Damp & Soulful

21 Monday Oct 2013

Tags

Autumn, Baking, Cake, Chocolate, England, Gluten-free, Ingredients, Nuts, Recipes, Stories, Sussex

This is an autumn cake – damp and soulful and lovely with a few late mulberries or some cooked and treacly damsons, as small as olives now. This might also be the time to get out some prunes and soak them in Armagnac (you could lob some into the cake itself). Nuts instead of flour here, which makes it gluten-free. I made the mistake the first time round of putting two tablespoons of spelt in, which was unnecessary and also catastrophic. The 2 tbs were my undoing. I made it for a party and no one would touch it. It was as if I’d announced that there was cat food in it. Instead of flour I now add cocoa powder, and everyone can breathe a sigh of relief. Except of course there’s sugar and butter and nuts and chocolate.

“Do you do anything gluten-free?” the lady asked. She was the carer for a much older lady who she’d just seated with difficulty at a nearby table. Rain drummed on the windows. I was sitting right by the till. It was a lovely cafe, full of rare teas and little glass milk bottles and ironic tea cosies. My head was next to the tips jar. My head was ‘tips jar adjacent’ as they say, and I could have lain it down directly on the counter and had a nap were it not for the pneumatic espresso machine and screaming milk being banged out on to waiting coffees nearby. When did milk become so loud?

The waitress had to shout above the roar of the foam, “Plum and polenta!” She pointed to some sandy mounds under a glass dome. The lady looked at them blankly and then back at the waitress. “You don’t do anything like a baked potato?” There was a moment between them where they both seemed at a loss. “Coq au Vin?” the waitress said eventually. “Is that gluten-free?” “Yes.”

It struck me that the term ‘gluten-free’ had got in the way of this exchange. As if this was what you had to say these days, in these sorts of places. I don’t know why this made me feel sad. I felt sorry for the baked potato. And I’m not sure I want to live in a gluten-free world. I love flourless cakes – cakes made with nuts, for example – because their flourlessness is often germane to the cake’s identity: they were born flourless. But a baked potato isn’t any more gluten-free than my trousers. It was a baked potato first. This is a cake first (or torte…). Enjoy it. I hope there will always be a place for it in our post gluten world.

Chocolate and hazelnut torte

Adapted from and inspired by Emma Gardner’s beautiful blog, Poires au Chocolat

This cake is rather drum-like in appearance, and has less of the fallen soufflé effect common in the flourless. However, its surface does eventually crack reassuringly. I have no idea how the cold-eggs-straight-from-the-fridge idea works, but the proof is in the eating. Keep the cake wrapped in greaseproof paper for up to three days, if you can, to let the flavours develop and deepen. It gets better.

75g whole hazelnuts

2 tbs cocoa powder

170g good dark chocolate (60 – 70% cocoa solids) broken into chunks

140g unsalted butter, slightly softened

150g light brown sugar

Big pinch of fine sea salt

4 large cold eggs (from the fridge)

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Lightly butter an 8″ springform or loose-based tin and line with baking parchment.

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Lightly butter an 8″ springform or loose-based tin. Place the hazelnuts on a small tray in the oven and toast for a few minutes until they start to smell and darken slightly. If they have skins, rub as much as you can off with a tea towel. Put into a food processor with the flour and blast until they are finely ground. – See more at: http://www.poiresauchocolat.net/2012/11/chocolate-hazelnut-torte-with-smoked.html#sthash.3zwFHVRy.dpuf Place the hazelnuts on a baking sheet and bake for about 15 minutes or until nuts are brown and fragrant and the skins are starting to peel away from the nuts. Remove from oven and place the nuts in a clean dish towel. Roll up the towel and let the nuts ‘steam’ for about five minutes and then rub the nuts to remove the skins. Let cool.

Put the hazelnuts on a baking sheet and bake for about 10-15 minutes or until the nuts are brown and fragrant and the skins are starting to peel away. Keep an eye on them – they burn easily. Remove from the oven and put the nuts in a clean tea towel. Roll up the towel and let the nuts ‘steam’ for about five minutes and then rub the nuts to remove the skins. Think of someone you hate. Let them cool.

To make the ground hazelnuts: once the hazelnuts have completely cooled, throw them in a food processor, along with the cocoa, and process until they are finely ground. Alternatively, put them in a coffee grinder and do them in batches.

