12/04/2023 · 11:42 am

To Make Butter Sauce (aka Good Melted Butter)

If you leaf through English cookery books of the 18th and 19th centuries, you will see much mention of ‘melted butter’ or ‘good melted butter’, such as this one, a recipe for egg sauce from Elizabeth Raffald’s The Experienced English Housekeeper (1769)[1]:

You would be completely forgiven if you took those words literally, however, what Elizabeth is referring to is butter sauce, ‘or’, as one-time chef to Queen Victoria Charles Elmé Francatelli put it, ‘as it is absurdly called, melted butter’.[2] It achieved this misleading moniker simply because of its ubiquity. In fact, it was so ubiquitous that Mrs Raffald doesn’t even include a recipe for it. Luckily for us, Hannah Glasse does in Art of Cookery[3]:

Used freely across three centuries, it became known as the ‘one sauce’ of England. The recipe, at least in its constituents, doesn’t really change: it is essentially a thin roux made with flour and water (or stock), enriched with melting cubes of butter, essentially a beurre blanc stabilised with flour – very useful for a sauce that was potentially left standing on a dining table for an hour. Jane Grigson likened it to a hollandaise thickened with flour instead of egg yolks.[4] It can certainly be used in place of either. Butter sauce forms the basis of several other sauces, it can be sharpened with lemon juice, enriched with cream, or flavoured with herbs. Sometimes it is flavoured with shellfish, and even gooseberries if it is to be served with mackerel.

Like many of our common foods, they are mistreated, corners are cut and fillers are added. As Francatelli observed, ‘it is too generally left to assistants to prepare as an insignificant manner; the rest is therefore seldom satisfactory.’[5] Indeed, my first meeting with it was back in the 1980s in the form of a boil-in-the-bag frozen cod steak in butter sauce. I certainly enjoyed it at the time, but upon making a ‘proper’ one decades later for my Neil Cooks Grigson blog,[6] I immediately saw that the sauce I had consumed as a child was a shadow of its former self. Writing in English Food at a time when the hold nouvelle cuisine had on the restaurant scene was beginning to wane, Jane Grigson hoped we might return to this sauce and appreciate it again.[7] We didn’t, but perhaps now is the time?

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My recipe, below, is adapted from Jane Grigson’s, which in turn, is adapted from Francatelli’s, so it has quite the pedigree. The only significant change I have made is to reduce the amount of flour. I’ve tinkered with amounts so that a full 250g pack of butter is used; no messing about with weights (and there is something quite satisfying about using a whole block of butter). Don’t let any memories of bad school meals put you off, and don’t let the amount of butter put you off either, it’s a surprisingly light and delicate sauce.

It’s simple to prepare, as long as you don’t let the diced butter become hot enough it melts fully. I love this sauce served with steamed vegetables such as asparagus, purple sprouting broccoli, leeks or new potatoes, as well as simple poached eggs, sole or salmon. If you have some poaching liquid or stock, it can replace the water used in the recipe.

I’ve provided some simple, classic variations below should you fancy trying them.

Serves 4 to 6:

250g very cold unsalted butter, diced

2 level tsp plain flour

120ml hot water

Salt

Ground black pepper

Pinch nutmeg and mace (optional)

Squeeze lemon juice

2 tbs cream (optional)

Put around one-third of the butter in a saucepan over a medium-low heat and allow it to melt, then stir in the flour with a wooden spoon, or better a small whisk, and allow to cook gently for a couple of minutes – on no account let it brown. If the flour fries and clumps a little, don’t worry. Now mix in the hot water by degrees, only adding more when the water in the pan has fully mixed into the flour and butter. Season with salt, pepper and nutmeg and mace, if using. Allow to gently simmer for 6 or 7 minutes over a low heat. Take the pan off the heat and let it cool for 2 minutes.

Now start beating into the sauce 3 or 4 cubes of butter so that they slowly melt and amalgamate into the sauce. Only when the cubes have disappeared, should you add more. Once you have done this a couple of times, the sauce will cool and the cubes won’t melt so easily, so put the pan over the lowest heat possible, and then continue to add more.

When the butter is used up, add a small squeeze of lemon, stir and check for seasoning. If you like, add cream.

Serve the sauce in a warm jug, or pour over vegetables or fish.

