Whoa, did someone says Guinness? And Chocolate? Guinness Brownies

View on Instagram

Guinness. Lovely Guinness. Wonderful on its own, and it would seem, pretty good with chocolate too, but in honesty I already knew that, as evidenced here and here.

Because Guinness is good for you, I fervently believe that these brownies will have health giving properties. It is a mere detail that they contain stuff which may not form part of a calorie controlled diet, for the reason that these are so beneficial is that I defy anyone not to sit down with one of these bad boys and a cuppa and not feel completely restored, or else just a little bit better about the trivialities of life. Here is some photographic proof of the restorative properties of Guinness, from a small visit to Dublin more years ago than I would like to admit.

Has Guinness

Gets smiley

This is not necessarily a shameful attempt to get in early on the whole ‘what shall I cook for St Patrick’s Day?’ internet traffic, more an encouragement for those who may be pre-disposed to celebrate the day with a pig under their arm/wear a ‘Kiss Me, I’m Irish’ t shirt/don a snazzy leprechaun hat to do something slightly less predictable. Actually, scratch that. This blog is no place for sanctimony and so this is not the time and place to tell people how to live their lives.  You crack on with whatever it is you’re planning, but make these brownies as well, because they are amazingly glorious. In fact, don’t wait ‘til St Patrick’s Day to make them. Make them now.

You’re welcome. Slainte!

Guinness Brownies, adapted from 'Baked in America' by David Muniz and David Muzniak

Makes 12 humungous ones

Ingredients:

8oz plain flour

6oz plus 2 tablespoons cocoa

½ tsp salt (or taste the batter once it’s mixed; you might need a smidgen more)

12oz dark chocolate - I used 72% cocoa. Go big or go home.

6oz white chocolate

6oz unsalted butter, cubed

6 large eggs at room temperature

12oz caster sugar - original recipe says granulated but, not for me.

1 tsp vanilla extract

16fl oz Guinness, at room temperature

9oz milk chocolate chips

Method:

Preheat the oven to 190c

Grease a 12 x 9 x 2 inch pan really, really well. I then line it with foil, in a bit of a cradle style so I can lift the brownies out afterwards.

In a large bowl, mix the dry ingredients – the flour, the cocoa, the salt.

Place a heatproof bow over a pan of simmering water and melt the white and dark chocolate and the butter. Don’t allow the bottom of the heatproof bowl to touch the simmering water or you risk the chocolate seizing. Set aside to cool a little. You don’t want it so hot that it will ‘cook’ the eggs when you add them.

Talking of eggs – in yet another bowl, beat the eggs and sugar until the mixture becomes light and creamy and the beaters/whisk leave a ribbon like trail when you pull it out of the mixture.

Put the mixer onto medium and carefully add the melted chocolate mixture, stopping periodically to scrape down the sides of the bowl. Ensure that the mixture is completely amalgamated together. Reduce the speed to low, add the vanilla and then add the flour mixture in stages, allowing the flour to mix completely into the batter before adding more. Do not overbeat.

Finally, continuing with the mixer on low, add the Guinness, and mix until everything is well combined.

Carefully pour the batter into the prepared tin, giving it a bit of a shake so it all levels out and fills the corner of the tin. Once the mixture has settled, scatter the chocolate chips over the top.

Bake in the oven for about 30 minutes, or until a knife inserted into the centre emerges with set crumb, not raw mixture. Do not overbake. The mixture will probably shrink from the edges of the pan.

Allow the brownies to cool completely before cutting into big slabs/removing them from the tin. I put mine in the fridge to speed the process a bit. I have no idea if this is correct but patience and Guinness and chocolate have never really gone together in my life, so….

In the midst of a two course meal, there is little better than a make ahead dessert - Buttermilk Panna Cotta with Rhubarb and Ginger

 

 

 

It's that point where you have been running around bringing everything together for a dinner and you sit down to eat, finally, and have a quiet smile to yourself, knowing that dessert is already done. And panna cotta is a wonderfully simple thing to make ahead, as long as you ensure all the gelatine has dissolved and that you only use enough of that gelatine to set it to a sensuous wobble rather than something hard enough to break a window with. And that you allow it long enough to set. And you can get it out of the mould. I did say this was simple, didn't I?

 

Well, it is if you use the recipe below. This is from Bryn Williams' excellent book 'Bryn's Kitchen'. This was such a wonderful dessert. The creamy panna cotta, complete with its beautiful wobble, was a joy in itself, but when put with the rhubarb and ginger, it was simply amazing. I have to confess I could have eaten a bowl of that rhubarb and ginger compote alone, such was its all round amazingness!

