Jammy Chicken

Gluten-free shortbread: two kinds.

I don't care what anyone says, no one looks forward to the end of the school year more than the teachers. These last few weeks have just about killed me, and exam week is always the worst - so close to being done, and yet not done. Absolute torture.

My students (college students, mind you) send me the most amazing emails.

Many of them go something like this:

Hey, I (choose relevant excuse): haven't come to class since January/missed every one of our 18 quizzes/couldn't bother taking notes most of the semester. I am really sorry. Did I miss anything important?/Can I make all this up by tomorrow?/Can you tell me everything I need to know? I really need a good grade in this class. Email me back and let me know. Thanks!

Alright, some pointers:

First, you should at least use my name and spell it right. Otherwise I will assume you are sending the exact same email to every one of your professors in a desperate, last-ditch effort to grub for (undeserved) points.

Second: Why are you apologizing to me? It's your grade. Better yet, skip the sorry and start working.

Third: It was all important, it is physically impossible to do 15 weeks of work in 24 hours, and you should have been paying attention.

Fourth: I hate email.

Is it any wonder the stress eating kicked in? I think not.

I needed comfort food, and I decided shortbread would fit the bill.

Devilled Heart.

V-Day.

I refuse to affirm this particular upcoming calendar event as an Actual Holiday by acknowledging it with a full and proper name.

I realized late last night that my post on Orange Flower and Custard Cream Heart Sandwich Cookies (OFCCHSC), while delicious and lovely, might be generating a false impression of me out there in cyberspace.

You should know, I am neither cutesy nor overly sentimental.

Nevertheless, this holiday that glorifies cute sentimentality with pink sparkly cards and chocolates and flowers is out there looming. I thought I'd try to make something that captures my take on the whole ridiculously overblown yet culturally ingrained thing it has become in a more realistic way than heart sandwich cookies.

I should warn you that this post is not suitable for vegans, vegetarians, or those with a delicate temperament. It is definitely carnivorous, and deals with some of the inside bits that most people never, ever see, let alone cook, or eat.

Offal.

No, not awful, but offal.

Heart.

To be more precise, Lamb Heart.

Devilled.

See there, how we've arrived at an ironically relevant and and yet vaguely inappropriate topic? 

A much more accurate reflection of me, I think, and now I feel better about applications to this whole V-Day theme.

So, if you are still reading after the offal heart thing - and thanks for sticking around, all three of you - let me say that I was expecting it to be, well, gross. Like slasher movie gross.

But you know what?

It looks like meat (but, well, heart-shaped, obviously).

It feels like meat.

It tastes like meat -  really, really good steak, actually.

Most applications of devilled meat are for kidneys, and everybody's got their own: Nigel, Hugh, the Hairy Bikers, Rick Stein.

Funnily enough, or perhaps rather predictably, the closest Nigella gets is Devil's Food Cake.

The traditional devilling method is to quickly cook the offal and make a sauce of mustard, heavy cream, and Worchester Sauce. Traditionally, Devilled Kidneys were a Victorian breakfast food. This version is not traditional, in that I gently simmer the heart in red wine and tomato sauce for 2 hours to make it meltingly tender, then add the traditional ingredients.

Also, I suggest you have this for dinner, but if you really have your heart set on eating it for breakfast, who am I to stop you.

I'll wait while you tissue up those tears of laughter.

This version is more of a Red Devilled Heart, I suppose, but it is still rich and meaty and tasty.

If you're already an offal-eating fan, or merely want to give it a try, this Devilled Heart is a delicious way to transition into some nose-to-tail eating.  

Devilled Heart.
One heart serves 2 as a light dinner. 

1 lamb heart

1 tablespoon butter
1/2 cup red wine
1/2 cup tomato passata or sauce 
1 bay leaf
generous grind of black pepper

1/2 tablespoon grainy mustard
1/2 tablespoon paradise jelly or currant jelly
1/2 tablespoon Worchester Sauce

2 tablespoons heavy cream

parsley for garnish
toast to serve

You will also need a small pot with a lid.

Clean the heart and cut away any white connective tissue. Cut the heart in half, and each half into 4 slices.