Variations:

Parsley sauce: add a tbs of finely chopped parsley. Eat with some delicately poached cod and stick two fingers up to Captain Birdseye.

Caper sauce: add a tbs of capers, whole or chopped. If you like, season with a little wine vinegar instead of lemon juice. A more piquant sauce to eat with richer foods: skate, brains and poached lamb or mutton.

Egg sauce: make the sauce as above, but when it is ready add the mashed yolks of 3 hard-boiled eggs and then the whites finely diced. Traditionally this is eaten with salt cod and parsnips in Lent.

Shrimp sauce (possibly the most delicious variation). Use a good handful of cooked brown shrimp in their shells (if you can get them) or small prawns. Remove the shells, and boil them in the water to make a rich stock. Use this instead of water. When the sauce is ready, stir in the shelled prawns or shrimps. This is delicious poured over poached turbot. You can also make this sauce with crab or lobster.

Notes

[1] Raffald, E. (1769) The Experienced English Housekeeper. First Edit. J. Harrop. Available at: https://archive.org/details/experiencedengl01raffgoog

[2] Francatelli, C. E. (1888) Francatelli’s Modern Cook. 26th edn. T. B. Peterson & Brothers. Available at: https://www.google.co.uk/books/edition/Francatelli_s_Modern_Cook/ww5Yg0hT5eQC?hl=en&gbpv=0

[3] Glasse, H. (1747) The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy. Prospect Books. The image is taken from the 1763 edition, but the recipe is unchanged from the original 1747 edition.

[4]Grigson, J. (1992) English Food. Third Edit. Penguin.

[5] Francatelli (1888)

[6] Buttery, N. (2011) #272 Melted Butter, Neil Cooks Grigson. Available at: http://neilcooksgrigson.com/2011/02/06/272-melted-butter/

[7] Grigson (1992). Though I have referenced the third edition, Jane made this point in the second edition, which was published in the 1980s

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07/04/2023 · 1:03 pm

Elizabeth Raffald talk: 26 April 7PM (BST)

Hello folks!

I hope you are about to have a nice relaxing long Easter weekend. I’m just doing a very quick post to let you all know about a free Zoom talk I am giving on 26 April at 7pm (BST).

It is called The Extraordinary Life of Elizabeth Raffald, and over the course of about 45 minutes I’ll tell you about her remarkable achievements (in life AND death), as well as her dramatic rise and fall story. I’m leaving plenty of time afterwards for questions and discussion. I do hope that you can come.

You can order a free ticket to the Zoom talk via this Eventbrite link, or use the widget below.

Hopefully I shall see you soon.

Don’t forget that my book, Before Mrs Beeton: Elizabeth Raffald, England’s Most Influential Housekeeper, is available to buy from all good bookshops, and (at time of writing) at a discounted rate from publisher Pen & Sword.

P.S. I am also doing a talk in Manchester on 14 May, but I’ll tell you about that in a week or so.

Register on Eventbrite

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01/04/2023 · 11:53 am

Elizabeth Raffald’s Flummery Showpieces

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08/03/2023 · 6:18 pm

Wigs / Whigs / Wiggs / Whiggs

Wigs – whichever way you spell them – were a type of enriched, leavened teacake. They reached a peak in popularity in the eighteenth century but may have been cooked up as early as the fifteenth.[1] It seems that they were eaten up until 1900,[2] though as with many foods, they changed their form somewhat.

Elizabeth Raffald included a recipe ‘To make Light Wigs’ in her 1769 book The Experienced English Housekeeper,[3] so I thought I would devise an updated recipe for them using modern kitchen equipment, weights and measures.

This is her recipe taken from the first edition:

As is often the case, her recipes are a mixed bag of precision and vagueness, and this one is no different: we have proportions – the most important thing, I suppose – but little else concerning mixing, shaping and baking. And what are the seeds she mentions? Luckily, by cross-referencing other recipes and others’ research, we can build up a good idea of what they were like.