 

The sharp eyed amongst you will notice that the side of the mould I pictured in the method is not the same size as the panna cotta that I chose to photograph when I had plated it all up. There are two reasons for this: Number 1, I forgot. Number 2: I doubled the recipe I had below so I would have enough for everyone and some left over. I used smaller moulds initially and then finished off with ramekins. And I decided to plate up the ramekin size, because if I am having panna cotta, then I am having panna cotta, if you catch my drift.

 

Lola and Finn loved this. And so did I. Please make this; it's wonderful!

 

Buttermilk Panna Cotta with Rhubarb and Ginger Compote, taken from Bryn's Kitchen by Bryn Williams (also from S4C's 'Cegin Bryn')

 

Serves Lola, Finn, Mum and Dad

 

3 leaves of gelatine

250ml double cream

100g caster sugar

1 vanilla pod, split in half, with the seeds scraped out

250ml buttermilk

200ml ginger wine

75g soft light brown sugar

strip of orange zest

250g rhubarb, trimmed and cut into 2cm batons

 

 

Method:

 

 

 

Soak the gelatine leaves in cold water until soft. Set aside.

 

 

 

In a large, heavy-based saucepan bring the double cream, caster sugar and vanilla pod and seeds to the boil.

 

As soon as it boils, remove the pan from the heat.

 

Scoop out the vanilla pod.

 

Add the softened gelatine to the hot liquid and stir well until dissolved.

 

 

 

Pour the liquid onto the cold buttermilk and whisk together until combined.

 

Pass the mixture through a fine sieve, (I'll be honest, I didn't - I risked it and got away with it!!)  then pour into four heatproof glasses or ramekins. Place in the fridge to set. This should take about 2 hours.

 

 

 

While the panna cotta is setting, gently heat the ginger wine with the light brown sugar and the orange zest in a large, shallow pan until the sugar has dissolved.

 

 

 

Add the rhubarb batons and poach gently for 4-6 minutes, or until just soft. Remove from the heat, leaving the rhubarb to cool in the liquid.

 

 

 

To serve, spoon the rhubarb on top of each chilled panna cotta, (after you have unmoulded the panna cotta of course - I did this by running a knife around the edges and then dipping the two thirds of the mould briefly in a bowl of boiling water before easing it out onto the plate) and drizzle with the rhubarb and ginger sauce.

Just Add Custard (or a poncey quenelle of Mascarpone): Rhubarb and Ginger Pudding Cake

 

 

I love the term 'pudding cake' and I think it's only Tamasin Day Lewis who uses the term, but it is completely the right phrase to describe this cake. You see, some cakes, the sandwich cake variety, filled with buttercream or cream cheese frosting or something is definitely for an afternoon tea, or it's birthday cake maybe. This cake however has some kind of gravitas, lacking in creamy frippery and is made for a leisurely after dinner lingering, served just slightly warm, needing only a little custard, a poncey quenelle of Mascarpone, or maybe one of those lovely after dinner sweet wines which I keep promising myself but never actually buy and drink.

 

I have made enough cakes to have a working knowledge of the basics of how one is put together and I thought it might be nice to combine rhubarb and ginger to make something which was more about flavour than sweetness. Plus, I picked up three sticks of rhubarb in the supermarket for 10p, keeping my irritating habit of not being able to pass the throw outs in the supermarket. Me loves a bargain.

 

Anyway, I have very little to say other than here is the recipe:

 

Rhubarb and Ginger Pudding Cake

 

Makes a 23cm cake

 

Ingredients:

 

For the cake:

 

Three sticks of rhubarb

60 g and 180 g caster sugar, divided

150g butter at room temperature

3 eggs at room temperature plus 1 yolk

1 tsp vanilla extract

100g full fat Greek yoghurt

250g flour

1 tsp baking powder

2 tsp of ground ginger

Good pinch of salt

Three balls of stem ginger, chopped finely

 

For the syrup:

 

The juice from poaching the rhubarb

A couple of tbsp. of ginger syrup (from the jar of stem ginger)

 

 

To serve, custard maybe, or mascarpone, with a little chopped stem ginger scattered on top. Or cream... Cream would be really nice!!

 

Method:

 

 

 

Pre-heat the oven to 150c and butter a 23cm springform cake tin, lining the bottom with greaseproof paper and then buttering the top of the greaseproof paper.

