Miss Foodwise

Celebrating British food and Culture

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Bitter Seville Orange Marmalade – A Potted History and How to Make it

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Marmalade is like Marmite, you either love it or loathe it.
Marmalade is loved in Britain, smeared on golden toast as the last course of the English Breakfast. The humble jar of sunshine even has its own Marmalade Awards each year in Cumbria in the North of England. Anyone can send in their jar to be judged by marmalade royalty, and my friend Lisa from All Hallows Cookery School in Dorset just won with hers.
In a time when bitter flavour is bred out of vegetables and fruits, you would think many people are not that fond of marmalade. Marmalade is traditionally made from bitter Seville oranges. Originally from Asia, the Moors introduced these oranges in Spain around the 10th century. They are quite inedible in their raw state and if you can manage I salute you. Because of their sourness Seville oranges contain a high amount of pectin. In 17 and 18th century cookery books they get a mention as ‘bitter oranges’ and it wouldn’t be an British classic without a story.

The legend
In the mid 18th century a Spanish ship carrying Seville oranges was damaged by storm. The ship sought refuge in the harbour of Dundee in Scotland where the load deemed unfit for sale were sold to a local merchant called James Keiller. James’ mother turned the bitter orange fruit into jam and so created the iconic James Keiller Dundee Marmalade. It wasn’t a coincidence that James mother made marmalade, in the 1760s her son ran a confectionery shop producing jams in Seagate, Dundee. In 1797 he founded the world’s first marmalade factory producing the first commercial brand of marmalade. In 1828, the company became James Keiller and Son, when his son joined the business. Today you can see stone James Keiller and Son marmalade jars pop up at every carboot sale and antiques market. But the marmalade is still in production, only now in glass jars that off the beautiful radiant orange colour that is so typical of marmalade.

The truth as clear as marmalade
According to Ivan Day, a prominent food historian who I was lucky to do a course with, one of the earliest known recipe for a Marmelet of Oranges dates from around 1677 and it can be found in the recipe book of Eliza Cholmondeley held in the Cheshire Archives and Local Studies.

The earliest recipe in Scotland is titled ‘How to make orange marmalat’ and dates back 1683. It can be found in the earliest Scottish manuscript recipe book which is believed to have been written by Helen, Countess of Sutherland of the Clan Sutherland. The book is dedicated entirely to fruit preservation and jelly making. According to The Scotsman “The Countess was married to John Gordon, the 16th Earl of Sutherland, an army officer who was honoured following the defeat of the 1715 Jacobite rebellion.”
This bit of information transports me right to the wuthering heights of Scotland.

This early Scottish as well as English recipe debunks the myth that mother Keiller invented marmalade. Recipes for similar preserves even date back earlier in history. But the Keiller family definitely deserve a prominent spot in marmalade history.

But why do we call it marmalade and not jam?
As you maybe remember from my posting about ‘Quince Cheese’ here > , quinces are responsible for the word marmalade as their Portuguese word is ‘marmelo’ and they were made into fruit cheeses named marmalades. In Spain they call it ‘Membrillo’. Quince just like bitter Seville oranges, contain a lot of pectin and they are both too sour to eat raw. From both of these fruits the pips and peels are used to get a good set, and if you don’t have quince you could easily make a fruit cheese out of these oranges….

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Smithfield Meat Market – a history and a nomination for the Pink Lady Food photography award!

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Smithfield Market, 865 years of notorious history of meat, bloodshed, crime and uprising.


Turning down Sun Street and Crown Street, and crossing Finsbury square, Mr. Sikes struck, by way of Chiswell Street, into Barbican: thence into Long Lane, and so into Smithfield; from which latter place arose a tumult of discordant sounds that filled Oliver Twist with amazement. It was market-morning. The ground was covered, nearly ankle-deep, with filth and mire; a thick steam, perpetually rising from the reeking bodies of the cattle, and mingling with the fog, which seemd to rest upon the chimney-tops, hung heavily above. All the pens in the centre of the large area, and as many temporary pens as could be crowded into the vacant space, were filled with sheep; tied up to posts by the gutter side were long lines of beasts and oxen, three or four deep. Countrymen, butchers, drovers, hawkers, boys, thieves, idlers, and vagabonds of every low grade, were mingled together in a mass; the whistling of drovers, the barking dogs, the bellowing and plunging of the oxen, the bleating of sheep, the grunting and squeaking of pigs, the cries of hawkers, the shouts, oaths, and quarrelling on all sides; the ringing of bells and roar of voices, that issued from every public-house; the crowding, pushing, driving, beating, whooping and yelling; the hideous and discordant dim that resounded from every corner of the market; and the unwashed, unshaven, squalid, and dirty figues constantly running to and fro, and bursting in and out of the throng; rendered it a stunning and bewildering scene, which quite confounded the senses.
Charles Dickens – Oliver Twist, 1838And so were the words of Charles Dickens about Smithfield meat market in his marvellous work Oliver Twist.
England has always been famed for the outstanding quality of its meat. In the 19th century, Smithfield meat market was notorious for its wild cattle that was hazardously driven through the streets of London. The drovers and butchers were apparently as savage as their cattle and murder and rape were no exceptions in these quarters.
Reports of cattle stirred up by drunk herdsmen killing men, woman and children on their way were frequent. Cattle was slaughtered at the site and the streets coloured red with blood.Surrounded by dirty streets, lanes, courts, and alleys, the haunts of poverty and crime, Smithfield is infested not only with fierce and savage cattle, but also with the still fiercer and more savage tribes of drivers and butchers. On market-days the passengers are in danger of being run over, trampled down, or tossed up by the drivers or “beasts”; at night, rapine and murder prowl in the lanes and alleys in the vicinity; and the police have more trouble with this part of the town than with the whole of Brompton, Kensington, and Bayswater. The crowd­ing of cattle in the centre of the town is an inexhaustible source of accidents.Max Schlesinger, Saunterings in and about London, 1853

