You know what I mean, right? Certain climates call for certain cuisine. And now that Saskatchewan is having a hot flash (seriously, this province has moods that make menopause look like a joyride), I can get back to eating solid foods. Like raw buffalo organs – or whatever it is that people of other nations think us uncivilized Canadians eat.

Anyway, before I go out on the hunt, as I will inevitably do since I live in a totally uncivilized territory (I have been called a “moose strangler” and if you have seen my extremely muscular build, you will know that, indeed, I pose a threat to many large mammals), I shall tell you about the fabulous french onion soup I made recently…

It was fabulous.

That’s about all I have to say. The recipe can be found here. (You don’t have to use homemade chicken stock. Unless you have a couple extra live chickens hanging around that you want to squeeze the juices out of.)

I know it’s not baking, but it will have to do. But speaking of baking, I have had a special request from a recent Canuck-ized Englishman, to post the recipe of his favourite brownies. We enjoyed a batch of these on his last birthday while drinking Moosehead lager in The Maple Leaf – a lovely Canadian joint in the heart of Covent Garden. It’s rather unrealistic, though, what with the lack of polar bears walking around, offering piggyback rides to the locals… sigh. I guess one can only expect so much from London. You’ll just have to come here, Lizzie, if you expect to mount a pleasantly-mannered furry white beast.

So here it is, Robbie Sutton, and anyone else who enjoys simple chocolatey pleasures:

Toffee Brownies

Ingredients:

350g/12oz dark chocolate (50-60% cocoa), broken into pieces

250g/9oz unsalted butter, cut into pieces

3 large eggs

250g/9oz dark muscavado sugar

85g/3oz plain flour

1 tsp baking powder

Preheat the oven to 160/Gas 3/fan 140. Butter and line the base of a shallow 23cm/9in square cake tin. Melt the chocolate and butter together, then stir well and cool.

Whisk the eggs until pale, then whisk in the sugar until thick and glossy and well combined. Gently fold in the melted chocolate mixture, then sift in the flour and baking powder and gently stir until smooth.

Pour into the prepared cake tin and bake for 30-35 minutes, or until firm to the touch. Test by inserting a wooden cocktail stick into the middle – there should be a few moist crumbs sticking to it. The mixture will still be soft in the centre, but will firm up on cooling.

Cool in the tin on a wire rack for at least 1 hour, then cut into 16 squares and finish cooling on the rack.

These are very yummy and gooey, and taste like toffee ’cause of the dark sugar. They’re pretty much a can’t-fail hit at parties as well (or picnics! Remember, Lizzie? Sigh… that was when we were just getting to know each other… in the ‘honeymoon phase,’ so to speak, and I was trying so hard to impress you…). They can also probably be found on the BBC Good Food website but I didn’t check.

Oh, and because I don’t have a recent picture of the brownies, I thought I’d take a picture of me eating the recipe of them instead. It’s almost the same.

A moose stumbles upon a salted caramel tart...

I finally got to do some baking the other day, after weeks of work stress, my first choice was to spend some time making red and green velvet cupcakes. Normally you just get red velvet cupcakes, but I’ve been thinking about doing green ones as well for a while because, well, it seemed more festive. My downfall was not having the foresight to realise that when you mix green food colouring and cocoa powder you get… khaki. Don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t affected the taste, but they are slightly less exciting looking than the bright deep green I had envisioned, as can be seen here:

Oh well.

The recipe came from the Hummingbird Bakery Cookbook and can be found here (but a word of advice, you might not want to make as much icing as it says – all Hummingbird recipes have far too much icing…unless you want more icing than cake)

The lovely display stand the cupcakes are on was given to me by my friend Ffi. The result of me displaying the cakes in this way was that my Dad didn’t want to eat them because they looked too pretty. I have made a mental note to set anything I make for anyone else out this way to stop him eating it – honestly, it’s the only way. 

One of the more exciting results of Christmas was that I received many many new cookery books. I sat on Christmas morning looking through them all thinking “I don’t want to go back to work…I want to stay at home and bake”.

My favourite book so far is the Peyton & Byrne, which is the best British baking cookbook ever, and everything just looks beautiful – I think it’s something you really need to own Jordi. I always choose cookery books by the way they look – there have to be plenty of photos and the food has to look reaaally good – which is at least partly why I love Nigel Slater so much, because Jonathan Lovekin, who does all his food photography, is brilliantly talented. 