Melt the butter in a pot and brown the heart pieces, then add the wine, passata, bay leaf and pepper.

Bring to a simmer, then pop on the lid and turn to the lowest setting and very gently bubble for 2 hours, until the heart is tender and yielding. Allow to cool slightly. Remove the heart from the sauce and slice thinly.

Return the pot with the sauce back to the stove and add the mustard, jelly, and Worchester Sauce. Turn the heat to medium and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes to melt the jelly and thicken the sauce. Add the heart slices, simmer for a minute or two until warmed, and remove from the heat.

Add the cream, stir, and spoon over toast to help sop up the rich and flavorful sauce.

Garnish with a generous sprinkle of chopped parsley for color and fresh green flavor, and accompany with a robust red wine and a spicy salad such as arugula.

Orange Flower and Custard Cream Heart Cookies.

Aaah, heart-shaped cookies.

Is anything else quite so smarmy and cute?

Especially with you-know-what coming up soon.

I generally avoid V-Day, as a rule. 

I am trying to formulate a really good reason why, but honestly I just don't care about one day a year overflowing with pink and sugary sweet tidings of love.

Give me any excuse to bake a cookie, though, and I will jump at the opportunity.

Last year it was chocolate sugar cookies.

Love. Love. Love playing in decorating sugar and novelty sprinkles.

This year we're going classy and upmarket with a monochromatic theme and an orange flower water and custard cream filling.

They may be hearts, but don't hold it against them, they're tasty cookies any time you want a little cute smarmy lovin'. 

Orange Flower and Custard Cream Heart Cookies.
Inspired by Nigella Lawson's recipe from Feast.
Makes 18 custard heart sandwich cookies.

For the Custard Cookies.
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup Bird's Custard Powder*
1 teaspoon baking powder
4 tablespoons butter (1/2 stick)
1/2 cup vegetable shortening
1/4 cup superfine sugar
1 egg, beaten lightly

For the Orange Flower Custard Cream.
2 tablespoons Bird's Custard Powder*
3/4 cup confectioner's sugar
1/2 cup vegetable shortening
1 teaspoon orange flower water

* This is one of those British ingredients that we simply don't have an equivelent for here in the US. You can find Bird's Custard Powder online, and it's so useful to have around for instant gratification when you absolutely need to pour custard over cake or fruit right away...which happens more often than I'd like to admit around here.

You will need a food processor, a 2-inch heart-shaped cookie cutter, a rolling pin, and a cookie sheet lined with baking paper.

Mix the flour, custard powder and baking powder together and put into a food processor with the butter, cut into pieces, and the vegetable shortening, scooped in as spoonfulls. Pulse until combined and the mixture forms a crumbly texture.

Add the sugar and pulse again, and with the processor running drizzle in the egg until the cookie dough comes together and clumps into a ball. You may not need to add all of the egg.

Put the dough onto a piece of plastic wrap and press into a disk, then wrap completely and refrigerate for a minimum of 30 minutes. The dough can be stored in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

When ready to bake, pre-heat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Roll the dough out on a lightly floured surface until it is approximately 1/4 inch thick. Dip the cookie cutter into flour and cut out a heart. Repeat as necessary to keep the dough from sticking. Make an even number of hearts. You can make about 24 from the first episode of cookie cutting, and an additional 10 to 12 if you re-roll the remaining scraps in a second round. The dough will need to be refrigerated before you roll it out the second time.

Space the cookies about 1/2 inch apart on a baking paper-lined cookie sheet. You should be able to fit the first 24 on a single cookie tray. Bake additional cookies in a later batch.

Bake for 15 minutes, until the cookies are gently puffed and just starting to color.

Cool on the cookie sheet for 15 minutes, then remove gently to a rack to finish cooling.

To make the orange flower custard creme, mix the custard powder and confectioner's sugar and add to a food processor with the vegetable shortening. Process until you get a smooth creme, then add the orange flower water and pulse until combined.

When the cookies are completely cool, gently spread 3 to 4 teaspoons of the custard creme on the bottom side of a cookie, and wiggle a second cookie into place on top, bottom side onto the frosting. The cookies are very delicate, so avoid pressing forcefully or they may break.