From 1150,

Smithfield has been used as a market for live stock. It was a large open space on the outskirts of town, it had small open spaces and wooden pens and a broad open street market.

In 1174 Smithfield was described by William Fitzstephen, clerk to Thomas à Becket in his ‘Description of London’, one of my favourite works to learn about Ancient London and its people.

‘In a suburb immediately outside one of the gates there is a field that is smooth, both in name and in fact. Every Friday (unless it is an important holy day requiring solemnity) crowds are drawn to the show and sale of fine horses. This attracts the earls, barons and knights who are then in the city, along with many citizens, whether to buy or just to watch.’
A description of London, ca.1174/1183, translated from Latin.

 

The ancient map of London ‘Civitas Londinum’ dated to 1561, shows large open fields and cattle pens. The market area is now called ‘Schmyt Fyeld’. During that time the market area had access to the river Fleet so cattle had water to drink and grass to feed on.

Because Smithfield was an open space which was so close to the city centre, it was also used for public executions. William Wallace – known to most as Braveheart after the film – was executed there in 1305. It was also the meeting place to gather for the Peasant’s Revolt in 1381. Executions continued well into the 16th century with Henry VIII murdering Catholics and his daughter ‘Bloody Mary’ burning in excess of 200 protestants. During the 17th century the site became a popular place for duelling and later it turned into a prime spot to pick up a prostitute for the night.

The structure of the market would remain largely the same as in the Middle Ages until a building was erected designed by Victorian architect Sir Horace Jones in 1868. By then the market was in the centre of London instead of in the outskirts, adjoining fields.

We can still see that majestic market building today, and some of its additions from later in that century, but sadly a part of it has been derelict for many decades now.

When I visited the market I was warned by Londoners that some of the butchers were still cheeky buggers and they weren’t kidding. On my short walk around I got talking to one of them, I took his picture, asked him if I could use the image, and he gave me his phone number and told me to call him some time.

The market was at its end of trading that day when I visited, meat was being packed up and carted away in supermarket trolleys, leaving it to look nearly as rough and dirty as it must have looked centuries ago.

It is a historic place, there has been a cattle market here for 865 years, and I hope it will remain here for centuries to come. It’s extraordinary that after the relocation of Billingsgate Fish market, Covent Garden and Spitalfields market, Smithfield market is still holding strong.

It is a heritage site, and with so many historical important places being demolished in London today – think the London Wool and fruit exchange in Shoreditch – we have to hang on to this one while we can.

Looking up in the meat market building
Supermarket carts are used to move the meat and are scattered around everywhere
though crumbling, still a special place
Butchers chatting during the clean-up of todays market day
One of the loading gates
Lorries are driving on and off with loads of meat
The butchers don’t mind posing a little for my camera
Part of the market in its derelict state, still waiting to be renovated and repurposed

Dear readers, the above image from Smithfield market has been shortlisted in the prestigious Pink Lady Food Photography Awards in the category ‘Food For Sale’ for the People’s choice award. If you like my work, I would be super grateful if you would vote for my photograph! 

You can vote HERE > and scroll down to ‘Food for sale’
Thanks so much xx
 

Do leave a comment, I love hearing from you!

Alexis Soyer’s Oxtail Soup with simple suet dumplings

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19th century Victorian England saw a rapid growth of population and urbanisation stimulated by the Industrial Revolution. The elite became more wealthy and the poor became poorer.  Eliza Acton noted in her book published in 1845, that soups or pottage was hardly eaten by the English. The poor didn’t have means to heat up the dish that had sustained them for centuries, and often they didn’t even have access to the ingredients to make a soup. This was an era of slum housing, starvation and disease.

Alexis Soyer, who was chef at the prestigious Reform Club and regarded by many as Britain’s first celebrity chef, saw the horrendous poverty of the lower class and took it upon him to do something about it. He invented a soup kitchen and went to Ireland to give out his ‘famine soup’ during the Great Irish Famine in 1847. During his time in Ireland he wrote ‘Soyer’s Charitable Cookery’ and gave the proceeds of the book to various charities.
His book, ‘A Shilling Cookery for the People’ was a recipe book for ordinary people who could not afford the modern kitchen utensils or large amounts of ingredients.
In it he writes about how he goes around London and sees the poor attempt to cook but can’t quite manage because of a lack of knowledge. He takes it upon him to teach an old lady to cook an ox cheek in her one precious pot, over a coal fire. The old lady learns and is surprised to find out that the ox cheek is tender and that there is even enough liquid to make a soup from it.  After tasting it and approving it, she said she would teach her neighbours how to do it. Soyer, possibly very pleased about this, said to her that if she would do that, he would sent more recipes for her to learn and teach to her neighbours.

