I was helping out the Larder section at work the other day, shucking a dozen oysters, and a thought occured to me. Picture yourself sleeping in your cosy little caravan when all of a sudden there’s a godawful hammering sound coming from above. The roof of your caravan rips wide open, you find yourself flipped over in your bed and someone squirts some lemon in your eye.

How weird would that be? What a story to tell all your oyster buddies, if not for the fact that the lemon often signals your demise.

I had a few lemons left from the last time I baked a cake, and so decided to revisit an old favourite recipe. Lemon delicious pudding is one of those desserts that never seems to go out of fashion in most people’s minds. Of course, you might not have made it in awhile because like me, you’ve forgotten how good it tastes and how much you love it. It is one of those comforting treats I want to eat while snuggled up on the couch, watching Mad Men.

Instead of a big bowl of pudding that you scoop a portion out of however, these puddings I made today are petite individual serves that retain everything that is good about lemon delicious. It’s a clever little recipe that is unbelievably easy. During the cooking process, a layer of curdy lemon forms on what becomes the top of the pudding after unmolding, while the spongey pudding below is impossibly light and moist. If you don’t like lemon, you can even substitute the required juice for a similar amount of passionfruit juice or pulp.

Another good thing about this recipe is that you can make the puddings ahead of time and reheat them by placing them in a water bath when the dessert compartment in your stomach is calling out to be filled. So, I’m including the recipe (apologies for the cup and spoon measures, but I didn’t get round to converting them into grams as I normally would) because I think you really really should try them. Even for those enjoying a spot of Summer sunshine at the moment, this pudding can be celebrated with a generous side of cherries or fresh berries.

Lemon steamed pudding :
(makes 6 (but I got 4 because I used bigger moulds); from Craft of Cooking by Tom Colicchio)

1/2 cup sugar, plus additional for dusting ramekins
2 eggs, separated
3 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon plain flour
pinch of salt
2/3 cup buttermilk
2 1/2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
finely chopped zest of 1 1/2 lemons

Heat the oven to 150’C. Butter and lightly sugar six 4-ounce ramekins. Beat the egg whites until they hold soft peaks, then set them aside. Sift the sugar with the flour and salt. In a mixer, using the whisk attachment, combine the buttermilk, lemon juice, egg yolks, and lemon zest. Gradually add the flour mixture, then fold in the egg whites. Divide the batter among the prepared ramekins. Place the puddings in a water bath (set the ramekins in a larger pan; fill the pan with enough hot water to come halfway up the ramekins) and cover with aluminium foil. Bake until the puddings rise and are almost firm, about 25 minutes, then uncover and continue baking until the tops are lightly golden and the puddings spring back when touched, about 15 minutes more. Unmold and serve warm alone, with fresh berries, or with berry compote.

[Note: The recipe calls for the mix to be put together in a mixer, but you can also do everything by hand with a whisk and a spatula, as I did]

I know.

I know!

You’ve come here in search of a Filbert Gateau and now you’re looking at the picture above, wondering what the heck I’m on. Where’s the buttercream? What about the flippin’ filberts?

That, I promise you, is the gateau by Carol Walters that Chris picked as this month’s challenge. Plunge a spoon into it, drag it back up for air and what you’ll get is layers of moist almond genoise between blankets of rich praline buttercream and whipped cream. A filbert gateau, even by any other name, is still…

It all started when I made the initial decision to do mini versions of this gateau, and then had a heck of a time using the chocolate glaze. The finish on the cakes I achieved was rather displeasing to say the least and while trying to figure out how to decorate the cakes, I was suddenly struck by the idea of having them vaguely resemble flower pots (I really should stop listening to myself!). I started making some green tea flowers and leaves, as well as bits of chocolate biscuit to look like soil. At this point I realised that part of the baking challenge required buttercream to adorn the top of the cake, so I had to make more buttercream and piped it underneath each flower and leaf. In the end the whole exercise was all kind of exhausting, really, but thankfully I now have cake to replenish my energy.

The whole concept of a layer cake is genius. The cake itself is almost nothing more than a vehicle for the copious amounts of flavoured buttercream and glaze involved. I’ve never been too much of a buttercream fan, but I love making cakes for others, so was only too happy to attempt this recipe in the name of the Daring Bakers. The recipe for this cake is rather lengthy, so I have decided not to include it. However, you should be able to find it on Chris’ blog. The recipe for green tea biscuits can be found here.

This post is dedicated to the memory of Sher, a fellow blogger and Daring Baker member, who passed away on July 20th 2008.