On New Year’s Eve I made Nigel’s potato and mushroom pie, and chocolate truffles for my friends. Unfortunately I don’t have any photos of those, and the truffles didn’t really set enough because we wanted to eat them, which ended in us consuming very squishy truffle mixture (which is melted chocolate and cream mixed together in case you’re wondering).

Incidentally it is one of my new year’s resolutions to bake more – which is starting this evening, as I am going to bake lots of exciting things (salted caramel tart included) with my friends, so there will be more to follow this in the next few days…

Now, before you accuse me of being shallow and gluttonous (trust me, I remember Philippians 3:19), think a little harder about that statement: Christmas is about the food.

a-bout (preposition): blah blah blah other definitions then… 5. on every side of; around.

Christmas happens around the food. And, really, thank God for that. Think about it: you know that annual game of Scrabble you play with semi-senile Uncle Bob, the one that always gets a little vicious around the triple word scores, the one that involves a h*** of a lot of four-letter words? Well, imagine that on an empty stomach. It’d be like an alphabet blitzkrieg. And I don’t even want to imagine where the J would end up.

Food is obviously so much more than comestibles, we all know that (and if you don’t, then get yourself a copy of The Edible Woman right this second and don’t even speak to me till you’re finished) – but especially at Christmastime. Food goes schizophrenic.

Food is the shit-disturber (“Oh, Brenda, how nice of you to bring a jello salad! But really, you shouldn’t have gone to so much effort….”), and the pacifier (“We’ll discuss this later; it’s dinner-time”). Food is the silence-filler (when you don’t know what to say to the great-aunt who just gave you a second-hand negligee from her third marriage to a man with a faux fur fetish), and the silence-maker (anyone with manners isn’t going to talk while they’re chewing). Food is the beating heart of this dysfunctional organism we call “the holidays.” Santa wouldn’t even bother coming if it wasn’t for the cookies.

Speaking of cookies, I made a few little treat-fillled gift tins for some people that I like enough to feed, but not enough to shop for (and who wouldn’t prefer my baked goods to a scented candle?). It was a minor, but thoroughly enjoyable, effort  - and a rather tasty one, as well. May I present:

Double chocolate truffles, rolled in flaked filberts… and Curried Cashew and Coconut Brittle. Yeah, you heard me: curried! And proud of it. Finally, I made something just for me: Marcus Wareing’s second-to-none Gingerbread. (It is like Christmas spirit in sliceable form, seriously.) Tomorrow I’ll drive to my parents’ house and begin the family celebrations but tonight, it’s the Jordi Wieler Christmas special – starring me, some spicy loaf, homemade apple cider, and Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children which I found in the teen fiction section of Chapters today. (If food is the heart of the Christmas body, then books have got to be the lungs. Whenever the air gets too tight, or I simply start hyperventilating, I read for sheer survival. I suggest you do the same.) Got some candles lit, got some Louis Armstrong for company, got a pile of presents wrapped and waiting to be delivered. It’s a good day. And hey, it’s almost freakin’ Christmas! What’s not to be excited about? Especially when you’ve got one of these laying around…

And so, I sign off with a full, happy belly… and I hope you do the same. Merry Christmas, everyone. Especially you, Lizzie Erwood! x

Graze are a company who make amazing snack boxes, encouraging you to snack more healthily instead of eating biscuits all the time (which I will admit is slightly at odds with the idea of this blog – i.e. eating lots of cake). You can rate all of the different snacks they offer, and from that they choose how regularly to send you different things. My favourite part of receiving these boxes is having no idea what will be inside when I open it. This week I’ve been sent fiery seeds, oatcakes with caramelised onion marmalade, coconut flakes, dried mango and pineapple, and dried cranberries with almonds and chocolate drops. In the past they’ve sent me sundried tomato bread, olives, and tiny breadsticks with basil infused olive oil. All of it tastes so good.

The only bad thing is that they currently only ship to the UK, but hopefully one day they will open a Canadian branch of Graze so Jordi (and all other Canadians) can experience snacking joy. Until then, if you live in the UK, and like the idea of nice food coming through your letterbox on a regular basis, I suggest you sign up! They sent me a cut-out cardboard snowman yesterday as well. Now I know you’re definitely jealous. 

My 7-month-old nieces really got into my “delicious.” magazine.

