the dough rest on the side in the kitchen for between 30 mins and 2 hours – this what bakers call Autolyse

Add the salt mixed with the water and dimple your fingers into the dough to allow the salty water and salt to distribute evenly throughout the dough.  Leave for 10 mins.

Next lift and fold your dough over, do a quarter turn of your bowl and repeat 3 more times. Repeat 3 times at 30 min intervals with a final 15 min rest at the end.

Shape the dough lightly into a ball then place into a round banneton dusted with flour (If you don’t have a banneton then use a clean tea towel dusted with flour inside a colander). Dust the top with flour, then cover with a damp tea-towel

Leave your dough to one side until it is 50% bigger then transfer to the fridge , and leave to prove there for 8 – 12 hours.

The following morning

The next morning preheat your oven to 220°C for at least 30 mins before you are ready to bake. Place your cloche or baking stone in the oven and a large pan of boiling water underneath (or use a Dutch oven). The hydration helps form a beautiful crust.

Once the oven is up to full heat, carefully remove the baking stone from the oven, taking care not to burn yourself, dust with a fine layer of semolina, which stops the bread sticking, then put your dough onto the baking stone and slash the top with your blade. This decides where the bread will tear as it rises. Bake for an hour.

Turn the heat down to 180°C (and remove the lid if you are using a Dutch oven) and bake for another 10 -15  mins.  You need to choose just how dark you like your crust but I suggest you bake until it is a dark brown – it tastes much better.

Storage

Sourdough is really best left to cool completely before slicing and is even better if left for a day to let the full flavour develop. Once your sourdough has cooled, store in a linen or cotton bread bag, or wrapped in a clean tea towel. If you don’t like a crunchy crust on your sourdough bread, simply wrap your bread in a clean tea towel whilst it is still warm.

* To make 100g of leaven, use 1 tbsp of sourdough starter, 40g of water and 40g of strong white flour, mix well and leave, covered on the side in the kitchen in the morning. It will be lively and bubbly and ready to bake with in the evening.

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Eat | Blackberry and goats' cheese flatbreads

Crumble certainly has its place but if you’re looking for something a little different for your blackberry glut, look no further than this simple September starter, side or light lunch to share

This combination straddles the sweet and savoury worlds and is all the better for it. Sweet and sharp blackberries pair well with creamy goat’s cheese, thinly sliced onions tip it towards savoury while the final drizzle of honey pulls it back to a harmonious and very seasonal whole.

Makes 4

500g strong white flour
2 tsp salt
1 tsp instant yeast
1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
½ red onion, finely sliced
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
150g soft goat’s cheese, cut into discs
400g blackberries, gently crushed with a fork
1 tbsp fresh or dried thyme
2 tbsp runny honey

1 Put the flour, salt and yeast in a large bowl. Pour over 325ml warm water and the olive oil, and mix to a soft dough. Tip out onto a floured surface and knead for 10 mins, then transfer to a clean bowl, cover with a tea towel and set aside to rise for about 2 hours, or until doubled in size.

2 Meanwhile, put the red onion in a small bowl with the vinegar, mix together and leave to marinate.

3 Once the dough has risen, set a baking tray upside down on a high shelf in the oven and preheat to 240C/Fan 220C/Gas 9.

4 Sprinkle a handful of flour on your work surface and roll out a quarter of the dough as thinly as you can. Sprinkle another handful of flour on the heated baking tray, transfer the dough to the tray and bake for 6 mins.

5 Drain the onion and pat dry with kitchen roll. Remove the flatbread from the oven and scatter over a quarter of the cheese, a quarter of the blackberries, a quarter of the onion and a quarter of the thyme. Return to the oven for about 7 mins.

6 Drizzle the flatbread with a little honey and eat immediately. Repeat with the remaining dough and ingredients to make four flatbreads. Cook’s note: If you have a special pizza oven or a pizza stone, you may be able to put the topping onto the raw dough and cook it all together, but most standard ovens won’t get hot enough to make flatbreads without soggy bottoms unless you cook the base a little first.

This recipe is by Lia Leendertz and is part of our Finders Keepers series on foraging. You can find the rest of the recipes for blackberries and elderberries in our September issue. We’ve got everything from elderberry lemonade to roast blackberry fool!

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Nostalgia | Forgotten bakery goods

The joy of a good bakery, like the joy of a good bookshop, never ages. They might have become more artisan, more European, more generally fancy, but at the heart of a good bakery is that same ‘nose-pressed-to-the-glass, nostrils heady with the scent of sugar feeling that captured us as children, eyes like dinner plates and hands ready to grab. 

In our August issue, we’ve featured a few of the most inspiring bakeries in the world, taken from Europe’s Best Bakeries by Sarah Guy. And we have to say it’s an awe-inspiring collection, including The Earth’s Crust Bakery at Castle Douglas, pictured above. It took us right back to our earliest memories of bakeries, and - we’re going to give away our age here - we’ve collated below a few of our favourite classic bakery goods. There’s nothing civilised about most of them. Each is a frivolous carb- and sugar-fuelled mini feast. Exactly as it should be. 

