Chapter Three

Delights from Near and Far

Chocolate-coated Peppermint Creams

Plain peppermint creams have delighted generations of children, both in the making and eating. These chocolate-coated after-dinner treats are a little more sophisticated, but still very easy to make. The peppermint extract called for is widely available. You will find that most older recipes call for peppermint oil and it is truly excellent for sweet-making, with a very pure and concentrated flavour. The only trouble is finding it. I have had absolutely no success in recent years. If you are lucky enough to locate a source, check that it is food grade. You will need a few drops only, so make up the liquid shortfall with more cream, or water.


Makes just over 24

250 g/9 oz/scant 2¼ cups icing sugar, plus extra for dusting

2 tsp peppermint extract, or to taste

scant 3 tbsp double cream, or as needed

250 g/9 oz/9 squares melted or tempered dark chocolate, for dipping

Sift the icing sugar into a bowl. Add the peppermint extract and cream. (Note that the strength and flavour of peppermint extract can vary, so add a little at first and taste. If you end up using a different amount than stated above, adjust the amount of cream accordingly.) Knead well to make a smooth, firmly malleable dough. If necessary, add a little icing sugar to make it firmer or a few drops of extra cream to make it softer.

Dust a silicone mat or pastry board with icing sugar and roll the dough out to an even thickness of about 7.5 mm/generous ¼ in, dusting as needed. Use a 3.5-cm/1½-in plain round cutter to cut out rounds and transfer them carefully with a metal spatula to a sheet of greaseproof paper dusted with icing sugar. Re-roll and cut out the trimmings. Neaten the rounds if necessary and leave to dry, uncovered, at room temperature for an hour or so. The tops should feel dry to the touch.

Transfer the rounds, dry side down, to a wire rack, then use a soft pastry brush to remove excess sugar and any other loose particles from the top and sides, or they will fall off into the dipping chocolate. Leave to dry for a few hours, changing their position once or twice, then decorate as desired.

Using a dipping fork, dip the rounds in melted chocolate, turning them over to coat well, then tap sharply on the side of the bowl before passing it across the rim to remove excess chocolate. Deposit gently onto a second sheet of greaseproof paper and leave to harden. To make the little faces, half-dip each disc into the melted chocolate. Deposit gently onto the waxed paper. Put the remaining melted chocolate into an icing bag fitted with a plain small tip. Pipe a variety of faces under the chocolate caps and allow to harden. They can be wrapped in squares of coloured foil or placed in paper sweet cases or simply served on a plate. Keep well wrapped for up to a week at a constant cool temperature to discourage discolouration.

Variation

If you aren’t going to dip the peppermint creams, you can tint them in one or more pastel shades, such as pink or green and cut out various shapes, decorating them as you wish. Leave them to air dry on both sides until dry to the touch before storing between sheets of greaseproof paper in a container.

Soft Pistachio and Rose Water Nougat

The English-speaking world recognises this Mediterranean treat as ‘nougat’, its French name. Italians refer to it as ‘torrone’ while Spaniards call it ‘turrón’. Nuts are the star attraction and nougat is made with all kinds, such as almonds, pistachios and hazelnuts, although rarely with walnuts. You do need to have a heavy-duty freestanding electric mixer, as there is a lot of continuous whisking involved, some of it simultaneously with the syrup boiling. The mixture is stiff and sticky and less powerful motors might not be up to the job. If you can, leave it to set for 24 hours so that the flavours can mingle and the texture becomes firmer.


Makes 1 large rectangle to be cut as desired

1 egg white

200 g/7 oz/1 cup caster sugar

75 g/2¾ oz/scant ¼ cup runny honey

50 g/1¾ oz glucose syrup

50 ml/1¾ fl oz/scant ¼ cup water

1½ tsp rose water OR 1 tsp orange flower water OR 1 tsp vanilla extract

125 g/4½ oz/generous ¼ cup pistachios, lightly toasted

125 g/4½ oz/generous ¾ cup almonds with skins, lightly toasted

The nougat is very sticky, so line the mould or large loaf tin with sheets of edible wafer paper, cut to fit. Lacking that, use baking parchment.

Whisk the egg white to stiff peaks in a heavy-duty electric mixer. A single egg white is sometimes a problem in large mixer bowls. In that case, I usually whisk it briskly by hand first until it foams, giving it more volume for the mixer to catch.

Put the sugar, honey, glucose syrup and water in a medium heavy-based uncoated saucepan and stir over low heat until the sugar dissolves completely. Attach a sugar thermometer to the pan, increase the heat and bring to the boil. Leave to boil without stirring until it reaches 125°C/257°F. It will take about 5 minutes from the time it comes to the boil.

Quickly remove the thermometer and pour a third of the syrup in a steady stream onto the egg white, with the motor running at low–medium speed. Avoid pouring directly onto the whisk. Leave it running.