Let’s dissect the recipe sentence by sentence:

  1. First of all, we have to make a simple dough of flour, milk and barm and prove it somewhere warm. Barm is the frothy yeast skimmed from fermenting vats of beer; it is from here we get our leaven. The bubbles of gas in low-gluten flour doughs with little elasticity (as would have been the case here) tend to pop quickly, so we have to assume that the dough was kneaded to develop what gluten was present.
  2. Once proved, add the butter and sugar. It’s very common, even in modern recipes, to add the enriching ingredients after the first prove. Ingredients such as these get in the way of entangling gluten strands, and their heaviness slow proving even further. These days however with our robust fast-action yeasts, I find dough rises well with all of the ingredients mixed right from the start – though I hedge my bets a little by using a mix of plain and strong white flours.
  3. Elizabeth tells us to ‘make it into Wigs’ which isn’t useful for those of us in the twenty-first century. It does inform us that they were common enough in 1769 for Elizabeth to assume we would all know the correct shape. Another recipe given in Florence white’s Good Things in England says to make wigs ‘into any shape you please’.[4] Elizabeth David helps us out here by spotting that the word wig comes from the Dutch weig, meaning wedge-shaped.[5] She thinks the round of dough would be split into sixteenths, but I think sixths or eighths would be better.
  4. As for the seeds; all other recipes state caraway seeds for wigs. I like them so much I put them in and on the dough before baking.

There are richer versions of this basic recipe. Hannah Glasse’s ‘light Wigs’ are very similar to Elizabeth’s, but she also includes a richer version (‘very good Wigs’) containing egg, cream, spices and sack.[6] Some recipes ask you to egg wash the wigs and sprinkle coarsely crushed lumps of sugar over them.[7] I opt for a milk wash and granulated sugar.

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Wigs can be eaten buttered, and when cold eat like very sweet scones, when warm they are softer and stodgier, though not in a bad way. Elizabeth suggests toasting them and pouring stewed cheese over them – a recipe for which can be found in my book Before Mrs Beeton.

My recipe makes 1 round that can be divided into 6 or 8 wigs:

5g/1 tsp yeast

5g/1 level tsp salt

180g strong white flour

180g plain white flour

120g caster sugar

1 tbs caraway seeds

120g softened salted butter

200ml warm milk, plus extra for brushing

A smear of sunflower oil

Granulated sugar for sprinkling

In a bowl, mix the yeast, salt, flours, caster sugar, and most of the caraway seeds (keep a few behind to sprinkle on the top). Make a well in the centre and add the butter and milk. Mix preferably with the dough hook of a food mixer, if not a wooden spoon – the mixture is very sticky indeed, a good 7 or 8 minutes, or until the dough is smooth.

Oil a clean bowl and place the dough inside. Cover and allow to prove in a warm place for between 60 and 90 minutes. The dough is so enriched that it doesn’t double in volume like regular bread or bun dough, but it does need to have increased in volume noticeably.

As you wait, line a 21 cm/8 inch cake tin with greaseproof paper. Elizabeth asks us to shape the wigs ‘with as little Flour as possible’, but I find that a good strewing of flour is best. The dough needs to be brought into a tight dough ball; again not as tight as is usually possible, due to all of that sugar and butter. I find a couple of dough scrapers helped a great deal at this point.

Once gathered, plop the dough into the lined tin, cover and allow to prove for 30 to 45 minutes. Using a well-floured dough scraper split the dough into 6 or 8 wedges.

It was tricky to make the cuts: flour your dough scraper very well

When the proving time is almost up, preheat your oven to 175°C and place an ovenproof dish at the bottom of the oven. When the wigs are ready to go in, put the kettle on. When boiled, finish preparing the wigs by brushing the top with milk and scattering the reserved caraway seeds and a little granulated sugar over the top, then place on a baking tray.

Open the oven door, slide the wigs onto the centre shelf, then gingerly pull out the hot ovenproof dish and pour in a good amount of hot water, then quickly but carefully slide it back in and close the oven door.

Bake for around 45 minutes until well-risen and golden brown on top. Cool on a wire rack in its tin. Serve cold or warm with butter and sliced or toasted cheese.

Notes

[1] David, E. English Bread and Yeast Cookery. (Grub Street, 1977).

[2] By this point, wigs had become a fruit cake or scone, leavened with baking powder and sweetened with candied angelica, citron peel and glacé cherries. Hartley, D. (1954) Food in England. Little, Brown & Company.

[3] Raffald, E. (1769) The Experienced English Housekeeper. First Edit. J. Harrop. Available at: https://archive.org/details/experiencedengl01raffgoog.

[4] White, F. (1932) Good Things in England. Persephone.

[5] David (1977).

[6] Glasse, H. (1747) The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy. Prospect Books.

