A special gluten free orange cake

Lately, I've been finding myself trawling through the internet looking for vegetarian, vegan and gluten-free products and recipes. It isn't that I have recently been diagnosed with an intolerance towards certain food groups (though oysters and mussels do make me crook!) but since returning from my vacation, I have felt this urgency for a lifestyle overhaul. I am not sure if it post-vacation guilt - the sort you experience knowing you've lived up one too many excesses but it definately feels like: "Can someone hit my reset button, please?".

A few days ago, I caught up with my friend D who lives in Sydney and had a self-indulgent whinge-fest. The usual "Life sucks, my legs look like cottage cheese in a pair of nude stockings, I need a new job and any idea where I can find all the answers to every question I will ever have to ask so I don't have to ask them?" type of conversation.

He listened empathically and replied, and I am paraphrasing here, "Darl, do the 15-day detox and start working in a big pharmaceutical company."

Why of course! That's what I need. D is wise beyond his age.

The 15-day detox plan he refers to follows a fairly strict diet of unprocessed food, no dairy, no eggs, no alcohol or caffeine, white fish but only 3 times a week and $70 worth of non-medically proven, herbal supplement tablets that make you feel cleansed from within. I've done it before - it works.

It is not for the lack of commitment to a lifestyle change that I have not begun the abovementioned detox but I am looking towards a long-term strategy, something more sustainable so it becomes part of my being. I began researching the benefits and drawbacks of various types of diets: ovo-lacto vegetarian, vegan, macrobiotic and raw food.

Needless to say, one thing led to another and I soon found myself perusing gluten-free websites and now have a better understanding of what coeliac is. I would like to digress a little, now many years ago, I suffered asymptomatic arthiritis and after prolonged medicating with non-steroidal anti-inflammatories, my condition did not improve. What made matters worse, I was taking more drugs to counteract the side effects of the anti-inflammatory drugs. Incidentally, I started reading Eat Right for Your Type by Dr Peter D'Adamo, a text which suggests a diet based on an individual's blood type and to cut a long story short, I refrained from products containing dairy and wheat, consumed more plant-based protein, and together with the power of positive thought, I no longer felt I had the body of a geriatric. Admittedly, I did grow weary of eating the same types of food and never grew accustomed to the texture and flavour of wheat-free baked products. But now, with a more open mind and palate, I am more than eager to explore alternative ingredients again.

I tasted a flourless orange cake for the very first time at a Sunday picnic a few years ago and I was totally captured; left utterly speechless with my first mouthful. It's texture, a very unusual combination of nibbly, dense and moist bordering creamy but lacking the taste of creamery butter. It is more reminiscent of a steamed pudding - minus the cloying sweetness and the richness. Simply put, its texture was completely different to the conventional crumb of what I knew made a cake.

Yesterday, I revisited this experience and made an orange cake following the recipe found in Stephanie Alexander's The Cook's Companion. There are many contemporary renditions of this classic cake some with the inclusion of flour and meringue to ligthen its texture, maybe fewer eggs and even replacing the oranges with other citrus fruit that may be in season. Here, I adapted Alexander's recipe with the addition of some ground wattleseed (by Oz Tukka) and oat flour (NB the jury is still out on the appropriateness of oats in a gluten-free diet). Edible wattleseed was developed as a food flavouring back in the mid 1980s when its coffee, chocolate and hazelnut profiles were discovered and have since been popularised in modern Australian cuisine. With such characteristics, it comes as no surprise how I arrived at my orange and wattleseed pairing and why this cake is so delectably more-ish!

Orange-wattleseed cake

3 small unwaxed oranges

250g sugar

250g ground almonds

6 large eggs

1 1/2 tsp ground wattleseed

1 tsp baking powder

5 tbs oat flour (optional)

(makes 1 20x20cm square cake)

cover oranges with water in a medium saucepan and boil for 10 minutes

drain oranges and cover again with water

cook oranges in boiling water for 30 minutes, topping up the water level if necessary

cool oranges and puree the entire fruit (yes, pith and all - minus the pips of course!) in a food processor/blender

line the base of the baking tin with baking paper

preheat oven to 170C

combine almond meal, baking powder, wattleseed and oatflour (if using) in a bowl. whisk to mix thoroughly

beat sugar and eggs until double in volume (this results in a lighter "mousse" textured cake. If you find yourself lacking the equipment or the patience, skip this step completely. Just combine the eggs, sugar and orange puree in a single step)

stir orange puree into egg mixture until just combined - do not overmix

fold dry ingredients into the mixture

pour into prepared baking tin

bake for 50 minutes or until only a few crumbs are attached to the skewer when testing for doneness.