Put a heatproof bowl over a pan of barely simmering water. Add the chocolate pieces and let them melt without stirring. When they look as though they’re almost there, take the bowl off the heat, stir, and add the hopefully rather soft butter, the sugar and salt. Whisk until it’s all of uniform smoothness. It will have lightened a little.

Add the first egg, beat until incorporated, then add the next, and keep going until all four eggs are in and then add the vanilla extract. Whip the mixture on high for 1-2 minutes until it’s stiff and becoming paler. Add the ground hazelnuts and cocoa powder and fold in. Scoop into the pan and level out. Bake for 28-35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the centre of the cake brings out a few sticky crumbs.

Cool completely in the pan on a wire rack. It will rise and then fall gradually, leaving a higher rim of cake around the sides and there will also be some cracking. Wrap in foil or greaseproof paper for up to three days before eating. The flavours become more wickedly intense with time.

70g whole hazelnuts
30g plain flour
170g dark chocolate (I used 85%)
140g unsalted butter, slightly softened
150g light brown sugar
big pinch of fine sea salt
4 large cold eggs (from the fridge)
1 tsp vanilla extract
pinch of smoked sea salt flakesPreheat the oven to 180C/350F. Lightly butter an 8″ springform or loose-based tin. Place the hazelnuts on a small tray in the oven and toast for a few minutes until they start to smell and darken slightly. If they have skins, rub as much as you can off with a tea towel. Put into a food processor with the flour and blast until they are finely ground.Place a mixer bowl (or another bowl if using a hand mixer) over a pan of barely simmering water. Chop the chocolate up and tip into the bowl. Stir occasionally as it melts. Meanwhile weigh out the brown sugar and salt and cut the butter into cubes – it should be starting to soften, not squishy. When the chocolate has nearly melted, take it off the heat and stir until it’s smooth. Place on the mixer (with the whisk attached) and add the sugar, salt and butter. Whisk on medium until the ingredients have fully combined and the mixture has lightened a little. Scrape the sides down then add the first egg. Whip until combined, then add the next egg. Repeat until they’re all combined then add the vanilla and whip for 1-2 minutes on high until stiff and pale.Add the ground hazelnuts and fold in. Scoop into the pan and level out. Sprinkle the smoked sea salt over the top. Bake for 28-35 minutes – a tester should still bring up a few sticky crumbs. Place on a wire rack and leave to cool fully in the tin. Wrap in kitchen foil and leave for at least one day and up to three before serving. Lovely with a big spoonful of whipped cream or crème fraîche.
– See more at: http://www.poiresauchocolat.net/2012/11/chocolate-hazelnut-torte-with-smoked.html#sthash.nKxGe4qV.dpuf

70g whole hazelnuts
30g plain flour
170g dark chocolate (I used 85%)
140g unsalted butter, slightly softened
150g light brown sugar
big pinch of fine sea salt
4 large cold eggs (from the fridge)
1 tsp vanilla extract – See more at: http://www.poiresauchocolat.net/2012/11/chocolate-hazelnut-torte-with-smoked.html#sthash.nKxGe4qV.dpuf

Chocolate Hazelnut Torte with Smoked Salt
(adapted from Alice Medrich’s Sinfully Easy Delicious Desserts)70g whole hazelnuts
30g plain flour
170g dark chocolate (I used 85%)
140g unsalted butter, slightly softened
150g light brown sugar
big pinch of fine sea salt
4 large cold eggs (from the fridge)
1 tsp vanilla extract
pinch of smoked sea salt flakesPreheat the oven to 180C/350F. Lightly butter an 8″ springform or loose-based tin. Place the hazelnuts on a small tray in the oven and toast for a few minutes until they start to smell and darken slightly. If they have skins, rub as much as you can off with a tea towel. Put into a food processor with the flour and blast until they are finely ground.Place a mixer bowl (or another bowl if using a hand mixer) over a pan of barely simmering water. Chop the chocolate up and tip into the bowl. Stir occasionally as it melts. Meanwhile weigh out the brown sugar and salt and cut the butter into cubes – it should be starting to soften, not squishy. When the chocolate has nearly melted, take it off the heat and stir until it’s smooth. Place on the mixer (with the whisk attached) and add the sugar, salt and butter. Whisk on medium until the ingredients have fully combined and the mixture has lightened a little. Scrape the sides down then add the first egg. Whip until combined, then add the next egg. Repeat until they’re all combined then add the vanilla and whip for 1-2 minutes on high until stiff and pale.Add the ground hazelnuts and fold in. Scoop into the pan and level out. Sprinkle the smoked sea salt over the top. Bake for 28-35 minutes – a tester should still bring up a few sticky crumbs. Place on a wire rack and leave to cool fully in the tin. Wrap in kitchen foil and leave for at least one day and up to three before serving. Lovely with a big spoonful of whipped cream or crème fraîche.(Serves 10-12) – See more at: http://www.poiresauchocolat.net/2012/11/chocolate-hazelnut-torte-with-smoked.html#sthash.nKxGe4qV.dpuf

