No-bake white chocolate cheesecake with red berries

Cheesecake made with Philadelphia cream cheese was one of the revelations in a brief year of home economics classes at secondary school. I remember it was incredibly simple, bashing up digestive biscuits to make the base, sweetening the cream cheese and topping with a can of cherry compote. And it was utterly delicious.

Many of the recipes in my cookbook collection are for baked cheesecakes, and I can't find a recipe as simple as the one we used - maybe it was just cream cheese and icing sugar? In the end, I couldn't resist adding white chocolate as suggested by the Lorraine Pascal in the Philadelphia website. And with berries in season, it seemed only right to make my own compote and pile on the fresh fruit for an Instagram hit...

Ingredients

(Serves 6-8)

150g digestive biscuits

30g melted butter

250g white chocolate

360g cream cheese

50g icing sugar

A few handfuls of fruit (raspberries, strawberries and blueberries)

Method

1. Blitz the biscuits or bash in a freezer bag with a rolling pin until crumbed. Stir in the cooled melted butter and spoon into a lined 20cm loose bottomed cake tin (or a springform tin if you have one). Press down firmly and chill while you make the filling.

2. Melt the white chocolate in a bowl over a pan of simmering water. While it melts, beat together the cream cheese and icing sugar in another bowl. Add a spoonful of cream cheese mixture the chocolate and mix gently but thoroughly. Add the remainder of the cream cheese mix, one spoonful at a time until it's all combined.

3. Spread the filling onto the buttery biscuit base and put back in the fridge for at least at hour to firm up.

4. To make the topping, gently heat 2-3 tablespoons of berries until soft then press through a sieve to make a purée. Pour over the chilled cheesecake and put back in the fridge.

5. To serve, unmould the cheesecake by placing the base on a tin and wiggling and sliding the sides down to release the cake (or unclipping the spring), then pile the remaining berries on top.

Enjoy with a glass of prosecco while you try to convince your guests that you really didn't buy it at the shops!

Baked Alaska: my first Fanny classic

This week's recipe has a slightly different origin to my usual charity shop finds; it's from a pile of magazines sent to me by a very generous Twitter follower, and fellow vintage cookbook addict, Cosmic Apple Pips. The hours I've wasted on social media suddenly seem completely worth it! The magazines in question are part of Fanny Cradock's 1970 Cookery Programme, a weekly publication stuffed full of colour photos and "pic-strips", Fanny's rather severe advice and garlic pushing (we didn't like it in the 70s) and a wine column written by her husband, monocle-wearing Johnnie. 

There are so many things I love about the programme, but I think my favourite aspect is the food styling and use of crockery and props, both old and new, which Fanny name checks in the caption - "we think it looks rather nice sting on its 1/ junk shop plate!". If you like the sound of it, there's another blog entirely devoted to the programme called Keep Calm and Fanny On :)

Baked Alaska appears in issue 7, which is all about omelettes... because Fanny says it's called Omelette Novegienne and the Americans have nicknamed it Baked Alaska. And rather than being a technical challenge as evidenced by the Great British Bake Off and the infamous "Bingate" incident, Fanny assures us that it's "far, far easier to make than Yorkshire pudding". So a bit tricky then.

As usual, I've followed the basic rules, as she's very strict about that sort of thing, but added a few of my own variations. I made a fatless sponge for the base according to Fanny's recipe, but rather than using tinned pineapple under the ice cream dome, I made one of our favourite frozen puds, mango sorbet, which is unbelievably simple if you have an ice cream machine, and layered it into the ice cream. And as I've successfully conquered meringues before (http://bit.ly/2sHCZFw) I used the same recipe and technique here.

Ingredients 

For the filling

1 tin mango slices in juice

500ml vanilla ice cream, softened at room temperature

For the sponge

110g caster sugar

3 eggs

70g self-raising flour

For the meringue

6 egg whites

300g caster sugar

Handful chopped pistachios

Method

1. Make the mango sorbet by blitzing the mango slices and juice, then churn in an ice cream maker for 30 minutes until almost completely frozen

2. Line a pudding basin or similar shaped (domed) bowl with cling film. Add half the softened vanilla ice cream and press down. Add the mango sorbet to make a thick layer then freeze for about 10-15 minutes. Add the remainder of the ice cream to fill the bowl, level and wrap in the overhanging cling film. Freeze for at least 2 hours.