 

 

 

Firstly, poach the rhubarb. Cut the sticks of rhubarb into inch pieces and put into a dish which will hold the rhubarb snugly in one layer. Scatter about 60g of sugar on top of the rhubarb, cover the dish with foil and put it into oven for about 15 minutes, or until the rhubarb is soft but not losing its shape. Allow to cool.

 

Increase the temperature to 180c

 

 

 

In a mixer, cream together the butter and the 180g sugar together until light and fluffy.

 

In a bowl, sift together the flour, the baking powder, the ground ginger and the salt.

 

 

 

Add the eggs one at a time to the butter mixture, beating well after addition. By the time you have added the third egg, the mixture might look a bit curdled so add a couple of tablespoons of the flour mixture. Then add the vanilla and yoghurt and mix to combine.

 

Add the flour mixture in thirds, mixing it in only until it is combined. Do not over beat.

 

 

 

Lastly, add the rhubarb to the batter mixture, reserving the poaching liquid for later. Mix only until combined.

 

 

 

Pour the mixture into the prepared cake tin. Smooth the top with a spatula, and place in the middle of the oven for about an hour or until a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean. If it is starting to brown too much without cooking all the way through, cover the cake with foil until it is cooked through.

 

 

 

Meanwhile, mix together the poaching liqueur and the stem ginger syrup. Heat the syrup gently. Once the cake comes out of the oven, make holes in the top with a skewer or toothpick and pour the syrup over the top of the cake. The cake will absorb the syrup because both are warm.

 

 

 

Allow to cool until the cake just has a hint of warmth to it. Take out of the tin and slice. Serve with anything I might have suggested in my ramblings above.

 

 

 

 

 

This is what happens when you buy a dozen eggs for 30p: Pear Clafoutis

Version française ici

 

I do love a bargain. If I had the time I would trawl around supermarkets at the optimum time and hoover up any reduced price stuff I could and put it to good use, stash it in the freezer, etc. Timing is everything however, a good time being last Sunday afternoon, about an hour or so before closing when I happen to walk into a well known supermarket beginning with T on the pretext of buying something else, but then happening to spy that the man with the pricing gun was about to spring into action. I got distracted.

 

So, after acquiring a dozen golden yolked free range eggs for 30 pence, plus a lovely big corn fed chicken for £2.04 which I roasted on a bed on onions with thyme, garlic and lemon (I may blog about this at some point) and various other bargains, including some delicious dessert pears (50 pence) I left,  nearly leaving without the thing I actually went in to buy.

 

Now then, what could I possibly make with my newly acquired bargains?

 

I really like clafoutis, not just because I am a Francophile, but because it is a great way of utilising fruit for a dessert that is not just strewing a crumble topping over it (I would like to stress here and now that there is nothing wrong with crumble; I never ate a crumble I didn't like and there are times when the rubbing together of butter, flour and sugar is just the most therapeutic thing to do, but for impact, the burnished top of a clafoutis with its slight quiver and fruit, like jewels, adorning it gives it the edge on the crumble, just...) and you can use any fruit you like really, The thing to be mindful about is some fruit can give out a tremendous amount of water and ruin the look and the texture of the clafoutis. There certainly is an argument for sautéing  those type of fruits in a little butter and evaporating the excess moisture before putting them into the dish. I considered this when looking at the pears, which were really juicy - definitely too ripe to be eaten with any finesse. But despite being juicy, they were holding their shape when I cut them and so I just put them in without cooking. They were fine, as it happens. though the addition of flour to the batter instead of purely just using a custard mixture of eggs and milk probably helped to absorb any excess moisture that came from when the pears were cooked.

 

The basis of the recipe is one that I found on the Marmiton website which includes alsorts of other fruit like apples and prunes to be used as well as the pears. I just increased the quantity of pears. I also used my own vanilla sugar instead of the sachets (which I know you can get here as well as France but I just have a Kilner jar of sugar in which I put any used vanilla pods so that the sugar becomes infused with the smell and flavour of vanilla). I substituted the rum recommended in the recipe with some Williams Pear Liqueur which I brought back from the last time we were in France, though as I tend to say in most other situations involving drink, any old booze will do. The last, and frankly inspired thing I did which is different to the original recipe was instead of scattering sugar on the clafoutis as it came out of the oven, I decided to scatter it over five minutes or so before it came out, thus creating a sweet crunchy topping to the clafoutis, which when matched with the unctuous eggy custard and clean taste of the pears was something pretty good!