[7] David (1977).

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26/02/2023 · 8:26 pm

‘Before Mrs Beeton: Elizabeth Raffald, England’s Most Influential Housekeeper’ – out February 28 2023

I am very pleased to announce that my second book, a biography of the 18th century cookery writer, entrepreneur and Manchester legend Elizabeth Raffald will be published in the UK on 28 February 2023. It is called Before Mrs Beeton: Elizabeth Raffald, England’s Most Influential Housekeeper and is published by Pen & Sword History. North American readers: I’m afraid you’ll after wait until 28 April before you can get your hands on a copy. Rest of world: please check with your favourite bookshop.

Detail of a map of Elizabeth Raffald’s Manchester

Before I tell you more about the book, I thought I’d let you know that if you pre-order via Pen & Sword’s website (so there’s not long left) you can get 20% off the cover price. The book is, of course, available from other booksellers. I will be selling some copies too, which of course will be signed by Yours Truly.

I’ll be posting all sorts about Elizabeth and 18th century food throughout March on the blog and on social media, so if you don’t follow me already on social media, now is the time to do so. I am @neilbuttery on Twitter, dr_neil_buttery on Instagram and my Facebook discussion group can be viewed here.

The book has a recipe section: this is ‘A Hunting Pudding’ from The Experienced English Housekeeper (1769)

The book charts Elizabeth’s many achievements and life events, the best known being the publication of her influential cookery book The Experienced English Housekeeper in 1769 – but there are many, many others. Her life was a dramatic one: starting life in domestic service, she rose to fame and fortune and transformed Manchester’s business community, before a tumultuous fall. Her book outlived her, but its popularity had a great rise and fall too.

I discovered Elizabeth via Jane Grigson, and it is these two food writers who have been my biggest, and most constant inspiration through 15 years of researching and cooking British food, and I am so happy to be the one to write Elizabeth’s biography.

The very passage in English Food by Jane Grigson that introduced me to Elizabeth Raffald

Mrs Beeton’s name is in the title for a variety of reasons, the main one of which being that it is Elizabeth – a full century before Beeton and her book – who defined what we think of today as traditional British food, not Isabella Beeton, yet it is Beeton who is placed on that pedestal.

To find out more about the book, listen to this recent podcast about Elizabeth, her life, and more about why Mrs Beeton has a lot to answer for!

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15/02/2023 · 1:55 pm

#446 Lincolnshire Chine

A blog post on my other blog, Neil Cooks Grigson, where, after a good while of searching, managed to get some Lincolnshire Chine. Enjoy!

buttery77's avatarNeil Cooks Grigson

It’s been a while since my last post hasn’t it folks? Well thanks for sticking with me. After over a year, I have a new recipe for you: Lincolnshire Chine.

Why has it taken such a long time to hunt this one down? Well, the cut of meat required to make this regional speciality is only available in Lincolnshire, and even then, it is pretty tricky to find. It’s also a long way from Manchester!

Jane Grigson explains the special cut needed: ‘It is across the back of the neck, across the backbone, a section of which is included.’ Hence the name chine. The resulting piece of meat which is square in shape is then dry-cured.

I researched the chine and discovered so many other Lincolnshire specialities that I thought I should make a podcast episode about it. I was lucky to talk to chef Rachel Green about chine and…

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11/02/2023 · 10:00 am

Barley Water

After talking to Lindsay Middleton about her online resource Dishes for the Sick Room, an exciting deep dive into the invalid cookery recipes found in the cookery books of Glasgow Caledonian University, I decided to have a go at making some barley water.

If you haven’t listened to the episode of the Podcast episode Invalid Cookery with Lindsay Middleton, you can do so below:

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13/01/2023 · 11:10 am

How to Make a Steamed Sponge Pudding: a Step-by-Step Guide

Last year I threatened to write some instructional posts that focus on technique rather than history. First up, a step-by-step guide to making a steamed sponge pudding, complete with instructions on how to cook one if you don’t have a steamer.

This recipe is for a basic sponge to fit a 2 pint / 1 litre mould or basin. It will serve 6 to 8 people; you can multiply up or down the amounts and cooking times very easily, though if you are making a really big one (1 ½ litres or more) you’ll need to add a teaspoon of baking powder. Any mould can be used, but a basin is best for sponges.