Of course the old lady was illiterate and Soyer realising that he might have sent a useless bit of paper to her, went to see her and found ‘six elderly matrons and an old man holding council together’, trying to make out Soyer’s writings. He then read the recipes to them.

Of soup he says that he finds it is no wonder that people have abandoned this dish as the recipes in most cookery books are complicated and expensive. Many contemporary cookery writers like Mrs Beeton made notes on how to cook economically but showed their ignorance by not grasping the fact that most lower class families were lucky to have some kind of roof over their heads, so a kitchen or fire would most probably been a luxury they could only dream of.

Soyer saw that knowledge was the next big in the poor being able to feed themselves and had the dream of opening a school to teach the poor how to cook. On this notion he remarked “Some of the money spent on our new palace prisons would be much better employed for this purpose.”
As my local farm doesn’t offer ox cheek – although they probably would if I asked – I made Soyer’s oxtail soup instead. I had been saving these oxtails – which are always sold out at the farm so quite precious – for a special occasion. Since I finished the first part of my book, I thought, let’s get out the Oxtail! That’s how it is with meat you buy straight from the farm, you treat it with the utmost respect and it becomes so much more valuable.
I had Soyer on my mind, because this week there is a fabulous lecture about him at the Guildhall Library in London. Sadly because of the book deadline I couldn’t spear a day to head over to London to attend this lecture, but at least I have now eaten his oxtail soup.

To make this into a main dish for your supper, you can add dumplings, I give you here the recipes as adapted from Soyer’s book The Modern Housewife or Menagerie.

 

 

Oxtail soup with dumplings

Some might find this soup bland, this might be so for our modern palate, this dish is not laden with salt – sweet – spicy like we are so used to today. Give it a go, and try to taste. It really is lovely to have these pure flavours. And then after you’ve tasted it, make it again and use white wine instead of water.
  • 1 oxtail
  • 1 carrot
  • 1 turnip
  • 3 medium sized onions
  • 1 stalk of celery
  • 2 bay leaf
  • a few sprigs of thyme
  • a few sprigs of parsley
  • 600ml water
  • 1tsp of peppercorns, or about 15 corns
  • 1tsp salt

 

Preheat your oven to 140°C
Cut up your vegetables in dice of around the same size; no smaller than 0,5 cm.
Add a generous know of butter to a cast iron pan and melt.
Add the vegetables, and glaze for flavour, then take them out
Add another knob of butter, wait until it is melted and gently brown the two sides of the oxtail, when the juices are starting to stick to the pan, add the vegetables and then add about 600 ml water to deglaze the pan and drown the oxtail. Make sure the meat is completely covered in water.
Now add the pepper, salt and herbs and bring to a boil, uncovered.
When the water boils, put on the lid and place in the oven for 3-4 hours, or until the meat falls from the bone and the fat is nearly all melted away.
When ready to eat, strain the soup, pull the meat off the bone and keep aside.
Now make your garnish for the soup, or use the soup as it is, without straining it – I prefer this as I like to just use the soup as it is with flavoursome mushy veg. I don’t like to throw this away.
Garnish (optional)
  • 1 carrot
  • 1 stalk of celery
  • 1 leek
  • 1 turnip
Cut all these vegetables in small dice of about 0,5 cm.
Put them in a pot and pour over the strained soup, simmer for as long as it takes to cook the vegetables but make sure you don’t reduce them to a mush.
Just before serving:
Place your pulled oxtail meat in a saucepan, add some of the soup and heat up.
Serve your soup with some of the pulled oxtail in each plate.
To make this a main meal
Plain Suet Dumplings (makes 8-10)
  • 220 g plain white flour
  • 110 g shredded suet
  • 0,5 tsp salt, the same of pepper
  • 150-180 ml water
  • optional: a tsp of thyme leaves or parsley cut finely

 

Combine the flour, the suet and the salt and pepper – and herbs if you are using them – in a bowl.
Make a well and start adding the water in small portions to make sure you don’t use too much and the dough gets sticky. You might need all the water, you might need less than the 18ml
Use a blunt knife to do this so your hands don’t get covered in sticky dough.
When the dough comes together you can use your hands to knead it into a stiff paste.
Roll into ping-pong ball sized dumplings and place on a tray.
When your meat is at its last 45 minutes of stewing, add the dumplings and allow them to stew together with the meat.
Serve together.
Enjoy

Bonfire, bangers and riots

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Two ways with sausages for Bonfire night: Jacket potato bangers and Toad in the hole

Last year on this day I wrote about Guy Fawkes and his connection to the Gunpowder Plot (see Gunpowder, treason and Bonfire Parkin here) and how it came to be that such plot was, well… plotted. I went back to nearly a hundred years before the plot, to see where that seed was sown.
Today I look at the customs that resulted from this failed plot and how it influenced the way we riot and react today to show our dismay, disappointment and disgust for politics and religion.