 

Pear Clafoutis, translated and then adapted from the Marmiton website

 

Serves Lola, Finn Mum and Dad plus two others

 

Ingredients:

 

Four dessert pears, peeled, hulled and cut into eighths (with a little lemon juice to squirt over them to stop them browning)

4 eggs

120 g of flour

110 g  vanilla sugar (or caster sugar with a few drops of vanilla extract)  plus a little extra for scattering on top of the clafoutis

400ml full fat milk

20ml pear liqueur (though you could use rum, and actually, it probably doesn't matter if you wish to leave it out)

A little butter, for greasing the dish

 

Method: 

 

Turn the oven heat to gas mark 6/ 180c

  

Prepare the pears, 

 

Combine the flour and the sugar together

 

Add eggs one at a time, adding the milk and liqueur in between times.

 

Grease a suitable pan or dish that will hold the mixture comfortably (there will be some rise of the batter in the oven). Place it onto a baking tray to catch any spillages whilst it is in the oven.

 

Scatter the fruit, or place in a pattern over the bottom of the prepared dish. Pour in the custard mixture.

 

 

 

Place in the centre of the oven and cook about 30  - 40 minutes, or until the custard is set but still retains a wobble. At this point, take the clafoutis out of the oven and scatter some sugar over the top. Return to the oven for five minutes or so until the sugar begins to melt a little.

 

 

 

When you take the clafoutis out of the oven, allow it to cool until it is just warm. The clafoutis will sink.

 

 

 

Serve with cream.

 

The Upside of a Teachers' Strike - Lemon Cake with Lemon Icing

 

 

This will not be a political post; I am not on strike. However, Finn's teacher is, and so my mission today has been to transform myself from English teacher to 'midweek mum', and really it's all been rather nice. When I was informed via email that I would not be paid for my 'special leave' it was at that point I decided that the marking would stay on the desk upstairs and I would breeze around the house and maybe take Finn out for a kick around with a football, a spot of lunch and whatever took our fancy.  Basically, I was going to do the stuff I think about doing when I am at work. It also gave me time to whip up this fabulous cake with some tooth tingling-ly tart icing which I have been threatening to do for a while, since I picked up the recipe card at Tesco however long back it was.

 

A selfie of Finn and me, enjoying our day of freedom!!

 

I am not really sure that there is anything to beat a lemon cake, and I have to say that this cake turned out brilliantly well and was a cinch to make. It is once light, but dense with lemon flavour. I did divert from the original recipe (which you can find here) and decide that instead of soaking it with unctuous lemon flavoured syrup as in the original recipe, I would squeeze the remaining lemon I had and mix it with a little icing sugar to adorn the top of the cake at first, before allowing it to drizzle down the sides. Yum. You must try it!

 

Lemon Yoghurt cake with Lemon Icing, adapted from the original recipe by Tesco

 

Ingredients:

 

 

250g (9oz) unsalted butter

275g (9 1/2oz) golden caster sugar

4 finest* Brown Eggs

275g (9oz) self-raising flour

a pinch of salt

1tsp vanilla extract

2 lemons, finely grated zest and 3tbsp juice

100g (4oz) finest* Greek yogurt, plus extra to serve

 

Icing:

 

The juice of the remaining zested lemon (see above)

About 150g (6oz) icing sugar, sifted

 

(*finest refers to the range of ingredients at Tesco, foreign readers!!)

 

Method:

 

Prepare a  23cm round, spring form cake tin by greasing it and lining it.

 

Preheat the oven to gas 4, 180°C, fan 160°C.

 

 

 

Beat the butter and sugar together until fluffy and light. I used my Kenwood mixer and mixed for a few minutes whilst I was emptying the dishwasher. Yes, I am being serious.

 

 

 

Add the eggs, one by one, beating well between each addition. If by the fourth egg your mixture looks a bit split, add a couple of tablespoons of the flour to bring the mixture back to the required consistency.

 

 

 

Fold in the flour and salt to make a smooth batter.

 

 

 

Fold in the vanilla extract, lemon zest and juice and 100g of the Greek yogurt.

 

 

 

Pour into the tin, smoothing the top and bake for 50 minutes to an hour, until golden and springy on top. Mine was ready after about 55 minutes.

 

Allow the cake to cool a little before removing from the tin. Do not ice the cake until it is fully cool.

 

 

 

To make the icing, mix together the juice from the remaining lemon with the icing sugar. Add the icing sugar gradually; you may need less or you may need more depending on how much juice you get from the lemon. You are looking for a mixture with a 'slow' pouring consistency that can be spread across the cake and then drizzle down the sides at will.

 

 

 

Once iced, cut yourself a slice and consume...