I went clothes shopping the other day and remembered why I dislike it so much. Nothing ever seems to fit me properly. It will be just right in one spot, but too big in another and too small somewhere else. Jeans, for example, are always too long. Whenever I go shopping, I have to base my decisions on the true cost of any item of clothing, which is usually the inflated price tag plus the hidden cost of getting it altered.

So I was standing in the change room, weighing up the benefits of a Little Joe top I had fallen in love with which was too big in the shoulder area, and it occured to me that I also experience similar hidden costs at work and in life. Unfortunately, there is no price tag you can place on the value of working a specific job or making a significant decision in life. How then will you know if you can afford these costs? At what point will you be able to recognise that the costs are starting to outweigh the benefits? When is it time to put the job back on the rack and try something else?

Maybe for me, clothes shopping is like life. I’m not particularly adept at it. I stumble along, managing to be vaguely presentable and every now and then, meet people along the way who I ‘fit’ with.

This dessert is inspired by Jordan Khan and the classic flavours of lemon meringue pie. The frozen liquid sable recipe is from Under Pressure by Thomas Keller. It is sandy, like normal baked sable, and melts luxuriously on the tongue. Because it is liquidised, it is capable of being frozen and twisted or cut into unusual shapes. My original twists of sable looked slightly more impressive than the picture, but it started to wilt a little as I spent too much time trying to get a decent shot. I might take more pictures next weekend when I have the time, and will include them in this post. This dessert is for Dan, who I believe as a friend, doesn’t have any hidden costs.

And for the record, I didn’t get the Little Joe top.

I love Mr. Sweet Potato. He is especially dirt cheap at the moment, which enables me to pretend that I am living a budget lifestyle despite all the butter and chocolate that I buy.

This dessert, sanctioned by Mr. Sweet Potato, started out as a budget piece of sweet potato cake. It got me thinking about sweet potato pie, which alas, I have never made or tasted. However I feel I know this particular pie’s purpose or meaning, without having tasted it. Sweet potato is comfort food. As kids, we snacked on steamed slices of sweet potato and tapioca dipped in granulated sugar.

These days, some people happily pay a lot of money in restaurants to eat luxury examples of such comfort food. At best, it is playful and you smile when you feel that thrill of recognising something from your past. At it’s most successful, it should also be so delicious that it is capable of standing as a dish on it’s own right. I hope to achieve something close to that calibre one day, but in the meantime, I taste, smile and remember.

There are flavours of maple, cinnamon, caramel, vanilla, walnut and black sesame in this dessert, along with textures of rich custard, crunchy tuile, buttery crumble, moist cake and silky ice-cream. Black sesame isn’t exactly traditional in this pie, but I thought it would go well with the sweet potato. A recipe listing each individual component would be too lengthy, so I’m only including the star component that instigated the entire dish. It is certainly worth the money in your pocket to bake and partake in :

Sweet Potato Cake :
(from Dessert by David Everitt-Matthias)

for the syrup :
110ml water
75g caster sugar
juice of 1/4 lemon

for the sweet potato cake :
50g unsalted butter
2 eggs
200g soft brown sugar
100ml sunflower oil
200g self-raising flour
5g baking powder
300g sweet potatoes, peeled and grated
1/2 banana, mashed
grated zest of 1/2 orange
75g walnuts, chopped
75g green raisins

To make the syrup, put the water, sugar and lemon juice into a saucepan and bring to the boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Simmer for a few minutes then remove from the heat and leave to cool.

For the cake, heat the butter in a small frying pan until it starts to turn brown and smells nutty. Leave to cool. Place the eggs in a mixing bowl with the sugar and whisk until pale and thick. Slowly drizzle in the oil and then the butter as if making mayonnaise, whisking all the time. Sift the flour and baking powder together and fold them into the egg mixture. Add all the remaining ingredients except the icing sugar and mix lightly. Transfer the mixture to a greased, lined 30 x 20 x 3cm baking tray and place in an oven preheated to 180’C. Bake for 40 minutes – 1 hour, until a knife inserted in the centre comes out clean.

Allow the cake to cool a little, then remove it from the tin, lightly prick it all over and douse with syrup. Leave to cool completely.

I’ve been putting off writing this post because I had promised to write about the answer to the second question my Optometrist asked me :

2) What is your all-time favourite thing to cook

Truth is, I didn’t have an answer for him then, and I don’t really have an answer now. He simply couldn’t believe that I didn’t have a favourite dish. Pretend, he said, that it’s a perfect Saturday afternoon and you’re about to watch the football (he is a Wolves fan, who incidentally have been promoted to the Premier League). The big question is, what is your favourite thing to cook under these circumstances?

Truth also is, that I would bake, because in reality, it would be Sunday afternoon before we got the football here, and usually on Sunday afternoons we have coffee and a bit of cake or a handful of freshly baked cookies. We would sit there picking crumbs off our shirts, while cheering or shouting at the tv.