The trial of the eight surviving conspirators of the Gunpowder Plot was held on januari 27 1606 in Westminster Hall which would have destroyed had their plot been successful. A statute was passed, declaring that deliverance from Gunpowder treason should be remembered every year. From then on each 5th of november there would be a church service at which attendance was compulsory if you were loyal to the King, or at least wanted to pretend to be loyal. It became an annual ceremony to keep the memory of the failed Gunpowder Plot alive. It continued until it was taken out of the prayerbook two centuries later in 1859. But although it was erased from the prayerbook, it was by now rooted into the culture.

In a way the customs of the 5th of november provided a replacement to the pre-reformation holy days of All Saints and All Souls on the 1st and 2nd of November. On these days the churches would be lit with candles, and torches marking the start of winter and darkness. This catholic tradition in its own right had replaced the old pagan rites of Samhain,  which celebrated the end of harvest and the beginning of winter. It literally means ‘summer’s end’ and is the primary festival marking the end and the beginning of the year.

When the christians needed to convert the pagans, they gave them the 1st of November, a day on which they could light candles and make lanterns in hollowed turnips, just as they had been doing for generations before christianity spread. The reformation to Protestantism left the people with an empty gap where their 1st of November celebrations used to be, so naturally they embraced the new bonfire tradition after the Gunpowder Plot failed in the first years of the 1600’s.

Conveniently to the Protestants, the 5th of november could be used as a celebration of the conservation of Protestantism, a date to mark in the calendar alongside the early death of Queen Mary (a Catholic), the long reign of Queen Elizabeth I (Protestant) and the defeat of the Spanish Armada (to warn off the Spanish Catholics).

When Charles I married the Catholic princes of France, people showed their disapproval of the Catholic queen by burning effigies of the Pope and the devil on the 5th of November. We are now situated 20 years after the Gunpowder Plot and the only effigies that were burnt were that of the pope and the devil, not of Guy Fawkes.
In 1647 was described how bonfires went from simply great fires to spectacles with fireworks and explosives including fireballs. And in 1657 Samuel Clarke’s ‘England Remembrancer invoked the happenings of the plot. 

After Charles II Restoration in 1660, Samuel Pepys wrote in his diary “This 5th of November is observed exceeding well in the City; and at night great bonfires and fireworks.” The next years up until the year of the Great Fire in 1666 (which was for a short time also blamed on the catholics) he also mentioned Bonfires and festivities which shows us the normality of these celebrations by this time. On one occasion he is driving home with his wife after going to see Macbeth “forced to go round by London-Wall home because of the bonefires.”

Celebrations of the 5th became larger and intense rather than festive after the brother of Charles II Duke of York publicly declared to be a Catholic. This was followed by the Exclusion Crisis to exclude the him from the throne because he was Roman Catholic. When the Tory’s started to declare being agains the Exclusion, this created probably one of the first bonfire night riots. In 1682 the 5th fell on a sunday so celebrations started on monday the 6th. Reputedly crowds of people took to the streets attacking Tories and shouting their support for the King’s bastard son, the Duke of Monmouth, who was Protestant. This Bonfire night, it was not a celebration of the failed Gunpowder Plot, it was a warning and objection against the possibility of being ruled by a Catholic king.

The next year on the 5th, bonfires and fireworks were banned to keep the calm. But you know what, two years later James did succeed Charles and England had a Catholic King… Needless to say that the Bonfire night celebrations were forbidden although the ‘Gunpowder Treason-Day’ church service remained.

Under the rule of  James’ daughter Mary Stuart and her Protestant husband William of Orange, the celebrations of the 5th commenced and got entwined with the restoration of the Protestant religion in England by William of Orange. That double meaning didn’t stick though and years after this, it was forgotten and the 5th was yet again a celebration of the failing of the Gunpowder Plot.
Gunpowder Treason-Day’ church sermons changed each year, always highlighting another political event. Leaving the people a reason to take to the streets each year.

By the 18th century the festivities on the ‘fifth’ became less and less fuelled by hatred against Catholics and more about other political issues. The Catholic Relief Acts of 1778 and 1791 made life easier for Catholics, granting them the same rights as Protestants. Of course this sparked resistance leading to a week of rioting in 1780. But eventually the Catholics emancipated, helped by the Irish situation, with Catholic Irish members of Parliament. Of course in Ireland the troubles between the Irish Catholics and English Protestants remained.

Another change happened to the Bonfire night celebrations when anti-catholicism became less acceptable. By the early 19th century effigies of the pope were no longer burnt and the crowds needed another figure to ‘blame’. Strangely enough that figure became Guy Fawkes, the person who was least named in contemporary writings about the Treason and Plot. Although Guy Fawkes is mostly remembered on Bonfire night today, it was Robert Catesby who was chief instigator of the Gunpowder Plot (read my previous post to learn more of the plot).

