a little zaftig » Irish Recipes

The Lazy Man’s Banoffee Pie

Laura — Sun, 27 May 2012 15:28:02 +0000

While my Honey Girl and I were on our way from Connemara to Dublin to see my Sweet Boy’s choir perform at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in April, the kind of trip that breezes past, carried by enthusiasm for the event to come, we desperately needed to stop. As we were driving through a nameless town, I spotted one of Georgina Campbell’s seal of approval stickers in the window of an otherwise unpromising coffee shop, and there was a parking spot directly in front. I swerved the car in and said, “I’ll order tea.” We had been on the lookout for banoffee pie all week, but it seemed it would be on the list of things missed and carried forward for our next visit. It wasn’t on a single menu. Until I sat down at a little table on this last day of our trip and, above me on a small chalkboard, spied the special of the day: Banoffee Pie. I ordered a piece and a pot of tea for myself and a hot chocolate for my Honey Girl. We dug in and silence soon followed. We were both thinking it: Where-have-you-been-all-my-life? You know, the kind of first bite that makes you shudder a little, makes you grab another bite quickly because you can’t quite believe how good it is? I found myself thinking about how far we Americans have strayed in the banana cream pie department. This was so much better: just to the edge of cloyingly sweet, but hanging on, and incredibly creamy. I was making it in my head by about bite four: a simple baked biscuit crust, probably crushed plain digestive biscuits mixed with butter and sugar, a layer of toffee cream, simple enough to make by boiling a can (or six) of sweetened condensed milk, a couple of bananas sliced over top, and a loft of barely sweetened whipped cream and grated dark chocolate. Yes, if taste memory serves me correctly, this is exactly it. It’s so easy to make that the cosmic math seems off.

The Lazy Man’s Banoffee Pie
Yield: one 9-inch pie, about eight servings

Ingredients:
1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
…
2 ¼ c. digestive biscuit crumbs from 1 14-ounce roll (or substitute graham cracker crumbs)
5 T. sugar
¼ t. freshly grated nutmeg
10 T. unsalted butter, melted
…
2 ripe bananas, sliced
…
1 c. heavy cream
2 T. sugar
…
a piece of good dark chocolate

Method:

To make the toffee cream, place the unopened can of sweetened condensed milk into a saucepan filled with water to cover the can completely and bring it to a boil. Reduce the heat a bit to an even simmer. Simmer for three hours, checking the water level periodically and topping it up with additional hot water to cover. Remove the can(s) from the water to a clean kitchen towel on your counter and allow them to cool completely.

To make the crust, preheat your oven to 375 degrees F. In a large bowl, stir together the crumbs, sugar, nutmeg, and butter. Press the mixture evenly into a pie plate or other oven-safe baking dish. Bake for 10 minutes. Cool to room temperature.

To make the whipped cream, in a large bowl or the bowl of an electric mixer, beat the cream and sugar until lofty and voluminous.

To assemble the pie, smear a layer of toffee cream onto the crust, slice the bananas over the top, place a layer of whipped cream over the top, and use a vegetable peeler or grater to top the confection with dark chocolate shavings. Chill until serving time.

Tips:

For the sake of ease, I made the toffee cream the day before, as it requires long boiling and cooling times, and the pie the next day.

It’s as easy to make many tins of the banoffee toffee cream as one. I made six. Simply place the cans in a larger pan.

It’s important that the can(s) of sweetened condensed milk are completely submerged in boiling water. Have a peek at your boiling pot now and then.

If you make extra cans of toffee cream, they will keep at room temperature in your pantry.

To avoid browning, be certain that all of your banana slices are nestled neatly under the whipped cream.

Keep the pie in the refrigerator until serving time. It is best to assemble the pie the same day you will serve it, and, even better, to assemble it close to serving time. The whipped cream may become a little sorry overnight, though it will certainly still be edible. If you wish to make the pie further in advance, assemble it to the toffee cream stage. Then shortly before serving, add the bananas and whipped cream and chocolate.

