* * * * *
The first of 21 days of A Chicken Joke A Day
Because…
It’s the silly season.
Our feathered ladies have been neglected too long here in blogville.
* * * * *
*From the first Christmas Cracker of the season.
Recipe catch up: Part 3 November 13, 2010
Or how to accidentally eat one’s body weight in rice in one day:
Lunch – Due to tragedy of zero leftovers at home, eat emergency cafeteria lunch of sushi hand rolls
Dinner – Scarf down large amount of heavenly chilli eggplant, with rice
Afternoon tea -
Rice Pudding Pie
otherwise known as Tamara Milstein’s Torta di Riso, from her very excellent book Bake Your Cake & Eat It Too
120 grams of rice flour
130 grams of plain flour
50 grams of pistachio kernels
70 grams of brown sugar
100 grams of white sugar
220 grams of butter, cold
2 large eggs
750 mls of full fat milk
160 grams of arborio rice
4 egg yolks
zest of 1 large lemon
2 tablespoons of almond flakes/slivers
1/2 a teaspoon of ground nutmeg
1/2 a teaspoon of ground cinnamon
Put the rice flour, plain flour, pistachios, and a pinch of salt in your food processor.
Whizz until the nuts are roughly chopped.
Add the brown sugar, 120 grams of the butter and 1 egg.
Whizz until combined.
Remove the dough and knead very briefly, just to bring it together.
Shape into a disc, wrap in clingfilm and refrigerate for at least half an hour.
Put the milk and rice in a medium saucepan with a pinch of salt. Bring to the boil, then simmer for half an hour or until the rice is tender and the milk absorbed. Set aside to cool slightly.
In a small bowl, combine 75 grams of the white sugar, 50 grams of the remaining butter, the 4 egg yolks, lemon zest and almonds and mix very well.
Stir this mixture into the rice.
Preheat your oven to 180 degrees celsius (160 fan forced)
Butter a 22cm springform cake tin.
Get your pastry out of the fridge. Roll it out between two sheets of baking paper, rolling until it is about 5mm thick and large enough to line the entire cake tin.
Carefully line the tin, patching any torn or split areas.
Pour the rice mixture into the pastry shell.
In a small bowl, combine the remaining egg, butter and sugar with the nutmeg and cinnamon.
Drizzle this over the surface of the rice mixture. You can gently swirl it in with a fork to spread it across the whole cake.
Bake for 45-60 minutes, or until nicely set and golden.
Allow to cool in the tin, then gently remove to slice and serve.
We ate this cool and by itself, which was super tasty. But I suspect it would be even lovelier with some cream whipped up with a smidge of nutmeg. And it may be drawing a long bow to suggest that this falls within Loophole number 3, but we did have an awful lot of rice in the cupboard. Surely it can’t last forever?
Recipe catch up: Part 2 November 12, 2010
Loophole number 4: The Weather
Or, a hard-earned thirst needs a big, cold bowl of…
Mango Lime Sorbet
4 large, ripe mangoes
4 limes
100 grams of sugar
1 egg white, lightly beaten until frothy
Squeeze the limes, straining out the pips and pith.
In a small saucepan, bring the lime juice and sugar to the boil, then simmer for a few minutes. Set aside to cool.
Chop up your mangoes, discarding the skin and seeds.
Whizz the mangoes in a blender or food processor.
Add the sugar syrup and whizz a little more.
Transfer the mixture to your ice-cream machine.
Churn until cold and beginning to thicken.
Pause the churning and add the frothy egg white.
Churn until thickened enough to scoop.
Fine to eat straight away, but can be stored in a 1.5l, airtight container.
Eat on its own, or with chunks of fresh mango, or spoonfuls of passionfruit, or both, and a bit of vanilla ice cream. Whichever way, it’s good.
The Ghost of Chocolate fixes past November 3, 2010
Trying to get at the keyboard under the mound of random stuff on our desk, I unearthed two recipe books. When I got over the distracted drooling and planning for desserts of the future (coconut mousse! dondurma kaymalki!), I remembered I had dumped them here to post from. Apparently two weeks ago I must have been on some kind of quest to plough through as many 250 gram blocks of Whittaker’s 72% as I could get my hands on. And who can blame me?