So why did our Guy Fawkes become the figure of Bonfire Night? We can of course not say for certain why, but in 1793 just before the turn of the century, a play was performed at the Royal Haymarket Theatre. The prelude in one act was entitled: Guy Fawkes or The Fifth of November. In 1835 a comic pantomime called Harlequin and Guy Fawkes: or the 5th of November was performed in London’s Covent Garden. Many different stories about the Gunpowder Plot were told in plays after that, maybe the truth drifted away and the name Guy Fawkes just sounded best in playwright, maybe it was because he was discovered with the gunpowder…

But now Guy Fawkes has become the Gunpowder Plot, and the night of the fifth got often referred to as ‘Guy Fawkes night‘. He became the new face of the tradition, the scapegoat of the Plot, the symbol of opposition and disapproval.

Our story takes more turns in the 19th century with Bonfire night celebrations turning violent and dark. Victorian times saw the coming of a different sort of celebration, a night of rioting and criminal behaviour. A night when the honest should stay indoors and the dangerous ruled the streets.
The processions of ‘the night of the fifth’ would be fired with local social issues of politics and religion. They became manifestations, uprise agains local authorities and they became so dangerous and organised that they needed another organised organisation to contain them. So the police force grew to counter the protesters.

Today we live in a time with organised demonstrations, approved by the local authorities and contained for the safety of the protesters as well as the opponents and those who have nothing to do with it. But when the demonstrations do get ugly today, we see Guy Fawkes appear in the crowds…

Much like in the early 19th century plays about the Gunpowder Plot, a movie was made from a 1980’s graphic novel in 2005. ‘V for Vendetta’ is set in a near-future dystopian society in England, with the main character being ‘V’ a man wearing a Guy Fawkes mask, who wants to destroy the corrupt fascist regime and its leaders. One of the authors of the graphic novel commented that “The Guy Fawkes mask has now become a common brand and a convenient placard to use in protest against tyranny – and I’m happy with people using it, it seems quite unique, an icon of popular culture being used this way.” By many political groups the film was seen as an allegory of oppression by government. Anarchists, libertarians and activists of any kind have used the Guy Fawkes mask in their demonstrations after the movie came out. It has been seen in demonstrations agains the G8 summit and in other economical and political protest. It has become the emblem of anonymity and dissent.

The ‘Guy’ has gained another face, 400 years after he was just one pawn of the Gunpowder Plot. He has now become the face of disappointed people, the face disapproval in modern times. The face saying, we have had enough… For now at least.

On to the food part of this post. Bonfire
societies organise the Bonfire parades now in a safe and family
friendly manner. The streets of Lewes particularly are the place to be
for elaborate bonfire displays. People watch the parade and the fireworks and look forward to warming their hands on hot food and drink.
For this years bonfire night I give you two ways with bangers which are perfect for bonfire night celebrations at home. Toad in the hole is a traditional meat & batter pudding dish that evolved from the Yorkshire pudding-type puddings and other types of fired pudding.
It is bound to be a success with the little ones as who doesn’t love a good old proper sausage. The other dish is a banger jacket potato, an easy dish that even the most inexperienced cook could make. The potato just needs time to cook in the oven so do that in advance. It’s a perfect little bomb of warmth when you are planning to do some bonfiring of your own in the garden!

Toad in the hole

 

  • good quality sausages, 3 or 4
  • a few sprigs of rosemary (optional)

For the batter

  • 280 ml milk
  • 110 g plain flour
  • a pinch of salt
  • 3 medium eggs

preheat your oven to max 250° C
Fry your sausages in sunflower oil in a pan until nearly done
Pour 1 cm of sunflower oil into a baking stray or cake tin and place in the middle of the hot oven.
Place a larger tray underneath in case the oil drips over, you don’t want extra cleaning afterwards
Make your batter in the manner of making pancake batter
When your oil is hot, you will see as it will be spitting, arrange your sausages into place along with the oil you still have in your pan from frying your bangers
Carefully but swiftly pour the batter into the hot oil, stick in the rosemary sprigs and close the oven door. Bake for 20-25 minutes until puffed up and nicely colored.

Serve with mustard, braised red cabbage, jacked potato or mashed potato and caramelised onions if you like

To braise red cabbage

  • red Cabbage
  • a cooking apple, cubed ( for a football size cabbage you need 1 large cooking apple)
  • a teaspoon of cinnamon

Cut your cabbage very finely, and heat some butter in a pan.
Add your cabbage and apple and braise, adding a little water when needed.
When soft, spice with a little honey and cinnamon
Serve warm, o so good with sausages

—————————————————————————————————-
Jacket potato bangers

For the potato

  • 1 potato per person You need a floury kind like a Maris Piper, King Edward, or for Belgians ‘Bintje frietaardappel’
  • +- 20g coarse sea salt
  • good quality sausages
  • 3 onions, braised and caramelised

Wash the potatoes and let them dry
Preheat your oven to 220° C
Put your salt in a tray and roll each potato in the salt and rub it in
Prick your potato with a toothpick a few times to prevent them bursting
Place the potatoes straight on the rack in the middle of the oven
Bake for 1 hour, then squeeze the potato slightly to see if it appears soft inside, if that doesn’t appear so, place back in the oven for another 15-30 minutes.
When the potatoes are nearly ready or when you are about to have dinner caramelise some onions, add one teaspoon of pomegranate molasse of balsamic vinegar, whatever you prefer and let it become nice and sticky. You could do this in advance too and just cook the sausages when you need them.
Finally fry your sausages in oil or butter, I prefer butter and oil in this case. Finish them off with 10 min in the oven along with your potatoes to heat them up again or on their final bake.
Then cut into the potato, add some of that caramelised onion, add a banger and serve!
Also very good with braised red cabbage.