Attach the thermometer back onto the pan of syrup and continue to cook until it reaches 147–148°C/297–298°F (approaching hard crack stage). Remove the thermometer and pour in a steady stream over the egg white mixture. Again, avoid pouring directly onto the whisk. Once all the syrup is in the bowl, increase to medium–high speed and whisk for 8 minutes. Stop the motor and add the liquid flavouring, then whisk for another minute.

Fold in the nuts with a sturdy spatula. Use a plastic scraper to transfer dollops of the mixture to the loaf tin. It is extremely sticky, so use a table knife to help scrape the mixture off the scraper. Flatten as well as you can, top with more edible wafer paper and flatten further into a neatish block of even thickness.

Leave the nougat to set uncovered for 4–6 hours, then store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 10 days. Cut into squares or bars as required.

Turrón Sweetest of Legacies

Turrón is a Spanish delicacy that is eaten in awe-inspiring amounts in the festive period surrounding Christmas – an ironic timing, given the assumption that it is in all likelihood a legacy from the Moors who occupied southern Spain centuries ago. The word covers a multitude of variants. Some types are related to nougat, others are brittles and marzipan-like confections, or even fudges.

Several theories are offered for the origin of the name, the simplest being that it derives from the verb turrar, meaning ‘to toast’. The Moorish connection pops up in the mention of turun in the 11th-century treatise De medicinis et cibis semplicibus, written by an Arab physician. Least likely is the popular myth that tells of sweet-making competitions organised by trade guilds in the 18th century, one of which was won by Catalan pastry cook Pablo Turrons for his wonderful new confection. If he really did exist, who is to say that his surname wasn’t the result of the family business½ The written word is far older and even appears in Spanish literature in 1541, in Los Lacayos Ladrones (The Thieving Lackeys), a play by Sevillan playwright Lope de Rueda. In it, the protagonist Dalagón spends his time dishing out physical punishment to his servants, who have been surreptitiously helping themselves to the stash of turrón de Alicante that he had hidden in his desk.

In its older and more traditional forms, this delicious treat consists of little more than honey, sugar and nuts, and it is truly amazing how much variety a few basic ingredients can provide, both in flavour and texture. Crunchy Alicante turrón is made from a honeyed syrup, egg whites and whole toasted Marcona almonds. For the softer Jijona turrón the toasted almonds are ground very finely and the mixture is shaped into smooth slabs. Agramunt turrón is like a darker version of that of Alicante, but generally uses hazelnuts and is made into small discs instead of the more usual rectangles. These three types now enjoy protected status, although copies and variations abound. Turrón de yemas, enriched with egg yolks, is more like marzipan than traditional turrón, and creamy walnut turrón could almost be mistaken for fudge. Chocolate has also become a very popular ingredient and even crisp amber-hued nut brittles known as guirlache often have the word turrón tacked beguilingly onto their name. Walking into a confitería or a well-stocked department store in December, one is spoiled for choice. Counters groan under the weight of the gigantic slabs of all shades and textures, plain or studded with nuts and vibrantly coloured candied fruit, waiting to be cut to order and taken to grace family tables across the country.

Nowadays, mass production dominates and the ingredients simmer in large vats in closely regulated factories, making the turronero‘s work simpler than before, and producing a uniformly consistent product. Some of the best still comes from the handful of artisan turroneros, including the dwindling number of convents that specialise in confectionery as a much-needed extra source of income. Recipes for home cooks first appeared in the Manual de Mujeres (Ladies’ Manual), published anonymously in the 16th century, and it is not difficult to make these delectable sweets in the comfort and convenience of your own kitchen.

I hasten to add that they will not be replicas of the commercial versions that are made using precision equipment, but they are delicious in their own right.

Toasted Almond Nougat

Turrón Blando de Almendras

Eating this soft-textured ‘turrón’, with its honey and toasted almonds, is like taking a bite of the past and it has remained unchanged for centuries. It is the homemade version of Jijona-style ‘turrón’, but it is coarser in texture and less oily than the commercially produced kind, which is difficult to replicate in a domestic kitchen without professional specialist equipment. This one is easy to make without a thermometer, which is more of a hindrance than help while stirring. Toast the almonds until dark golden brown for the most flavour.

Makes 1 large rectangle to be cut as desired

3 egg whites

175 g/6 oz/generous 1 cup blanched almonds, toasted and very finely ground

175 g/6 oz/generous ¾ cup caster sugar

175 g/6 oz/½ cup runny honey


Line a large loaf tin with baking parchment.

Whisk the egg whites to stiff peaks in a heavy-duty electric mixer. Stir in the ground almonds to make a paste and set aside.

