Last month, I did something extremely (some might say uncharacteristically) clever: I bought a small glass Pyrex dish. Nothing fancy or all that pretty (it was only £2 at Sainsbury’s after all) but as it turns out, that little dish was an awesome buy.

I already had a larger oval Pyrex, as well as a red-and-white ceramic gratin dish, but these two shared a common problem: there are only two people in this flat. Now, I love leftovers. Love them. But some things don’t “leave over” all that well, do they? Add to that the fact that we don’t have a microwave, and you get well, a lot of waste.

To avoid this, I’ve been avoiding certain kinds of dishes, namely anything that we can’t eat in one sitting (sadly, not as innumerous as you might think) and won’t re-heat well. But this new dish is the perfect size for two people. Suddenly, a whole new world of bakeable dishes is open to me: soufflés, rich puddings, stratas.

Yup, stratas. I’d never even heard of this American savoury bread pudding until sometime last year (actually, when I first saw The Family Stone), and hadn’t tried it until this week. Oh, what I was missing. Crusty bread baked in a eggy custard and topped with cheese? Yes, please.

I made mine with curly green kale, red onions and garlic, and piled on the parmesan, gruyère and cheddar for a tri-cheesy feast. It was absolutely delicious, and I’m comforted to know that thanks to my new baking dish, I whip one up for Andrew and myself anytime I want. Now, if I could just get him to try it, we’d be all set.

Note: Most recipes I’ve come across say to rest the strata mixture in the fridge for 8 hours before baking. I managed 20 minutes. It was fine, but if your bread is particularly stale or extra-crusty, you might want to follow common practice.

• Red Onion, Kale and Cheese Strata
• serves 2, easily multiplied
• 1 cup cubed white bread
  1 tsp. olive oil
  1/2 a red onion, finely sliced
  3/4 cup chopped kale
  1 garlic clove, sliced
  1/4 tsp. chili flakes
  1/4 cup grated cheddar
  1/4 cup grated gruyère
  2 eggs
  2/3 cup whole milk (or a mixture of semi-skimmed and cream)
  2 Tbs. grated parmesan
  salt and pepper, to taste
• 1. Lightly butter a small gratin dish and toss in your bread cubes. Set aside.
  
  2. Heat the olive oil in a non-stick pan over medium heat and add the onion. Sautée until onion begins to soften, about 4 minutes, then add the kale. Cook for about 3 minutes, before adding the garlic and chili flakes, and cooing everything together for another three minutes. Remove from heat.
  
  3. Spread the vegetable mixture over the bread, and gently push it down in between the cubes in places. Sprinkle over the cheddar and gruyère.
  
  4. In a small bowl or jug, whisk the eggs with the milk and parmesan, and add salt and pepper to taste. Pour over the gratin dish, and let sit until the custard has been absorbed.
  
  5. Preheat your oven to 175°C/350°F. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until browned on top and puffy. Serve immediately.

First off, let me preface this post by making a number of excuses, of the type that my boyfriend warned me never to engage in when I first started this blog. (“Your readers aren’t interested in why you posted late, or not at all- don’t apologise!”) See, I felt fine on Sunday night. Just fine- I’d gone to the farmer’s market, made and bottled some homemade ketchup, re-read the third Harry Potter book for approximately the 8th time in my life, and been over to my sister’s for cake.

Unfortunately, Monday morning was another story. My first thought (before even opening my eyes) was “my throat hurts”. Followed closely by “holy crap- this really, really hurts”. Of course, I wasn’t about to let a stupid little virus get in the way of my day – on Mondays I attend an upholstery course in the mornings, buy groceries for the week, sort out blogging plans for the week ahead, and bake my weekly bread.

Luckily the bread I’d planned to make could hardly have required less effort, hailing as it does from Nigella Lawson, patron saint of the lazy domestic (I do hope she wouldn’t be offended by that line). Nigella- her books and food- has always comforted me somewhat, so baking up her Lazy Loaf was perhaps fitting for a day spent under the weather. A dense, oaty bread, this is hardly baking at all: there’s no kneading, no proving and no punching- you don’t even need to preheat the oven.

The bread it makes? It’s chewy, fruity, nutty and ever-so-slightly sweet. Definitely a power-packing, get-up-and-go kind of loaf. Which is of course, just what I need now that I’m (mainly) over my virus, and trying to catch up with regular life again.

