Yearly Archives: 2010

First Dip in Henleaze Lake

No excuse today, temperatures soaring, so I walked the dogs first thing and then dug out my swimming kit and have just come back from an hour of heaven messing about in the Lake.

Ironically I lived here for four years before I worked out that the lake I had read about in wonderful Waterlog by Roger Deakin was …..

…… less than five minutes away and just behind the woodland where the wild garlic and elder grow and the dogs play most days. A quarry originally, with steep rocky sides, a few ducks, full of pike and other fish. The anglers have half the lake, the swimmers the other half. You wouldn’t dream you were so close to the centre of such a big city as Bristol when you float in the middle of the lake, weightless and relaxed.

We swam in the Thames when I was little, usually ballasted in elderly yellow lifejackets, clutching at boat ropes, trying not to swallow the oily diesel floating in rainbows on the surface of the water.

We swam a little in Lake Malaren when we were holidaying in Sweden, a cold and northerly lake, and I can count on one hand the number of swims I had in Loweswater in the Lake District, as our summertime visits to my father rarely coincided with hot weather and the lakes are deep and very cold.

Zeb has a midsummer swim In Loweswater

So I don’t rate as the most intrepid wild water swimmer, but when the water temperature is around the 20 C mark, my thoughts turn to a cool airy swim outdoors.

No chlorine, no lanes; the sound of other swimmers laughing and playing absorbed by the willow trees, a huge elemental space, fresh water, a warm breeze on your shoulders, blue sky, swifts scissoring overhead, shadow and sunlight, what else do you need?

Edit: I’ve edited this post to include a picture of the lake that I took in the summer!

Around and about (1)

The nuts are on their way…

In the garden the catkins have been replaced by nuts…

The second batch of ‘cold’ steeped elderflower cordial

On the kitchen window is the second lot of cordial, made differently from the first. Time will tell if they fizz, bubble, explode…. how exciting !

As inspired by Celia of Fig Jam and Lime Cordial

Jars of this and more tomato things are looking for a home on the shelves of the garage following Brian’s purchase of 12 kg of tomatoes the other week.

A rolled up babka thingy

One bit of test baking that sort of worked. But I can’t give you the recipe….

The lime trees are flowering….

I am going to harvest some of the flowers and make my own linden blossom tea this autumn. Lime trees, beloved of town planners for their sticky sap which stops people parking under them, and a great and glorious tree when left unpollarded like this one at Ashton Court.

American Readers please note : this isn’t a citrus lime tree (Citrus aurantifolia), but a tree also known as a small-leaved lime, one of the family of tilia trees and yes they get big! In England the tilia are commonly called lime trees. This is not confusing for English people as we don’t have citrus trees growing outdoor as you do in the USA, only a few in conservatories behind glass. I have just had a little scoot around and in the US they are usually known as linden trees. The tea made from the blossom of this tree is variously known as limeflower blossom tea, limeflower tea, linden tea, tilleul in French. Widely drunk in Europe, (Proust et al) and it is one of the safest teas to drink in the herbal range. I have some lovely scent from Jo Malone which is lime blossom too. You could say I am a bit of a limey :)

Rant, rave, rant

Skip this post if you don’t want to read a grumbly rant….or just check the pictures and move on…..

Too hot for Zeb

One of the biggest challenges for home bakers in this ‘connected age’ is trying to figure out whether the recipe they read on a website on the other side of the world will actually work out translated to their own kitchen. I know some of you out there are brilliant at adapting recipes, but it is not my strong point I will freely admit.

Translating technique and methods are relatively easy, but types of flour, sugars, flavourings, not to mention cuts of rye grain, salts, butters and other fats, vary so much that it gives rise to a lot of discussion. All the forums are full of posts on this subject. Hunting around on the internet for someone who supplies einkorn is a harmless way to spend an evening and I suppose it is educational to try and work out just what is the difference between farro and spelt and pondering the mysteries of OO flour. Is it soft, is it hard, are there different sorts. I suspect there are….

And then a lovely visit to one of these restored mills where you buy a bag of their flour, get it home and realise there is no info at all on the bag to give you a clue about its composition, does this strike a familiar chord?

So I salute home bakers everywhere, who struggle to overcome these obstacles and I offer my heart felt encouragement to those who are just starting out. It does get easier, and most people manage to make a damn good loaf by their second or third go. Keep the faith. Like learning to dance, everyone gets better with practice, and bread is no different.

In breadmaking it seems as if each country has not only different names for their flours, but also different ways of describing them, ash content in Germany, protein levels in England, W and P in Italy (no idea at all what that refers to) and for the most part, the aspiring home baker has to make their best guess, scour the internet for advice, and then close their eyes and just jump in.

Bread though is relatively forgiving; unlike cake. This brings me to my rant:

I’ve just been testing some cake recipes for an American baking book, and realise that I am far from being a professional tester and that I don’t really like doing it. Hmmm.

I have managed to produce, with one exception, rather horrible looking, oversweet and dense cakes, some of which I have turned into crumbs; the rest sliced up and shoved in the freezer, vaguely thinking that I can use them for trifle or something, one day in the future. I could blame the recipe writer but that’s a bit too easy.

One reason for my failure is I don’t have cake flour, special American bleached low protein stuff.

And before you comment that it is possible to make cake flour in the microwave, or substitute cornflour for part of the flour, I have read all that too, and, Dear Reader, I don’t want to play.

I realise what I really want is recipes written for me, here where I live, using ingredients that are easily available and preferably already in my cupboard. I might go across town to get some seasonal mangoes, or to a specialist butcher for marsh-raised lamb, but I am not spending hours with flour exploding in my oven, nor do I want to feel deflated when cakes emerge from the oven and look as if an invisible imp has sat on them ten minutes later. There, got that off my chest!

I also have to learn to look at a recipe more critically before I even start and say, 130% sugar to flour – no way is that going to make me happy. My teeth are furring up just at the memory of that particular cake.

Roll on Dan Lepard’s British Baking book, I hope it’s full of wonderful, overlooked and neglected British breads, cakes and buns. And Mick Hartley‘s first book too! I can’t wait to read the recipes for his awesome flatbreads and other extraordinary creations. Breads with a hint of spice, redolent with fruits, studded with chocolate, a twisted shape here, a glistening crust there, a splodge of jam, savoury, oats, barley, and rye, full of beer, I don’t care – bring them on – I’m waiting!

In the meantime here, with many thanks to Suelle and all the other kind people who made suggestions, is my alternative Battenburg. The chocolate part sank a little and the pistachio part is a bit crumbly and I guess the recipe needs some fine tuning way beyond my capabilities, as I am not going to make the same cake over and over.