Put the sugar and honey in a medium heavy-based uncoated saucepan and stir over low heat until the sugar dissolves completely, then bring to the boil. When it reaches a rolling boil, stir in the paste, lower the heat and cook for about 15 minutes over low heat until quite stiff. Stir constantly to prevent it from catching. The mixture will become more and more difficult to stir as it thickens.

Scrape it out into the loaf tin and level the top with a plastic scraper or with lightly moistened hands.

Leave the nougat to cool and set uncovered for 4–6 hours, then store in an airtight container at room temperature. Leave the slab whole and cut into squares or bars as required. It will keep for a few weeks and is best after a few days of maturation.

Almond and Hazelnut Nougat

This nougat has a lovely honey flavour.

Makes 1 large rectangle to be cut as desired

1 egg white

200 g/7 oz/1 cup granulated sugar

200 g/7 oz/generous ¼ cup runny honey

100 g/3½ oz/⅔ cup whole hazelnuts, toasted

100 g/3½ oz/⅔ cup whole almonds, toasted

The nougat is sticky and will want to cling to the mould with all its might, so line a mould or large loaf tin with sheets of edible wafer paper, cut to fit. Lacking that, use baking parchment.

Whisk the egg white to stiff peaks in a heavy-duty electric mixer. A single egg white is sometimes a problem in large mixer bowls. In that case, I usually whisk it briskly by hand first until it foams, giving it more volume for the mixer to catch. Switch off the mixer.

Put the sugar and honey in a medium heavy-based uncoated saucepan and stir over low heat until the sugar dissolves completely. Attach a sugar thermometer to the pan, increase the heat and bring to the boil. Leave to boil without stirring until it reaches 140°C/284°F (soft crack stage). It will take 5–10 minutes from the time it comes to the boil and can vary depending on the honey, so keep an eye on the thermometer.

Remove from the heat and unclamp the thermometer. Switch on the mixer again, allowing it to run at a low speed. Pour the syrup in a steady stream over the egg white. Avoid pouring directly onto the whisk. Once all the syrup is in the bowl, increase to quite a high speed and whisk for 6 minutes. It will be very stiff.

Fold in the nuts with a sturdy spatula and use a plastic scraper to transfer dollops of the mixture to the loaf tin. It is extremely sticky, so use a table knife to help scrape the mixture off the scraper. Flatten as well as you can, top with more edible wafer paper and flatten further into a neatish block of even thickness.

Leave the nougat to cool and set uncovered for 4–6 hours, then store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 10 days. Leave it whole and cut into squares or bars as required.

Marshmallows

Marshmallows are all about texture, if one is perfectly honest, and young and old enjoy a mouthful of this springy, spongy and bouncy confection. They have been around at least since the nineteenth century and were originally made using the mucilaginous root of a plant called marsh mallow (Althaea officinalis). Nowadays gum Arabic is used by professional confectioners, but a simple version can be made at home with gelatine, egg whites and a flavouring. This version uses rose water, in the French style. It needs to be whipped for a very long time, so a heavy-duty freestanding electric mixer is almost essential.

Makes 36 cubes

350 g/12 oz/1¾ cups granulated sugar

20 g/¾ oz glucose syrup

175 ml/6 fl oz/¾ cup water

2 egg whites

30 g/1 oz/generous ¼ cup icing sugar

15 g/½ oz/scant 2 tbsp cornflour

5 tbsp boiling water

15 g/½ oz/scant 2 tbsp powdered gelatine

1½ tbsp rose water

Line a 20 × 20-cm/8 × 8-in baking tin with baking parchment.

Put the sugar, glucose syrup and water in a medium heavy-based uncoated saucepan and stir over low heat until the sugar dissolves completely. Attach a sugar thermometer to the pan, increase the heat and bring to the boil. Leave to boil without stirring until it reaches 125°C/257°F. It will take about 20–25 minutes from the time it comes to the boil, so you can do the other preparation while it boils.

Whisk the egg whites to stiff peaks in a heavy-duty electric mixer, then switch off the motor. Mix the icing sugar and cornflour together and dust the base of the tin with a layer of the mixture.

Pour the boiling water into a small bowl and sprinkle on the gelatine. Stir with a wire whisk to dissolve it properly. Add the rose water and set aside. By this time, the syrup should be nearly ready. As soon as it reaches 125°C/257°F, take the pan off the heat and remove the thermometer. Pour in a little of the gelatine mixture, stirring well with the whisk. It will froth up a lot, so wait a few seconds for it to subside before pouring in the rest and stirring well with the whisk. Switch the mixer back on at a medium speed and pour the syrup very slowly and steadily over the whites. It will swell. Avoid pouring directly onto the whisk. Once all the syrup is in the bowl, increase to fairly high speed and whisk for another 12–15 minutes until the mixture is thick and glossy and soft peaks hold their shape.

Scrape the mixture into the tin and leave to set at room temperature for about 2 hours.