Unadulterated Brownies
courtesy of the Hummingbird Bakery Cookbook, largely unphotographed due to general rushedness and distraction
200 grams of dark eating chocolate, roughly chopped
175 grams of unsalted butter
325 grams of caster sugar
130 grams of plain flour
3 eggs
icing sugar to dust
Preheat your oven to 170 degrees celsius (150 fan forced).
Butter and line a brownie tin (I use a square cake tin, from which I get about 16 brownies, 12 if I’m feeling greedy)
Melt the chocolate and butter gently in a bowl over just simmering water. Stir occasionally until smooth.
Remove from the heat.
Add sugar and stir to combine.
Add the flour and stir to combine.
Add the eggs and mix until thick and smooth.
Spread into the prepared tin and bake for about 30 minutes. They should be just dry on top but still soft in the middle. Less is always more for brownies.
Leave to cool, dust with icing sugar and eat.
These are a dense, fudgy delight. One is never enough. And you can eat them with…
Very Chocolate Ice Cream
courtesy of Joanna Farrow and Sara Lewis’s ice ceam and iced desserts
4 egg yolks
6 tablespoons of sugar
1 teaspoon of cornflour
350 mls of full fat milk
350 mls of thickened cream
250 grams of dark eating chocolate
Put the egg yolks, sugar and cornflour in a medium bowl.
Whisk until thick and foamy.
Prepare a bowl over a bowl of iced water. Set aside.
Pour the milk into a medium saucepan and bring it just to the boil.
Gradually whisk the milk into the egg mixture.
Return the mixture to the saucepan and cook over a low heat, stirring continually until thick enough to coat the back of your wooden spoon.
No wonder I was making ice-cream…how gorgeous was the weather? And how idyllic the view from our stove. I love finding photos like this, a reminder of the moments of domestic contentedness that make up for all the ragged, weary, shouty times.
Take off the heat and pour into the bowl that you’ve set aside.
Break up 210 grams of the chocolate and stir this into the custard until melted.
Set aside while it cools.
Whisk the cream into soft peaks and fold into the chocolate custard mixture.
Churn in an ice-cream machine (begged, borrowed, stolen, owned, just grab one somehow) until scoopable.
Chop the remaining 40 grams of chocolate as roughly or finely as you prefer and throw into the ice cream machine at the last minute. Churn for a few minutes to combine.
Transfer to a 1.5 litre airtight container and freeze for a few hours.
This requires no further description. Just eat it.
Sunshine in a 1 litre tub October 29, 2010
The small one has gone right off the idea of day sleeps. Usually I’d be typing this in a heavy-fingered tone of grimness, but not today. Who cares! Who can blame him! The sun is shining mightily down on faux-farmville. Hens are clucking happily and laying up a storm. Plants are growing. The windows are open and a breeze is swirling through the house pleasantly, cooling but not door-slammingly strong. Small and I are smeared with sunscreen and coated in dirt. Our feet are bare, padding over a floor that is a little bit sticky from dropping spoonfuls of this:
Lemon Passion Sorbet
1 cup of sugar
1 1/4 cups of water
4 eureka lemons, well scrubbed
2 egg whites
The pulp of 5-6 passionfruit
Put the sugar and water in a medium saucepan and bring to a gentle boil, stirring occasionally.
As it starts to boil, peel the lemons thinly over the pan, dropping the rind into the sugar syrup.
Turn the heat down to a simmer while you juice the lemons.
Add the lemon juice to the sugar syrup and leave to simmer for a few more minutes.
Strain into a bowl and allow to cool for at least ten minutes.
In the meantime, whisk the eggwhites until just frothy.
Now, churn the syrup in your ice-cream machine until thick and opaque.
Add the eggwhites and continue to churn for ten to fifteen minutes. The sorbet will magically expand and become white as white can be.
Transfer to a container (at least 1 litre capacity) and swirl the passionfruit pulp through. Freeze.