My old Pud Clubs always featured one steamed sponge pudding

There are an infinite number of variations, and I have included some examples for you after the basic recipe.

225g softened butter, plus extra for buttering the mould

175g caster sugar

4 eggs

225g self-raising flour, or gluten-free flour mix[1]

Pinch salt (if using unsalted butter)

30ml liquid: e.g. milk, lemon juice

Start by buttering your mould well; if you are using a basin with a lid, butter that too.

Now beat the butter and caster sugar with an electric mixer, or a wooden spoon, until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs one at a time into the butter and sugar – use a high speed if using an electric mixer. When fully incorporated, add the next egg. If the mixture refuses to mix properly and curdles, add a tablespoon of flour and beat well.

When all four eggs have been added, tip in the flour (and salt if using) and mix on a low speed until just incorporated. Add the liquid and mix again. The mixture should now be of ‘dropping consistency’, i.e. if you take a large spoonful, the batter drops from it when you turn the spoon on its side. If it doesn’t, add a little more – just a couple of teaspoons may be all you need. If you’re not sure, err on the side of caution and don’t add more liquid.

A mixture with the correct ‘dropping’ consistency

Now it is time to fill the basin. If you like, place a circle of greaseproof paper in the bottom of the basin to prevent the pudding, or any topping, from sticking. This is more important if you are using a metal, porcelain or glass basin, plastic ones are typically see-through and can be massaged to help the pudding to release itself.

This is also the time to add any toppings, should there be any: see suggestions below. Once added, scrape the mixture into the basin and smooth the top.

Put the lid on the basin, if it has one, or place a pleated double layer of greaseproof paper and kitchen foil – the pleat allows for any expansion – then secure it in place with string.

How to make a pleat in a piece of paper or foil

You may want to make a simple handle with the string too if you suspect the pudding will be tricky to remove from its steamer.

Tying on a lid: Scrunch down the paper and foil, then tie securely with string with a simple double knot

Now prepare the steamer. If you have one that fits the pudding basin, simply add boiling water straight from the kettle to the base to a depth of a few inches/ 10 cm deep, then place the basin in the steamer, sit it on the base and put on the lid. Turn the heat high and allow it to come to a rolling boil

If you don’t have a steamer you can make one: Take a pan large enough to comfortably fit your basin. Before you add any water, place an upturned saucer on the base of the pan (add some scrunched material under the saucer to prevent clattering). Place the basin inside your pan and pour boiling water straight from the kettle into the basin to come around a third of the way up the basin. Cover and turn the heat to high to achieve a rolling boil.

The pudding inside my steamer (1); making your own steamer using a cloth and saucer (2-4)

Whichever way you have made your steamer, once a rolling boil has been reached keep the pudding boiling well for 20 minutes, then turn the heat to medium-low. The total cooking time for this size of pudding is 90 minutes.

Don’t be tempted to remove the lid as it drops the temperature. That said, it is also important that the pan or steamer doesn’t boil dry so do check after 45 mins or an hour if you think it may do. If so, top up with water straight from the kettle.

Turning the pudding out: one of the most satisfying kitchen tasks

When it is done, remove the basin from the steamer and leave for 10 minutes before turning it out onto a serving plate or dish, slide a knife around the inside edge to loosen it if you suspect it may be stubborn.

Serve the pudding with proper custard.

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L: a simple steamed treacle sponge pudding. R: a sour cherry and almond sponge

Variations

You can add flavour by using different sugars or swapping 60g sugar for a syrup, by adding citrus zest, or by adding ½ tsp flavouring or extract.

Toppings can be used with aplomb: they need to be 1 or 2 cm in depth, about 100g, and added before the sponge mixture.

Treacle sponge: add 100g golden syrup (or a mixture of golden syrup and black treacle) to the base, use soft dark brown sugar for the sponge and add the zest of a lemon.

Jam or marmalade sponge: add 100g of your favourite jam or marmalade, add orange or lemon zest to the sponge mixture if liked.

Lemon: add a layer of lemon curd to the base, flavour the sponge with the zest of a lemon. Use lemon juice to thin the sponge mixture.

Bakewell: add 100g of morello cherry or raspberry jam to the base. For the sponge, add ½ tsp almond extract and swap 60g flour for ground almonds.