Sift the rest of the icing sugar mixture over a sheet of baking parchment and invert the set marshmallow over it. Do this gently, or you will end up with a cloud of sugar in your face and all over the work surface. Cut into squares and press the cut sides into the powder to coat well.

Keep in an airtight container and eat within a few days, which shouldn’t be a problem, as I managed to eat a whole row while portioning the last batch.

Turkish Delight

Lokum

Known at least since the mid-nineteenth century in England, first as ‘lumps of delight’ and later as Turkish Delight, this sweet is called ‘lokum’ in Turkey. Its original name was ‘rahatü’l-hulkum’, an Arabic expression meaning ‘throat’s ease’ that was corrupted in colloquial speech, becoming ‘rahat-lokum’, then ‘latilokum’ and finally ‘lokum’. Recipes appeared in Turkish manuscript books from the late nineteenth century onwards and while specific amounts were given in some cases, instructions could be quite vague, depending on a certain amount of knowledge and skill on the maker’s part. ‘Lokum’ remains a confection that is best made by specialists. In Turkey wheat starch is used instead of cornflour and many variations and combinations are made, including versions with mastic (which makes it chewy), clotted cream or nuts. Liquid flavouring is added sparingly in the form of oil of rose, violet, lemon, bitter orange and so on. Using oil instead of waters or extracts means that a drop or two is sufficient for an entire batch and the texture will not suffer. There are even special scissors with half-moon shaped blades designed to cut the slabs into lumps.

Turkish delight takes a long time to cook and it is no wonder that people outside of Turkey have taken to using gelatine to make it set quickly and effectively. My friend and oracle Nevin has warned me against using gelatine, as it is not the authentic way. Furthermore, if I persisted in going ahead with gelatine, I was to call it ‘A Sweet’, never Turkish Delight. I have used her straightforward traditional method as a basis here, and before we get to the actual recipe (following), let me share the advice given by another friend: stirring without interruption in the same direction is crucial for a good result.

Turkish Delight

Lokum


Makes about 36 cubes

about 200 g/7 oz/scant 2¼ cups desiccated coconut

500 g/1 lb 2 oz/2  cups granulated sugar

125 g/4½ oz/scant 1 cup cornflour

½ tsp cream of tartar

1 tsp lemon juice

600 ml/1 pint/2½ cups water

75 g/2¾ oz/¼ cup pistachios, toasted or untoasted

50–75 g/1¼–2¾ oz/⅓/–½ cup hazelnuts, toasted and coarsely chopped

25–50 g/1–1¾ oz/⅛/–⅓ cup pine nuts, toasted


Generously line a large loaf tin with baking parchment. Scatter a good layer of coconut over the base of the loaf tin and set aside.

Put all of the ingredients, except the remaining coconut and other nuts into a large uncoated heavy-based saucepan and place over medium heat. Stir with a wooden spatula to dissolve the cornflour and sugar. Keep stirring, as the cornflour will suddenly start to set and turn into small lumps. Switch to a wire whisk and use it to stir the mixture for a few minutes until it is smooth. It will look like glue and should have no lumps at all. Switch back to the wooden spatula and keep stirring gently, making sure that the sides and bottom are constantly being scraped. This is a lengthy process, but it is important to keep it moving. After about 20 minutes it will start to rise and fall with a hissing sound. You will be only about halfway. It needs to cook for a further 20–30 minutes to achieve the right texture. When about 40 minutes have passed from the time it started to get lumpy, you can start testing. Put a teaspoonful of the mixture into a bowl of cold water. Under the water, press it together with your fingers and try to flatten it. If it is pliable and doesn’t fall apart when you do this, it is ready. If the mixture is too soft, it needs to be cooked further. (A thermometer is no help – you have to test it manually. Note that the test described is not soft ball stage on a sugar thermometer; this is a completely different mixture.)

Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the nuts. Scrape the mixture out into the tin. Do it in dollops to get it well distributed. Flatten the top as well as you can with the spatula and scatter another good layer of coconut over it. Use your hands to press the block and flatten the top; don’t worry, as the coconut will prevent burns.

Leave to cool, preferably overnight. If you press it with a finger, it should feel springy and there should be no indentation in the surface. Cut into cubes. Put the rest of the coconut in a shallow bowl and press the uncoated sides in it to coat. They will be softer than most commercial products, which have a tendency to be rubbery. Keep on a plate or sweet dish and cover only with something like a mesh dome. If they are not allowed to breathe, they will sweat. They are best eaten within a week.

Moors and Christians

The Moors may have been expelled from al-Andalus several centuries ago, but much evidence of their Spanish sojourn remains all over Andalucia, in place names, architecture and food. They have blended seamlessly into the Catholic landscape in more ways than one and Medina Sidonia illustrates this beautifully.