The cake about to be baked

A bowl of mulberries

Some other flourless cakes in my repertoire

Lemon and almond cake

Bitter chocolate olive oil cake

Chocolate marmalade slump cake

Chocolate Hazelnut Torte with Smoked Salt
(adapted from Alice Medrich’s Sinfully Easy Delicious Desserts)70g whole hazelnuts
30g plain flour
170g dark chocolate (I used 85%)
140g unsalted butter, slightly softened
150g light brown sugar
big pinch of fine sea salt
4 large cold eggs (from the fridge)
1 tsp vanilla extract
pinch of smoked sea salt flakesPreheat the oven to 180C/350F. Lightly butter an 8″ springform or loose-based tin. Place the hazelnuts on a small tray in the oven and toast for a few minutes until they start to smell and darken slightly. If they have skins, rub as much as you can off with a tea towel. Put into a food processor with the flour and blast until they are finely ground.Place a mixer bowl (or another bowl if using a hand mixer) over a pan of barely simmering water. Chop the chocolate up and tip into the bowl. Stir occasionally as it melts. Meanwhile weigh out the brown sugar and salt and cut the butter into cubes – it should be starting to soften, not squishy. When the chocolate has nearly melted, take it off the heat and stir until it’s smooth. Place on the mixer (with the whisk attached) and add the sugar, salt and butter. Whisk on medium until the ingredients have fully combined and the mixture has lightened a little. Scrape the sides down then add the first egg. Whip until combined, then add the next egg. Repeat until they’re all combined then add the vanilla and whip for 1-2 minutes on high until stiff and pale.Add the ground hazelnuts and fold in. Scoop into the pan and level out. Sprinkle the smoked sea salt over the top. Bake for 28-35 minutes – a tester should still bring up a few sticky crumbs. Place on a wire rack and leave to cool fully in the tin. Wrap in kitchen foil and leave for at least one day and up to three before serving. Lovely with a big spoonful of whipped cream or crème fraîche.(Serves 10-12)
– See more at: http://www.poiresauchocolat.net/2012/11/chocolate-hazelnut-torte-with-smoked.html#sthash.CDp8X22X.dpuf

Coconut, macadamias & a hammer

01 Tuesday Jan 2013

Posted by Sophie James in Recipe

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Baking, Food, Ingredients, Nuts, Recipes, Stories, Travel

I found the macadamia nuts in their shells at the Santa Monica farmers’ market. I was surprised to see them at all. In fact, I was looking for hazelnuts, of which there has not been a snifter. I’m not a fan of exotica in food generally, nor do I warm to the tropical, except for Bounty bars. I once went to the Philippines, which was full of places that looked like the ideal location for a Bounty advert: milk-soft ocean, leggy coconut palms, acres of white sand. At one point a very Americanized Filipino leaned over to me and said “Isn’t this the best decision you, like, ever made?” How to say no, without seeming ungrateful? I probably just nodded and hoped my eyebrows were holding back some of the sweat that I could feel pouring out of my hair.

The one thing I will remember fondly was the man who sang Tears in Heaven every evening yards from my beach hut. He had a rather limited repertoire, but a really nice voice. All the restaurants had their own singer, and the songs were mellow and often accompanied by a single guitar. I remember feeling completely miserable, alone and in paradise. Actually, I wasn’t alone because fishermen used to sleep in my hammock.