Baby Barmbracks with Sherry

Laura — Thu, 10 May 2012 02:30:43 +0000

My Honey Girl and I spent the first week of April together in Ireland. Beneath a cornflower blue sky and tucked into the soft Connemara mountains, celadon in sunlight, black in shadow, we settled into the Cashel House where Mrs. McEvilly and her soft-spoken staff surrounded us with their incomparable care, tucking hot water bottles into our beds on chilly evenings and placing our pajamas on top so they were warm, too, bringing us pots of tea and biscuits, and glasses of champagne, and books to read in comfortable chairs before turf fires, poached rhubarb for our morning porridge, and sandwiches and slices of rhubarb tart when we arrived back too late for dinner. Without an itinerary we set about a proper vacation, that is, a week to do nothing but what suited us in the moment and focused primarily on total relaxation. We took out our battered little rental car to wind through Connemara, north and south, east and west, as interest and whim took us, past wooly sheep doused in the pink and blue dyes used in this part of the world since Adam was a boy, past the blooming gorse, brilliant yellow, past men hunched to cut bricks of peat in the ancient bogs, and Irish gardens in bloom: daffodil and tulip, heather and camellia, crocus and rhododendron and azalea, hyacinth, narcissus, agapanthus, vinca and spring gentian. In fact, I felt all week like a flower myself, with my own personal sunshine, my Honey Girl, beside me, waking from the long, grey dream of winter. Through the windshield: the savage beauty of the landscape (curtsy here to Oscar Wilde), the barren loveliness of the Burren, its limestone softened by wildflower, the sea with all its shades of blue, its rock, its draped grass, thatched cottages walled with stone, and the odd shaggy cow. We slept and hiked and lolled and ate and drank until we were so content we couldn’t wish for more—except perhaps that our time together wouldn’t end.

One of our favorite discoveries of the week was a barmbrack we ate at the Burren Perfumery, a charming spot with an herb garden, tea room, still room, and shop where they sell lovely wild-crafted perfumes and body products. Barmbrack is a fruitcake, a keeping cake, perfect with a cup of strong tea. The recipe I developed is a one-bowl stir-up. I soaked raisins and sultanas and currants overnight in black tea and added homemade candied orange peel, big candied cherries, dark muscovado sugar, and sherry the next day. The cake is dense and moist with pops of cherry and sherry against the earthiness of the tea and spice. I made a big batch so I could share some with my pantry exchange group and the rest with family. If you’re not keen on fruitcake, this one might change your mind. I’m most happy that whenever I bake it or eat it, it will return me to the memory of first sharing it with my Honey Girl in the little oasis of our week together.

Baby Barmbracks with Sherry
Yield: ten mini loaves

Ingredients:
1 c. raisins
2 c. golden raisins
1 ½ c. currants
3 c. strong black tea, preferably Irish
1 c. whole candied cherries
½ c. diced candied orange peel
1 ½ c. muscovado sugar (or substitute dark brown sugar + 2 T molasses)
1 ½ c. sugar
1 c. sherry (I love Lustau East India Solera.)
2 eggs
2 ½ c. all purpose flour (I prefer King Arthur.)
2 ½ c. whole wheat pastry flour (or substitute all purpose flour)
½ t. baking soda
1 t. cinnamon
¼ t. ground cloves
½ t. ginger
½ t. freshly ground nutmeg
½ t. salt

Method:

The night before you wish to bake the cakes, in a large mixing bowl, stir together the raisins, golden raisins, currants, and tea. Cover the bowl and refrigerate it overnight.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F.

Add the cherries, orange peel, sugars, sherry, and egg, and mix until well combined.

Place a sieve over the bowl and add the flours, baking soda, spices, and salt. Shake the ingredients through the sieve and stir the batter gently until it is uniformly mixed. Do not overmix.

Place ten mini loaf pans onto a large jellyroll pan and divide the batter evenly into the pans, about one scant cup of batter per pan.

Bake for 30 minutes. Rotate the pan 180 degrees in your oven. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the center of a cake comes out clean or nearly clean, about an additional 30 to 35 minutes.