Rum and raisin: soak 100g raisins in 2 tbs spiced rum overnight, add to the mixture after the flour has been incorporated, thin the mixture with more rum.

Chocolate: substitute 60g of the flour for cocoa. Serve a chocolate sauce or chocolate custard separately.

Fruit: add 100g of any sweetened stewed fruit or fruit in syrup. Soft fruits like gooseberries, blackcurrants, etc., can be mixed with sugar and added raw.

Notes:

[1] I regularly make these puddings gluten free and the flour mixture I use is the following: 60g ground almonds, 175g gluten-free bread flour mix (I use Dove Farm), 1 level tablespoon gluten-free baking powder and 1 level teaspoon ground psyllium husk.

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01/01/2023 · 3:06 pm

Happy New Year!

This New Year’s Eve pudding was a gluten-free sour cherry & almond sponge pud

Well we got there. We made it into 2023 almost unscathed. I’m eating bubble and squeak, fried eggs and the remainder of last night’s steamed pudding (not all at the same time of course) and my hangover is surprisingly mild.

It’s been a busy year for me: the blog romps on, and the podcast has really grown wings and taken off with a rapidly-increasing listenership; and let’s not forget there was the publication of my first book A Dark History of Sugar in May of course. Not only that, but later in the year, I have my second book Before Mrs. Beeton: Elizabeth Raffald, England’s Most Influential Housekeeper will be published around Eastertime (and is available to pre-order now!).

I’m listing all of these things, not because I’m a great big fat show-off, but because none of it would have happened with you, dear reader, supporting me and following the blog and all of my other projects – something you do with fervour. I am so very appreciative, and I certainly do not take any of it for granted. So thanks for reading, thanks for listening and thanks for buying the book.

My first book was published in 2022

A huge thank you too to everyone who has started up a monthly subscription, and to those who have donated a virtual coffee, pint or more to help keep the blogs and podcasts going. Every year it gets more expensive just to have a podcast and blog so it really does help, and the more I receive the more time I can spend getting more online content out there for you all to enjoy.

If you like the blogs and podcast I produce and would to start a £3 monthly subscription, or would like to treat me to virtual coffee or pint: follow this link for more information. Thank you.

Carrageen pudding

In 2022 the blogs covered a lot of ground: there were recipes for some traditional fayre like cheese and leek pie and digestive biscuits, plus Yorkshire pudding, mutton chops and shoulder of mutton. There too was the traditional Hogmanay treat, the black bun, plus a nice eggnog to wash it all down.

Unusual ingredients and recipes were represented too: including the surprisingly delicious colostrum pudding, a blue cheese ice cream, an Irish carrageen pudding made with elderflowers, the forgotten Scots live-fermented oat flummery sowans.

My attempt at baking manchet loaves

I also wrote about one of my favourite cook books: English Bread and Yeast Cookery by Elizabeth David, and used her guidance to try and recreate the early modern fancy bread called manchet, and I wrote about the Corn Laws – something we’ve possibly all heard of but don’t really know that much about.

2022 was a bumper year for The British Food History Podcast with half of season 3, the whole of season 4 and the first 2 episodes of season 5 all coming out this year – a total of 14 episodes! Topics this year have been varied: TV chef Fanny Cradock, the traditional British breakfast, herbalism, curry and Christmas feasting being just some of the topics. A huge thank you to all of my fantastic guests, newcomers and returning guests alike, who spared the time to come on: Kevin Geddes, Peter J. Atkins, Emma Kay, Felicity Cloake, Glyn Hughes, Sam Bilton, Ben Mervis, Sejal Sukhadwala, Elaine Lemm, Annie Gray and Paula McIntyre. I salute you all!

Episodes from 3 seasons of the podcast were published in 2022

By the way, if you have any suggestions for future blog posts, recipes and podcast episodes, or have any questions or comments about any that already exist, please leave a comment at the bottom of a blog post, or email me at neil@britishfoodhistory.com.

Other highlights include a mammoth thread of cocktail recipes, and a holiday to Aix-en-Provence where I ate andouillette sausage for the first time and expected it to be delicious. I was wrong. Video evidence:

So what does 2023 hold for us? Well of course we don’t know, but I’ll be here firing off recipes, essays and podcast episodes for you all whatever happens.

Happy New Year! xxx

Happy New Year!