Macadamias were introduced to southern California in the late 19th century from Australia, their native soil. They have similar demands to avocados, and are scattered throughout avocado groves and sometimes citrus here for that reason. I was shocked at how they looked once shelled (they are almost impossible to crack – hence the hammer). They are so perfect and pristine it’s unnerving – exact yet miniature, like Japanese netsuke. They are buttery, in the way of a Brazil nut, but sweeter and creamier; they need the dry heat of the oven to do them justice. Alternatively – and I can’t blame you – buy a bag of them shelled and save yourself the agro. I apologize in advance for the expense. They are known as the brat of the nut world, probably for this reason.

I have long held a love for the coconut. The damp matted stuff, fragrant, sweet and nutty has an affinity with macadamia nuts. Coconuts are available year-round but peak in the autumn and winter. I am happy to bring you macaroons, because I think they are lovely in size, easy to make and timeless. They should be eaten on the day they are made though as they stale up easily. The macaroon recipe calls for shredded coconut, which is a common ingredient in the US. The UK version, called desiccated coconut, is very similar. Alternatively, buy a fresh coconut – pierce it, drain off the juice (and drink it, it’s very good for you), crack open the shell with a hammer (yes, again) around the ‘fault’ line, and separate the flesh. Peel off the brown skin with a knife and grate the flesh in a processor. If you think this is too much faff and expense for one recipe, I suggest making the coconut-macadamia shortbread too (see recipe below).

Coconut-macadamia macaroons

Adapted from Lindsay Shere, Chez Panisse Desserts

& Nigella Lawson, How to be a Domestic Goddess

2 large egg whites

¼ tsp of cream of tartar

⅓ cup (25g) of sugar

Pinch of sea salt

1½ cups (150g) of shredded coconut

½ cup (75g) unsalted macadamia nuts

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Preheat the oven to 160C/325F. Toast the macadamias until just beginning to colour – about ten minutes max. Then cool and chop fine by hand. Beat the egg whites until frothy – no more – then add the cream of tartar and salt and carry on beating until soft peaks are formed. Beat in the sugar until the whites hold stiff, shiny peaks. Fold in the nuts and coconut. The mixture is sticky but should hold its shape, just. Form into small domes – say 2 to 3 inches in diameter. Cook for 15-20 minutes or until they are turning a golden brown. Makes 8 large-ish macaroons.

Coconut-macadamia shortbread

Adapted from Nick Malgieri, The Modern Baker

For the shortbread

½ cup (100g) sugar (Use coconut palm sugar if you can get it)

1½ ounces (50g) unsalted macadamias, crushed with the bottom of a pan

2 cups (250g) all purpose flour*

¼ cup (25g) shredded coconut

½ tsp baking powder

12 tbs (1½ sticks/175g) cold, unsalted butter cut into small pieces

Pinch of sea salt

For the top

¾ cup (about 3oz/75g) unsalted macadamias, crushed and finely chopped, not ground

⅓ cup (75g) coconut palm sugar (or any soft, brown sugar)

Generous sprinkling of flaky salt (such as Maldon)

Line a baking sheet with buttered parchment paper. Preheat the oven to 160C/325F. Combine the sugar and macadamias in the bowl of a food processor or blender and grind finely. Add the flour and baking powder and pulse several times to mix. Add the butter and pulse until it is finely mixed in. The mixture should be powdery. You could do this with your hands if you work fast.

Distribute the mixture evenly all over the lined and buttered pan. Use the palm of one hand to press it in. Sprinkle the dough with water and scatter the chopped nuts and sugar evenly on the dough and use the palm of your hand again to press them in. Sprinkle with the flaky salt. Bake the shortbread until it is golden and firm – about 25 minutes. As soon as you remove the pan from the oven, grip the opposite ends of the paper and lift the slab of baked dough onto a cutting board. While the dough is still hot, cut into 2 inch (5cm) squares. Let the shortbread cool and crisp up. If you want it crisper, you can return it to the oven at 300F/150C for a further 10 minutes, then cool the pan on a rack. The sugar and salt are a really lovely combination and enhance the rich nuttiness of the shortbread. Makes about 24 2-inch (5cm) squares.

*Use ground almonds if you want to go flourless – it will be much softer and sandier but still very good. Reduce the butter to 6 tbs and melt it beforehand.