We’d then spend the rest of the day lazing around, making plans to go cycling but never following through with it. I would slink back into the kitchen again, to bake something. By sundown, no cycling would have been undertaken whatsoever, and dinner would either be bubbling in a pot on the stove, or already laid out on the table. Our dinners rarely feature the same thing twice. I like trying out new recipes or making things up according to what I happen to have at hand. Which explains why I don’t have a ‘signature’ dish, as they call it.

I don’t think I’ve ever made the same dessert twice for B either. Even if it’s just a brownie with some ice-cream, the brownie will be from a recipe I hadn’t yet tried. I dreamt up the pineapple tart dessert above while I was making small pineapple tarts. Making a larger version was my impatient attempt at trying to speed up the whole process. Yes, stuffing each individual pastry is incredibly fiddly and it really tests your endurance, but the end result is definitely worth it.

The large tart contains pineapple jam and a layer of chamomile custard which I made recently after buying a chamomile plant from the markets. This plant (with a scent reminiscent of green apples and pineapple), and a potted lemon verbena, are the latest fragrant additions to my balcony garden. I had to denude the chamomile of all its sweet white flowers in order to make the custard – a recipe based on David Everitt-Matthias’ recipe for a chamomile cream. If you’re interested in making a similar tart, use the cream recipe below, omitting the gelatine and double cream. Serve the tart warm, with a dollop of plain cream or lemon verbena flavoured cream.

(If you can’t be bothered making anything as fussy looking as that, stick to the little pineapple tarts – the recipe by Pichet Ong is provided below (he calls them turnovers). For the pineapple filling, I followed Arfi’s recipe. If you can’t get a hold of fresh pineapple, you can also used the tinned kind. There’s a good recipe for it here, though I would advise erring on the side of caution and starting with less sugar than you think you need, and adjusting the sweetness later.)

Pichet Ong’s Caramelised Pineapple Turnovers:
(from the Sweet Spot by Pichet Ong)

for the caramelised pineapple filling :
2 small pineapples, peeled, cored, and finely diced
180g crushed palm sugar
1 cinnamon stick
1/8 teaspoon salt

for the pastry dough :
300g plain flour
50g custard powder
1 tablespoon dried milk powder
180g unsalted butter, at room temperature
70g icing sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 large egg

to glaze:
3 large egg yolks, beaten
whole cloves (optional)

To make the pineapple filling : Put all of the ingredients into a medium saucepan, set over low heat, and cook, stirring occasinally, until the sugar has dissovled and all the liquid has evaporated, about 45 minutes. Transfer to a bowl, cover, and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or as long as overnight.

To make the dough : Sift the flour, custard powder, and dried milk together and set aside. Put the butter, icing sugar and salt in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and beat on medium speed until the mixture is light and creamy, about 4 minutes. Scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl, add the flour mixture, and mix until incorporated. Add the egg and mix just until the dough comes together; it will be quite sticky. Form the mixture into a ball, press it into a 1-inch-thick disk, and wrap tightly in plastic wrap. Chill until firm, at least 2 hours, or as long as overnight.

Line two baking sheets with baking paper. Unwrap the chilled dough and form it into 1-inch balls. Using your fingertips, press one ball into a thin 3-inch disk. Put 1 tablespoon of the pineapple filling in the center of the dough circle, fold over to make a half-moon, and pinch the edges together to seal. Twist off any excess dough, press and gently roll the half-moon shape into a ball. Repeat with the remaining dough and filling. Alternatively, roll the whole disk of dough out on a lightly floured surface to a 1/8-inch thickness, cut out 3-inch circles with a cookie or biscuit cutter, and fill and shape them. Put the filled balls 1 inch apart on the baking sheets, and chill until firm, about 15 minutes.

To bake, preheat the oven to 175’C. Brush the balls with the egg yolks and stick a clove, if desired, in the centre of each. Bake until golden, about 12 minutes. Cool completely on a rack before serving.

Chamomile cream :
(from Dessert by David Everitt-Matthias)

450ml milk
30g fresh chamomile flowers
2 eggs
1 egg yolk
75g caster sugar
50g cornflour
100g unsalted butter, diced
1 1/2 gelatine leaves
30ml lemon juice [I used yuzu]
125ml double cream, whipped

Put the milk and chamomile in a heavy-based saucepan and bring to the boil. Meanwhile, whisk the eggs, egg yolk, sugar and cornflour together. Gradually pour in the milk, whisking to combine, then return the mixture to the pan and cook over a medium heat for 4 – 5 minutes, stirring constantly, until thick. Remove from the heat, place to one side to cool a little, then stir in the butter bit by bit until it has melted. Soak the gelatine in cold water for 5 minutes until soft and pliable. Squeeze out all the water, add the gelatine to the chamomile mixture and stir until dissolved. Stir in the yuzu juice.

Pass the mixture through a fine sieve into a bowl. Cover the surface with cling film and leave to cool. Fold in the double cream and store in the fridge until needed.