A cake on Father's Day

Yesterday, as any follower of Hallmark celebrations would know, was Father's Day.

I'm no daddy-hater or cynic who look upon folk who enjoy these greeting-card celebrations with disdain and distaste. My family and I are consistently inconsistent about such celebrations. That is to say, we only celebrate such occasions depending on (a) whether we are sufficiently reminded of their occurrence and (b) if we are together as a family.

So yesterday, we celebrated Father's Day with a cake.

Baking with fresh yeast

Yeast is yeast, is yeast, some might argue but this miraculous microbe that brings us delicious bread, refreshing beer and wholesome Vegemite comes in 3 forms: fresh, granular and powdered. Using fresh bakers' yeast yields results unsurpassable to its dried variant in my opinion and to make a generalisation, I find the action of fresh yeast more robust, the flavour of its finished product mildly yeasty and the aroma, "sweeter". Fresh yeast however has its drawbacks mainly that it is not as stable as dry yeast, that is to say, its potency diminishes with age and storage. And of course, it can be quite difficult to obtain unless you are pretty chummy with your local baker.

I usually use dried yeast when I bake bread because it is readily available and easily stored in the cupboard but I chanced upon the compressed fresh stuff in the frozen section while shopping with my parents at Carrefour the other day and needless to say, it took little persuasion for me to purchase the 500g brick of yeast. That's right, an entire 500g brick of yeast.

Fast forward a few hours (about 8) and 15g crumbled off the aforementioned "brick" later, I present you walnut bread* with a chewy dark sourdough-like crumb, suspiciously nutty with nuggets of walnuts and sweet with plump pieces of raisins, a bread very similar to the one I like to get from Lawley's. Perfect with creamy ripe brie and a drizzle of wildflower honey, this bread goes down a treat!

Yum! Now, would someone kindly suggest what I ought to do with the rest of the yeast**?

* adapted from Rose Levy Beranbaum's recipe for cranberry walnut bread. I replaced the dried yeast with 15g of the fresh stuff and raisins for the cranberries.

** I have since made many loaves of honey wholemeal bread which has been well-received by the family, the recipe to be posted soon.

Note I find it is adequate to double or triple the amount of fresh yeast by weight in a recipe that states dried yeast. For example, if a recipe calls for 7g dried yeast (a sachet), I use 15-20g depending on the proofing and rising times, that is to say, if the method calls for a pre-ferment or an extended rising time, I am more inclined to use the lesser amount of 15g. If the recipe is for a "quick" bread with a short rising time, or a rich dough then I am more inclined to use 20g of fresh yeast.

You Are My Sunshine Tart

Mick loved tarts. And yes, I am referring to the sort you eat with a fork as well as the other variety that don skirts resembling thick belts and walk like they know you are watching them with dirty in your eyes. He was rather disappointed when he missed out on the petit lemon meringue tarts I made for his brother Marc's wake last October and I kept saying I would make him some - but never got around to it, just like the chocolate mousse I promised to make for him since 2006! (Mick, I may be hopeless, but you left me too soon.)

Mick was quite adamant I watch the movie "Waitress" starring Keri Russell (with a poorly mimicked southern accent) as an embittered waitress working at a pie diner owned by an equally cynical old geezer. Mick said she reminded him of me because of the way she named and made pies after circumstances in her life which I thought I would list here for a little chuckle:

I Don’t Want Earl’s Baby Pie (then renamed Bad Baby Pie) Quiche of egg and brie cheese with a smoked ham center
I Hate My Husband Pie “You take bittersweet chocolate and don’t sweeten it. You make it into a pudding and drown it in caramel…”

Baby Screaming It’s Head Off In The Middle Of The Night And Ruining My Life Pie New York style cheesecake, brandy brushed, pecans and nutmeg…

Earl Murders Me Because I’m Having An Affair Pie “You smash blackberries and raspberries into a chocolate crust.”