Pudding!
Last years Bonfire parkin might take your fancy, find the recipe here >

Bonfire Parkin

What are you doing for bonfire night?

Iconic British Brands – Twinings Tea

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Mr Stephen Twining

On a Tuesday morning which felt like midday after a visit to London’s fish market, Stephen Twining made me my first cup of tea of the day.
The name of the tea maker really gives away the reason why I made a note of that first cup of tea in my diary. Stephen Twining is the tenth generation of the Twining tea family, a legacy that was started 308 years ago and helped shape this nation of tea drinkers.
Stepping back those 308 years in time, there were over 2000 coffee houses in London. To stand out in this saturated market, one had to do things slightly different. Thomas Twining opened up shop in a London that was going through vast changes after the Great Fire of 1660 destroyed most of the city. Looking at the shop which is still holding strong at The Strand, it looks like the building is squeezed in but it was actually one of the first to be there. The shop used to stand at a corner which made it easy for high class ladies – who weren’t allowed into the coffee shops as they were considered masculine territory – to drive their carriages to the side and send their footmen in to buy the tea that had the reputation of being the finest of them all. Because of this increasing amount of interest in buying his teas, Thomas realised that he was actually more a blender of tea and started to market his business as such. Sadly there were no copyrights in the 17th century and so his blends, and those he created especially for lords and ladies, were being copied by others. Today there is only one personal blend left, which is the closely guarded secret of the Queens tea.

The Twining Family played an important part in Britain becoming a tea drinking – devouring – nation when Richard Twining, grandson of Thomas, and head of the tea trade, persuaded Prime Minister William Pitt to lower the then high levels of duty. He argued that, revenues would be greater if taxation would be lower. Tea at that moment in history was a privilege only available to the most well-to-do of society and so important that it was high on the political agenda. The Communication Act of 1784 lowered tea taxes and made it affordable to all those who wanted it in their cup. This made tea finally a part of everyday life.

Nothing would be the same after that and tea became the most consumed beverage in Britain and still remains so to this day. Twinings received the Royal Warrant for tea from the young Queen Victoria in 1837, the Victorian era was an important time in the changing rituals of tea drinking. Tea caddies were being produced, one finer than the other and the key would be in the hands of the lady of the house, marking her status.

 

When visiting Twinings and having a pleasant conversation with Stephen Twining over that cup of tea he made me, he showed me his collection of antique tea caddies. I am looking for one myself and he showed me how to spot the read deal in tea caddies. After my cup is finished there is more tea drinking as I am there to learn about tea and how to taste it properly. Philippa is one of the 12 Master Blenders of Twinings with 19 years of service and counting. She explains that tea varies so much that to create for example an English breakfast, it can contain up to 40 different types of tea to create the flavour that is needed. Twinings have built big relationships with their growers and have been working with the same ones for years. Being a family business, which they clearly still are, they value the people they work with.

 

Slurping away, the sound of the Master Blender

The Master Blenders go through about 400 to 600 cups of tea a day and each box of tea is checked. To become a Master Blender it takes five years of training after which you will receive your own tasting spoon engraved with your name. To taste tea like they do, they use their spoon to slurp the tea. Philippa clearly has had her training as when I try to mimic her ‘slurp’ I really can’t do it as vigurously as she does.

Tom Frances, the flavour expert, works closely with Philippa and the other Master Blenders and looks at trends that might be useful in creating new teas. They explain that some teas are only available for two or three weeks as tea is very seasonal. All black teas start their lives as green teas as the leaves are oxidised by leaving them out to dry.

 

Tom, flavour expert

What is the difference really?
Green tea is unoxidised, to stop is from going black it is being warmed to kill the enzymes that react to the air and make it into black tea. The leaves are then rolled and often steamed.
Black tea is oxidised by leaving them to dry with air pumped into the room so the enzymes can turn the tea black
White tea is the least processed tea, picked in the morning when the dew has just evaporated. On a fine day the leaves are left outside for a few hours to dry and then the leaves are rolled if needed as usually this isn’t required.

First tea to taste is a 2013 ‘first flush’ Darjeerling. This is tea made from the first picking after winter and the plant has been dormant. The taste will never be the same again as it all depends on the year, and weather. The end of the Darjeerling season is marked with the arrival of the Monsoon.
Because Darjeerling is so precious, and therefore expensive, it is often diluted by other tea manufacturers to keep cost down. Twinings only uses pure Darjeerling in its blends.
The second tea today is Ceylon Silver Tips, made from the unopened leaf buts. The buts have a light fur which gives the tea notes of peach and hay. On to the Osmanthus Green, hand rolled with osmanthus flowers the tea is floral and aromatic. The showstopper of the day must be the Yin Shan Tien Hua, a tea which is basically a chrysanthemum flower blossoming open in the water. It doesn’t only look the part, it is also very enjoyable.
The last teas of the day are the new trends, sweet teas which have natural flavours. They aren’t my cup of tea but they do taste alright compared to other sweet teas I’ve tasted before.

