I’ve got a very chequered history with pastry.

Sometimes, it works out OK, but not perfect, other times it’s a complete disaster.

The number of times the pastry has shrunk back from the rim of the tin, leaving a flat disk of insipid pastry with a slightly upturned lip, is uncountable.  That flat disk with the half-hearted sides, collapsing in on themselves under the sheer pathetic effort of standing up straight, is my pastry signature.

It’s rubbish.

I’ve tried plenty of methods and recipes, and I’d favoured Jamie Oliver’s ‘push it into the tin and freeze the lot’ method for a long time, on the basis that the recipe does two tins, so there’s a standby in the freezer in the event of the inevitable disappointment.

Never have I managed to produce a pastry case with sides that cling bravely to the top of the tin.

Never.

Some have come close, but close isn’t good enough.

This recipe, however, worked.

I don’t know if it’s the recipe itself that led to success, or a freak cosmic alignment of the planets or some form of divine intervention, but the results today were extremely – freakishly -good.

The filling for this outstanding pastry case was pecan nuts and lots of sugar, but that almost seems irrelevant, given the fact that the pastry worked.

It WORKED!

So, here’s how to make a superb sweet pastry case.  If you’re lucky.

Weigh out 150g of butter and 100g of caster sugar and cream them together in a food processor until pale and smooth.  You could do this by hand, but there are better things to do with your time.

Mix a large egg and an extra yolk into the butter and sugar.  Make sure all of the egg is incorporated, then sift over 270g of plain flour, pulsing it together quickly into a ball.  Don’t overdo it…just quick, light actions, just enough to draw the pastry together.

More this way…

PRIME from thismustbetheplace on Vimeo.

This is a great time of year to cook.

Yes, we’re in the depths of winter, but the first signs of the year to come are starting to appear in the ground and in the shops. The first stalks of forced rhubarb are out, straight
from the groaning sheds of West Yorkshire, and it’s the middle of the blink and you’ll miss it Seville orange season.

Seville oranges have no other use other than making marmalade. You could juice them, and you could probably make a very decent sorbet, I suppose, but that’d be a waste of a fruit best used in a completely different way.

A Seville orange, you see, isn’t like an ordinary orange.

Oh no, it’s the bad boy of the orange world come good.

More below…

Bread is the most elemental of food.

It’s just flour, water, yeast and salt, and, in it’s most basic form, that’s it.

Go ahead and embellish it however you want, but a basic loaf is the stuff of life itself.

But, what if you were to go one step more fundamental, and use your own yeast?

It’s really very simple, and the bread made from caught and cultivated yeast is special.

It’s your loaf, one that you grew yourself.

Get your starter going

The key to any good sourdough is the starter, and it’s worth taking some time to get it right.

It could be a lifelong companion if you look after it properly.

A starter, or poolish, or levain is the heart of the loaf.  It’s the mothership of yeast that kick-starts the whole bread-making process, and all it really is is a lifeboat for trapped natural yeasts, giving them the right conditions to explode into life, ferment and grow until they’re strong enough to rise a dough.

All you need to get going is 150g of wholewheat flour mixed with 250ml of warm water in a large bowl to form a rough batter.  The flour will be full of natural yeasts, but a good beating in an electric mixer – ten minutes on a medium speed – will help to aerate the batter and catch as much airborne yeast as possible.

At this point, you’re done.

Just cover the bowl with a cloth and leave it somewhere pleasantly warm for a day.  Mine went into the airing cupboard, and did very well.

The next day, have a look.  It could be that nothing has happened, and if so, just cover the bowl again and leave it for another day, but it’s likely that there will be some gassy bubbles and the first signs of life.  If there are, add another 150g of flour and 250g of water, cover and wait another day.

The starter will start to smell as the yeast begins to kick in.  Don’t be alarmed – it isn’t going off.

For the next feeding, on the next day, discard about half of the starter before topping up with another batch of 150g of flour and 250ml of water, and repeat this every day for four or five days until the starter looks vigorous and the smell mellows out a little, losing its biting edge and becoming sweeter. If all goes well, you should have a fit and healthy starter in about a week, but there are a hundred and one things that can cause this to take longer, so just persevere.

Awakening the beast

So, your starter is ready.

Now for the bread.