• Lazy Loaf
• adapted from Nigella Express by Nigella Lawson
• 200g muesli with oats, fruit, nuts and seeds (you could always make your own by mixing these things, but it sort of defeats the purpose)
  325g whole wheat bread flour
  2 tsp. instant yeast
  2 tsp. flaky sea salt (if using regular fine salt, reduce to 1 tsp.)
  250ml milk (whatever percentage you have around- I used semi-skimmed)
  250ml warm water
  2 Tbs. honey
• 1. Mix together the muesli, flour, yeast and salt in a large bowl. In a separate bowl or jug, mix together the milk, water and honey. When the honey has dissolved, pour the wet ingredients into the dry and mix until the mixture is thick and porridge-like.
  
  2. Pour the batter into a 2lb silicone loaf tin, or a greased and floured tin of another material. Place in a cold oven and turn heat up to 110°C/230°F. Leave for 1 hour.
  
  3. After an hour, turn the heat up to 180°C/350°F and let the loaf bake for another 45 minutes. Let cool completely before slicing.

Of all the misnomers in this world, the one that infuriates me the most is banana bread. I love the stuff (could eat my sister’s all day long), but let’s face it- this is a very poorly monikered treat. Nine times out of ten, the “bread” in question is actually a cake; there’s oil or butter, vanilla extract, eggs- not to mention the requisite cup or so of sugar. For heaven’s sake, there are sometimes chocolate chips involved.

But this, my friends, is not that kind of banana bread. Continuing with my theme of the year, I was looking around for something a little different for this week’s loaf. My eyes settled on two unused and overripe bananas, turning soft and brown (as they tend to do) on my countertop. Problem solved- I was going to make banana bread. A real banana bread.

For help I turned to Google, but my searches were futile; “banana bread that’s really bread” and “banana bread with YEAST” yielded nothing more than cake, cake and more cake- some not even bothering to masquerade as bread. Eventually, I came across an interesting fact: bananas have roughly the same water and starch content as cooked potatoes. Reaching for my trusty copy of How to Be a Domestic Goddess, I flipped to an old favourite of mine- Nigella‘s basic Potato Bread. Surely this recipe could be tweaked and reworked into the banana bread of my dreams?

Though slightly softer than the one it’s based on, this loaf still has a chewy, tight crumb and the ability to make fantastic toast. Granted, it might not pair so well with cheese, Marmite or Rarebit- but it sure was tasty with peanut butter and Nutella.

Yes, Nutella. I know, I know- I may have just as well made a cake.

• Banana Bread
• much adapted from How to Be a Domestic Goddess by Nigella Lawson
• makes 1 large round loaf
• 500g white bread flour, plus more for kneading
  2 tsp. instant yeast
  2 Tbs. sugar
  1/4 tsp. salt
  2 medium bananas, peeled and broken into chunks
  2 Tbs. crème fraiche
  180ml warm water
  bit of butter, for greasing
• 1. Mix together the flour, yeast, sugar and salt in a large bowl; make a well in the centre and set aside.
  
  2. Place the bananas in a smaller bowl with the crème fraiche. Using a fork or potato masher, mash until you have an generally uniform mush. Mix in the warm water and pour the wet ingredients into the dry ones.
  
  3. Using a wooden spoon or dough whisk, stir until the mixture comes together into a sticky dough. Turn out onto a generously floured surface and knead for 8-10 minutes, until the dough becomes smooth and elastic. You’ll likely use another 100g or so of flour at this point- just keep adding it to your surface to ensure dough doesn’t stick.
  
  4. Form the dough into a ball, butter it (I melt a bit of butter between my hands and pat it all over), then place in a covered bowl and leave somewhere warm to rise for about an hour. The dough should double in size.
  
  5. When the dough has risen, punch it down and knead again for about a minute. Form dough into a boule and place on a nonstick (or parchment-lined) baking sheet. Cover with a tea towel and leave to rise for about 30 minutes until big and puffy again. Preheat the oven to 220°C/425°F.
  
  6. Bake the bread for 20 minutes at 220°C/425°F, then turn down the heat to 190°C/375°F and bake for another 10 minutes. When done, the crust should be golden brown and the loaf will sound hollow when tapped on the bottom. Cool completely before slicing.