This boy, he is the cake of my life. He’s sweet, makes day-to-day life interesting and gives me lots of cause to smile. On the way home yesterday he got bored and sent me a stream of Pidgin messages. Unfortunately I was in the kitchen at the time, so didn’t read them until he had already gotten home. They made me laugh so hard I had to record them for posterity. Other people reading this, especially those not in Sydney, might not get it (sorry!) so I should probably explain a couple of things : Wynyard, St. Leonards, Rosefield and Lindfield are train stations. MX is a free trashy publication, seen most frequently at train stations and on trains. Lindfield is home to our favourite nearby pizzeria which does a great Bastourma-topped pizza. And no, there was no pie for dinner!

B: Isn’t technology great? I’m standing on the platform at Wynyard. 🙂
B: Booooo no reply.
B: Booo I say boo.
B: And pfft.
B: Boo and pfft.
B: Pfft and booo.
B: Oh and the train has come already. I’m at North Sydney now.
B: Why don’t I give you a running commentary of the train journey.
B: Semi-full train, most seats taken.
B: One woman with a backpack standing up.
B: MX count in this carriage; 10 that I can see.
B: But I haven’t looked behind myself because that would be rude.
B: Imagine how much trashy news is being sucked up daily!
B: Someone’s reading an article on “TV’s biggest bad losers”
B: Or was that “TV’s baddest big losers”?
B: Or “Biggy’s baddest TV losers”?
B: “Loser’s baddest TV biggies”?
B: A picture of weightlifting chimps.
B: Quality.
B: Just left St. Leonards.
B: Someone’s got a big leopard skin print furry coat.
B: Coldest day yet today I think.
B: Brrr, schoolboy wearing shorts!
B: What’s for dinner? Is it pie? I like pie!
B: Pie is good.
B: There’s a guy sleeping in the corner that looks a bit like Napoleon Dynamite.
B: Roseville.
B: It’s a cosy-looking station.
B: Surrounded by greenery.
B: Napoleon has woken up and is trying to gauge exactly where he is.
B: Lindfieldium :
B: A new element discovered by Prof. B.
B: Consistency of spiced meaty bastourma.
B: Getting off now.
B: Brrrrrr.
B: Hope you enjoyed my stream of consciousness!

(Or maybe it’s just me who finds him funny. That could be why we get along so well!)

Another interesting thing to cross my path recently : Raspberry and white chocolate sauce with thyme! It sounds like it would be a sickly sweet sauce, but in fact, as Michael Recchiuti points out, the sweet white chocolate is balanced by the acidity of the raspberries. The hint of thyme adds a little interest. I picked some sprigs from the pot on our balcony, and crystallised what I didn’t use in the sauce, as a garnish.

When reducing the raspberry puree, make sure to stir regularly, or it might catch and burn. I reduced mine further than recommended, so that I would get a thicker sauce. Once made and cooled, the sauce was like a silky, glorious custard. I sandwiched it between macarons. The recipe for the macarons is Helen’s. I wanted to make these, but aggravatingly, I only discovered my lack of appropriate food colouring when the time came to include them in the batter. Instead, I sprinkled the tops with berry powder. As for the swirly macarons, there is always next time! Or did I mean, thyme? 😛

Raspberry and White Chocolate Sauce with Thyme:
(makes about 2 1/2 cups; from Chocolate Obsession by Michael Recchiuti and Fran Gage)

453g raspberries (I used frozen)
3 tablespoons granulated cane sugar
340g heavy whipping cream (I used “thickened cream”)
2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves
255g white chocolate, coarsely chopped (I used Lindt)
30g butter with 82% fat, very soft

Puree the raspberries in a food processor, then push them through a fine-mesh sieve to remove the seeds. You should have 1 cup.

Put the berry puree in a small saucepan and stir in the sugar. Place over medium heat, bring to a simmer, and cook, stirring occasionally with a spatula, until the puree reduces by half, about 15 minutes.

Put the cream and thyme in a small saucepan. Place over medium heat, bring to a boil, and remove from the heat.

Add the raspberry puree and the chocolate to the hot cream. Whisk until the chocolate is melted. Pour the sauce into a clear vessel. Blend with an immersion blender until smooth. Add the butter and again blend until smooth. Strain the sauce through a fine-mesh sieve to remove the thyme leaves.

Use immediately or let cool to room temperature before using. Or, pour the sauce into a jar, cover, and refrigerate. It will keep for at least 2 weeks. Bring to room temperature before serving or stir over low heat to reheat.