The houses of Medina Sidonia cling tightly to their hillside as they glisten whitely in the blazing Andalucian sun. It is a lovely place to visit, with many points of historic interest and all of the picturesque quaintness of the region. What makes it so special to me, though, is that it is the acknowledged confectionery capital of the province of Cádiz — and justly so. In addition to the traditional pastry and sweet shops, the Augustinian sisters at the convent of San Cristóbal have their own little pastelería-confitería leading off their main courtyard. Reluctantly, I broke the serene silence by pressing the buzzer and a smiling young nun appeared almost immediately. Wrought iron grillwork separated us, but formed no barrier to a friendly chat, during which I learned that she was from Kenya. Finding it almost impossible to choose, I decided to take her advice and buy an assorted box. This was put into a rotating metal contraption set into the wall and given a twirl so that I could remove my box and replace it with money. Among the treasures within were several sweets that could have just come from an Arab market: melt in the mouth Amarguillos, Pine Nut Clusters, heavily spiced honey and nut alfajores and more.

But the sweets that are most traditionally associated with convents, particularly those in wine-producing regions, are those made with egg yolks, and the Augustinian sisters had turned them into works of art. They came in various shapes and sizes, covered with chocolate or fondant and some were even flavoured with aguardiente, a strong Spanish brandy. My own versions follow, but first let me tell you why egg yolks feature so prominently in their sweets.

Egg whites were often used in wine clarification in the Iberian Peninsula, particularly in sherry and port, resulting in gluts of egg yolks. These were obligingly given to local convents, where the nuns put them to good use by turning them into delicious sweets, which they sold to supplement their meagre means. Many Spanish traditions were taken to the Philippines by the colonisers and clergy who followed on their heels and egg candies are one of the many culinary legacies. There was no wine production to provide excess yolks, but there was the unique local custom of using egg whites in the mortar of large buildings, such as churches, so the yolks once again made their way into convents.

Egg Candy

Yemas / Bolinhos de Ovos

These confections are immensely popular in Spain, Portugal and the Philippines. I know what you’re thinking and normally, I would be the first person to agree with you, as I don’t like eggy-tasting things. Next time you have several yolks left over from meringues or something else, do give these egg candies a go. You may even find yourself having to make meringues to use up the extra whites. There are a few variations at the end of the recipe.


Makes 12

6 egg yolks

grated zest of ½ a lemon (preferably organic)

125 g/4½ oz/½ cup + 2 tbsp caster sugar

2 tbsp water

50 g/1¾ oz/½ cup finely ground almonds

2–3 tbsp granulated sugar

Put the egg yolks in a medium heavy-based uncoated saucepan and stir in the lemon zest. Put the caster sugar and water in a small saucepan and stir over low heat until the sugar dissolves. Attach a sugar thermometer to the pan, increase the heat and bring to the boil. Leave to boil without stirring to 110°C/230°F (thread stage).

Remove the thermometer and pour the syrup over the egg yolks, stirring constantly. Place the mixture over low heat and cook for a further 3–5 minutes until well thickened.

Stir in the almonds and remove from the heat. Scrape the mixture out onto a plate and spread it out a little to cool.

Scatter the granulated sugar on a second plate. Take large teaspoonfuls of the mixture and roll into balls between your palms. Roll around in the sugar to coat and place them in paper cases.

Keep refrigerated and serve chilled or at room temperature. They are even better next day and will keep for a few days.

Variations

The nuns at San Cristóbal had a whole array of variations, which you might also like to try. In that case, omit the step of coating the candies with sugar, or the chocolate will not stick. For Snowy Egg Candies (yemas nevadas) flatten the balls into discs and leave them to air dry for an hour or two before dipping them into melted fondant (their way) or white chocolate (even better). If you make a dark chocolate version, you can add a few drops of very strong brandy to the mixture first, but don’t let it get too soft. Another way is to pipe the mixture out into thin sticks with a 1-cm/½-in plain nozzle, then leave them to air dry for an hour or two before dipping.


Easy Coconut Burfi (or Coconut Ice with an Indian Accent)

This recipe is quite simple and uses powdered milk and desiccated coconut to create what might be called coconut ice with an Indian accent. The texture will depend on the cut of coconut you use and a medium cut will make it nice and chewy. If you don’t care for the bold flavours of ghee and cardamom, use butter and vanilla extract instead. The mixture is creamy white, but part or all of it can be tinted pink or green if you like.


Makes about 16 squares

300 g/10½ oz/1½ cups granulated sugar

250 ml/9 fl oz/generous 1 cup water

175 g/6 oz/scant 2 cups desiccated coconut, preferably medium cut

125 g/4½ oz/½ cup full-cream powdered milk

30 g/1 oz/2 tbsp ghee or soft butter

¼–½ tsp cardamom or 1 tsp vanilla extract

red or green food colouring (optional)

Line a large loaf tin for a thick layer or line a 20-cm/8-in square tin for a thinner layer with baking parchment.