They couldn’t be bothered to follow the recipes, though. So they just ate the magazine instead. It was, naturally, delicious.

I’m so proud! Clearly, they take after their Auntie Jordi. They’re going to be readers, bakers, and above all, intense eaters. I love you, my little mooses.

Last Sunday was Grey Cup in Canada: an excellent opportunity to hang out with friends and/or family and drink cold, refreshing beverages and eat hot, titillating food (and, yes, I realize my references to food often seem sensual; but, I don’t think we can disagree that certain comestibles “excite or arouse agreeably”). Apparently, there is also some kind of sporting event on t.v. during this time but, let’s be honest, I’m in it for the beer and chicken wings. (And if I called it “football” my English friends would get mad, believing as they do that they own the name of a sport. But are we surprised? The English think they own everything – it’s a carry-over from the days of the Empire. I digress.)

My contribution to the get-together was something a little more daring than your average bag of Lay’s Original or 20-pack of Timbits (if you don’t know what these are, it’s time to get your arse to Canada, friends). Pictured above are my apple, turkey, and blue cheese galettes. In the “Fall Baking” magazine that Lizzie mentioned these are called “apple, ham, and smoked gouda galettes” but I took some liberties. They are pretty frickin’ awesome – at least I think so. A gorgeous blend of the savoury and sweet, and that pastry literally melts in your mouth. Mmm.

I’m not going to write down the recipe, though, ’cause it’s super long. Sorry.

But, of course, I didn’t stop there. I also made cheesy millet and black pepper breadsticks (also featured in the same magazine) – except I didn’t actually use millet flour so I guess that’s another misnomer. They were pretty tasty as well, though I think they could have used a bit more pizzazz. They tasted almost healthy, what with all that whole-wheat flour involved. I ate about a billion, because I figured it was okay. And because there was a ridiculous amount of leftovers and I hate waste. Just call me the human garburator. Or don’t.

Lastly, for something sweet, I made an old standby: chocolate-covered mint biscuits. I found these in a “delicious” magazine once and I’ve never looked back. (But why would I? Who would ever want to revert to life before chocolate-covered mint biscuits? That’s just absurd.) These got the ultimate praise at the Grey Cup party: the approval of a two-year-old. Kids are the ultimate food critics, right? ‘Cause if they don’t like it, they’ll just spit it out and tell you it’s gross; they don’t care about your feelings. But Coen – God bless his soul! – took one bite of one of these and said (and I quote verbatim): “Dat’s a good cookie.” I told his parents that from now on I wanted to test all my desserts on him but they said “No, Jordi.” That’s probably because, after about five cookies, their kid was running around and screaming like any normal two-year-old on a massive sugar buzz. Coen: you rock my socks, buddy.

Here’s a not-very-good photo of some of my contributions to the spread:

And here is the recipe – Jordi-style. (The coating was my invention; the magazine serves the biscuits with chocolate mousse. That’s pretty good too. But seriously, these are like After Eights in cookie form. Awesome.)

3 tsp chopped fresh mint leaves

150 g plain flour, plus extra for dusting

2 tsp peppermint extract

100 g softened butter, chopped

50 g caster sugar

Preheat the oven to 180 (350 for Canucks). In a mixing bowl, stir the chopped fresh mint into the flour and drizzle over the peppermint extract. Rub in the softened butter with your fingertips until well blended, then sitr in the caster sugar. Bring the whole mixture together with a wooden spoon to form a stiff dough. (If it doesn’t come together you may have to knead it slightly, but don’t add water or the biscuits will spread and flatten as they cook.) Roll out the dought on a lightly floured surface to a thickness of about 0.5 cm and cut into rounds using a 5 cm cutter.

Put the rounds carefully on a baking tray (no need to line or grease) and cook in the oven for 10 – 15 minutes until a pale golden colour. Remove from the oven and, while the biscuits are still hot, carefully transfer to a wire rack to cool.

For the coating: melt together (preferably in a bowl over boiling water – I flippin’ hate microwaves, those things will kill you AND your food) 225 g mint chocolate chips (this is really important! You could use regular chocolate, I suppose, but these are what make the biscuits extraordinary!) and 1 tbsp shortening. Dip the cookies half-way in, while the chocolate is still warm, and place on wax or parchment paper to cool. The fridge obviously helps with this too. It cools stuff down. Like a fridge is supposed to.

