My chocolate cake quest continues

I cannot resist a chocolate cake recipe. Just when I think it is not possible to add yet another one to my burgeoning files - there must be at least 100 chocolate cake recipes already there - along comes a new one.

My latest cake recipe comes from New Zealand food writer and author Annabel Langbein. My friend John, a secret foodie at heart, has discovered Annabel through her series screening on ABC 1, and he kindly sent me a link to her website, thinking I would enjoy it. And I have. Annabel has travelled extensively and written 10 cookbooks, one of which, Assemble - Sensational Food Made Simple, won the Gourmand World Cookbook Award for "Best in the World for Easy Recipes".

Annabel also features recipes on her website, one of which is for "Magic Chocolate Cake and Chocolate Ganache". This is a brilliant cake, which can be made either as one large cake, two medium cakes, or 10 small ones. It has a reasonably long list of ingredients but you throw them into a food processor, whiz for 30 seconds, pour into a cake tin and then bake, making it possibly one of the easiest cakes ever to make. As Annabel notes in her recipe introduction, "If you have never made a cake before, let this be your first. It is so simple and the results are satisfyingly impressive."

The secret ingredient in this mix is 100g grated carrot (or pumpkin), which adds a lovely moistness to the cooked texture. It also has mixed spice, cinnamon, golden syrup and espresso coffee, which sounds like a lot of flavours to pack into one cake but it really works, adding a lovely spicy undertone to the chocolate notes. I encourage you to head over to Annabel's website to check out this cake recipe, as well as the other recipes and features.

Rich iced birthday cake

I'm an absolute sucker for magazines that feature Christmas feasts. It doesn't matter how many recipe features I have with Christmas dishes (and I already have my own extensive collection of family favourites that I usually make each year), if I see a new magazine with an enticing spread, I buy it.

I admit that the December issue of Notebook magazine was one such purchase. I am a big fan of Notebook magazine, which seems to be one of the few women's magazines that addresses women who might want to read something more substantial than celebrity gossip and sealed sex sections. There's always lots of inspirational reading, with articles on finance, personal improvement, spiritual wellbeing and work-life balance interspersed with fashion and cooking spreads.

One of the dishes that caught my eye in the December issue was the rich iced mud cake with boozy berries. I didn't have time to make it at Christmas (nor did we really need extra cakes!) but I bookmarked it and decided it was the perfect cake to make for Adam's birthday.

It's always a risk to make a new cake for a special occasion, in case it doesn't work, but the method was easy and the combination of chocolate, coffee, Marsala and mascarpone was tempting. It's a big cake, suitable to serve at least 12 people, so it's an excellent occasion cake. The original method called for the cake to be made in two loaf tins but I made it in one big square cake tin and just had to adjust the cooking time accordingly.

The end result was enthusiastically received by both the birthday boy and the family members who attended the birthday feast. The cake is moist and dense, with the subtle coffee and Marsala flavours blending harmoniously with the chocolate. A mixture of mascarpone, whipped cream, Marsala and icing sugar sandwiches the cake together. The alcohol softens the rich mascarpone and ensures that this cake, while rich, is not overpowering and will not leave you feeling like you've overindulged.

A spicy side of Christmas

Heady spice mixtures and plump dried fruit feature heavily in Christmas baking. Many of the traditional dishes we've inherited from England, such as Christmas cakes, fruit mince tarts and plum puddings, are chock-full of these ingredients. But other nations have similar traditions: the spicy Dutch speculaas biscuits and golden fruit-studded panettone or panforte, a spicy mix of glace fruit and nuts, from Italy, for example.

For many years I've made a chocolate panforte at Christmas. No matter how full we are, everyone always finds a small hole in their stomach when the plate of panforte, dusted with icing sugar, comes out with coffee. In last year's Christmas issue of Gourmet Traveller, I found a recipe for panpepato, which is very similar to panforte. With a newborn in the house last Christmas, there was no time to make the panpepato but it was one of the first things on my list for this year (as this recipe came from the December 2008 issue, it doesn't strictly fit into the We Made This challenge that Suzie from Munch+Nibble and I are doing, but I'm including it anyway, as I haven't had a chance to cook as much from this year's edition as I'd hoped!)