Put the sugar and water in a large uncoated heavy-based saucepan and stir over low heat until the sugar dissolves completely. Attach a sugar thermometer to the pan, increase the heat and bring to the boil. Leave to boil without stirring until it reaches 110°C/230°F (thread stage).

Immediately take the pan off the heat and remove the thermometer. Stir in the remaining ingredients thoroughly. If you would like to colour part of the mixture, scrape half of the white mixture into the tin, then quickly mix the food colouring into the remaining half. Use it to top the white mixture and level it. Leave to set slightly, then mark it into squares, all the way down to the bottom.

When completely set, store in an airtight container at cool room temperature. It will keep for several days.

Caribbean Coconut Drops

This is coconut ice the way it is traditionally made in many Caribbean households. The brown sugar gives it a homely colour, and flavourings vary from fresh ginger to orange peel and vanilla extract. You can use the freshly grated zest of an orange, but dried orange peel used to be quite standard. When I was growing up in Guyana, every household had a twirl of orange peel suspended from a handy nail in the kitchen to dry. The peel was pared artistically so that it remained whole and formed a pretty spiral, and pieces were broken off as needed. I should also mention that some people do not hold with all this thermometer business. My mother, for instance, chucks all of the ingredients into a cast-aluminium wok and stir-fries them until the sugar starts to border on burning. She calls it nice caramelisation.

Makes 10

butter, for greasing (optional)

225 g/8 oz/1⅛ cups demerara sugar

4 tbsp water

225 g/8 oz/scant ⅓ cup finely grated coconut (fresh or frozen)

1.5 cm/⅝/ in piece of ginger, grated OR large pinch of grated orange zest OR ¼ tsp vanilla extract (optional)

Grease a baking sheet, if using and set aside.

Put the sugar and water in a large uncoated heavy-based saucepan and stir over low heat until the sugar dissolves completely. Attach a sugar thermometer to the pan, increase the heat and bring to the boil. Leave to boil without stirring until it reaches 110°C/230°F (thread stage), then remove the thermometer.

Stir in the (thawed) coconut and any flavouring you are using. It will spit a little. Increase the heat and cook until all of the liquid has evaporated. Continue to cook until the mixture feels heavier to stir. It should be sticky enough to stay together if you press a little onto a plate. It will take about 10 minutes, or a little longer after the coconut is added and you may need to play around a bit with the heat so that the mixture does not burn.

Spoon out 10 neat heaps onto a silicone mat or greased sheet and press any scattered fragments back onto the cakes. Press the tops with the back of a spoon to flatten slightly. When they have set, they should feel firm to the touch and the tops will have a whitish tinge. Undercooking will give floppy, chewy cakes and overcooking will result in a dry, loose mixture that cannot be shaped.

When completely set, store in an airtight container at room temperature. They will keep for several days.


Makes 15 small discs 3.5 cm/1½ in in diameter, 2 cm/¾ in high, or a larger number of smaller confections

100 g/3½ oz/scant ¾ cup plain flour

50 g/1¼ oz/scant ¾ cup full-cream powdered milk

75 g/2¼ oz/¾ cup + 2 tbsp caster sugar

20 g/¼ oz Rice Crispies (about 8 tbsp)

100 g/3½ oz/7 tbsp butter, melted with ⅛ tsp salt

¾ tsp vanilla extract


Toasted Flour and Rice Crispies Sweets

Polvoron

Filipinos are adept at adapting foreign foods into uniquely local specialities. Spanish colonisers introduced many new foods, and the ‘polvoron’ biscuit, a Christmas speciality in Spain, changed character over the centuries. First, it evolved from a baked biscuit to a moulded sweet. With the arrival of the Americans, dairy products flooded the market. Butter soon replaced lard and powdered milk was added for richness. People took to adding extra flavourings, among others ‘pinipig’, which are flattened grains of young rice that are cooked into porridge or fried until crisp. It was a logical step to Rice Crispies after that. Oval metal moulds are used locally to create the shapes. A spring moves an inner plate, neatly pressing out the sweets. A silicone mat with small round shapes will give the Western cook a similar effect.

Put the flour in a hot, dry non-stick frying pan or wok and toast over medium heat, stirring constantly. The flour should darken to golden brown and give off a pleasant aroma. Don’t skimp on this step, or your candies will have an undercooked taste and lack depth. It will take up to 20 minutes and you may need to turn down the heat slightly after 12 minutes or so. Keep it moving so that it cooks evenly without getting scorched.

Transfer the toasted flour to a mixing bowl and stir it for a minute or two to remove any lumps. Add the powdered milk and sugar and mix well. Stir in the Rice Crispies, pour in the butter and add the vanilla. Combine well, then spoon the mixture into a sheet of small simple silicone moulds and tamp down well to compact it. This is important, or your sweets will crumble. You can fill the moulds halfway if you prefer smaller sweets, and shape a second batch after the first batch has been unmoulded. When the moulds are full, invert them carefully and apply even pressure with your fingers to unmould each shape. If you have any badly crumbled shapes, you can re-mould the mixture and tamp it down better this time. Leave to cool.