You’ve probably all heard of Welsh rabbit/rarebit, the delicious late-night snack and lunch dish so beloved of the British Isles. It’s a simple idea, really: take some toasted bread and top with a mixture of egg yolks and cheese (often with flavourings like chili, Worcestershire sauce or ale), and put the whole thing under the broiler until bubbly and delicious. Apply to mouth.

Well this, my friends, is Leek rarebit, its slightly healthier (in that in contains something green) cousin. I came across this idea in the recipe section of February’s Living etc magazine and immediately marked it down as a must-try. Anything that involves the triple whammy of bread, cheese and leeks just has to be delicious, right? Unfortunately I left that magazine in Canada, but luckily Jamie Oliver came to my rescue.

I made this for lunch yesterday, using the Milk & Honey bread I baked earlier this week. On first bite, the cheesy, leeky goodness damn near blew me away, and it’s probably a good thing. I’m going to need lots of ways to use up all the bread I’ll be baking this year, and this is definitely one to add to the roster.

• Leek Rarebit
• adapted from Jamie Oliver‘s Leek Rarebit
• serves 1
• 1 Tbs. olive oil
  1 medium leek, halved lengthwise and chopped (white and light green parts only)
  1/4 tsp. fresh thyme leaves, picked
  1/4 tsp. grainy mustard
  1 egg yolk
  2 Tbs. crème fraiche
  75g grated cheddar
  1/8 tsp. chili flakes
  1/2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce
  sea salt and black pepper
  2 thick slices bread of your choice
  butter (optional)
• 1. Heat the olive oil in a small nonstick pan and gently sautée the leek and thyme leaves until soft and translucent, about 8-10 minutes. When done, remove from heat, stir in the mustard and allow to cool slightly.
  
  2. While the leek cooks, mix together the egg yolk, crème fraiche, cheese, chili flakes and Worcestershire sauce in a small bowl. Add the cooled leeks, stir well and season to taste.
  
  3. Preheat the broiler or grill to high. Toast your bread on both sides and spread with a bit of butter, if you like. Spread the leek/cheese mixture over the toast to the very edges, and place under the heat for 3-4 minutes, until bubbly and golden brown (use a baking sheet to catch drips). Serve immediately.

Back at the beginning of January, I wrote about my foodie resolution for 2010, to bake more bread. A resolution made with the best of intentions, borne of visions of wholesome, proud loaves emerging from my kitchen one after another. Not to mention the great arms I was going to have (you know, from all the kneading).

However life got in the way, as it tends to, and for several weeks it was farmer’s market loaves and (gulp) grocery store sliced bread for me. After returning to the UK last week, I decided to give bread-baking another go, and I had just the recipe for it. Found in a cookbook (I don’t remember the name) my Mum had from the library, I hastily copied down the ingredients for this Milk & Honey bread in my journal during my last day at home. Something about the description intrigued me: a basic sandwich loaf with a soft texture, shiny crust, and slightly sweet flavour.

Unfortunately, the first version of this bread was nothing to write home about. Whether I interpreted my scribbles wrongly or whether the recipe was a dud in the first place I can’t be sure, but the resulting loaf was small and heavy, without the mild but vibrant flavour I’d been promised.

I’m not normally one to try a disappointing recipe twice (I just don’t have the patience for endless experimenting), but for some reason I pressed on with this one. I’m glad I did, because after a bit of tweaking, version 2.0 was everything I’d been looking for. Chewy and sweet but not aggressively so, this bread makes wonderful toast, especially with savoury toppings (I’ve been enjoying this for breakfast, spread with butter and Marmite). Whether or not your own New Year’s resolutions are still going strong (anyone?), I highly recommend giving this one a go.

• Milk & Honey Bread
• makes 1 loaf
• 2 cups plain flour (or 1 1/2 cups plain, and 1/2 cup wholewheat)
  3/4 tsp. instant yeast
  pinch salt
  2/3 cups milk
  2 Tbs. honey
  1 Tbs. butter, plus extra for greasing
• 1. Whisk together the flour, yeast and salt in a large bowl and set aside. Lightly butter and flour a 1lb loaf tin (not necessary if silicone) and set aside.
  
