INTRODUCTION

Treasured memories are infused in homemade breads, cakes and pastries. I can hardly remember a time when they have failed to lift my spirits in some way. Post-colonial plantation life in Guyana was characterized by a sense of Britishness that was enhanced by the presence of a large number of expatriate families in the otherwise small and isolated community. It found its chief expression in food, and teatime was a favourite part of the day. Sometimes this was no more than a hurried cup of tea in the kitchen with a pastry or a buttered slice of homemade bread; at other times, it was a lavish spread on a cool veranda.

If our own house had meagre offerings that afternoon, it was quite normal for us children to head for a friend’s house with richer pickings. Depleted tea tables were no obstacle to enjoyment. We simply made our way to the kitchen and adopted such well-feigned looks of starvation that it took a very hard-hearted cook not to respond with a plateful of fresh cake, coconut roll, pine tarts, cheese rolls or patties. With all the cunning of street urchins surviving on our wits, we soon knew whose cook made what best, and we weren’t averse to cajoling our chosen target into making her speciality for us.

Later, at school, Fate gave me her seal of approval. Food and Nutrition was an optional GCE subject, and as well as a written examination, there was a practical one. The various topics were handed out at random, and as we started opening them the Cookery Room was filled with muted cries of satisfaction and smothered groans of disgust. I read mine and hugged it gleefully to my chest. Not for me a request to prepare an evening meal for a young family with a labouring father, or a resident grandfather and a nursing mother – or any such mundane silliness. My slip said simply: Demonstrate the uses of raising agents. Even before I began, I could smell and taste the prawn (shrimp) pizza, scones (biscuits) with clotted cream and chocolate cake.

Moving abroad, out of the reach of friendly cooks, I started experimenting – and swiftly came to the conclusion that baking is the most pleasurable of all culinary branches. One of the most enjoyable aspects is that, apart from daily bread, there is no real pressure to do it. This contributes to the general feeling of pampering that is generated by home-baked treats. It is something one does for the sheer joy of it, and the possibilities are endless. There is something to grace any occasion or suit any mood, including a potentially bad one. What better way to relieve stress than by pummelling the daylights out of a lump of yeast dough? And how soothing it can be to relax with some music, while patiently putting together a batch of dainty tarts or pastries. And there is the satisfaction that comes from pouncing on a quick and simple recipe, knowing that a minimum of effort will produce a much-appreciated treat.

Being a passionate baker myself, I enjoy the process of creation as much as the final reward of eating it. And so, in a way, I have made a rod for my own back. My family feel very hard done by if they aren’t kept supplied with home-baked goodies; friends and neighbours are only too happy to help with any leftovers; and local raffles and charity events all make demands from time to time. Pride, pleasure, nurturing, caring – all these, and many other positive emotions, find expression in home baking.

I hardly need tell you that shop-bought articles, packed with additives and excessive amounts of salt, sugars and fats, cannot in any way compare with what you can produce in your own kitchen. The mere aroma of baking can transform the smallest, coldest, untidiest house into a warm and inviting home. Never hesitate to bake simply because you live and eat alone or because your household is tiny. Think of the simple and sincere pleasure and gratitude that the gift of even a single slice of homemade cake or bread can elicit – and if there are not enough recipients for your bounty, there is always the freezer.

With this book, I would like to share my enjoyment with you. Whether you are a novice or seasoned baker, you should be able to find something here that will get your fingers itching to bake. I have tried to cater for all levels of proficiency and for a variety of tastes. This is not an encyclopaedic collection of recipes: you won’t find puff pastry or muffins, but you will find an ingenious Chinese method of layering pastry and dainty little steamed rice cakes, as well as European classics that are too good to be left out. Most importantly, I hope you’ll find new inspiration.

There is a wide selection of cookbooks available on almost all aspects of baking, and I feel no need to cover well-trodden ground. But there is one aspect that I feel has been neglected: ethnic baking, which so richly deserves to be drawn out from the shadows. True, one sometimes finds a good recipe tucked away at the back of a book on a particular cuisine, but many fantastic recipes never leave their region of origin, let alone make their way into print.

Inevitably, any collection of recipes will have a personal flavour and many of those included here are old family favourites. These have been joined by newer acquisitions, some of which are the result of visits to like-minded friends all over the world. I have also adapted the recipes of professional bakers, to suit the home baker. My choice is by no means random and I am particularly keen to highlight both similarities and differences, as well as to demonstrate the way that food changes character as it travels from its place of origin to fresher pastures. Explore the story of baking, and it is not long before snippets of world history come to the fore. Take the Indian flatbreads that crossed the seas to the Caribbean with indentured labourers; or the Spanish Ensaimadas that took on a new identity when they came into contact with Filipino flavours; or the New World’s reinvention of a Roman favourite, the cheesecake. And then there are those items that have not travelled so well: baklava in immigrant communities abroad is a pale copy of the succulent sweets so lovingly created by Turkish bakers from the finest ingredients. For this reason, I have devoted an entire chapter to Leaf and Thread Pastries (pp. 262–311).

Pulse-cake makers, c. 1890 (watercolour on paper), Punjabi School.

This book features general chapters on Ingredients and Equipment (pp. 12–39) and the following chapters deal with a specific topic, each one beginning with tips and methods relevant to the subject. Do take a little time to read this information; it may tell you something you might otherwise have overlooked.

The most important piece of advice I can give you, though, is simple: read through the whole recipe before you start to bake, and make sure that you have all the necessary ingredients and equipment to hand.

Happy baking!