When the sweets are completely cool, wrap them in squares of coloured foil. Alternatively, wrap them in twists of greaseproof paper. In the Philippines they use papel de Japón – Japanese paper – which is like thin greaseproof paper and comes in many bright colours. Whatever you use, make sure that it is food grade. They will keep in a cool place for at least a week.


Gram Sweets

Besan ke Laddu

Anticipation has a powerful effect where food is concerned, and a description is often enough for us to make up our minds. If I tell you that these Indian confections are made from gram flour, I’m quite sure that reactions will range from a polite “Oh½” to a not so polite “Eugh!” Forget the description and just taste them. They are delicious as well as being rich in protein and gluten-free. I tried them out on the house painters, Dutch countrymen with conservative eating habits. They cautiously sniffed and poked and nibbled, and came to the satisfied conclusion that they were nutty ‘zandkoekjes’, a loose-textured shortbread. The ‘laddus’ are usually left plain or topped with the ubiquitous chopped pistachios, but a pinch of silver leaf makes a lovely decoration. You might also like to try the Gram Fudge (see p.97), which has a different composition and an even more delightful flavour.


Makes 10–12 small balls

75 g/2¼ oz/⅓ cup (generous ½ stick) butter, plus extra for greasing

125 g/4½ oz/1⅓ cups gram/chickpea flour (besan)

¾ tsp ground cardamom

100 g/3½ oz/scant 1 cup icing sugar, sifted edible silver leaf, to decorate (optional)

Grease a flat plate and set aside.

Melt the butter in a non-stick frying pan or wok, add the gram flour and fry over medium heat for 10–12 minutes, stirring constantly. The flour should darken slightly and the raw and sharp smell you start out with will change to a pleasant, nutty aroma. Don’t skimp on this step, or your laddus will have an undercooked taste instead of the intended nuttiness. The texture will change from lumpy and loose to a fairly smooth, stiffish paste.

Transfer the paste to a mixing bowl and stir in the cardamom. Stir gently for a minute or two to reduce the temperature, then add the icing sugar, mixing well until it is free of lumps. It will be loose and grainy.

Dip a generous soup spoonful (the kind of spoon you eat your soup with, not a serving spoon) and deposit it in one palm. Clench your fist tightly several times, shifting the position of the mixture a few times. You need to compress it really well, or it will crack when you try to shape it. Use both palms to press back and forth into a neat crack-free ball; rolling will make it disintegrate. Arrange on the flat plate and decorate with small pieces of silver leaf. Leave to cool.

When the laddus are completely cool, transfer them to paper cases. Serve at room temperature. Store any leftovers in a cool place in an airtight container for a few days.

Simple Semolina Halva

‘Halva’ or ‘helva’ simply means ‘sweet thing’ and you will find it made with all kinds of ingredients. Flour and semolina ‘halvas’ are popular from North Africa to Turkey to India and come in many variants. You will see them presented in various ways, cut into shapes or made into impressively high mounds, artistically decorated with nuts and dried fruit. This simple recipe takes less than 15 minutes to prepare. Try to get a medium semolina, as the finer types give it a closer texture. The optional nuts can be used whole or chopped as a decoration, singly or in whatever combination you like; a few cranberries will add a touch of brightness. It is particularly delicious eaten warm, when the butteriness is at its most pronounced.


Makes 16 large squares

100 g/3½ oz/7 tbsp butter, plus extra for greasing

125 g/4½ oz/scant ¾ cup medium semolina

⅛ tsp salt

100 g/3½ oz/½ cup granulated sugar

400 ml/14 fl oz/1¾ cups milk, preferably full-cream

toasted almonds, pine nuts, cashews, pistachios, dried cranberries, etc., to decorate (optional)

Grease a flat plate and set aside.

Melt the butter in a large shallow non-stick pan, add the semolina and salt and fry over medium heat for 4–5 minutes, stirring constantly. The butter will froth a bit; fry until the semolina darkens slightly. Don’t skimp on this step, or your halva will have an undercooked taste instead of the intended nutty butteriness.

Stir in the sugar and add the milk after a minute or so. Keep on stirring until all of the milk has been completely absorbed, about 2 minutes, and continue to stir for a further 3–4 minutes. The mixture will be like lumpy dough, so keep on turning it over to cook evenly and to avoid browning in spots.