Go, uh, team… or whatever. Seriously, I don’t care, just pass the hors d’oeuvres.

There are always one or two things that are likely to go wrong when you’re baking. Even more so when you’ve woken up late after spending the evening before with lovely people watching Scott Pilgrim, and are feeling too tired to bother doing anything more productive than making cheesecake. 

Maple-Glazed Pears & Cranberries

I’ve only just taken the cheesecake out of the oven – it smells glorious – but I’ve yet to taste it, fairly convinced that I overcooked the base. It’s unlikely that the packet of ground almonds that fell in the mixture as I was trying to get flour out of the cupboard will have caused any long-term impairment to the cheesecake (the downsides of having a small kitchen and disorganised cupboards – but at least the packet was sealed). I also ran out of maple syrup when making the maple-glazed pears, so decided it would be a reasonable equivalent to mix some sugar with water to make up the little bit more syrup I needed. I’ll let you know how that turned out. For reference, Sainsburys is not a reliable source of maple syrup – I spent ages wandering around trying to find it with no success. I did however find cupcake cases with snowflakes on them. This probably doesn’t make up for the sugar + water = “maple syrup” thing… 

So now for the agonising 2 hour wait for it to cool down before I can taste it. I really do hope it’s freakishly awesome…

3/4 cup all-purpose flour (or self-raising as I know it)

3 tbsp brown sugar

1/4 cup butter

1/4 cup finely chopped pecans, toasted

3 x 8oz packs of cream cheese

1x 8oz pack of mascarpone

3/4 cup packed brown sugar

1/2 cup pure maple syrup

1/4 light cream (or half and half if you know what that is)

2 tbsp all purpose flour

1 tsp vanilla (extract)

3 eggs lightly beaten

1. Preheat the oven to 350F (170C). For crust, in a medium bowl combine the 3/4 cup flour & 3 tbsp brown sugar. Cut (or rub) in the butter until the mixture is crumbly. Stir in pecans. Pat onto the bottom of a 10in springform pan. Bake for 10-12 mins or until lightly browned. Cool crust while preparing filling.

2. In a large bowl combine cream cheese and mascarpone, beat with an electric mixer (or use brute strength if you don’t own one, like me) until smooth. Add the brown sugar, 1/2 cup maple syrup, cream, flour and vanilla – beat until well mixed. Add all the eggs at once, stir until just combined.

3. Pour filling into the crust-lined pan, spreading evenly. Bake for 35-40 mins or until a 2&1/2-3 inch area around the outside edge appears set when gently shaken (centre will be soft, but will set up as the cheesecake cools).

4. Cool for 15mins, then using a thin knife loosen the crust from the sides of the pan. Cool for 30 mins more, then remove the side of the pan. Cool for 2 hours.

5. To serve, top with maple-glazed pears and cranberries.

Maple-glazed pears and cranberries

In a large skillet melt 2 tbsp butter over medium heat. Add 4 medium peeled, cored and thinly sliced Bosc or Anjou pears. Cook for 4 mins, stirring occasionally. Stir in 1/2 cup dried cranberries, 1/4 cup pure maple syrup and 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon. Cook 2-3 mins more or just until pears are tender, stirring occasionally. Serve warm over cheesecake.

Photos of the completed cheesecake to follow….

Lizzie Erwood forms the “royal” component of the blog. She is located in Cambridge, England (although she is not a personal friend of Kate’s), where she manages a bookshop,and studies art history when she’s not in the kitchen. She truly is a 21st-century everything-woman – smart, talented, and good with a spatula. She’s got a cute accent, too.

I, Jordi Wieler, form the “moose” component of the blog. A slightly less flattering title, perhaps, but I wear it proudly. I’m a full-blooded Canadian, currently living in a little place called Moose Jaw, though I met my friend Lizzie when I worked in Cambridge last year. We immediately bonded over books and brownies (and beer, if we want to continue with the alliteration) and when, to her great chagrin, I moved back to the colony, the blog was born – out of desperation, really. We miss each other. A lot.