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29/12/2022 · 11:10 am

Black bun (Scotch Bun) Part 2: Recipe

My traditional yeast-leavened black bun

As promised, and carrying on from my last post, here is my recipe for the traditional yeast leavened black bun (Scotch bun). I must say I was really surprised with how well it turned out: it was enriched with so much stuff and was so huge, I thought the poor little yeast cells wouldn’t be able to do their job. I was wrong, but it did take two days to do two provings required before baking.

The white dough is essentially a sweet brioche made without eggs. When it was time to knock it back after its first rising, I was encouraged by the network of small yeasty bubbles that had formed inside the dough.

The tiny bubbles in my enriched basic dough

The bun was huge and made quite the centrepiece (though if you wanted to reduce the quantities and make a smaller one, go ahead). The cake inside was deliciously moist, and the brioche dough wonderfully buttery and thin and in such contrast with the treacle-black centre.

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It may have been big, but it kept well and was perfectly delicious well over a week after baking.

For the basic dough:

450 g plain white flour

450 g strong white bread flour

160 g caster sugar

10 g dried fast-action yeast

20 g salt

160 g softened butter

400 ml hand-hot full-fat milk

A smidge of flavourless oil

For the centre:

750 g basic dough

100 ml black treacle

400 g currants

400 g raisins

100 g candied peel

100 g slivered almonds

1 tsp mixed spice

½ tsp each ground cinnamon and allspice

2 eggs, plus 1 more for glazing

Butter for greasing

Granulated sugar

Two days before you want to bake your black bun, in the evening, make the basic dough. This is best done with an electric mixer, however don’t let me stop you attempting this by hand. Mix the dry ingredients – flours, yeast, sugar and salt – in your mixing bowl, make a well and add the butter and milk. Mix slowly with a dough hook until everything is mixed together, then turn the speed up a little and knead until smooth. Because it’s a low-gluten mixture and there’s all of that butter and sugar, it won’t be very elastic, but when it’s really smooth, you are done. It should take 8 to 10 minutes.

Paint the inside of a bowl with oil, then bundle up the sticky dough as best you can and cover with cling film. Leave to prove until around double in size. This took 18 hours: I use a low amount of yeast on purpose that the yeast ferments slowly. It may take less time for you if you used more yeast, and if your home is warmer than mine.

Knock back the dough and place 750 g of the dough in your food mixer, then add the treacle, dried fruits, candied peel, almonds, spices and eggs. Mix with a flat beater for a couple of minutes until everything looks smooth and like a Christmas cake batter. Set aside.

Take the remaining dough, form into a ball, place on a floured work surface and roll out into a large circle 32-35 cm in diameter. Make sure your pin is floured too; this will prevent sticking. With slightly wet hands, scoop the dark sticky dough and pop it in the centre of your circle. Now gather the dough so that the centre is completely covered – rather like a giant Eccles cake.

Cut away bits of the dough that have bunched up too much and glue any edges with a thin coat of beaten egg. Don’t worry if it looks a bit messy. Turn the bun over and flatten it with your hands, smoothing away any bulging bits to make a nice round shape.

Now liberally grease a 25 cm flan ring with butter and place on a baking sheet lined with greaseproof paper and then dusted with flour, and place the bun in the centre. Press the bun or lightly roll it with your rolling pin so that is just a centimetre off from touching the edge. Paint the top with egg and scatter over a little granulated sugar, then stab holes in the top with a thin, pointed knife right down to its base – this keeps it flat as it rises. Cover with a large plastic bag[1] and allow to prove until it has grown large enough to fill the ring. For me, this took 12 hours.

Preheat your oven to 175°C and place a heatproof tin on the bottom of the oven. When it’s time to bake the bun boil the kettle, then open the oven and slide your bun onto the middle shelf, gingerly slide the tin out enough so that you can pour in the hot water, slide it back in and close the door.

Bake at this temperature for an hour, then turn the heat down to 140°C and bake for a further 2½ hours. If the top is getting too brown, cover it with some kitchen foil.

Remove from the oven, and slide onto a cooling rack. Remove the ring when the bun is just warm.

The black bun will keep for weeks in an airtight box or tub. It is delicious eaten with sharp cheese.

Notes:

[1] I find a supermarket ‘bag for life’ is best for this task. I have one that I use only for proving things like this. Turn it over and turn up the edges, as you would your trousers to make it a sturdy shape and hey presto!

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