Banoffee Pie

Banoffee Pie

It’s another #TastyTuesday and this week I’m serving up Banoffee Pie. As with many of the British desserts I’ve posted here, if you are at all concerned with your cholesterol level, walk away now. Trust me, a little banoffee pie goes a long way.

Banoffee is very popular in the UK and you’ll find some variation of a banoffee dessert in pubs and restaurants all over the country. Banoffee cheesecake, cupcakes, tarts, sundaes . . . you get the idea.

This recipe is from my sister-in-law’s mother-in-law and it is delicious. Let me know if you make it and what you think!

Banoffee PIe

For the base:
100 grams/ 7 Tbsp butter, melted
250 grams/ .5 pounds digestive biscuits/graham crackers, crushed

For the caramel:
100 grams/ 7 Tbsp butter
100 grams/.5 cup soft dark brown sugar
397 gram/14 ounce can Carnation Condensed Milk

For the top:
4 small bananas
300 ml carton/1.25 cups whipping cream, lightly whipped
grated chocolate

1. You will need a 20cm loose-bottomed cake tin, greased, or if, like me, you don’t own such a thing, you can use an 8-inch pie plate.
2. Crush the biscuits or graham crackers and pour them in a bowl. Add the melted butter and mix in. Spoon the crumbs into the base and about halfway up the sides of the tin/plate to make a pie shell. Chill for 10 minutes.
3. Melt the butter and sugar for the caramel in a non-stick saucepan over a low heat, stirring constantly until the sugar has dissolved. Add the condensed milk and bring to a rapid boil for about a minute, stirring until it becomes a thick golden caramel. Spread the caramel over the base, cool and then chill for about 1 hour, until firm or ready to serve.
4. Slice the bananas and fold half of them into the softly whipped cream and spoon over the caramel. Decorate with the remaining bananas and finish with the grated chocolate.

Hey, It’s Tasty . . . Friday!

So… I’ve been experiencing some technical difficulties here at expatrimummy, hence the lack of posting, and though the issues aren’t quite ironed out I expect they will be soon. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, how about a Tasty Tuesday on Friday? Today we’re making apple crumble–an easy classic British dessert, similar to an American apple crisp, but probably with way more butter and sugar involved.

I don’t follow a specific recipe; my mother-in-law taught me how to make this many years ago before we were in-laws at all. It’s simple and a great comfort food for a cold winter’s night.

Apple Crumble

As many cooking apples (peeled, cored and sliced) as will fit into your chosen baking dish.
Equal parts white flour, white sugar, and about half as much butter (I generally use a cup of flour and sugar and either add more if I need it or freeze the excess).

1. Peel, core and slice your apples and put them in your baking dish.
2. Mix together the flour and sugar, then cut in the butter.
3. Sprinkle the flour mixture overtop the apples, then put in a 350°F oven and bake until done, about 30 minutes.

You can vary this by adding sugar to the apples if they’re particularly tart, or cinnamon, or add cinnamon to the topping or use brown sugar instead of white. My mother-in-law frequently adds blackberries to the apples if she’s got them to hand. Make it your own or enjoy as is. Serve it with ice cream or custard (we don’t make our own custard from scratch; we use Bird’s Custard Powder made up with milk and sugar in the microwave).

 

Christmas Pudding

Christmas pudding photo courtesy of Jay Springett on Wikimedia Commons.

Today’s recipe is another repeat from a few years ago—hope you enjoy it!

Ah, the Christmas pudding. Banned by the Puritans, feared by the (modern) Americans, loved by (most of) the British. My husband has been making Christmas pudding to scare my family with for years, as it simply isn’t Christmas for him without one. As for me, my thoughts on Christmas pudding are this: meh.

It’s a marvelous thing to see on Christmas day, after it has been steamed for a few hours, doused with brandy and set alight before bringing it to the table. When my nephews were a wee bit smaller than they are now (let’s just say they are much, much taller than I am these days), their eyes would grow to saucer-size at the sight of a dessert actually on fire. But no way were they going to eat it.

This is another Christmas tradition that can be made months in advance, ideally six. (No, that has never been managed in my household.) Much like the Christmas fruitcake, full of dried raisins, cranberries, cherries, figs, whatever you like (no scary candied fruits, please!), some cloves, a few eggs, some nutmeg, a bit of flour, brown sugar, bread crumbs, butter, ginger, and most important, the booze: 1/2 cup of rum and 1/3 cup of cognac or brandy. (Though you don’t necessarily need to use both.) Steam for about two hours.

On the day, you steam it again for another 45 minutes or so, douse it in brandy, and set it alight. Usually served with a side of brandy butter: butter, sugar, and brandy all mixed together. My husband has also always been in charge of that particular mix, and all I know is it’s equal parts butter and sugar with as much brandy as the mix can take. Good luck.