So what we have here is an epistolary, culinary, extraordinary experiment. No longer shall Saskatchewanians’ pallets be confined to puffed-wheat squares and nanaimo bars. No longer shall Brits have to resort to the ol’ Bakewell tart (someone’s going to hate me for saying that; the English folk guard their traditions like a fat man guards his french fries). It is time to blend the classic and the creative, the prairie and the pastoral, the maple and the marzipan! Bring on the baked goods and the half-baked witticisms of two little women with big, big appetites! No ocean shall keep us apart! Our dreams and our disasters and our delicacies shall know no bounds! (Except when the Royal Mail refuses to let me ship shortbread.)

There’s nothing left to say, but “happy baking, my friend.” Well, that, and

This is Lizzie celebrating her birthday in Grantchester. I (Jordi) am represented by the cake - which I made. For Lizzie. Because I like her. A lot.

God save the queen.

hello.

I’ve just realised, as I was about to write out the recipe for this lovely salted caramel and chocolate tart that units of measurement are quite arbitrary on a global level – so to assist with any confusion that grams, ounces or cups may cause, I hope you’ll find this of some use. With one English writer, and one Canadian writer, both of us are regularly subjected to the difficulties of converting measurements (I only bought my first set of cups about a month ago), so hopefully having that will be of general use to everyone. Now, on to the talk of baking…

With Christmas drawing near, I have invested in my Christmas themed baking magazines, my star-shaped cutters that will enable me to build a biscuit Christmas tree, and vague plans for gingerbread houses. However, I put all of those things aside temporarily to make this salted caramel and chocolate tart. 

375g pack of sweet pastry

150g butter

150g caster sugar

2 tbsp agave syrup

1x 397g tin condensed milk

1 tsp sea salt flakes

150g dark chocolate

150g milk chocolate

- Roll out pastry and line a 20-22cm fluted tart tin. Trim and remove the pastry edges (save to make stars for later!). Prick the base with a fork all over and chill for 30 mins. Cut out a few star shapes from the remaining pastry

- Heat the oven to 190C/Gas Mark 5, put the case on a baking sheet, line the pastry case with parchment and baking beans or dried rice and bake blind for 20 mins. Put the stars on the baking sheet and bake at the same time. Remove the paper and beans and continue to cook for another 10-15 mins or until pastry is light golden.

- When the pastry case is cold, make the caramel. Gently heat the butter, sugar, agave syrup and condensed milk in a medium saucepan until the butter has melted. Increase the heat and stir continuously until the mixture comes to the boil.

- Reduce the heat slightly and allow the mixture to bubble for 8-10 mins. Stir all the time until the bubbles become larger and less frequent and the mixture gets thicker. Stir in the salt. Cool a little, then pour into the pastry case and leave to set for 1 hour.

- Melt the dark and milk chocolate in separate heatproof bowls over a pan of simmering water.

- Flood the top of the tart with the dark chocolate, spreading it to the sides, then put small spoonfuls of the milk chocolate and using the end of a teaspoon swirl together to give a marbled effect.

- Chill for 30 mins, adding pastry stars to the top after 15 mins. Don’t leave for too long as it will become too hard to slice.

I’ve written out the original recipe just for accuracy, but when baking I always adapt recipes for convenience – e.g. I went to the supermarket in search of agave syrup to find that it cost £2.43. I wasn’t going to spend that for 2 tbsp of something, so golden syrup it was. I don’t know if golden syrup exists in Canada. Please answer this for me Jordi. 

Unfortunately due to the misleading nature of the picture in the magazine, I used a much too shallow case (approx 3cm) – so I ended up having to make two, because all the caramel I had wouldn’t fit in one – you can make two (which I recommend because then you can bring baking happiness to your family and your colleagues), or use a deeper case. You’ll need more chocolate if you’re making two though…like, 50g more or so. 

Finally, a note on pastry. I never buy readymade shortcrust pastry – my dad has passed some serious pastry-making abilities on to me. So the ultimate pastry recipe is:

12oz flour

3oz margarine

3oz lard

small amount of cold tap water

Rub the margarine and lard into the flour, until it looks kind of like breadcrumbs, then gradually add water, mix with a knife (yes!) until it starts to gather together, add a bit more water until it all comes together in a ball. It should be a bit sticky, so make sure it’s not too dry!

The tart recipe asks for sweet pastry, which I didn’t bother with – I think it’s nice to have plain pastry, because the caramel and chocolate create enough sweetness. It’s quite a time consuming recipe overall, but completely worth it, because the outcome is so good. It is going to be one of those recipes I just keep going back to. 

L.