Noticing Pecans

03 Monday Dec 2012

Posted by Sophie James in Recipe

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Homesickness, Ingredients, Los Angeles, Nuts, Recipes, Stories, Winter

There is an expression: You are here. This is now. Useful when you’re telling stories to contemplate this from time to time. It is easy to look back, to dip into a time removed. But right at this moment I’m sitting in LA. It is early morning. Outside it is dark and rain has fallen and continues to fall, soaking our cushions on the garden sofa we found in the road by Lake Hollywood.

There is a ring of mushrooms that has sprung up outside our window. It is a dark morning without the fog and cold breath of an English winter, but still, it’s recognisably the cold months here. The darkness feels slippery. There are long, wet days that close around 4pm. It is dank and faintly claustrophobic to be inside so much. The windows don’t blow and rattle like they do when there are gales in England. The windows here are doors and they stand firm. Still, listening to the rain at night is comforting, slightly numbing.

And then I went out. To the farmers’ market, where I found pecans. I took some photos – actually I pointed my camera, snapped and moved on. I kept coming back though. Once to ask how to crack the shell (put two in your hand and squeeze), the second time to ask where the nuts came from (Fresno), and then he saw me coming again and he wasn’t sure how to react. Yes, they’re peaking now – the next few weeks are their time.

When I got home I couldn’t believe how truly beautiful they were. I loved the way they rattled in their netting and the surprisingly friable nature of the shell. Simple pressure splits the skin. These are fresh, ‘wet’ pecans and they have a sweetness to them missing in walnuts. My first crunch – creamy and dry, faintly tannic – and I thought of maple syrup.

Fall in Los Angeles

Edmund de Waal talks in his book The Hare with Amber Eyes about the ‘default vagueness’ of melancholy and the ‘smothering lack of focus’ it can engender. We have our stories. Sometimes we forget to go out and make new ones. I have been missing England and the toing and froing of recent months has only added to this sense of dislocation and nostalgia. I have been keening. Now it’s time to be here. Because when I am no longer in this place, I will miss it.

So to pecans. I don’t want to mask their flavour and unique texture. I want to keep them simple and fairly whole. These toasted pecans go well with all manner of things. Here a pear, and though Ruth Watson decries the Conference as having ‘as much taste as a policeman in a string vest,’ I rather like the blandness and graininess. A nice ripe juicy pear anyway is a good thing. Take what you can get. Of course, sometimes it must be ice cream and nothing else. A ball of vanilla, a warm clutch of toasted pecans, a thin moat of maple syrup and I’m anyone’s.

Sweet and salty pecans and a ripe pear

David Lebovitz, The Sweet Life in Paris

Deborah Madison, Seasonal Fruit Desserts

Serves 2

1 cup (170g) shelled pecans

1 tbs (15g) butter

1 tbs dark brown sugar

A good pinch of flaky sea salt (fleur de sel) or smoked sea salt

A good pinch of freshly ground black pepper

A finely chopped sprig of rosemary (optional)

Maple syrup (optional)

2 ripe pears

Spread the nuts on a baking sheet and roast in a 300F (180C) oven for about 5 minutes to ‘tickle out’ their flavour. Try to avoid colouring them too much. Melt the butter in a pan over a medium heat, add the rosemary (if using) and then the warmed pecans. Sprinkle the brown sugar over them, and stir until the sugar has melted. Remove from the heat, then sprinkle with the salt and a fresh grind of pepper. Let cool to harden. Tap the pecans gently with a rolling pin to break them up or leave them whole.

Peel, quarter and core the pears. Slice them and serve with the pecans and a drizzle of maple syrup if you have some. And if you have some ice cream, go for it.

Things that go well with pecans: vanilla ice cream, maple syrup, bananas, cream, caramel, avocados, blue cheese, apples, pears, dates and beets.

A good nut butter

05 Wednesday Sep 2012

Posted by Sophie James in Recipe

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Tags

Almonds, Breakfast, Ingredients, Nuts, Recipes, Stories

There is nothing like a good nut butter. Consistency is all; it must be smooth and almost – but not quite – runny. It must seize on the spoon, as if afraid to jump. At its best, it is reminiscent of set honey about to liquefy. Thickness is important. The test is whether you can speak afterwards. If you can, it’s not thick enough. At least five minutes should go by before you can unglue your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

I first tried simmering the nuts in milk, which softens them, but renders them too lactic for my taste. The result had a milky, cereal-like texture and the nut got buried (thanks, Thomas Keller). I was afraid that in their hard and whole state they would behave like ball-bearings in the blender, but the paste soon comes.