According to Gourmet Traveller, panpepato is a Christmas specialty from the Siena region of Italy. It is similar to panforte but is spiced up with black pepper and cocoa or chocolate. "The hsitory of panforte and panpepato are intertwined and it's difficult to distinguish which came first and what their true provenance is," Emma Knowles wrote in her article on panpepato. "Legend has it that panpepato possessed powerful aphrodisiac qualities and also had the ability to stop husbands and wives from fighting, both of which are great reasons to whip up a batch yourself."

Panpepato is easy to make, although you will need a sugar thermometer and some confidence in cooking a soft caramel. The mixing stage needs to be done very quickly or you end up with a big, gluggy, unusable mess on your hands.

The recipe specifies that the panpepato should be baked in five 10cm-diameter springform pans. I made mine in a 20cm springform pan, as I don't have the smaller pans, and adjusted the cooking time slightly. The end result was fine but I do think the smaller versions would work very well if you wanted to give these away as gifts. Panpepato would make a wonderful gift for your friends: this is a wonderful cake, like a sexy older sister version of panforte. The dark cocoa gives it a luxurious element, while the spicy aftertaste of peppercorns lingers teasingly on the palate. This is a dish that I will definitely be making again.

Panpepato

Recipe from Gourmet Traveller, December 2008 (available on the GT website)

2 sheets of confectioner's rice paper
50gm plain flour
40gm Dutch-process cocoa
1 Tb ground mixed spice
1 tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
2 tsp coarsely crushed pink peppercorns
200gm candied orange, coarsely chopped
80gm almonds, roasted
80gm each walnuts and hazelnuts, roasted and peeled
150gm caster sugar
150g honey
Pure icing sugar, to dust

Preheat oven to 150 degrees. Lightly grease five 10-cm diameter springform pans, line bases with baking paper and then rice paper, trimming to fit. Sift flour and cocoa into a bowl, add spices, orange and nuts and toss to coat well in the flour mixture.

Heat caster sugar, honey and 2 Tb water in saucepan over medium heat, stirring until sugar dissolves. Do not stir again, as mixture may crystallise. Bring to the boil and cook until mixture reaches 120 degrees on a sugar thermometer (soft ball stage). Working quickly with a lightly oiled spoon, pour caramel over nut mixture, mixing well. Spoon into prepared pans and smooth tops with an oiled spatula. Bake for 10-15 minutes (time it carefully because this cake will not firm up or colour as it cooks). Cool completely in pans, turn out, then dust liberally with icing sugar. Serve cut into wedges (note that this cake is rich and a little will go a long way).

Panpepato will keep, wrapped in baking paper, and then plastic wrap in an airtight container in a cool place, for up to one month. To present as a gift, wrap panpepato in baking paper before wrapping as desire.

Melbourne Larder Christmas cake

When I started planning to make my Christmas cake, I didn't factor in the weather. I imagine that it would wonderfully comforting at this time of year in cold England to have an oven emitting warmth and a kitchen filled with spicy aromas as a fruit cake gently cooks in the oven, but it is definitely the wrong thing to be doing in a hot Australian kitchen when the temperature is already 30 degrees at 7am.

But the dried fruit had been macerating in Irish whisky for three days and I couldn't put off the baking any longer. It was time to whisk up the cake batter and turn on the air-conditioner and let my cake bake slowly for three hours.

Fruit cakes seem to have fallen out of favour over recent years. I know very few people who still bake a Christmas cake every year. Fruit cake is certainly not glamorous or showy like a chocolate or celebration cake but it does have a certain richness and comfort factor. A rich cake densely studded with plump fruit and nuts and laced with alcohol is a delicious afternoon treat with a cup of tea, especially in winter. And, although it is not ideally suited for a hot Australian summer, fruit cake has a Christmassy air about it to me. I confess that my favourite Christmas treat is now a slice of spicy, chocolatey panforte but I still have a soft spot for a good old-fashioned Christmas cake.

In Christmas 2007, after reading through my collection of fruit cake recipes, I came up with my own version, which was a hit with the family. Most fruit cakes are quite similar - it's a matter of choosing your preferred dried fruit and then working out the proportions of butter, sugar, eggs, flour and spices for the cake batter.

People often think they need to set aside a large portion of time to make a Christmas cake. However, the cake is actually very easy to make and just requires preparation and forward planning in order to allow time to macerate the fruit and then to bake the cake. Long, slow baking is the key that turns the thick batter into a rich, dense cake. The other secret is to line the cake tin with brown paper to help protect the cake from drying out through its long cooking time.