More defiant baking: Part one October 14, 2010
If I’ve been out and about during the day, far from the kitchen and thoughts of dessert planning, I sometimes think to myself ‘Ah well, perhaps we don’t need dessert tonight. Perhaps I can just have a cup of tea and maybe a teensy piece of chocolate or twelve’. I’m almost convinced of this. Until about seven thirty pm. Then I get completely distracted, eyes glazing over, while I compile a mental list of potential dessert ingredients. Then I start grilling the beloved:
If I was making pudding, what would you want?
Don’t want pudding, am busy.
But if I was and you did, what would you want? (such a stupid question, beloved cannot understand the overwhelming need to make something different and will invariably suggest making these chocolate fondants)
Don’t want pudding. Thought you weren’t baking today? WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT BAKING? I’M WATCHING MY STORIES!!
What about something with cherries?
NO BAKING! STORIES! CHERRIES BAH!!
Lemon?
Gah. Can’t you just make chocolate fondants?
Hmmm. Lemon. Something quick and lemony? Lemon delicious? No. Boring. Lemon lemon lemon.
…muttering… fondant fondant fondant
Hah! Lemon fondants! Would still need chocolate. Hmmm. White chocolate?
Ugh.
That’s it! White chocolate and lemon fondants! (could be way too sweet, but worth a shot)
8pm Puddings
300 grams of white chocolate (at least 35% cocoa butter: ie. Green & Black’s or Whittaker’s)
75 grams of unsalted butter, at room temperature
75 grams of brown sugar
40 grams of plain flour
6 eggs of various sizes*
Zest and juice of a lemon
Preheat your oven to 180 degrees celsius (160 fan forced).
Butter six ramekins/small cups/small glasses.
Gently melt the chocolate in a heatproof bowl over just simmering water. Set aside to cool a little.
Put the butter, sugar, flour and eggs into a food processor and whizz until combined and smooth.
Add the zest and juice and whizz to incorporate.
With the processor running, add the melted chocolate in a continuous stream.
Divide the batter evenly between the six ramekins.
Bake for 8-9 minutes.
You can prepare these up to two days in advance. Just cover and chill the filled ramekins before the baking stage. I usually do this if I’m only baking for the beloved and I – bake two at first and the remaining four can be plucked out and baked as we like for snacks and whatnot. When you cook them, increase the baking time to about 12 minutes.
Turn out the puddings into bowls and top with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream.
Dig in…with the first spoonful, the shell of the pudding will burst and molten pudding will ooze out deliciously.
The verdict: almost there, but not quite perfect. The balance of white chocolate to lemon needs to swing more to the lemon for my liking, to balance out the white chocolatey sweetness – next time I would add the zest of two more lemons. I would also use Whittaker’s white chocolate instead of Green & Black’s – the vanilla isn’t needed here and adds unnecessarily to the sweetness. We still have four in the fridge waiting to be baked, so I’m going to cook up some lemon curd this afternoon and try one with that for some added lemony oomph. Watch this space…
* 
In exciting news, Betty is back on the lay after two months of concentrated chick-raising. Pictured (back left) are the shells of two of her gorgeous little eggs. Darker than Lola’s creamy shelled eggs (back right) and Mrs P’s bright white delights (front), Betty’s eggs are light brown, slightly glossy and oblong, with compact golden yolks and very viscous whites.
One October 6, 2010
Seven am, small awake and break-dancing on my pillow. At least we’re not calling it six am any more. Kettle on. Small playing with noisiest toy in whole house. The blue cow says moo. The blue cow says moo. The blue cow says moo. The blue cow says moo. The blue cow says moo. Sodding cow. Should we be teaching small that cows are blue? Nope, don’t care. Must remember to do things on list today. Ring someone. Who? Where is list? Not that list. Other list. Why is beloved pretending to be dead under the doona? Make small’s breakfast of hated porridge extra loudly. Success. Breakfast. Drop in on LMF for tea and mini-playdate. Drink tea in LMF’s yard in glorious sunshine. Small hijacks her work phone and sends random blank messages to her clients. To shops. Unsuccessful attempt at buying food or a wedding gift. Home. Wedge spoonfuls of mystery mash into small’s mouth while he tries desperately to pull my top off. He breastfeeds like he’s not been fed for days. He sleeps. Still no sign of list. Pay a bill? Cook something? Yes! Food for a friend, another LMF, who’s just had her fourth baby. Macaroni cheese. Brownies. Soul food for the breastfeeding mama. Find letter reminding me to re-enrol in deferred university course. Will I have time to study next year? Small awake, trying to climb up me to plunge his hands into all the pots on the stove. Pouring rain. Chickens all huddled under one shrub. Overgrown chicks trying in vain to squeeze under Betty’s wings. Very entertaining. Alarm going off? Oh, brownies.