Supermarket shelves here (in LA) groan with nut butters of every description and every possible combination. The truly hideous gingerbread concoction Speculoos is currently doing the rounds, but of course peanut butter wins hands down. Most commercial ones are full of sugar, the nuts themselves having been stripped of any nutritional value by the time they are potted. They’ve done an amazing job at marketing something that takes seconds to make at home; I too have been wedded to shop-bought jars since childhood.

I remember eating peanut butter sandwiches (with butter, of course) while reading the adventures of Milly Molly Mandy. When I found a copy many years later, most of the pages were soldered together with thick, brown goo. I remember my muddy fingers on the edges of the print, the silence and muffled chomping. I revisited the stories of my heroine and her little-friend-Susan endlessly. Their decisions and errands, counting their pennies, visiting the haberdashers, growing mustard and cress. I always read and ate alone, and later slipped the plate under the bed to join the rest of the crockery and unwanted crusts. I forgo bread these days in favour of eating it straight from the spoon, and treat it as a dip. Actually, I treat it as I did then: as something clandestine but comforting.

I chose almonds for this recipe because the state of California is essentially Almond Central, and also because I think it can be the most disappointing of all the butters to buy. Virtuous ingredient list and folksy labels notwithstanding, almond butter tends to look murky, and taste granular and mealy; brown sludge surrounded by a moat of oil. This version is a real departure. The trick is, when blitzing, to go beyond gravel, beyond sand, to the shimmering, oily depths.

You can use whole, raw almonds, with the skin on, or blanched, slivered/flaked, spiced, what you will. Skin-on will be meatier, richer, and roasting them beforehand makes them sing. Marcona almonds are a Spanish import – fatter, softer and rounder than the Californian variety, and often toasted with olive oil, spices and herbs. Their naturally high oil content and sweetness puts them closer to macadamias. Worth a try if you can find them.

Almond butter (or any nut)

I haven’t given amounts here because it’s all feel, as far as I’m concerned. For what it’s worth, I always use blanched almonds, and if I’m feeling very virtuous I buy whole almonds which I put in boiling water and then slide off their skins. It is tedious and irritating and only occasionally meditative, but I find skin-on almonds harder to digest. I also prefer the blonde colour of the butter.

Whole almonds (blanched or skin-on)

Sea salt

Sterilised jar or glass to store but not essential

Method

Toast the almonds – spread out in one layer – in a frying pan or large saucepan over a gentle heat until they start to smell nutty and look slightly burnished. They burn very easily, so stick around and be prepared to take them off the heat immediately. Whizz them in a grinder for approx 30 seconds to one minute, or until the almonds are finely ground. Taste and watch; some like their nut butter on the dry side, others like it sloppier. The longer you grind the looser the mixture will become. You can add melted coconut oil if you like, for lubrication, but it isn’t necessary.

I make my own peanut butter as well as cashew butter and have occasionally been known to grind macadamias. It is criminally simple – the only caveat is they need to be roasted and salted beforehand (as in, buy a packet). Store in a sterilized jar or simply eat the stuff, still warm, with a cup of tea, as I do. What is not to love?

Walnut bread

18 Wednesday Jul 2012

Posted by Sophie James in Recipe

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Baking, Bread, Childhood, Devon, Food, Ingredients, Marmalade, Nuts, Recipes

God, I miss bread. I don’t eat it much anymore. Maybe it’s because so much of it is that pre-sliced, flaccid, crustless variety sweating into its plastic bag. But the real thing is always worth it no matter how much you long for sleep afterwards, your legs leaden and your eyes drooping like a bloodhound. We don’t eat as much bread as we once did, perhaps because we’re not going down the pit anymore, or walking up mountains on a regular basis. So we forget what sustenance it provides. And good bread is real food, a meal in itself.

I have a memory of bread, toasted. It was homemade. It came in a mound, brown and slightly dusty. It filled the room with the most extraordinary fragrance. The bread belonged to our new neighbours in Exeter. They were a family of five: two boys and a girl. She was my age. The fact they lived next door meant there was some sort of unspoken rule that their daughter should accompany me to school. I was about seven and I was new to the area, my parents freshly divorced. So I would hover in the doorway to the kitchen while they finished up their breakfast. And what a breakfast! I was still digesting my porridge, but I could have sat down and started all over again in this new place.

