Every once in awhile, an exceptional recipe comes along and fairly quickly without much thought, I find myself returning to it more than twice in a single week. This very splendid chocolate Krantz cake from Tara’s blog, which comes by way of Ottolenghi, is one such recipe. It produces two memorable loaves of sweet yeasted cake that are utterly blissful when eaten warm and that also manage to stay moist and just as pleasing several days later.

The first time I made it, I foolishly halved the recipe. Big mistake. The entire loaf disappeared within two days, leaving me craving for more. The second time round, I made a full batch, flavouring the dough with candied orange and cardamom and also reducing the sugar content by a few tablespoons. Half the dough was converted into a tray of mini loaves, for tearing and dipping into little cups of burnt chocolate custard.

Anyway, you know the drill. If you only have time and the inclination to bake one thing this week, please let it be chocolate Krantz cake. Get the recipe from Tara’s blog. If you want to gild the lily, the recipe for the chocolate custards are below.

Burnt chocolate caramel custards :
(makes 4; adapted from a recipe from The Sweet Life by Kate Zuckerman)

1/2 cup caster sugar
1 cup cream, warmed
1/2 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
70g bittersweet chocolate, melted
3 egg yolks
generous pinch of sea salt

plus extra caster sugar for caramelising the finished product

Melt the 1/2 cup of sugar in a medium sized pot, then increase the heat and cook until golden brown, stirring with a heat-proof spatula. When the sugar has caramelised, turn down the heat and carefully whisk in the cream (the caramel will splutter), followed by the milk and salt. Continue cooking until the caramel has dissolved, then remove from the heat.

In a large bowl, combine the yolks with the melted chocolate, then whisk in the warm caramel cream. Strain the custard into a jug, and divide the mixture between 4 ramekins (I used small cups, as shown in the first picture). Bake covered loosely with foil in a bain marie in a preheated 155’C oven for about 40 minutes until the custards are just set. Chill overnight before caramelising with a generous sprinkle of caster sugar and a blow torch.

There are some things I crave occasionally. Peace and quiet is one, cold custard is another. This weekend, I’m getting a good dose of both since a bag of cheap passionfruits inspired me to make a few batches of custard, and Barry is spending a week working in San Francisco.

This recipe is for Anna. Funny story, Anna and I met one day on her way to the restrooms. In a restaurant, that is, not a nightclub, just in case you really needed to know. But perhaps that was too much information already.

One other thing.. did you know, if you blend passionfruit pulp with their skins, you get pink instead of yellow juice? How neat would pink passionfruit sorbet or soda be!

Baked Passionfruit Custard :
(makes 4 small serves)

3 x 55g eggs
55g sugar
100g strained passionfruit pulp (or leave seeds if you don’t mind the texture) – roughly 3 large passionfruit or 5-6 small ones
juice of 1/2 lemon
100g pouring/thin cream

Preheat the oven to 165’C.

Mix all the ingredients together, whisking gently only to combine. Avoid incorporating too much air or introducing froth to the mixture. If bubbles form on the surface, skim them off. Strain the mixture (return the seeds to the mix if you wish). Divide between 4 small ramekins and place the ramekins in a hot water bath, on the middle shelf of the oven. Bake for 15-20 minutes or until cooked. They should still have a bit of a wobble in the middle. Remove them from the oven, allow to cool down in the water bath then chill the ramekins for a few hours in the fridge.

You can eat the custards as is, or topped with some fruit or more passionfruit pulp. If you’re feeling fancy, sprinkle the tops with sugar and lightly blow torch to caramelise.

If it’s too hot to bake, try making a set passionfruit cream instead.

Yesterday I flipped through David Lebovitz’s Ready for Dessert and came across a recipe for Apple Red Wine Tart. That was the beginning of the end.

In the beginning, I marched down to the shops for a bottle of red wine and a bag of apples.

Somewhere in the middle, I burnt my red wine reduction and wished I could blame David for this. Actually I had been distracted by Twitter, but never mind, start again, because it’s only the middle of the end.

Finally, I pulled the tart out of the oven, flipped it onto a plate, cut a slice, bathed it in custard, and that. That was truly

The End.