Cookies can be stored at room temperature, and last for 2 to 3 days in an airtight container.

Sloe Gin Fizz - an old time cocktail with a woodsy vibe.

Sloe Gin Fizz.

Like Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz, Indiana Jones and the Holy Grail, Frodo Baggins and the One Ring, Don Quixote and Dulcinea...or was that a windmill...I was questing for a Sloe Gin Fizz.

Sloe gin is an old English tipple, and a 1940 article from Esquire calls it a handsome, maroon-hued gin of tangy charm which is the offspring of mating Old Man Dry and Miss Blackthorn-Berry of the plum family. Whatever that's supposed to mean.

I really don't know why I got a bee in my bonnet and decided I needed this. The allure of the mysterious, I guess.

Since real sloe gin is not being imported into the US, and any 'sloe' gin you may find here has most likely seen more of the inside of a chemical plant than an actual sloe, I was in a predicament. 

The answer to most predicaments is, if you want it done right, you should  do it yourself. And from scratch.

For sloe gin, I mean: find a blackthorn bush and pick some sloes. It doesn't get much more from-scatch than that. Fortunately, I could. And I did.

After several weeks of shaking (good for the triceps), the sloe gin has matured and we are at the moment of truth.

First, I had a taste-off.

My sloe gin, on the left.  On the right, Celtic Country Wines Sloe with Gin, a product of Wales and a True Taste Award Winner.

Great for your hip flask and on country walks.

I kid you  not.

It is quite noticable that the color is remarkably different. As is the viscosity. 

Mine is a very bright, deep ruby red, whereas the Sloe with Gin is tawny, almost burgundy, and is much more syrupy and thick.

The bought Sloe with Gin is quite sweet, as I would have guessed from its thick texture. It tastes a lot like port, actually, with a deep fruity honey cedar flavor.

My sloe gin is much less sweet, and the alcohol has a little more of a kick. The fruit flavors come through more, and it tastes of plum, rasberry and pine. The resinous taste is quite a nice contrast to the slight sweetness and fruit, and not at all what you would expect from such an agressively bright color.

 My verdict: both good, but I prefer the less-sweet, less-syrupy homemade version. 

Drink straight up as an aperitif or digestif, or use in a mixed drink.

My favorite drink at the moment is to dilute 2 ounces of Sloe Gin with 4 ounces of highly sparkling water. Garnish with a rosemary sprig to highlight the piney aspects of the sloe.

I call it a Sloe Rosey Baby.

Cheers!

Quince Rum.

I may be channeling my inner hoarder, or maybe it's a touch of gluttony, but the appearance of any elusive produce sends me into a fit of obsessive accumulation.

Take quince, for example. These lovelies are only around for a few weeks in the winter, and they just showed up in the co-op.

Now, I have eight of the hefty, fuzzy, aromatic little beauties in my fridge.

It puts a little pressure on a gal, though, to do these rare treats justice.

Fortunately, I have the luxury of quantity, and don't have to choose just one thing.

One point for gluttony.

I also have a history of quirky homemade alcoholic beverages.

Sloes. Strawberry. Chocolate-coffee. Bacon. 

So it seemed fairly obvious to start with a boozy tipple of some sort, and Nigella provided some inspiration with a brandy-soaked riff, though she went for quantity in the form of two liters. I felt I should start small, so scaled down. I also went rummy, because I was clean out of brandy, and was afraid that the dude at the liquor store  my husband  my guilty conscience would give me a reproachful look as I bought yet another bottle of booze. 

Personally, I think the caramel-oak base notes of the rum make an unexpectedly lovely pairing to the honey flower warm summer breeze wafting off the quince. I am kinda a little obsessed with star anise, and zippy cinnamon rounds it out nicely. I could just as easily douse myself in it as a woodsy, earthy perfume as drink it, and since I tend to dribble anyway, it's a win all around, really.

Drink as an aperitif or digestif, in a mixed drink, or add to cakes, frostings, pies or ice cream. If I can justify the craziness of wanting to make Christmas mincemeat a full year in advance (minus 11 days as of today, but go ahead and check yourself), I am eyeing this quince mincemeat recipe, which would be a fantastic place to use some quince rum goodness. Plus it satisfies my inner canning hoarder. 