When they have cooled completely, the cakes may be wrapped tightly in cellophane and then aluminum foil and frozen. They will also keep wrapped this way at room temperature for about one week.

Serve with a nice cup of Irish or other good black tea.

A Banana Bread Spectacular :: From Plain Jane Loaf to Homey Dessert: Banana Bread Sautéed in Clarified Butter with Caramelized Bananas & Flaming Whisky Sauce, Tea Cake with Celtic Crossing Frosting, and More!

Laura — Wed, 16 Mar 2011 22:31:03 +0000

Our Sweet Boy Freddy woke up to a happy surprise. His friend Carly came over to bake with me Sunday morning. Much silliness ensued.

I told my friend William yesterday that I suffer from recipe brain. It’s a blessing, until it isn’t. It wakes me up, keeps me up, and seldom lets me rest. I see images, literally, of recipes, ideas for any ingredient I see, and how to take something I’ve made, a custard or a jam or a loaf of bread, say banana bread, and turn it into something else. So that’s what I’m up to today, sharing some of the thoughts that popped into my head when I used up some overripe bananas with Carly.

I think everyone should have one really good recipe for all of the basics. This banana bread is the best I’ve ever had. I may be a bit biased since it’s my great aunt’s recipe, which I’ve tweaked just a little over the years, but when I made it for a friend some years ago, she hunted all over the Twin Cities for it, thinking it had come from a pastry shop. It’s ultra moist—almost bread pudding-esque—sweet and homey.

This is how I remember my great aunt, whom I called Grandma Sherry: sweet, old school Catholic, the kind of person who dreamed of having a grand stone fireplace and who painted one on the wall of her modest house with little pots of color from the craft store. When she was older and I lived nearby, I used to bring her dinner every afternoon and then we’d have cocoa and a little chat. I learned that she was a feisty, daring young woman—a kind of uber-cool ingénue. She changed her name from Kaye to Sherry because she thought it more sophisticated, dropped out of school, and met her then-boyfriend Mac who worked on the railroad for late-night dates in the city. She’s pictured above on the right with my grandma. And here, the two of them off to my grandma’s wedding in St. Paul.

I like this bread best unadorned with a cold glass of milk. It’s the perfect after school nibble or mid-afternoon pick me up.

But it’s also nice as a simple teacake with a little Celtic Crossing frosting. (We added a few chocolate chips to a couple loaves just for Carly.)

And if the loaf has lasted more than ten minutes, it’s also delicious sliced and toasted with a bit of mascarpone laced with powdered sugar and Celtic Crossing liqueur.

When I’m feeling fancy, I might caramelize some bananas slices, add some whisky and extra butter to the pan and light it ablaze tableside to be spooned over the sautéed slices of bread. (Pyrotechnics not pictured.) A little plain whipped cream or whipped crème fraiche on top would be nice, too. If you refrigerate the banana bread before you make it this way, the contrast of temperatures is appealing, and the bread has an exceptionally creamy texture. Serve with a dram of whisky and toast to Grandma Sherry!

Banana Bread
Yield: two loaves (I like to eat one loaf and pop the other in the freezer so that I can make an impromptu dessert later.)

Ingredients:
¼ c. shortening (Don’t overthink it. Just plop it in.)
½ c. unsweetened applesauce
2 c. sugar
2 eggs
3 c. all purpose flour
1 t. salt
1 t. baking soda
1 c. milk (I use whole milk but any milk you have will work.)
1 t. vinegar
2 t. vanilla extract
3 large overripe bananas, mashed until they are liquid

Method:

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

Grease and flour two bread pans.

Mash the bananas until they are liquid.

Cream the shortening and the sugar.

Add the applesauce and mix thoroughly.

Add the eggs and mix thoroughly.

Sift the flour, baking soda, and salt.

Add the vinegar to the milk and allow it to sit for a few moments.

Add the dry ingredients alternately with the milk to the batter, mixing gently between additions. I add half the flour, then half the milk, then half the flour, then half the milk.