Turn the mixture out onto the flat plate and pat it firmly into a block, about 2 cm/ ¾ in thick. It is best eaten fresh. Serve warm if you can (but not so hot that the butter burns your mouth!) in small cubes each decorated as desired, or cut it into larger squares, diamonds or triangles and decorate as desired. It is easily re-heated in the microwave, or well wrapped in foil in the oven. The melting butter will give it a delicious flavour and looser texture. When cold, it is more solid in consistency.

Sesame and Pistachio Halva

Professionally produced sesame ‘halva’ uses soapwort to produce its characteristic texture and this ingredient is not something even the most zealous shopper will readily find, let alone know how to use. But don’t despair. Here is an easy and tasty way to make homemade sesame ‘halva’ and the recipe is easily halved for small households. The syrup is cooked to soft ball stage, giving a soft and succulent sweet. My tasters and I like it best this way, and cooking the syrup up to hard ball, as is often suggested, will make your ‘halva’ dry and crumbly. Once set, it can be cut into cubes or squares and presented on a plate. They look even more attractive in coloured foil cases. If you want to get really fancy, you can even press the mixture into small silicone moulds, the kind that are used for making chocolates. It must be pliable enough for you to press out the moulded shapes.

Makes 24 small squares

250 g/9 oz/1¼ cups granulated sugar

100 ml/3½ fl oz/scant ½ cup water

300 g/10½ oz/1⅓ cups sesame paste (tahini)

75–100 g/2⅓–3½ oz/½–⅔ cup pistachios, coarsely chopped

Line a large loaf tin with baking parchment.

Put the sugar and water in a medium heavy-based uncoated saucepan and stir over low heat until the sugar dissolves completely. Attach a sugar thermometer to the pan, increase the heat and bring to the boil. Lower the heat slightly and boil without stirring until it reaches 114°C/237°F (soft ball stage). It will take about 10 minutes.

While the syrup is boiling, stir the sesame paste well before weighing; there is always a layer of oil that rises to the surface. Weigh it out into a bowl and add the pistachios. Set aside.

When the syrup reaches the correct temperature, remove the thermometer and pour the syrup over the sesame paste. Stir thoroughly for a minute or so to combine well. Scrape the mixture out into the loaf tin and leave to cool and set for a few hours.

Cut into squares as needed. Store in an airtight container for up to a fortnight.

Peanut Butter Halva

Working on the principle that if sesame paste could make halva, then so could peanut butter, I tried it and it works very well. Though – or perhaps because – plainer in flavour than the sesame version, this one has proved very popular with children and quite a few adults too. It is basically the same as Sesame and Pistachio Halva (previous), substituting 300 g/10½ oz/1⅓ cups smooth peanut butter for the sesame paste (tahini) and pistachios. Pour the prepared syrup over the peanut butter and stir briefly until combined. This sets firmer than the sesame version, so mark it into cubes or squares when half set, for a neat finish.

An embarrassment of guavas

I’m sure some of you may be wondering why there are no recipes for fruit pastes and cheeses in this collection. To start with, there were so many other delicious things begging for room, but that is only part of it. Let me explain.

Walking into a Colombian bakery in New Jersey one hot summer day, I was assailed by a vague stirring of nostalgia. I couldn’t quite place it at first because it wasn’t as if the products on display were all old and familiar friends. Suddenly, it came to me. It was the smell of guava. Most of the rolls and pastries that didn’t have caramel spread (dulce de leche) had a guava paste filling. There were mini Swiss rolls, crescent-shaped yeast turnovers, doughnuts and more, all bursting with the rich brown paste. A familiar feeling of helplessness began to blunt the nostalgia as my mind dredged up the corresponding memories.

One of the houses we lived in when I was growing up had a garden with more than a dozen guava trees and after the initial excitement at the numerous varieties, shapes and flavours, it always seemed like hundreds. They may have had proper horticultural names but to us children, the local visually suggestive names like ‘Red Man’ and ‘White Lady’ used to describe the flesh were more common. We started eating them long before they ripened properly and our stomachs were impervious to indigestion. This natural bounty began to pall very rapidly as the season progressed. We could never manage to successfully strip the trees, however much we climbed and tore at the fruit or however vigorously we shook them. Birds delighted in the riper fruit, which dangled in the higher branches and insects of all shapes and sizes buzzed greedily around or burrowed their way in for a taste. Then the half-eaten and well-pecked guavas would fall to the ground where the relentless tropical heat soon converted them to a mushy mess and the originally pleasant and pervasive fruity smell soon staled to stench as decay set in. There was seemingly no escape. The kitchen was full of large vessels with guava jelly, jam and cheese in varying stages of preparation, as well as the ‘gifts’ blithely — and perhaps a tiny bit maliciously — sent by others. Even if we gave away basket-loads to friends (often similarly afflicted), there was still a mountain left to cook. My palate soon became so saturated that it ceased to appreciate the nuances and much as I loved sweet things, I came to regard them simply as cooked guava of varying thickness. To this day, I haven’t quite come to terms with fruit pastes.