Two points for gluttony, me thinks.

Quince Rum.
 Inspired by Nigella Lawson's recipe for Quince Brandy in How to be a domestic goddess.

1 large or 2 small, perfectly beautiful quince
1 star anise
1 small cinnamon stick
1 cup rum, plus more to top up

You will also need a 1/2 liter (or larger) jar with a leak-proof lid.

Wash and wipe the fluff off the skin of the quince, then quarter it and cut the quarters into 2 or 3 slices, depending on the thickness of the wedges. Trim off the fuzzy bottom and pull out the seeds.

Layer the quince in the jar, tucking in your star anise and cinnamon. Pour the brandy over, and add more if necessary to completely cover the quince.

Leave for at least 6 weeks in a cool, dark place to mellow. At that point, you can strain the brandy off and store in another container, if you wish. Use the quince in a jam or jelly, cook with apples for a boozy sauce, or bake with a slow roast of meat or stew for an unexpected fruity punch.

Happy Holidays! and a wintry warming drink, too.

Jammy Chicken wishes you a joyful holiday filled with lovely moments that make memories to last all year. 

Here are some festive piccies from the Borough Market, London, and a suggestion for a delicious warming winter drink at the end. 

Cheers!

It was a cold and windy day, and I had the lovely hot cider of pear, apple and elderflower. It was warming and deeply refreshing with tangy apple, and the elderflower added a floral and uplifting lemony layer that was a lovely compliment to the creamy pear. Make this yourself by adding two or three tablespoons of elderflower cordial (made or bought) to a mix of  equal proportions of warmed apple cider and pear juice in a sturdy mug. Scale up for the number of servings you'd like.

Drink up and enjoy the season, and may Santa bring you lovely goodies under your Christmas tree.

Coconut flour to have your cake and detox too.

I am starting to develop an involuntary twitch from the massive ammount of sugar I've been ingesting over the holiday season. I know sugar is bad. I can't help myself, I keep going back for more.

Sugar is an evil tormentor. 

And yet, one of my fitness magazines calmly says that realistically speaking, my goals this time of year should be to fend off the dreaded holiday bulge.

Well then, as long as we're being frank.

Realistically speaking, I want a piece of cake.

Coconut flour cake, a nourishing alternative to refined flour and sugar.

From my new obsession for healthy living.

In theory, if not in practice. Yet. Obviously.

This cake is a remarkable love child of dense pound cake texture and custard flavor, with a hit of honey and vanilla. Protein- and fiber-rich coconut flour. You'll feel like you are doing a world of good by eating this cake.

It will make you virtuous, even. Which is something this time of year.

So do yourself a favor: eat cake.

Don't make me tell you again, you hear me?

Coconut flour cake.
Adapted from Nourished Kitchen. Makes one 8 1/2 inch loaf pan, 8 inch cake or 8 to 9 inch pie plate 'o' cake.
I like the wedges. I am funny that way.

6 eggs
1 cup coconut milk (I used this)
1 cup coconut flour, plus 1 tablespoon for flouring the pan
1/3 cup honey
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
coconut oil or vegetable oil for greasing the pan

Honey Syrup

1/4 cup honey
2 tablespoons water
1 teaspoon vanilla 

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Grease and flour the pan, then set aside.

Beat the eggs, coconut milk and honey with the vanilla extract until smooth and frothy.

Add the coconut flour, baking soda and salt, and mix until a smooth and firm batter forms.

Spoon the batter into the pan or tin, smooth the top with the back of a spoon, or make rustic swirls.

Bake for about 40 minutes, until the cake is beginning to brown on top and a toothpick tester comes out clean.

While baking, make the honey syrup by mixing all the ingredients together.

When the cake comes out of the oven, let it cool for a few minutes, then use a toothpick or skewer to poke holes about 1 inch apart across the entire top of the cake. Pour the syrup over, and let it soak into the cake as it cools completely.

Tuck in, and feel justifiably good about yourself.