3. To make the sponge, heat the sugar in a hot oven for 6 minutes, then tip onto the eggs cracked into a mixing bowl. Beat until light and fluffy and almost double in size, then gently fold in the flour. Pour into a lined circular cake tin, a little larger than your ice cream filled pudding basin, and bake at 180C for 15 minutes. Cool slightly, remove from the tin and, once completely cold, wrap and chill until assembly time.

4. Heat the sugar for the meringue in a hot oven until starting to melt at the edges (this bit is optional but adds a little caramel taste). Whisk the egg whites in a very clean bowl until foamy then throw in the sugar and continue to whisk energetically until the mixture is very stiff. If you're not going to use immediately, chill in the fridge.

5. Assemble quickly: unwrap the chilled sponge and place on a baking tray; unmould the ice cream (a few seconds in hot water will help if it's stuck), remove the film and place the ice cream in the centre of the sponge base; spoon or pipe the meringue all over the ice cream down to the sponge base (I don't have photos of this as thee wasn't time!) then pop in a hot oven at 220C for 5 minutes to brown the meringue. As its too tricky to take photos and assemble a Baked Alaska, here's Fanny's pic-strip featuring the delectable Peter:

The following circumstances do not facilitate the assembly procedure:

- a blocked piping nozzle

- an audience

- very fresh eggs that don't whip as well

- not starting until 10.30pm

and since I made all of these rookie errors, I ended up throwing the meringue onto the ice cream and sponge, while it proceeded to slip down the sides as everything was getting too warm. But it made it into the oven rather than the bin and the final result didn't look too bad:

The sorbet and ice cream were still frozen and the meringue was cooked and gooey. Cutting slices was a bit messy but a handful of toasted pistachios made a good disguise! The sweet meringue and ice cream is perfectly offset by the fresh mango sorbet, and the light sponge holds it all together. Next time, I'd try making individual ones to avoid the messy serving bit, and Mary Berry says you can freeze them for an hour before cooking which might help the presentation. And I'm getting a bigger piping nozzle!

Crockpot Chicken fiesta: a summery chicken, pepper and olive casserole

If, like me, you relegate the slow cooker to the back of the cupboard as soon as daffodils start sprouting, this light and summery stew will have you digging it back out again. The convenience of slow cooking is obviously just as valuable in spring as it is in winter, and one can't be expected to survive on salads from April to September...

Adapted from Crockery Pot Cooking (1978) with some suggestions from a recent Good Food magazine recipe, this colourful chicken and pepper casserole is fresh and spicy, with at least three portions of your five-a-day (and I'm not even counting the wine). The final taste (and spice) will depend a lot on the chorizo you use as there are no other added herbs or flavours, so choose carefully. Also, be wary of adding extra salt: the olives and stock will be quite salty already, so I didn't add any salt until the cooking had finished.

Ingredients

(Serves 2)

100g chorizo, sliced

4 bone-in chicken thighs, skin removed

1/2 onion, chopped

2 peppers, chopped into chunks

1 handful stuffed olives (I used ones in brine)

1 glass dry white wine

200ml chicken stock (from a good quality cube or fresh/homemade)

1 tbsp tomato purée

Method

If your slow cooker has a removable crock that you can use on the hob, start the dish off in that as described below. If not, use a frying pan to brown the chorizo, chicken and onion on the hob, then add them to the slow cooker along with any juices from the pan.

1. Heat the crock on the hob and dry fry the chorizo until it's starting to crisp; it will release plenty of spicy oil. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside.

2. Fry the chicken in the chorizo oil until starting to brown, then add the onion and cook for 2 or 3 minutes more.

3. Put the crock into the slow cooker and add back the chorizo and all the remaining ingredients, making sure the liquid just covers the contents. Cook on low for 6 hours.

The end result is a light and vibrant stew; the chicken falls off the bone into the spicy broth, and is delicious mopped up with rice or crusty bread.

Three vegetarian dips to avert the hummus crisis

In recreating recipes from 60s and 70s cookbooks, there has been a distinct lack of vegetarian dishes. In fact, one of the few vegetarian meals I have made for the blog was from the Argentinian Grandma's book - the hazelnut and ricotta ravioli - as pasta is often meat-free, as is Argentinian pizza (I know, weird!).