Add the bananas and the vanilla and mix gently.

Divide the batter evenly into two loaf pans and smooth the tops.

Bake for 40 to 50 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out nearly clean. Do not overbake.

Cool in pans for 10 minutes. Run a knife around the breads and remove them from their pans. Finish cooling on a rack. When cool, wrap tightly in cellophane and then foil.

This bread may be stored at room temperature, wrapped well, for several days. It is also delicious served cold from the refrigerator.

The bread may be wrapped in cellophane and then foil and stored in the freezer. Bring to room temperature on the countertop.

Celtic Crossing Cream Cheese Frosting

Ingredients:
8 ounces cream cheese
½ c. unsalted butter, softened
¼ c. Celtic Crossing liqueur
1 1/3 c. powdered sugar

Method:

Mix all ingredients until creamy and smooth.

Sautéed Banana Bread

Ingredients:
1 loaf banana bread, sliced
a knob of butter (or clarified butter if you have some), about 3T.

Method:

In a large sauté pan, melt the butter over medium heat.

Add the banana bread slices in a single layer and fry lightly until golden brown.

Flip the slices and fry the other side until golden brown.

Serve immediately.
This is delicious topped with Sweet Mascarpone with Celtic Crossing Liqueur or with Caramelized Bananas with Flaming Whisky Sauce and Whipped Cream or Whipped Crème Fraiche, all below. If you don’t want to fuss with these, it’s nice with a dusting of powdered sugar. I could go on all day, but let me just add that it’s also wonderful as the basis for bread pudding.

Sweet Mascarpone with Celtic Crossing Liqueur

Ingredients:
8 ounces mascarpone
powdered sugar to taste, about ½ c.
a little dribble of vanilla extract, about 1 t.
a good dribble of Celtic Crossing Liqueur, about 3 T.

Method:

Mix all ingredients until creamy and smooth.

You may substitute any liqueur that appeals to you, of course. A bit of orange zest might also make a nice addition.

Caramelized Bananas with Flaming Whisky Sauce
Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients:
2 bananas, sliced
a good knob of butter, perhaps 3 T.
a generous sprinkle of brown sugar, about ¼ c.
a few glugs of whisky, about ¼ c.

Method:

In a large sauté pan, melt the butter.

Add the banana slices and the sugar.

Cook until the sugar melts and the bananas take on a nice bit of color.

Add the whisky and ignite it. (Be careful!)

Continue to cook after the flames die down until the sauce is a nice syrupy consistency.

A few toasted pecans or walnuts or spiced nuts might make a nice garnish.

Simplest Whipped Cream or Whipped Crème Fraiche

Ingredients:
1 c. cold heavy cream or crème fraiche
sugar to taste, perhaps ¼ c.
a little dribble of vanilla extract, perhaps 1 t.
You may add a dribble of any complimentary liqueur, too.

Method:

Add the cream or crème fraiche, the sugar and the vanilla to a cold metal bowl.

Whip the cream or crème fraiche until soft peaks form.

Tipsy Pudding with Spiced Wine & Honey Cream Cheese

Laura — Tue, 15 Mar 2011 17:42:57 +0000

I remember the St. Patrick’s Day of my childhood as the day of the Irish Sheridan sisters: there were the twins, Marguerite and Mary, and Kathleen, whom I also called ‘grandma,’ and Delores, my grandma, the youngest. We have pictures of them, all decked out in green and standing in a row, smiling brightly, a version of the same image for every year they gathered. They were separated in childhood when their mother died of typhoid fever and their father, an Irish lover of the drink, was unable to care for them. They were reunited years later and remained close; in fact, my grandma and her sister Kaye lived a block apart for almost all of their adult lives and chatted on the phone every day. They had a sweetness about their connection, one that comes perhaps from years of separation and longing, and from gratitude which does not fade. They were dear to me, my guides, my bellwethers, my lodestars. I’ll celebrate without them this week, as they have all passed away now, and remember them with such fondness as we eat this tipsy pudding. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Tipsy Pudding with Spiced Wine & Honey Cream Cheese
Adapted from Margaret Johnson’s Irish Puddings, Tarts, Crumbles, and Fools
Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients:
1 ¼ c. fresh bread crumbs from 5 or 6 slices of white bread
2 large eggs, separated
¾ c. sugar
2 t. finely grated lemon zest
…
3 c. red wine (not cooking wine, something delicious you would drink)
¼ c. freshly squeezed lemon juice
finely grated zest of 1 lemon
1/3 c. freshly squeezed orange juice
finely grated zest of 1 orange
½ c. sugar
2 cinnamon sticks
10 whole cloves
…
8 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
3 T. honey
3 T. heavy cream

