a mild cake for pleasant dreams

Dream of a Rarebit Fiend (Edwin S. Porter, 1906).
You don't want your bed skittering out from under you, do you? Or chafing dish goblins jumping about your weary head? Then you'd better quit ladling welsh rarebit into your greedy gullet before you tuck in for the night. A small piece of cake with a modest spoonful of chamomile-honey crème anglaise is a more restful little something between dinner and bed.

There are several recipes for chamomile crème anglaise wafting through the internets, but I improvised based on this recipe for a lavender one. I made it with lavender a while back and enjoyed it, and I like that it uses milk rather than half-and-half (or light cream, if you're outside the U.S.). Crème anglaise is basically a cold, thin custard and half-and-half does give it a very nice texture, but this time around I was really just looking for a vehicle for the flavor of chamomile, and milk is fine for that.

As for the cornmeal cake, there are hundreds upon hundreds of different recipes out there and I feel like I've tried maybe a third of them. Some use ground nuts in the batter, some use olive oil rather than butter, some specifically call for polenta rather than cornmeal, etc. I am pretty well settled on the recipe below because the somewhat-scary number of egg yolks give it an amazing texture. It may look a bit bread-y in my photo, but the taste is unmistakably, unequivocally cake.


The original recipe for the cake is here. I haven't changed anything about the cake itself; I only fiddled with the syrup. I did rewrite the directions because you definitely don't need to use an electric mixer. The rosemary syrup is really good, though, so do try it some time. The honey syrup I replaced it with is not absolutely necessary, and if you don't want to go buy a bottle of honey liqueur I suppose you could try a simple syrup of 2 tablespoons honey and 2 tablespoons water, heated just until runny.

cornmeal cake with honey syrup

8 servings

cake:
1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, softened
1 cup sugar
1 cup yellow cornmeal [the best quality you can get your hands on, hopefully Anson Mills; the texture really does make a difference]
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
1 large egg yolk
2/3 cup milk

honey syrup:
3 tablespoons honey liqueur (I used Bärenjäger)
1 tablespoon mild honey, such as clover

Preheat the oven to 350°F, with the rack positioned in the center. Generously butter an 8- by 2-inch round cake pan. (Possibly I am just paranoid after a bad experience with a sticky cake around Christmas time, but I used nearly a tablespoon of butter for the pan. We're fat now but the cake didn't stick.) Once the pan is buttered, give it a very light dusting of flour (i.e., put a tablespoon or so of flour in your smallest mesh sieve and tap that about over the pan, working fast, so that the entire interior surface is evenly but very lightly coated).

In a large bowl, beat the butter and sugar with a pastry blender "until light and fluffy." This is a standard phrase in cake recipes and I've always understood it to mean that the butter and sugar need to be thoroughly integrated, with no visible streaks of either remaining in the bowl:


Add the remaining cake ingredients and beat everything together until thoroughly combined into a pale yellow batter.

Pour the batter into the pan and bake for 40 minutes. (The original recipe says to bake it "until a tester comes out with a few crumbs adhering.")

Cool the cake in its pan on a rack for 10 minutes.

While the cake is cooling, heat the honey liqueur and the honey in a small saucepan (preferably one with a spout for pouring) just until warmed through and very runny.

Invert the cake onto a plate and, while it is still warm, pour the honey syrup evenly over the surface. I've been keeping the cake at room temperature and I'm convinced the small amount of alcohol kills all cooties, but you can refrigerate it if you're nervous.

chamomile-honey crème anglaise

2 cups milk
4 egg yolks
1/2 cup mild honey (I used raw clover honey)
3 chamomile tea bags, or the equivalent amount of loose chamomile tea

Heat the milk and the chamomile tea bags (or loose tea) in a heavy saucepan over medium heat until the milk starts to bubble around the edges of the pan. (A heavy pan — such as enameled cast iron — is ideal because milk can easily get too hot too fast in a cheapo pan). Turn the heat off and let the chamomile steep in the warm milk for approximately 20 minutes.

After 20 minutes or so, heat the milk again over medium heat. If it appears to have reduced quite a bit since the first time around, you can add a splash more to the pan.

While the milk is heating a second time, whisk the egg yolks and the honey together until they are very thoroughly blended.

Remove the tea bags from the pan. (If you've used loose tea, leave it in, and see note below about straining).

Once the milk has again started to bubble at the edges, whisk 1/2 cup of it into the egg yolk and honey mixture. Whisk constantly but not too vigorously; the purpose of this step is to get the egg yolk mixture acclimated to the temperature of the milk, not to get it to change texture. Pour the egg yolk mixture into the pan and keep whisking for approximately one minute, or until the mixture thickens slightly. "Slightly" is all you're looking for: Once it is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon, it's done, and you can take the pan off the heat. Transfer the crème anglaise to a bowl or pitcher and refrigerate until chilled. (If you have used loose chamomile, now is the time for you to pass the crème anglaise through a mesh sieve). It will taste just as good, if not better, the next day. If a skin has formed on the surface of the crème anglaise while chilling, remove it with a spoon before serving.