Brownies for the Breastfeeding Mama (and her children)
200 grams of dark eating chocolate
125 grams of unsalted butter
1/2 a cup of brown sugar
2 eggs
1 cup of almond meal
1/4 of a cup of plain flour
160 grams of dark eating chocolate, chopped roughly
80 grams of flaked almonds
Preheat your oven to 180 degrees celsius (160 fan forced).
Grease and line a square tin.
In a medium saucepan, melt the 200 grams of dark chocolate with the butter over low heat, stirring until smooth.
Take off the heat and allow to cool for ten minutes.
Stir in the sugar, eggs, almond meal and flour.
Stir in the chopped chocolate and flaked almonds.
Spread into the tin and bake for 25 minutes, until just firm to touch.
Allow to cool in the tin for ten to fifteen minutes.
Turn onto a wire rack. Turn again and dust with icing sugar.
Cut into as many pieces as you like.
Wrap brownies. Think for the hundredth time how useful it would be to have a big basket to carry food in. Must put that on list. Damn. The list. Ring who? Never mind. Everyone in car. Arrive at house of new baby. Baby is breastfeeding, on the brink of blissful sleep. Her older sisters and brother bounce about. Biggest sister carries small off to play. Tea with our friend. We chat about the uni course she has just finished, the same one I am procrastinating about. Hmm. That puts things in perspective.
Conflict resolution September 24, 2010
Management
The House
Faux-Farmville
Agnes D. Hen
HOPO
The Yard
Faux-Farmville
24th September, 2010
Dear Ms Hen,
We write pursuant to your letter, dated 17th September. Firstly, we regret to inform you that our planned Yard meeting has been postponed once again due to conflicting schedules. We hope to set a date in October that will suit all parties. However, in the interim we have several suggestions with regard to the grievances you have so comprehensively detailed.
We are disappointed to hear that you feel your position as HOPO is under threat. From our perspective, there is no other hen for the job. Mrs Poulawitska is clearly being a Pain in Your Wing, but she has neither the experience nor the competence to oust you. Obviously the job is not always going to be Grain and Dust Baths. There will be times when you need to take your title literally. Our advice: Peck hard and Peck often. A more drastic measure is Hypnosis, although clearly this should be a last resort. You may refer to The Yard Policy and Procedure manual to guide you through the process. Essentially you Wing The Offending Hen, pinning her beak to the ground, and scratch a line, extending from her beak into the distance. This should immobilise her for some time, enabling you to assert your authority and settle The Flock.
As for the junior members of The Flock, we require your patience and understanding for just a little longer. Their positions in The Yard are only temporary. Once their capabilities as Layers or Crowers are discerned, their contracts will be terminated and they will be redirected elsewhere. In the meantime do not feel compelled to keep tabs on them. Their adoptive mother is their immediate supervisor and we will not hold you responsible in the event of Attack or Abduction. We apologise for the disruption but caution that other temporary junior positions are likely to arise in the future. It is not always possible to negotiate far in advance, as the hens of your flock may Go Broody at any time.
Lastly, The Crow. We are acutely aware of The Flock’s distress and the need for action. Management has also felt the negative impact of the Crow keenly. Plans for a Scarecrow are on the table but, as you know, the wheels of bureaucracy grind slowly. To view and comment on the plans please contact our front desk and book a time. As an interim measure we commit to Active Pursuit of The Crow whensoever this is possible, as well as early and more frequent collection of Eggs.