Parkin Cake

Parkin Cake

Here’s another recipe I pulled out of a magazine over a year ago with a view to making and sharing on the blog. Parkin cake is, apparently, a tradition in the North of England and not the South, where we live—which may explain why I’d never heard of it before. It dates back to about 1728 and is associated with Guy Fawkes night, or bonfire night, when Brits celebrate the man who tried to bring down the government by blowing up the Houses of Parliament. He failed and was hung, drawn, and quartered. Ouch.

Parkin cake was known as the cake of the poor, because it used oats—the staple grain of the poor—as one of its main ingredients and was traditionally made in early November, after the oats were harvested, which is probably why it became associated with bonfire night, the 5th of November. Essentially, it’s a gingerbread with oatmeal in it and makes a tasty snack on a cold autumn night.

Parkin Cake
Serves 12-15

100g / 4 oz / .5 cup butter
100g / 4 oz / .5 cup soft dark brown sugar
1 tbsp black treacle/molasses
4 tbsp golden syrup/corn syrup
225 g / 8 oz / 2.5 cups oatmeal
100 g / 4 oz / 7/8 cup self-raising flour
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda/baking soda
pinch of salt
2 tsp ground ginger
2 beaten eggs
2 tbsp milk

1. Preheat oven to gas mark 2/ 150°C / 130°C fan / 300°F.
2. Melt butter, brown sugar, black treacle/molasses and 4 tbsp golden syrup/corn syrup in a pan over low heat.
3. Let the butter and molasses mixture cool a little, then stir it into a bowl with the oatmeal,  self-raising flour, bicarbonate of soda/baking soda, pinch of salt and ground ginger.
4. Mix in the eggs and milk. Spoon into a greased and lined 20.5cm/8 in square cake pan and bake for about 1 to 1.5 hours, until golden.
5. Allow the cake to cool in the tin, then turn out. Wrap well in greaseproof/waxed paper and store in a container for up to three days.

Enjoy!

Battenberg Cake

I pulled this recipe out of a magazine months ago, planning to use it for #TastyTuesday. As I write this, the cake is cooling on the cooling rack and I am feeling very, very hungry and hoping it lives up to its wonderful aroma.

Battenberg cake is known for the pink and white checkerboard pattern of its interior. Apparently it has also been known in the past as Church Window Cake, Neapolitan Roll and Domino Cake. Sources say that it was called “Battenberg Cake” to honor the 1884 marriage of Queen Victoria’s granddaughter, Princess Victoria, to Prince Louis of Battenberg, Germany. Battenberg is the family seat of the aristocratic Mountbatten family, which has close ties to today’s royal family. Those ties deserve their own book (or two) and more time, energy and interest than I personally have—and that history isn’t really relevant to this particular cake anyway. Whether you like history or not, this cake is worth a try.

Battenberg Cake
Serves 8

200g/ 7  oz/ 1.75 sticks unsalted butter, softened, plus extra for greasing
200 g/ 7 oz/ .75 cup +1 teaspoon caster (superfine) sugar
1 tsp vanilla
3 large eggs
200 g/ 7 oz / 1.75 cups all-purpose flour, sifted
1 level tsp baking powder
3/4 x 10 g tube pink food color gel (this is a tricky one to convert–if you have food color gel, great. If not, use food coloring to make the batter a nice pinky-rose color)
115 g/ 3.75 oz/ 7.5 tablespoons apricot jam*
icing sugar, for dusting
1 x 500g pack natural marzipan (about 1 pound)**

* This would be equally delicious with raspberry or strawberry jam.
** I am not fond of marzipan, so I used regular white icing in its place.

1. Preheat the oven to Gas 4, 180°C, 160°C fan, 350°F. Grease 2 loaf tins and line with baking paper.
2. Beat the butter, caster sugar and vanilla extract until pale and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well, then fold in the flour and baking powder. Transfer the mixture to a bowl on some kitchen scales, then weight out half and color with the pink gel/food coloring.
3. Transfer the batter to the baking pans and bake for 25-30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn onto a wire rack to cool completely.
4. When cool, trim the sides and top and cut each cake in half lengthwise. Use the jam to stick the long edge of one pink slice to one white slice. Spread the top of these with jam and place the other two cake halves on top, spreading the top with jam as well. (Note: because I didn’t use marzipan, I didn’t spread the top with jam—too messy.)
5. If you are using marzipan, take a large rectangle of greaseproof/waxed paper/baking parchment and dust it with icing sugar. Roll out the marzipan onto the rectangle and then place the cake, jam side down, against the short edge of the marzipan. Brush the other sides of the cake with more jam and roll the cake in the marzipan. (You don’t put the marzipan on the ends, just around the length of the cake.) Dust with icing sugar before serving.

And that, my friends, is a Battenberg cake. Enjoy!

PS: It was delicious.