butter and maple syrup, to serve
Preheat the oven to 220°C/Gas 7 and place a deep muffin tray in the oven to warm right up. If you are using a liquidiser, put the flour, salt, nutmeg, eggs and milk into the bowl or jug, and give it a good whiz, so that it is a smooth batter. If you are using a whisk, start by beating the eggs in a big jug or mixing bowl. Then add a little of the milk before adding the flour, salt and nutmeg. Loosen it again with the rest of the milk.
Take out the piping hot tray, pour a little oil into each hole, and return to really hot up in the oven. This will take about 5 minutes. Then pour the batter into each hole, about halfway up because they will rise. They will sizzle and start to cook the minute they hit the oily hole. Return the tray straight away to the oven, turning the temperature down to 170°C/Gas 3, and bake for 20 minutes, by which time they will look like little Yorkshire puddings. They should be, according to my mum, ‘puffy, crisp and hollow inside’. To serve, place a little knob of butter into each sunken centre, along with a glug of maple syrup.
Makes 8 muffins
Marmalade and muffins are both time-honoured components of a breakfast, and are happily joined under the same umbrella in this clever recipe. Whilst in Australia I learnt a lot about a decent breakfast: muffins and cupcakes, savoury pastries and delectable coffees. I picked up this winner too. While we are on the subject of Australia, I swear by the Australian Woman’s Weekly books. They are not only reasonably priced magazine-style books, but really comprehensive and much more adventurous than you may think at first. They span national to mood foods, and are never too expensive if you fancy getting your head around a new issue in the kitchen.
These are magnificent breakfast treats packed with marmalade and are best straight out of the oven, first thing. So when I make them in the deli, they don’t last long on the cake-stand. They are particularly good with a well-brewed pot of tea. And the trick with muffins, for that lovely risen and cracking top, is not to over-combine the mixture in the final stages. This means that they are best made, really, in a slapdash fashion, which is lucky.
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
125g softened butter
300g self-raising flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 orange
2 medium free-range eggs
150g caster sugar
2 tablespoons thick-cut marmalade (preferably my mum’s dark one)
125ml full-fat milk
Preheat the oven to 160°C/Gas 2. Using a pastry brush or some oiled kitchen towel, grease each hole in a muffin tray with a little vegetable oil. Measure the butter, flour and baking powder into a big mixing bowl. Quickly rub them together, as you would when making pastry, lightly with the tips of your fingers. Now grate the zest of the orange into this. Beat the eggs together in a cup, and roughly add to the flour mix with a knife. Then roughly stir in the sugar, marmalade and milk with speed. Do not over-mix, or it will become too homogenised.
Turn the mix out equally into the muffin tray, but do not overload the holes, as they really do rise. Place in the oven for 20 minutes or until just firm and steaming. You can also check them by plunging a toothpick into the middle of one. If the toothpick comes out clean, they are ready, but if there is any liquid or cake mix clinging to it, they need a few more minutes. Remove to a cooling rack by releasing each muffin with a fruit knife, and cool for a few minutes before dishing them up with a big pot of tea.
Porridge with Golden Currants & Muscovado Sugar
For 2
Word has it that oats are a superfood (which means, for me, merely that it keeps the wolf from the door). And porridge is one of those delicious breakfasts that not only keeps your energy up but in winter keeps you warm on the inside too, rather like a hot bath. This is very useful if you start the day at the bus stop in the cold. When customers come into Rosie’s looking a little sorry for themselves, I usually suggest a big bowl of steaming porridge, to ward off the morning misery.
The golden currants are a sweet addition, and the muscovado sugar gives it that treacle-like rich depth. The timing of porridge rather depends on the oats. If you use the coarse nutty kind, it will take longer to homogenise. If you use finer, flourier packaged supermarket oats, it should take a little less time to achieve this comforting and maternal dish.
100g wholegrain rolled oats
500ml full-fat milk
a pinch of table salt
100g golden currants
2 dessertspoons muscovado sugar
Measure out the oats into a small pan along with the milk. Add a pinch of salt and put the pan on the smallest ring on the hob. Rapidly heat for 5 minutes, stirring with a wooden spoon until it looks deliciously nutty and gluey. Take it off the heat for a moment to settle, before dishing out into bowls and topping with the light currants and dark sugar. You may want to wash the porridge down with a little extra cold milk.
Gazpacho for a Barcelona Morning
Makes a big bowl or about 8 mugs
The first time I tasted gazpacho was at Laurie Castelli’s house. He was one of the first to discover my little deli in Brixton, and so then we were new friends. He now lives in Colombia with his beautiful son and wife, but at the time he lived on crack alley, Rushcroft Road. He lured me over to his stylishly minimal flat to try his brother Gian Castelli’s impeccable cold tomato soup. I left with the offer of a ride on his Moto Guzzi, a cinema date at the ICA, and a delicious taste for this perfect Spanish pick-me-up. As it’s a soup, it’s an unusual choice for breakfast, but trust me, this will wake you up, and cleanse you too. Because the vegetables are all raw, it feels incredibly medicinal.
The next time I came across gazpacho was in Barcelona. My friend Lovely Linda, who was heavily pregnant with Leo at the time, downed a carton of this each morning. And when I tried it too, it made perfect sense. But feel free to drink it at any time of day: in little glasses as a summer starter; in thimbles accompanying a light supper; or as a mid-afternoon reviver. And the trick with Gian’s gazpacho is the use of ground cumin, giving it a Moorish edge. Beware, though, I’ve bust a few blenders masticating this soup. It’s pretty hard to pulverise.
1kg ripe red tomatoes
1 red pepper
1 medium cucumber
1 medium onion
2 garlic cloves
120ml extra virgin olive oil (for posterity’s sake, Spanish, if you can find it), plus a little more for drizzling over at the end
21/2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons caster sugar
1 teaspoon Maldon sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
Find a