I leave the shop with the knowledge that this iconic British company, however large, is still a family business, not only for the Twining family but also the people who are also a part of it, the Master Blenders, the flavour experts and the people on the shop floor. I like the fact that so much thought goes into the teas and that they value their relationships with the growers. The fact that they have so much respect for their heritage makes them a firm favourite of mine.

Update: As the question was asked in the comment section on where to buy Twinings Tea if you can’t visit The Strand shop in London: Have a look on the shop online here >

The original shop on The Strand, London.

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Don’t forget to leave a comment!

 

Hopping down in Kent – Hop brandy

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While driving through the rolling Kentish countryside I can’t help but shout out ‘Oast house’ when I spot the somewhat fairytale like conical rooftops of the hop kilns. I nurture my inner child with my endless enthusiasm for things other people might not even notice anymore.

These monuments of agricultural industrialisation were used for drying the freshly picked green hop flowers. They usually had two or three storeys, some with perforated floors on which the hops were spread out. On the ground flour was a charcoal-fired oven spreading warm air through the kiln which is permitted to pass through the perforated floors to dry the hops. The white wooden cowl on the roof rotates with the wind to allow air to circulate and moisture to escape to prevent mould. Although we are more used to seeing round Oast houses, the kilns started out square shaped. The earliest example dates back to the mid 1700’s and can be found in Cranbrook.

Hops
have been grown in Britain since the the late 15th century and probably
even earlier. They were introduced to Britain from Flanders where
hopped beer had become the fashion. Hops don’t only add bitterness to
beer but also act as a natural preservative. In the early Victorian era
hop growing became the most important industry in Kent as tastes changed
from un-hopped ale to more bitter beer.
The
need for hops was especially great due to the late Georgian law
forbidding the use of any other ingredients than hops and malt in beer. A
year after the law was approved, the drum roaster -used to roast malt-
was invented by Daniel Wheeler. By roasting the malt the brewers could
legally give extra flavouring and colouring to the beer by creating very
dark, roasted malt for the use in Porters and Stouts.

 

Of course those large amounts of hops needed to be picked and so each september the destitute families from London and sometimes even further away, came ‘hopping down to Kent’. If they were not completely pennyless, they could afford the ticket for the ‘Hop pickers Special’ train which left from London Bridge. If they were too poor, they had to walk to Kent. For six weeks they would live on site in hop huts to help with the hop harvest. Although the work was rough, it was a time especially the children looked forward to all year. Hop picking in Kent was a welcome change from the slums is which most of these families lived. And although the hop huts were far from luxury, it was still a welcome breath of fresh air compared to the miserable fog in London. Most of the time it would only be the woman and children who came to pick the hops. Unless if they were unemployed, the men stayed behind in the cities and worked at their jobs in the factories and the docks. The money the woman earned by hop picking was often the only pot of money they could truly manage themselves. Back in the city they would be lucky if their husbands wages weren’t spent on ale every payday.

Hop picking in Kent in this way continued until far in the 1960s, even after the introduction of the first machines. To this day, hop pickers still arrive in the Kentish hop gardens by the beginning of autumn, although now they come from much further places usually Eastern Europe. British labourers are too expensive to hire and usually don’t want to do the work. Hop picking is now far from the ‘Londoners’ holiday’ it was ones considered.

To have a peek in a hop garden, stay tuned for my next post where I will also be cooking with hops.

Today I bring you Hop brandy, a drink not very historical as I haven’t been able to find any reference to it in my books and online. It was my teacher in beer class who told us he brews a bottle of hop brandy once and a while and I got intrigued.
It’s is not safe to brew beer from wild hops, hops need to be tested for certain compounds to be ok to brew with.

Hop brandy

What do you need

Hops, I used Kentish Goldings, enough to fill your bottle of choice
A bottle of Eau de vie, Jenever or another flavourless grain alcohol

Method

Finding your hops will be trickiest part, I used beautiful Kentish Goldings which I ordered from a farm. Let me know if you need the email address of the hop farm. 200 grams left me with quite a large bag.
Back to the recipe, sort out the prettiest flowers and put them in your bottle all the way to the top.
Fill the bottle completely, leave to mature for a few months.

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Gunpowder, treason and bonfire parkin

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The fifth of november, remember?

One of the most intriguing of English traditions to me is Bonfire night. Otherwise known as Guy Fawkes night it is a feast that commemorates the failing of a plot by Roman Catholic conspirators to blow up the House of Parliament in London killing the Protestant King James in the process.

Although Guy Fawkes is mostly remembered on this occasion, it was Robert Catesby who was chief instigator of the Gunpowder Plot. Catesby turned against the government of Elizabeth I when his father along with so many others Catholics, was prosecuted for refusing to conform to the Church of England. When Elizabeth I died, James – son of the Catholic Mary Queen of Scots – came to the throne which gave the Roman Catholics new hope for greater religious freedom. When this hope turned pear shaped the English Catholics plotted to put Arbella Stuart on the throne, she was Catholic, James’ cousin and a major claimant to the throne of England having both Tudor and Stuart bloodlines. Arbella always stayed close to the throne but never became queen, by blood she had a larger claim to succession and she became known as the ‘Queen that never was’.