We hope these suggestions assist you in working effectively as HOPO.
Yours in gratitude for your ongoing support of the Faux-Farmville Kitchen and Garden.
Management
Growing pains September 17, 2010
Agnes D. Hen
HOPO
The Yard
Faux-Farmville
Management
The House
Faux-Farmville
17th September, 2010
Dear Management,
I am writing this letter in reference to our recent conversation regarding my contract of employment here at Faux-Farmville. As mentioned, I have several issues to bring to your attention prior to our upcoming meeting.
Firstly, as per my existing contract – section 1, subsection ii – I will retain the HOPO (Head of Pecking Order) position until such a time as I elect to step down. In addition, as per subsection iv, my input will be considered in respect to filling the position after my retirement. For the past two months, my position as HOPO has been continually undermined, nay threatened, by one Mrs Poulawitska. Her threatening behaviour is becoming ever more difficult to ignore or manage. On several occasions she has taken advantage of the recent flock-split (the precedent for long-term union action, only recently resolved) to peck the inferior hens in a manner far above her station. She has been seen laying in the HOPO nest, charging at invaders WHEN I AM PRESENT and generally choosing to ignore my authority. Her behaviour towards the junior flock has been appalling, again undermining my authority with them. Punitive action is called for and management must act.
Which brings me to my second issue: the junior flock. Quite frankly I am deeply upset that the entirety of section 5 of my contract (dealing with flock expansion) has been disregarded by management. The terms of my contract clearly state that consultation must occur before flock expansion is instigated. Expansion increases my workload enormously and appropriate consultation prior to this action could have enabled planning for delegation. As things are, there is a great deal of role uncertainty leading, I feel, to the issues described above with Mrs P. As for the members of the junior flock, I am near at a loss for words. Initially all three were bearable, in a cutesy kind of way, spending most of their day tucked under their adoptive mother’s wings, heeding instruction and not interfering with the running of The Yard. In just four short weeks much has changed. Now in their tween weeks, they have the run of The Yard and are frequently seen willfully escaping the supervision of their adoptive mother. As a group they have no notion of sticking together under pressure and when emergencies occur they dash, at high speed, in three different directions. Without the ability to delegate to another suitable hen, situations like this are totally unmanageable. I simply cannot be in five places at once. I’m uncertain how this can be rectified without resorting to group expulsion.
My last, but by no means least, issue is the continuing problem of The Crow. Despite management’s awareness of this issue, seemingly nothing has been done to protect the product of our labours from this invader. Section 8, subsection iii of my contract states explicitly “If an invading presence persists in a manner beyond the control of the HOPO, management has a responsibility to take steps to assist in finding a solution”. The hens under my supervision can be quite fragile in temperament and morale is only weakened if they must bear witness to the cruel theft of their work. Confusion has reigned on many a day, as we try to ascertain whether Lola is Going Broody or just Guarding Her Egg from attack. As management is no doubt aware, there is such a thing as a Scare Crow. Does this not sound helpful? The finer details of purchasing/constructing such a thing are beyond my knowledge, but it CANNOT BE THAT HARD.
I look forward to our meeting, anticipating that together we can resolve these pressing issues.
Yours peckingly,
Agnes D. Hen
Second chance September 5, 2010
Persistent in her attempts to curb my baking enthusiasm, the beloved has come up with a new system. Rather than just arbitrarily slapping down an embargo when she gets to sugar overload (usually by midweek), she’s now issuing out baking passes like she’s some kind of kitchen border control. “Carrying unsalted butter? Sorry, you cannot cross the border. Refer to the terms of your multiple-visit visa…see? Section 3, subsection a/ii: Items that pertain directly or indirectly to the pursuit of creating baked goods cannot be carried into The Kitchen. Are you intending to carry out work that may lead to the combination – mechanically or manually – of sugar, butter, eggs and flour? If so, again I refer you to the terms of your current visa… Section 5, subsection c/ix: declaration of intent to bake without a valid pass will result in detention and/or confiscation of equipment. False declarations will lead to deportation from The Kitchen and the revoking of all previously held visa rights.”