  2. Put the milk, honey and butter into a small saucepan, and heat gently until the butter has just melted. Allow to cool slightly, then pour into the dry ingredients and mix until the dough comes together.
  
  3. Turn dough out onto a generously floured surface and knead for 8-10 minutes, until smooth and elastic. Form dough into a ball, butter it lightly (I just melt a small piece of butter between my hands and pat the dough all over) and place in a covered bowl. Leave in a warm place to rise for 1-1.5 hours, until doubled in size.
  
  4. When the dough has risen, punch it down and knead it for a minute or so to get all the air out. Form into an oval about the size of your loaf tin and place inside; cover and leave to rise again for 45 minutes.
  
  5. Just before your bread is done its second rising, preheat your oven to 200°C/400°F. Brush a little melted butter over the top of the bread, or melt a bit between your fingers and simply pat it on. Bake bread for 30 minutes, until it is golden brown on top and sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom. Allow to cool before slicing.

Happy New Year! Are you waking up blurry-eyed and blurry-headed, from too much champagne and too little sleep? No? Me neither- Andrew and I stayed in last night, feasting on good food, good TV and a moderate (ok, slightly more than moderate) amount of alcohol. I awoke surprisingly refreshed this morning, ready to greet 2010 with open arms.

Hand in hand with a new year comes that old thorn in our side- resolutions. While normally mine tend toward the boring “run more” or the bizarre “hunt down the perfect shade of red lipstick”, I’ve got a few food-related resolutions in mind for 2010. The first of which is to bake more bread. I’ve tried my hand at breadmaking in the past, but always in a halfhearted kind of way. Now I’ve decided that enough is enough: buying bread at the farmer’s market on Sundays is one thing, but the supermarket loaves I fall back on when those run out midweek are quite another. No more will pre-sliced, preservative-laden “bread” cross my doorway: in 2010 I’m going to get kneading.

So, to put my money where my mouth is and kick the year off right, I made this festive-looking loaf for Andrew and my New Year’s Day brunch. Spotted Dog is a rich Irish soda bread, moistened with buttermilk and chock full of currents. Perhaps I’m missing the stollen I made with my sister last month (it was a sad day when the last of that disappeared), because this loaf is quite similar, looks-wise.

The recipe is from Rachel Allen‘s Home Cooking, fast becoming my favourite Christmas gift (don’t worry, a review is imminent). Given that the bread is leavened without yeast and doesn’t even require kneading, I do feel as though I’ve cheated on my resolve somewhat. But when it tastes this good, I honestly don’t care. Baby steps, right?

• Spotted Dog
• adapted from Rachel Allen’s Home Cooking
• makes 1 large loaf
• 450g plain flour
  1 tsp. baking soda
  1 tsp. salt
  1 Tbs. + 1 tsp. sugar
  110g currants
  1 egg
  350ml buttermilk
• 1. Preheat your oven to 220°C/425°F. Sift together the flour, baking soda, salt and sugar in a large bowl. Stir in the currants and make a well in the centre of the mixture.
  
  2. In a jug, whisk together the egg and the buttermilk. Pour into the dry ingredients and stir (using a dough whisk, if you have one) until just combined. The dough will be quite wet and sticky, but don’t overwork.
  
  3. Turn out onto a generously floured surface and bring together the dough into one flour-dusted ball. Transfer to a lined and floured baking sheet and form into a round about 2 1/2″ high. Cut a deep cross into the top with a sharp knife.
  
  4. Bake for 10 minutes before turning down the oven to 200°C/400°F and baking for another 30-35 minutes. When done, the bread will be golden brown on top and sound hollow when tapped on the bottom. Allow to cool completely before slicing and serving with butter and jam.

Is there anyone reading this who doesn’t like dumplings? Is that even possible? I’m not trying to be obtuse, honest- I just can’t imagine that there’s a human on this earth who doesn’t grow weak at the knees at the thought of those bite-sized morsels of deliciousness. As you can probably deduce, I love dumplings. All kinds- Chinese, Thai, Polish, British. When I was growing up, I looked forward to my family’s Dim Sum Boxing Day tradition almost as much as I looked forward to Christmas (possibly more).