I Can’t Have No Affair Because It’s Wrong And I Don’t Want Earl To Kill Me Pie “Vanilla custard with banana. Hold the banana…”

Pregnant Miserable Self Pitying Loser Pie “Lumpy oatmeal with fruitcake mashed in. Flambé of course…”

I have never been in a situation where I have found myself to be miserably pregnant and therefore have never felt any inclination to name my creations in such fashion. However, touched by sentimentalism, I decided to name my lemon meringue tart, the one I never got to share with Mick: You Are My Sunshine Tart. It is corny, I know, but indulge me in my emotional condition. I have a feeling Mick would have preferred it named Lusty Lemon Tart.

Perhaps You Are Lusty, My Sunshine Tart?

Anyway, to make this tart you will need the following recipe:

Lemon meringue tart

base

200g unsalted butter

40g sugar

80g icing sugar

3g salt

1 large egg

380g flour

lemon curd

4 eggs

250g sugar

160mls lemon juice, strained

zest of 2 lemons

300g unsalted butter, diced

meringue
80g egg whites

150g caster sugar

(makes 2 8-inch tarts)

prepare the base the day before by creaming butter, sugars and salt together until well combined before adding the egg. Add flour and incorporate until all the components just come together in a ball. Divide the dough into 2, flatten each portion into a disc, wrap with plastic film and refrigerate.

roll the prepared dough to 3-5mm thickness and line tart ring. Allow to rest for 30 mins.
pre-heat oven to 180C.

blind-bake tart base for 10 minutes, remove pie weights if using and bake base for a further 7 minutes or until golden brown. Allow the base to cool before filling with lemon curd.

prepare the lemon curd by placing the eggs, sugar and lemon juice and zest in a large stainless steel mixing bowl and whisking til sugar dissolves completely.

cook whisking constantly by placing the mixing bowl over a saucepan of simmering water until the bubbles diminish, eventually disappearing and the consistency that of thick sour cream.

remove bowl from heat and at this point you may strain the custard to rid the zest if you want a smoother and more velvety finish. Allow to cool slightly.

whisk diced butter a little at a time. This process thickens and enriches the custard.

prepare meringue by whisking sugar into the egg whites gradually until a shiny and soft-peaked meringue is obtained.

finish by pouring the lemon curd into the prepared tart bases and tap gently to achieve a smooth flat top. Pipe meringue in a decorative fashion and flame gently with a blowtorch. Alternatively, preheat the grill in the oven and heat til a golden brown colour is obtained.

Mick used to love coffee, then he started drinking Earl Grey tea

J-M aka Mick, a frequent contributing editor, a selfless volunteer to my experimental recipes and my dearest close friend passed away 6 weeks ago. His departure was unexpected making it that little harder to come to terms with, but then again, I don't suppose there are easier means of confronting the loss of someone close to heart be it expected or not.

The following posts will be dedicated to Mick - a medley of foods, some inspired by the flavours he loved, some enjoyed in his company and some I just wish we had a chance to enjoy together.

I begin with shortbread imbued with the subtle citrus notes of Earl Grey tea, the brew of choice after Mick decided to give up his coffee. To finish and to sweeten these biscuits just a touch, I drizzled melted white chocolate after cutting them to size.

Earl Grey tea shortbread

220g unsalted butter

1 tsp fine salt

70g icing sugar, sifted

300g plain flour

4 Twinings Earl Grey tea bags

(makes 1 rectangular tart pan)

Preheat oven to 160C.

Beat butter, salt and icing sugar until light and creamy.

Add flour and ground tea, mix til just combined.

Pat dough into a fluted rectangular tart pan, prick at 1cm intervals with a skewer and sprinkle the entire surface with sugar.

Allow the shortbread to rest for 20 minutes before baking.

Bake the shortbread for 40-50 minutes, slightly coloured around the edges.

Remove from the oven and cut into fingers of desired width while still warm.

Return shortbread to oven, switch OFF the heat and leave the door ajar.

Remove shortbread from pan when completely cooled and garnish with drizzling of white chocolate if desired.