Sammy's Dot

Continuing my newfound obsession with Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid, and more specifically their book HomeBaking, I’ve been playing around with coarse semolina: an ingredient that I previously associated only with the porridge an old roommate of mine used to make. And while there’s nothing wrong with porridge, it’s hard to get as excited over a bowl of porridge as one might over a slice of a moist cake bursting with lemon.

My roommate, as I recall, didn’t bake, but I think if she’d tried this, she would have loved it. I love it so much that I’ve made it three times over the past month, though for different groups of people, and I’m looking forward to the next occasion I have to make it. I do bake the occasional multi-layered celebration cake – I’m working my way through Sky High! – but this simple cake is the kind of cake I like best.

That is, the kind of cake that you can eat with your hands as easily as you can eat it with a fork, and the kind of cake that needs nothing at all to make it more delicious.

Next time, I might add a cinnamon stick or a few crushed cardamom pods to the syrup that the cake is soaked with, or switch out the lemon for orange, or try mixing in some pistachios or walnuts or replace some of the semolina with ground almonds – there are so many possibilities, and every one of them delicious. But these changes would only be for the joy of experimenting with new flavours and textures.

That’s what I find most enjoyable about HomeBaking, and that’s one reason why I can’t wait to add it to my cookbook collection: I have always tried to be adventurous with the flavours and ingredients that I cook with, but I think my baking may have fallen into a rut. I can whip up a batch of biscuits or a pie crust from memory because I do it so often, but I don’t think that I ever made a syrup-soaked cake before this, though it’s a common thing to do in some parts of the world, just as I’d never thought to use coconut to add texture to banana bread.

It’s good to be reminded of the incredibly wide world of flavours and techniques, and Alford and Duguid do it so well.

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It’s hard to believe that, until a week or two ago, Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid were flying completely beneath my radar, despite the fact that they live in Toronto and that Mangoes and Curry Leaves has been on my Indigo wishlist since forever. Apparently the book caught my eye, but the names of the authors never registered. I can be kind of oblivious sometimes.

Then I got the book out of the library, because I’m on a bit of a self-imposed book-buying diet, for reasons of cost and space. (This means that expensive and space-occupying cookbooks are right out, and I’m limiting myself to three or four used paperbacks per month. Which is about two to three days worth of reading material. Given the limitations of the local library’s science fiction section, I have a small problem.)

Then I went back to the library and borrowed as many of their other books as I could get my hands on.

Now I’m going to have to acquire all of the couple’s books, even if it takes me some time. And while I’m really enjoying Mangoes and Curry Leaves, as well as Seductions of Rice, and I’ve tried several recipes from each, HomeBaking is the one that’s moved to the top of my list. It’s the banana bread that did it, although I plan to share one more recipe from the book before I (sadly) let the library have it back. (I’m getting anxious for my next opportunity to splurge on cookbooks now, I must say.)

I’ve made quite a few banana bread recipes over the years (that being my favourite way to eat bananas), and Alford and Duguid’s recipe is, hands down, the best one I’ve ever eaten. It’s not the healthiest version, but one must face up to the fact, as I have, that while it’s called banana bread it is in fact a banana cake. “Healthy” is not a requirement. A perfect tight moist crumb packed with banana flavour is. This one delivers in a big way.

And seriously, how is it that I’ve never before encountered a banana bread recipe with shredded coconut? Because that addition is sheer genius. It adds texture and flavour without overpowering the banana-ness the way chocolate chips do, and without making the bread dry the way whole wheat flour or oatmeal might. The sprinkling of demerera sugar before baking is – rather literally – icing on the cake.

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Perhaps this post might be more accurately titled “Tariqata shows off her mad cupcake skillz to all her friends!”

Um, yes. I wish.

While I think I still qualify as a cake wreckerator and not a decorator – and, yes, Cake Wrecks has joined Cute Overload and xkcd as a site that makes me laugh so hard I cry; why do you ask? – I’m not exactly disappointed with these almond cupcakes topped with green tea frosting and white chocolate-dipped fortune cookies. Even if I did totally steal the decorating strategy from the Baked cookbook right along with the cupcakes themselves. I was, after all, bringing these to a housewarming party right before the Chinese new year for a friend who will be getting married in a few short months; it was so appropriate.

I actually went a little crazy and tried to make my own fortune cookies (using a mix of hazelnuts and pecans in place of the walnuts), but failed miserably to produce anything beyond delicious crumbs. The two that actually resembled fortune cookies broke when I dipped them in the chocolate. However, I do strongly recommend trying the recipe anyhow, because you might be better at folding cookies than I am and even if you aren’t, it’s still a damn good cookie.

Happily, the Bulk Barn sold me a couple dozen fortune cookies for just under a dollar, though I’m sad I didn’t get to use my custom fortunes. Because they were way more awesome.

Though I do like to write out the recipes for these posts, for this one you can see it exactly right here.

The cupcakes were, incidentally, very good, though I might try them again using all butter, instead of a mix of butter and shortening, and I really need to learn not to overbeat my cake batter. I also should learn not to wander off while I’ve got a pot of milk and matcha powder and sugar boiling happily away, but I seem to be the only one who noticed the faint burnt flavour in the frosting, which is otherwise a lot like green tea ice cream.