But this post isn’t about Dim Sum, or any kind of Chinese dumpling. Nope, it’s about a branch of this special family that I’d never met before- the Hungarian bread dumpling. I saw this recipe at The Kitchn last week and was immediately intrigued; a dumpling I had never tasted, nor heard of, jam-packed with winter root vegetables? Held together by a dough made from the bread that’s currently getting stale in my bread box? This was definitely an idea that needed closer inspection.

So I got myself a huge assortment of root veg at the farmer’s market and got to work. I’m not going to lie: this recipe was time-consuming, even downright fiddly. All that chopping and rolling and coating- it’s definitely not a weeknight meal. The good news is that you refrigerate the dough before forming the dumplings, and I see no reason why everything up to that point couldn’t be done a day or so beforehand.

The result was like nothing I’d tasted before. Hearty, yes- even heavy -but in a good way. This is perfect fodder for dark days and cold winter evenings; served drizzled with paprika butter and accompanied by a dollop of thick yogurt, it’s a case of familiar flavours in an exotic embodiment.

Note: I boiled these as the recipe dictated, but some of the leftover dough was just as good (possibly better) the next day, fried in olive oil as thick fritters.

• Root Vegetable Bread Dumplings
• adapted from this recipe from The Kitchn
• makes 20-25 dumplings (serving 4-5)
• Dumplings
  2 Tbs. butter
  1/2 a yellow onion, finely chopped
  2 garlic cloves, minced
  1 medium carrot, finely chopped
  1 medium parsnip, finely chopped
  1/2 a medium swede/rutabaga, finely chopped
  1/4 a medium winter squash (any type), finely chopped
  2 Tbs. finely chopped parsley
  sea salt and black pepper
  4 cups torn-up white bread pieces
  1 cup breadcrumbs
  2/3 cup of milk
  1 egg
  approx. 1/2 cup plain flour, plus extra for dusting

  To Serve
  unsalted butter
  salt and pepper
  paprika
  Greek yogurt or sour cream
  finely chopped parsley

• 1. Heat the butter in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat. When it foams, add the onion and garlic and cook until soft, about five minutes.

  2. Add the rest of the vegetables to the pot, and stir in about 1/2 a cup of water. Cover and simmer the mixture for 15 minutes, checking and stirring every so often. When the vegetables are cooked through, gently “mush” them with the back of a wooden spoon or a potato masher. You don’t want a purée, just a rough mixture. Make sure as much moisture as possible has cooked off, then remove the vegetables from the heat and allow to cool.

  3. Mix together the bread pieces, breadcrumbs and milk in a large bowl and mix until doughy. Stir in the parsley and season to taste, then stir in the egg.

  4. When the vegetables have cooled enough, add them to the bread mixture and stir to incorporate. If the mixture seems too wet, you can also add up to 1/2 cup of flour. Cover and refridgerate for at least 30 minutes until cool. (Dumpling mixture can be made to this point up to 2 days beforehand.)

  5. When you’re ready to make the dumplings, put a large pot of water on to boil. Cover a large plate or board with flour and drop golf ball-sized pieces of dough onto the surface. Roll these about to make 20-25 flour-dusted dumplings.

  6. When the water boils, salt it lightly. Working in batches of 5-6, drop the dumplings into the boiling water and cook for about 8 minutes, until they float. Remove with a slotted spoon and continue until all the dumplings are cooked.

  7. To serve, you have a few options. I like to add salt, pepper and a good dash of paprika to some melted butter, then drizzle this over the dumplings. Alternatively, you could fry the dumplings lightly in some butter or olive oil, and sprinkle the paprika over while they crisp up. Serve with a side of yogurt and some more chopped parsley, if you like.

A recipe for foil-baked feta has been making the internet rounds in the past few weeks. Originally published in Olive magazine, I first saw it at The Kitchn, and later on one of my favourite home and design blogs, At Home At Home. Of course, from the moment I first saw the ingredients in this recipe, I knew I just had to make it. 

I’ve been having a feta-and-tomato thing this summer, a Mediterranean moment if you will, so of course this combination of feta cheese, tomatoes, herbs and chili appealed to me. I first made it about two weeks ago, almost immediately after seeing the recipe. Predictably, I loved it, and soon found myself raving about it to my Dad on the phone. After listening intently, he came out with “Sounds good, but of course you wouldn’t need to use the foil.”