A couple of loopholes have yet to be covered by this legislation, allowing baking if the resulting goods are to exit the house – untouched – within twelve hours of completion, or if the resulting goods are of a flavour/form/consistency that would never be willingly consumed – even when desperate – by the beloved. In the true style of all corrupt border control officials, the beloved can also override her own rules and just demand baked goods at any time. Luckily for me, the weekend swung around and I realised that all of this week’s baking has ‘somehow’ fallen within the loopholes, leaving me with one perfectly valid baking pass. To celebrate this and feed a friend (and fellow baking enthusiast) visiting from Canberra, I decided to delve into the pristine pages of Rose’s Heavenly Cakes.
This incredible book winged its way to me some months ago, a gift from the beloved’s sister. I have loved it dearly, all these months, even before I’d baked a single crumb from its pages. Not only is it photographed beautifully (which, let’s face it, accounts for 90% of the grade when you’re marking a potential new cookbook) but it is thorough. Really, really thorough. Ingredients are listed by name, volume, weight in pounds & ounces, weight in metric and temperature (in celsius and fahrenheit, naturally) at which they should be used. Instructions for a single cake cover several pages. There are planning ahead tips, so as not to find out five minutes before your guests arrive that your icing will need 2 hours to set. There is a little back-story for each cake. And yet, despite the slightly anal thoroughness, Rose doesn’t come across as preachy or terse. She’s not as dip-your-bosoms-in-it indulgent as Nigella, but I still find myself drooling a little over almost every recipe (Two Fat Cats Whoopie Pie anyone? Or perhaps some Baby Chocolate Oblivions?). So what has taken me so long to get going? Well, the sheer length of the recipes did give me pause, but it was mainly the size of the completed cakes. This weekend’s project serves 14-16 people and requires 17 eggs. Obviously they would be 14-16 people who don’t like cake as much as I do, but even so, 17 eggs is a big commitment – either save up for a long long time and be super vigilant against The Crow or (the horror) buy extra eggs. I bought the extra eggs.
Lemon Luxury Layer Cake
Get settled in, this won’t be quick. This recipe has three components: cake, lemon curd and buttercream. Either give yourself two days to complete this, or start really early in the morning. The cake is pretty straightforward, but must be completely cooled before it can be cut into layers. The lemon curd and the buttercream each need about a three-four hour jump on your predicted serving time.
You will need two cake tins of equal size (23cm, springform), a food thermometer (Rose recommends an instant-read sort, but I only have a milk-frothing one and that did the job), and a good amount of baking paper. An offset palette knife would be useful. I don’t have one.
Cake batter:
170 grams of white chocolate (I know, the hated white chocolate. Rose convinced me to hazard this recipe by specifying exactly what to look for in my white chocolate – information that would have been useful a couple of weeks ago – it should be at least 30% cocoa butter, ideally with vanilla, such as Green & Blacks or Whittakers)
112 grams of egg yolk, at room temperature (roughly 6 large)
242 grams of milk (1 cup)
1 1/2 teaspoons of vanilla extract
300 grams of plain flour
240 grams of caster sugar
4 1/4 teaspoons of baking powder
3/4 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon of lemon zest
128 grams of unsalted butter at 19-23 degrees celsius (room temperature, unless you’re a bit stingy with the heating, or if it’s the middle of summer)
Preheat your oven to 175 degrees celsius (160 fan forced)
Butter and line your cake tins
Chop the white chocolate and put it in a small heatproof bowl. Simmer some water in a small saucepan, then turn off the heat. Put the bowl over the saucepan, not letting the bottom of the bowl touch the water. Stir frequently until melted and smooth. Set aside to cool until no longer warm to touch, but still fluid in consistency.
In a medium bowl, whisk the egg yolks, 1/3 of the milk and the vanilla extract until just combined.
Using a freestanding mixer (ie Kenwood Chef/Mixmaster) on low speed, mix the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt and lemon zest for 30 seconds. Add the butter and the remaining milk. Mix on low speed until just combined, raise the speed to medium and mix for 1 1/2 minutes, scraping down the sides of the bowl with a spatula as necessary.