One of the main reasons for the lack of veggie dishes is the scarcity of recipes: vegetarianism didn't begin to become popular until the 70s. One of the first cookbooks to target this growing movement was The Vegetarian Epicure by Anna Thomas, published in 1972 while Anna was still at film school in California. It sold over a million copies. I have this, and her second book published in 1978 (pictured below), on generous loan from a Barbican resident, in an attempt to redress the veggie balance!

These beautifully illustrated books focus on making delicious meals and dinner party entertaining without using meat substitutes, and letting good quality vegetables speak for themselves. As a start (there'll be more, I promise), I've adapted three dips adapted from the second book, which has more exotic recipes inspired by Anna's travels in the mid-70s.

I have a mini food processor which works perfectly for blitzing dips, but a blender or Nutribullet-type thing should work just as well. They all taste great with some toasted pitta bread for dipping.

BABA GANOUJ

Described as a salad of eggplant and sesame paste that Anna discovered on "the long, hot summer days in Cairo".

Ingredients 

1 aubergine 

1 tbsp olive oil

1 clove garlic

1 tsp tahini

Half a lemon

Method

1. Either prick the aubergine several times and roast in a hot oven until tender (about 30 minutes) or cut in half and griddle for about 10 minutes. Leave to cool.

2. When the aubergine is cool enough to handle, scoop out the flesh and add to a food processor or blender with the crushed garlic, tahini and good squeeze of lemon juice. Blitz briefly to combine.

BROAD BEAN HUMMUS

A different take on the usual hummus, using broad beans instead of chickpeas. 

Ingredients

250g frozen broad beans

1 clove garlic

1 tsp tahini

Half a lemon

1/2 tsp ground cumin (optional)

Method

1. Cook the beans in boiling water for 3-4 minutes until tender. Drain.

2. Blitz the cooked beans with the remaining ingredients until well combined. Season with salt and pepper and a little water if the consistency is too thick and blitz again.

ARTICHOKE CHEESE

This is a light and tangy dip, delicious with some chilli flakes sprinkled on top.

Ingredients

280g artichokes in oil

180g cream cheese

40g Parmesan

Half a lemon

Method

Tip all the ingredients into the food processor and blitz until smooth. Add some freshly ground black pepper to serve.

Have fun dipping!

A Greek tragedy in three parts: #1 feta parcels or tiropitakia

*Spoiler alert* The only tragedy in this three parter is that there weren't any leftovers; in fact, each course was even better than the last, so keep your eyes peeled for dessert! If you follow me on Instagram, you'll have seen a sneak preview with one of my best ever food stylist-worthy shots, petals and all.

The Greek theme was an attempt to ignore this week's arctic blast by indulging in a feast to remind us of hot sunshine, summer holidays and maybe a sip of ouzo... It was also inspired by another donation from a local Barbican resident: The Home Book of Greek Cookery first published in 1963. This rather funky paperback edition was printed in 1976: 

Greek food is ideal for entertaining and many of the recipes in the book are for 8-10 people; we invited two. Everything on the menu can be made ahead, except for these little cheese parcels, or tiropitakia, which take minutes to prepare and are best eaten hot from the oven. So once these are done, you can sit back, relax and enjoy the ouzo stories (everybody has an ouzo story...).

Ingredients 

(Makes 8 parcels)

125g feta cheese

1 egg

1 tbsp fresh parsley, finely chopped

1 tbsp fresh mint, finely chopped

1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper

2 sheets ready made filo pastry

A large knob of butter, melted 

Method

1. Mash together the cheese, egg, herbs and pepper until well mixed

2. Cut the pastry sheets into four pieces: in half lengthways then in half widthways. Add a heaped teaspoon of filling to the top of a strip, about 2cm from the edge, then fold over the top left corner to meet the right edge forming a triangle (see pics below). Keep folding over, brushing the edge with melted butter to seal in the filling, until you reach the end of the sheet. Repeat for the remaining pastry and filling to make 8 parcels. 

3. Brush the parcels with melted butter and place on a baking sheet. Bake at 180C for 15 minutes until crisp and golden.

Serve warm from the oven with some Greek yoghurt pepped up with some lemon juice and more fresh herbs, alongside some stuffed vine leaves, olives and other Greek paraphernalia.

To vary the filling, you can mix spinach and spring onions with the feta (spanakopitakia) or make a meat filled version with minced lamb, passata and onion (kreatopitakia).

Tune in next time for the second act: a cheesy baked moussaka.