The smell of hot, cakey bread, the dark husks still evident on their plates, and jellied spoonfuls of the bitterest marmalade sliding over the top of creamy, salted butter – the combination almost brought me to my knees. It still does.

Freya – for that was her name – was given the task of ‘walking me’ (like a dog) along the back lanes to school. She lasted all of a day doing this. But still she went through the charade of leaving the house with me, walking to the end of the street and then when the coast was clear leaving me there. Every day at the allotted time though, I hovered and inhaled. I think there were seeds in the bread; it smelled nutty. A kind of charcoal splendour drifted daily from the toaster. I felt weak with longing.

They had a cat called Orlando who was an orange ball of hatred and bile. Like the rest of the family he carried about him an unmistakable aura of status. Our cat, Smudge, never stood a chance. They fought daily, one paw resting on the fence for balance, the other taking slightly camp swipes at the other’s face. It was obvious who would win.

Freya when the time came went on to her posh, all-girls school and I went to the local comprehensive. I never saw her again. Not properly. We did occasionally bump into the family. Freya’s mum did contemporary dance as a hobby (her dance group were on the local news!). Freya’s dad – an orthodontist – fitted me and my brother with braces. What a start though every day to eat homemade bread, toasted and smothered in some gorgeous preserve. The five of them sat there like warriors. How could you ever be miserable when you had a family like that?

Walnut Bread

Adapted from Rick Stein’s Food Heroes

1 tbs dried yeast

1 tbs dark soft brown sugar

450 ml (15 fl oz) lukewarm water

600g (1 lb 6 oz) wholemeal/whole wheat stone-ground flour

2 teaspoons of salt

20 g (¾ oz) butter, melted

40 g (1½ oz) walnut pieces

2 tsp sesame seeds or sunflower seeds

1 egg, beaten

To make a ferment or ‘sponge’, whisk the yeast and 1 teaspoon of sugar in 150 ml (5 fl oz) of the lukewarm water. The temperature is important; too hot and it will kill the yeast, but too cold and the yeast won’t activate. It needs to be ‘finger hot.’ The best way to achieve this is to measure two-thirds cold tap water, pour into a jug and top up with one-third boiling water.

Leave the yeast to bubble in a warm place until the surface has about 2 cm (¾ in) of froth on it. It will take about 15 minutes. It should begin bubbling after about 5 minutes – if it doesn’t, the chances are the yeast won’t work. Put the flour, remaining sugar and salt in a large bowl. Pour on the yeast ferment, the remaining water and the melted butter, and mix together until you have a soft, sloppy dough. Knead for about 5 minutes, adding the walnuts right at the end. You can toast the walnuts lightly in a dry pan beforehand if you would like to accentuate their richness in the bread, and also throw in a few more if you like abundance.

Cut the dough in half and form 2 fat sausage shapes. Put them into 2 buttered 450 g (1 lb) loaf tins. Cover each with cling film/plastic wrap or put in a large plastic bag and leave in a warm place for about 45 minutes, until the dough has risen to the top.

Preheat the oven to 230C/450F. Wash the tops of the loaves gently with egg (the dough can easily deflate) and sprinkle with the seeds. Bake in the centre of the oven for 25-30 minutes. Remove the loaves from their tins and return them to the oven for a further 5 minutes to crisp up. Leave to cool on a wire rack. Wrap in cling film/plastic wrap and freeze if you are not going to eat them right away.

Walnuts and flour

Walnuts admittedly belong to the quieter, fall months. I hope you will forgive this seasonal lapse – I wrote this during a white-hot, muggy spell in LA when it felt as if the earth would crack and we would be showered with all our possessions. The smell of autumn – hot bread, wet grass and cool cheeks – seemed preferable.

Now to flour – I know it seems obvious, but you can’t make good bread with the substandard stuff. Fresh, stone-ground whole wheat flour will transform a loaf from okay to unforgettable. Because stones grind the flour more finely than metal cylinders, there are more bran particles in the bread, which gives it a more pronounced flavour and texture (that lovely crunch). The germ is also more present, enhancing the flour’s nutritional value. The bread doesn’t last as long, though, because of the high oil content, so you have to eat it quickly (shame).