Gradually add the egg mixture to the batter, in three stages, mixing on medium speed for 20 seconds after each addition.
Add the melted chocolate and mix until well combined.
Spoon the batter into your prepared tins. Each tin will be just under half full. To be precise, use your scales and put ~600 grams of mixture into each tin.
Bake for 25-35 minutes. The cakes are done when golden, springy to touch and when an inserted skewer comes out clean.
Let the cakes cool in their tins for 10 minutes, then turn onto greased racks to cool completely.
Lemon Curd:
6 grams of lemon zest, finely chopped/grated
130 grams of egg yolk at room temperature (about 7 large)
225 grams of caster sugar
85 grams of unsalted butter at room temperature
141 grams of lemon juice, well strained
pinch of salt
Put the zest into a medium bowl and set it aside with a sieve over the top. Just before you start the curd, rest this bowl in another bowl with ice in it.
In a medium saucepan, whisk the egg yolks, sugar and butter until well combined. Whisk in the lemon juice and salt. The mixture will appear split – this is okay and won’t last. Cook over low-medium heat, stirring constantly with a silicone spatula, scraping down the sides frequently. Keep stirring until the mixture thickly coats the spatula but is still liquid enough to pour (a kind of plopping consistency). The mixture will become opaque and turn a golden yellowy-orange. Do not let it boil or it will curdle. Err on the side of lower temperature. This may take a bit longer, but you won’t stuff it up. When you are satisfied, pour it immediately through the sieve into the bowl with the zest. Allow to cool, stirring occasionally, for 30 minutes.
Divide the curd into two containers: 100 grams in one, to add to the buttercream and the rest in another. Cover tightly and refrigerate until cool (about three hours, or overnight is fine).
White Chocolate Lemon Buttercream, Part 1:
White Chocolate Custard base:
300 grams of white chocolate (as per above specifications), chopped
150 grams of unsalted butter at room temperature, chopped
200 grams of whole eggs (about 4 large), lightly beaten
In a large bowl, over just simmering water (again, don’t let the bottom of the bowl touch the water), melt the white chocolate and butter together, stirring until smooth.
Whisk the eggs into the mixture.
Continue whisking and heating until the mixture reaches 60 degrees celsius and is slightly thickened.
Remove from the heat and refrigerate, stirring every 15 minutes until the temperature has dropped to 21 degrees celsius.
Buttercream Part 2:
142 grams of unsalted butter
The White Chocolate Custard
The 100 gram portion of lemon curd
Using your freestanding mixer, beat the butter on medium speed until creamy. Gradually beat the white chocolate custard into the butter, scraping down the sides as necessary. Continue beating until stiff, creamy peaks form. Cover and set aside for about 1 hour (I had lunch and came back after about 40 minutes and that seemed fine)
Beat on high for 30 seconds, add the lemon curd and beat to just incorporate.
Putting it all together:
Cut your cooled cakes in half (horizontally, duh). This is not that tricky, just make sure you have plenty of bench space. Sliding two strips of baking paper under each piece will also help to maneuver them (you can pull the strips out from between the layers without dislodging much curd/buttercream at all).
Spread just under half the lemon curd on each of the bottom layers (leaving just a little left over). Spread not quite to the edges, the weight of the layers will push it further out.
Spread a little (~ a tablespoon) of buttercream on your serving plate (this stops the cake from lurching around)
Put a lower layer, spread with curd on the serving plate. Set an upper layer on top. Spread with about 1/2 a cup of buttercream, spreading not quite to the edges).
Put the next lower layer on top of this:
Set the final upper layer on the very top. Use the remaining buttercream to cover the top and sides of the cake:
Swirl the leftover lemon curd through the buttercream on the top of the cake:
Slice, serve and eat:
Do I need to say how good this tastes? I may have overdone the amount of buttercream on the top of the cake, but even so, it is truly lovely. Lemony, white-chocolatey and a cake that is dense but not at all dry.
Not only was it worthy of using up my baking pass, it has patched up the cracks in my relationship with the abominable white chocolate.