Huh? Ok Dad, have you not been listening? The foil is the whole point of this recipe. It’s what makes is so casual, so simple, so appropriate for summer barbecues. Then I thought about it, and realized he was right. I don’t have a barbecue, and in the oven, a small baking dish can easily replace the foil wrapper. Baking this in individual ramekins also makes it easier to reduce the proportions of the recipe, as well as use cubed feta instead of a block.  

With that in mind, I set out to make this again last night, as a sort of late snack, light dinner for Andrew and myself. I opted to serve it with Nigella Lawson‘s Garlic and Parsley Hearthbreads, a focaccia-like flatbread that’s easy to make and goes with pretty much anything. 

The original baked feta recipe called for tomato paste and chopped tomatoes, to which I added a few reconstituted sundried tomatoes. I love the intense, sweet flavour they impart, and look for an excuse to use them whenever possible. It also called for capers, which I’ve always hated (I don’t even understand what they are, nor do I want to know), so I subbed a squeeze of lemon juice. Because I couldn’t find any fresh oregano within ten minutes of my house, I gave up and used dried. 

None of these additions or substitutions seemed to negatively affect the outcome of this dish. It turned out deliciously fresh and flavourful, and made a perfect dinner for a summer’s evening. If you haven’t yet, I urge you to try this. Whether or not you want to use the foil method is a moot point- just make it, you won’t regret it! 

• Baked Feta and Tomatoes
• adapted from Olive magazine, via The Kitchn
• makes 2 small ramekins, each serving one person
• 3 tsp. olive oil
  2 tsp. tomato paste 
  100g feta cheese, crumbled
  1/2 red onion, chopped finely
  2 large cherry tomatoes, de-seeded and chopped roughly
  3 sundried tomatoes, reconstituted in hot water and chopped finely
  1 clove garlic, chopped finely
  1/2 tsp. dried oregano
  1/2 tsp. chili flakes 
  1 tsp. lemon juice 
  pinch sea salt
• 1. Preheat your oven to 200°C/400°F. Drizzle 1 teaspoon of olive oil in the bottom of each ramekin, and add 1/2 teaspoon tomato paste to each as well. Using a silicone pastry brush, spread the oil and tomato paste around the bottom and sides of the ramekins, to coat. 
  
  2. Put a quarter of the crumbled feta in the bottom of each ramekin, and follow with a quarter of the red onion, chopped tomatoes, sundried tomatoes, garlic, oregano and chili flakes.
  
  3. Repeat step 2, layering the remaining amounts of the same ingredients again. Over the top of each ramekin, drizzle the remaining olive oil and tomato paste, as well as the lemon juice. Finish each with a small pinch of sea salt and cover with foil.
  
  4. Bake for 15 minutes until cheese is melted and bubbly. Let sit for 10 minutes before serving with fresh bread. 
• Note: In lieu of individual ramekins, you could always make this in a small, covered baking dish. 

• Parsley Hearthbreads
• adapted from How to be a Domestic Goddess by Nigella Lawson
• makes one, serves two
• 250g plain flour
  4g instant (easy-blend) yeast
  1 tsp sea salt 
  3 Tbs. olive oil, plus more for drizzling
  1/2 cup warm water
  1 clove garlic
  1/4 cup chopped parsley
  pinch sea salt 
• 1. In a large bowl, mix together the flour, yeast and salt. Drizzle in the olive oil and pour over the warm water. Using a spoon or a dough whisk, mix to form a smooth, workable dough. 
  
  2. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for about eight minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic. Lightly coat with olive oil and place in a clingfilm-covered bowl for about an hour, until doubled in size. 
  
  3. When the dough has risen, punch it down and leave to rest for another ten minutes. At this point, preheat your oven to 200°C/400°F. 
  
  4. Place the dough on a parchment-lined baking sheet and roll out to a 1/2″ thickness. Using your fingers, gently “dimple” the bread all over. Drizzle a bit of olive oil over the top and brush with a pastry brush to ensure an even coating. 
  
  5. Cut the garlic in half and carefully rub the cut sides over the surface of the oiled dough. Sprinkle over the parsley and a pinch or two of sea salt, and bake for 20 minutes, until golden. Serve warm.