If you think the cake will be too naked with just a little crème anglaise on it, I think a spoonful of sautéed apples (maybe with a little honey, fresh thyme, and lemon juice?) would be nice on the plate. Fresh berries would work too. Candied walnuts or pecans wouldn't be out of place either.

breakfast of underemployed champions

"And Bread-and-Butter-Cups (Fresh Every Morning)" by Walter Crane, from an unpublished children's book. Found at
the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University.

It's been a while! A few months isn't an especially long time in human years, but in blog years I suppose I've popped my clogs and been resurrected. Go ahead and cancel the arrangement of mourning flowers you ordered and put your black veil away; we're going to bake some bread.

I've made the walnut bread below three times since the recipe appeared in the Guardian in early January, making small changes each time depending on mood and kitchen inventory. I've not baked much in the past apart from quick-and-easy stuff like biscuits and muffins, in part because there's so much that can go wrong with a proper loaf. It's such a disappointment to spend all afternoon kneading and waiting and end up with something fit only for a duck's breakfast. I've found this dough a lot more pleasant to work with than the earnest hippie whole wheat bombs I've struggled with in the past. Is it the generous measure of warm milk? The way the warm milk and warm bowl help the yeast along? I can't say. It just works.



____________ and walnut bread

[Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's recipe is titled fig and walnut bread, but I keep making it with anything but figs. I've not changed anything else about the recipe because it's pretty much perfect as-is, but I have made notes in brackets.]

850g strong bread flour, plus extra for dusting
7g sachet dry active yeast
2-3 tsp fine-ground salt
450ml whole milk
100ml water
60g unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
2 tbsp honey [maple syrup works well too]
150g dried figs, soaked overnight in enough hot tea to cover, then drained and roughly chopped [I have used both dates and golden raisins with very good results. Neither need to be soaked more than 15 minutes. I've also used a combination of grated zucchini and blanched grated carrot, both of which should be drained well rather than soaked in anything.]
150g walnuts, roughly chopped

In a large, warmed mixing bowl, combine the flour, yeast and salt. In a saucepan, heat the milk, water, butter and honey [or maple syrup] to blood temperature, allowing the butter to melt, then add to the bowl. Mix with one hand to form a rough dough, then turn out on to a work surface and knead until soft, velvety and elastic, about 10 minutes. Shape into a tight ball, coat lightly with flour all over and place in a bowl. Cover with clingfilm or a plastic bag, and leave to rise in a warm place for an hour or so until doubled in size.

Turn the risen dough out on to a floured surface and press it gently into a rectangle. Combine the figs and walnuts in a bowl, scatter over the dough and roll up. Knead until thoroughly amalgamated and divide in two. On a lightly floured surface, shape each half into a ball, press into a flat disc, and roll up tightly to make a nice, even loaf shape. [Of course you can shape all or part of the dough into small rolls; they'll take a total of approximately 20 minutes to bake.] Smooth the ends under tightly, dust all over with flour, then leave to rise again, covered, on a floured tea towel or wooden board until almost doubled in size.

While the dough is rising, turn the oven to its highest setting. [I don't go any higher than 450 F because my small apartment gets far too warm.] Put in a large baking tray to heat up, and put a roasting tin on the oven floor. Boil the kettle. [Not necessary; keep reading.] When your loaves are risen, remove the tray from the oven, put the loaves on it, cut three parallel slashes into the top of each loaf and return to the oven. Pour half a kettleful of boiling water into the roasting tin and quickly close the door. [I don't bother boiling the water. Instead I simply add a roasting pan filled with an inch and a half of hot water from the tap at the same time I put the bread in. I put it on a shelf arranged just below the one the bread is on and that works very well for me.] After 10 minutes, turn down the heat to 190C/375F/gas mark 5 and bake for a further 20-30 minutes, until the loaves sound hollow when tapped on the base. Leave on a rack to cool completely before slicing.



breakfast tea for underemployed persons

This one is all me. I have no idea whether Mr. Fearnley-Whittingstall drinks at breakfast but I can assure you, it's not shameful unless there's something slovenly about your bearing.

Serves 1.

1 tablespoon muscovado or dark brown sugar
juice of half a lemon
1 to 2 shots of good dark rum (depending on mood and schedule and size of cup)
Lapsang Souchong tea (bagged or loose tea, up to you)
enough freshly boiled water to fill your insulated sippy cup

The sugar and lemon juice go in the cup first. Stir until the sugar is beginning to dissolve; then add the rum and the tea. (Obviously use some type of strainer if you are a loose tea person). Then the hot water. Give it a good stir and put the lid right on so it stays nice and hot for the rest of the morning.