Roast lamb: perfectly family Easter Sunday lunch

This is hands down my favourite roast dinner. I have so many fond memories: the house filled with the smell of slow roasting meat and garlic, hours of asking "how much longer?" before sitting down as a family to devour it, spilling half of it down my front (inevitable), maybe being allowed a drop of red wine...

A leg of lamb is a great choice for family gatherings on lazy Sundays: it takes only a few minutes to prepare, then you have hours to spend together while it roasts before you need to do the trimmings while it rests - or delegate to some little helpers. My first attempt at cooking this version was in Saundersfoot on the Welsh coast with a bunch of friends; we'd bought a large leg of lamb from the local butchers and I phoned my Mum to get instructions. We played Monopoly while the joint roasted. The blackened bits of paste worried them a little but once they'd tried it they were fighting over the sweet crunchy pieces and it was huge success. 

I highly recommend getting your joint from a butchers where you can discuss exactly what you want and can be assured of the quality of the meat. I'm embarrassed to say that although we live 3 minutes walk from Smithfield's market, I didn't get up early enough to buy direct (and save myself a small fortune) but instead walked 30 minutes further to Quality Chop House on Farringdon Road. On the plus side, QCH also sell my favourite peanut butter, but it did mean walking home with a 2.5 kg leg of lamb on the hottest day of the year so far (it's April so it wasn't that hot, but you get the picture).

Ingredients 

(Serves 6 with leftovers)

1 leg of lamb: 2-2.5kg, bone in, at room temperature 

3 sprigs of rosemary,  leaves picked

3 fat garlic cloves

5 tbsp tomato purée

1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce

Roast dinner "trimmings" to serve

Method

1. Score the skin and fat on the lamb with a sharp knife

2. Crush the rosemary leaves with the garlic in a pestle and mortar, then add the tomato purée and Worcestershire sauce to make a paste

3. Rub the paste all over the joint, squidging into the holes made with the knife

4. Roast at 180C for about 3 hours for a pink-in-the-middle joint (to calculate timings for your joint allow 25mins per 450g plus 25 mins). The paste will go black in places; if it starts smelling burnt cover with foil for the rest of the roasting time.

5. Rest under foil and a tea towel for at least 30 minutes before carving. Scrape the juices from the bottom of the roasting pan to add to the gravy.

Serve with your favourite roast dinner trimmings; for us that's garlic & rosemary roast potatoes, yorkshire pudding(s), obligatory vegetables and red wine gravy. Don't forget to share out the black bits.

Happy Easter!

Swedish lamb with coffee sauce

Apparently it's spring, although as usual the weather has failed to notice. As I write, the rain falls persistently, and as much as I love gazing at the Barbican in the rain, I'm really looking forward to some sunshine. This delicious and slightly unusual stew is perfect for days like these: light enough for post-winter fare but comforting when the weather is refusing to play ball.

This week's recipe is extra special as it's not only from a 1973 cookbook, but was cooked right here in the Barbican for a dinner with friends in November 1984. The recipe is from Robert Carrier's Cooking for You, owned and treasured by a long term Brendon Mews resident and prolific cook.

For more stories about my hunt for vintage recipe books, see my column in this month's Barbican Life magazine (available here soon: http://www.barbicanlifeonline.com/barbican-life-magazine/magazine-issues/, updates via the Facebook page: http://bit.ly/2k0ICuL)

Ingredients

(Serves 4)

1kg lamb shoulder or neck

2 tbsp butter/olive oil

1 onion finely chopped

2 large carrots, thickly sliced

1 tsp sugar

150ml freshly brewed coffee

250ml beef stock

6 tbsp double cream

Method

1. Chop the lamb in 4cm chunks, removing any fat or gristle.

2. In a large casserole, fry the onion in the butter or olive oil until soft; remove from the pan and set aside.

3. Fry the lamb in the same fat until golden brown all over.

4. Return the onions to the pan and add the carrots. Season, sprinkle with sugar and caramelise over a moderate heat for 5 minutes.

5. Stir in the coffee, stock and cream; cover and simmer on a low heat for 1 1/2 hours, stirring regularly.

6. Remove the lamb and carrots from the casserole with a slotted spoon; turn the heat up and reduce the sauce by half.

7. Pour the sauce over the meat and carrots and serve with creamed potatoes, green vegetables and a punchy red wine. 

The lamb ends up really tender, the sweetness of the carrots perfectly balanced by the smoky coffee. We certainly won't be waiting another 33 years to cook this dish again!