Method:

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F.

Smear 6 4-ounce ramekins with soft butter and set them aside.

Tear or cut the crusts from the bread and tear the bread into pieces. Place them in a food processor and grind until they are fine bread crumbs.

In a medium bowl or the bowl of an electric mixer, beat the egg yolks, sugar, and lemon zest for 2 to 3 minutes, or until light and foamy.

In a small bowl, using a clean electric beater, beat the egg whites until stiff peaks form.

Stir a bit of the egg whites into the egg yolk mixture. Then gently fold the egg yolk mixture into the egg whites.

Gently fold in the bread crumbs.

Divide the batter into the ramekins and bake for 20 minutes, or until the puddings are set.

…

In a medium saucepan over low heat, bring the wine, lemon juice and zest, orange juice and zest, sugar, and spices to a simmer.

Cook the wine until it is reduced and a bit syrup-y.

Remove the whole spices. You may strain the wine if you prefer.

…

In a medium bowl or the bowl of an electric mixer, beat together the cream cheese, honey, and heavy cream until they are smooth and whipped.

…

To serve, remove the puddings from their ramekins by running a dull knife around the edge of each one and tipping them out. Place each one on a pretty plate and spoon the syrup-y spiced wine over the top. Place a dab of honey cream cheese on top.

Irish Oatmeal with Cream, Kerrygold Butter, Celtic Salt, Warm Celtic Crossing Liqueur-soaked Golden Raisins, and Toasted Walnuts

Laura — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 00:20:54 +0000

We had house guests this weekend and I was trying to think of something to cook for them for breakfast Saturday morning. Sandwiched between rich, heavy meals, I wanted something healthy-ish that would be delicious. I settled on oatmeal, and laid out these accoutrements. It was a comforting bowl on a wintry morning: creamy oats, sweet cream and butter, plump warm raisins with a little kick, a hint of salt, and a little crunch from the walnuts. Yum.

If you don’t have Celtic Crossing liqueur, there’s no need to buy a bottle specially. Use any liqueur you have on hand that’s appealing or Irish whisky, or use fruit juice or a combination of juice and liqueur. Any delicious salt and butter will do, too.

Serving Suggestions
I served this with a pot of Irish Breakfast tea, and an assortment of winter fruits.

Irish Oatmeal with Cream, Kerrygold Butter, Celtic Salt, Warm Celtic Crossing Liqueur-soaked Golden Raisins, and Toasted Walnuts
Yield: four servings

Ingredients:
4 c. water
1 c. Irish steel-cut oats (I use McCann’s.) (Bob’s Red Mill brand of steel cut oats says it is gluten-free.)
½ c. heavy cream (I love Cedar Summit Farms)
4 pats Kerrygold butter
4 pinches Celtic salt
½ c. Celtic Crossing Liqueur
1 c. golden raisins
1 c. toasted walnuts

Method:

In a large saucepan, bring the water to a boil.

Stir in the steel cut oats. Bring back to a boil and continue stirring until the oats begin to look creamy.

Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook uncovered for 30 minutes, or until the oats are no longer toothsome.

In a very small pan warm the liqueur and the raisins. Allow them to soak up the liqueur and to plump.

Serve the oatmeal with a pinch of salt, a pat of butter, a drizzle of cream, and a sprinkling of the raisins and walnuts.