The seed to the Gunpowder plot however was planted nearly a century earlier by another Tudor, Henry VIII. When he issued the Act of Supremacy which declared him head of the Church of England to be able to divorce the first of his six wives, he started a century of violent religious turmoil. Henry’s Church of England wasn’t initially Protestant but his son Edward VI instituted more Protestant reforms. Mary I, being Henry’s daughter with his Catholic wife whom he divorced to marry Elizabeth’s mother Anne, was a Catholic and tried to restore the Catholic faith. She started her five year bloody reign by reviving the laws against heresy and was hated for it. The result was the persecution of Protestant rebels and the execution of some 300 heretics. Elizabeth’s accession to the throne on Mary’s death was greeted with enormous jubilation from the people. Yet again the Roman Catholics were facing persecution and the plotting to replace Elizabeth I with Mary Queen of Scots began.

 

This brings us back to Mary’s son James and the infamous Gunpowder treason and plot.
On the 5th of november 1605 Guy Fawkes was apprehended while guarding 36 barrels of gunpowder in the cellar under the house of Parliament. How they found out about the gunpowder in the cellar leads to speculation but it is presumed that someone from within the circle of conspirators of the plot warned someone to stay away from parliament on the 5ft. After his apprehension Fawkes was tortured to give up the names of his accomplices.
The signature on his confession after who knows how many hours – days – of torture is somewhat shaky but you can clearly make out his name. This confession however is said not to show all the names of those involved. The confession believed to be signed one day later shows all the names and the signature is that of a broken, beaten and suffering man. The letters are barely coming together, you can faintly see the name Guido but I guess the surname was too much. It is some what disturbing to see his handwriting change in such a manner but it is quite remarkable that these documents were saved.
Guy (or Guido) Fawkes was executed along with several of his conspirators after being tried for high treason januari 1606. the sentence was hanging, drawing and quartering.
Parliament passed and act that called for the 5th of november to be celebrated as a joyful day of deliverance. There are a lot of rhymes associated with this day and although the earliest is said to date back to 1742, I have not found the source and therefore can not believe it to be accurate. The rhyme ‘Remember Remember the 5th of november’ adapted by for movie V for Vendetta has however been in practice for decades.

Pennies for the Guy

To this day the Houses of Parliament are still traditionally searched by the Yeomen of the Guard just before the State Opening which was the day on which the plot was discovered. Straw or cloth effigies of Fawkes called ‘Guys’ are often made by youngsters and carried around displaying them to passers-by asking for ‘A penny for the Guy’ and often they are burned in the bonfire celebrations. Food is a big part of the tradition today with bonfire toffee, toffee apples and spicy parkin cakes. A parkin is a sticky ginger cake from the north of England and because Guy Fawkes was a Yorkshireman it has since been associated with bonfire night.

My research into bonfire night continues and I am sure next year I will have plenty more to share with you. I want to look deeper into the links with pagan rites and folklore.

But for now this will have to do and I leave you with a parkin.
After quite a few recipes tested, some over a 100 years old and some new, I came to this one and think it makes an enjoyable cake. In the parkin you see in the pictures of this post I used porridge oats, they were too rough so I changed the recipe to medium oatmeal. How this recipe turned out you can see the picture that comes after the recipe, this one I took just before dark so excuse the messy picture, I had to be quick about it.
If you are lucky enough to be in England next weekend when the large bonfires will be lid, I wish you loads of fun and plenty of food and booze to keep you going.

Toffee apples


If you want to make the toffee apples, check out this recipe here >
I just replaced the lollypop sticks with branches from a tree in my garden, looks ever so pretty.

Bonfire parkin

What do you need

For 9 squares

  • 100 g (3ó oz) rolled oats (see page 16)
  • 200 g (7 oz) golden syrup or maple syrup
  • 45 g (1ó oz) Lyle’s black treacle or molasses
  • 200 g (7 oz) butter
  • 200 g (7 oz) oat flour
  • 2 tsp bicarbonate of soda (baking soda)
  • 2 tsp ground ginger
  • 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
  • 1 egg
  • 2 tbsp whisky or milk
  • pinch of sea salt

Method

For a 20 cm (8 inch) square cake tin

Preheat your oven to 160°C (320°F) and prepare the cake tin (see page 21).

Briefly pulse the oats in a food processor fitted with the blade attachment.

Heat the golden syrup, black treacle and butter in a saucepan until melted and combined. Set aside to cool for a few minutes, then add the chopped oats and the

remaining ingredients. Combine well with a wooden spoon or spatula. Spread the mixture into the cake tin.

Bake for 50–60 minutes and then cool in the tin. When the cake is cold, cut it into squares and pack it in an airtight container to rest for at least a day before serving.

The cake gets stickier and more moist every day and can last for 2 weeks if you can hide it for that long.

Enjoy!

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