Join us on a trip down memory lane. And leave us a comment at the end of the blog reminding us of any bakery goods you enjoyed as a child that we might have forgotten…

Traffic light biscuits

Oh the indulgence! Two shortbread biscuits sandwiched together, the top with three tempting holes cut out, through which oozed not one, nor two but THREE differently coloured fruit curds (red, yellow and green obviously). We still have no idea what flavour each colour was meant to denote. Presumably strawberry, lemon and… erm… lime? Apple? Green flavour? It matters not. The point was that buttery shortbread crumbling beneath your gappy-toothed bite and nearly falling to the floor, but for the curd that kept it safely anchored to the main biscuit. 

Nest cakes

Mysteriously sold all year round, these Easter treats were usually assembled from Cornflakes or Shredded Wheat, crushed and mixed with melted chocolate, dolloped into paper cases and decorated with tiny eggs. And none of your posh Mini Eggs of today, oh no. These eggs were of the 1980s ‘pure sugar, encased in a shell, again of pure sugar’ variety. Just looking at them made your teeth ache. What’s not to love?

Ice cream cone ‘cakes’

We struggled to remember what the deal was here but we remember jealously coveting them, that’s for sure. Askey’s wafer cones, filled with some sort of sticky sugary goo, that bonded any two surfaces quicker than Bostick. We think it was meant to represent ice-cream. The whole thing was topped with Hundreds and Thousands  - the proper sugar strands, not your modern, ball-style nonsense. We clearly remember that they were created in a rainbow colourway, with multicolured sugar strands atop a pink sugar goo and there was also a chocolate version, with a chocolate goo topped with only dark chocolate sugar strands (for the more classy and discerning eight-year-old, presumably). 

Iced fingers

Take off the icing and you basically have a plain, unassuming roll, but lined up in the bakery window, iced fingers were pure joy. There’s something deliciously simple (and almost unashamedly cheeky) about icing a plain bread roll and calling it a cake. We admire this. 

Meringue ghosts

Not just for Halloween, these crumbly creatures of the night seemed to be on bakery shelves all year round. Swirls of wonky meringue with chocolate drop eyes and a demeanour that would terrify an apple puff. 

Sticky buns

We’re taking a very specific type of sticky here. Not your average iced bun (we’ve covered those), and not a Chelsea bun either (no glace cherries here). Proper sticky buns were simple fruit buns made sticky with some sort of mysterious glaze and tiny crystals of sugar that were inexplicably perfect cube shapes. What WERE those things? Anyway, inexplicably sticky buns were a classic and have somehow not been the same in the last 30 years at least. And we still don’t know where that mad square sugar came from. Intriguing!

Do leave us memories of your forgotten bakery goods below. We can’t wait to read them. Pick up our August issue to read more about some of the best bakeries in the world.

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Get to know | aubergines

Photography: Sasha Gil

Because this purple veg box staple has been a stranger too long

You might think you know all there is to know about aubergines, but we’d warrant you are wrong. This large purple BERRY (yes, who knew?) brings a little med cheer to any summer dining table or barbecue, and we thought we’d share a few little known facts about it.

1 So, yes, it’s a berry, botanically speaking, but one of the nightshade family, like potatoes and tomatoes. Technically nightshades are poisonous but you’d have to eat an awful lot of the aubergines themselves and the leaves to do yourself any harm beyond a mild tummy ache brought on my overindulgence.

2 At various times aubergines have been believed to cause madness. In 13th-Century Italy it was believed to tip people into insanity and in India in the 19th Century it was noted that madness was more common in summer when aubergines were in season… Nothing to do with the heat, then?

3 Aubergines contain more nicotine than any other plant (with the possible exception of the tobacco plant). However, they aren’t dangerous, or even addictive (though they are very moreish, we find).

4 Aubergines consist of 95% water and half their volume is air.

5 Traditionally, in China, as part of her dowry, a woman must have at least 12 aubergine recipes at her fingertips before her wedding day. This sounds eminently sensible to us, unless you like to eat a LOT of ratatouille. 

The picture above is of Miso-Caramel Aubergines from Jackfruit & Blue Ginger (Murdoch Books), recipe and photography by Sasha Gill. You can find the recipe in our August issue, which is on sale now.

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Seaside recipe | prawn skewers

Because nothing says ‘beach lunch’ like crustaceons and crusty bread

Whether you’re heading to the coast this weekend or gathering friends in the garden, these hot, citrusy, umami prawns will be a welcome addition to the table, the picnic rug or the sand.

Makes 8

2 garlic cloves, crushed
Juice of ½ lime
3 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp honey
½ red chilli, finely chopped
350g unpeeled, precooked prawns, fresh or frozen (if frozen, fully defrosted)
2 limes, quartered

1 Add the crushed garlic, lime juice, olive oil, honey and red chilli to a large bowl, whisk together. Add the prawns, toss to coat and leave to marinate for 15 mins.
2 Thread the prawns onto the skewers and add a lime quarter to each. Keep remaining marinade to brush on to the skewers during cooking.
3 On a griddle pan over a medium heat or on a barbecue, cook each side for 1–2 mins, brushing with any extra marinade. Serve immediately.

These skewers are just part of our Seafood and Sandcastles menu featured in our August issue, where you’ll find all the recipes. If you’d like to also try the barbecue nachos, crab burgers, delicious salads and messy Eton mess, you can pick up a copy in the shops today. We guarantee you’ll be the envy of the whole stretch of sand (even if your sandcastles aren’t up to much).

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