Melbourne Larder Christmas cake

250g sultanas

250g currants

250g raisins

60g prunes

100g dates

100g dried apricots

100g glace cherries

300g plain flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

250g butter

250g brown sugar

4 eggs

150ml brandy (or sherry, port or whisky)

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 teaspoon nutmeg

1 teaspoon mixed spice

1 teaspoon ginger

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 tablespoon golden syrup

zest of 1 lemon

Soak dried fruit in 100ml brandy overnight. (This year I soaked the fruit in 150ml Irish whisky for three days in the fridge and this gave a deeper, mellower flavour. If you have time, I recommend this; but the cake will still taste fine if you only macerate the fruit overnight.)

The next day, pre-heat the oven to 150 degrees and sift together the flour, baking powder and spices.

Cream the butter and brown sugar with an electric mixer until light and fluffy. Add the eggs and flour mix alternately. Lastly mix in the vanilla extract, soaked fruit, golden syrup and lemon zest.

Turn into a lined 20cm square cake tin.* Scoop centre into a light hollow to allow for rising. Place whole blanched almonds in a pattern around the edges of the cake. I sometimes make a little flower pattern in the centre as well.

Bake for 2 to 3 hours (cover with foil if the top is browning too much). Remove from oven and drizzle over the extra 50ml brandy. Cool completely in the tin and then turn out. Wrap the cake in several layers of greaseproof paper and then in foil and store in an airtight tin in a cool place until Christmas.

* The base and sides of the cake tin are lined twice - with brown paper and greaseproof paper. Lay two sheets of brown paper onto the bench, making sure it is larger than the tin. Trace around the base of the tin and then cut diagonally in from the sides to the base-line. This will allow the paper to fold neatly into the tin with no cracks for the cake to leak through. Repeat with a sheet of greaseproof paper.

Banana cake

There are very few food items that I dislike or don't eat but bananas are one of them. I've never liked them - can't stand the smell, especially when they're getting very ripe, nor the taste.

When I was a child, mum often used to make banana splits in special dishes, the banana covered by perfect scoops of vanilla ice-cream and a river of chocolate topping . I ate these under sufferance, gobbling the banana as fast as I could so that I could get to the ice-cream. But, alas, the banana flavour had already permeated into the ice-cream, so it really wasn't that enjoyable.

Mum also used to make a banana cake, which, as banana cakes go, was actually very nice. It had raisins sprinkled throughout the cake and it was iced with lemon-flavoured icing and dusted with cinnamon. Again, it was something I ate under sufferance, purely because I wanted cake and that was the only option.

While I tolerated bananas growing up, now I avoid them where possible, which is quite hard, given that my husband and children adore them. Adam has lately had a craving for banana cake and has been requesting a recipe from anyone who cooks. I persuaded Mum to pass on her recipe and she generously even cooked it for us recently while she was visiting. If you enjoy banana cake, this is a good cake, nice and moist, with the raisins adding interest, and the icing rounding it all off. If you don't like bananas, do what I do and make chocolate cake instead!

My mum's banana cake

125g butter

2 eggs

1 cup raisins, chopped

1 1/2 cups SR flour

1/2 level teaspoon bicarb soda

3/4 cup sugar

3 bananas, mashed

1 tablespoon milk

1 teaspoon vanilla

Cream butter and sugar. Add vanilla, then eggs. Warm milk and stir in bicarb soda (it should fizz). Add mashed banana and flour at same time with raisins and milk. Cook at 180 degrees for 30-40 minutes in a greased and baking paper-lined ring tin.

Ice with icing made with 1 teaspoon of melted butter and 1 cup of icing sugar. Add a small amount of boiling water and lemon essence and mix to a smooth paste. Ice cake, allowing some to dribble down the sides, then sprinkle with ground cinnamon.

Happy birthday!

Today my little boy Daniel turned three. I can't believe how quickly the months have flown since he was born. Everyone warns you to treasure every moment because it goes so quickly but it's hard to believe this until it's happening to you.

We had a family party to celebrate and once again the trusty Australian Women's Weekly birthday cake cookbook provided the inspiration for the cake. The cakes look impressive but are surprisingly easy to put together: a butter cake, some butter cream tinted with bright colours and some lollies for strategic decoration and you have a masterpiece! As tigers are one of Daniel's favourite animals, it was a given that I would make the tiger cake for him.

In the months leading up to his birthday, Daniel enjoyed flicking through the book and looking at all the cakes. The only problem was that, each time he looked, he chose a different cake that he wanted! I decided to ignore his whims and stick with the tiger but I was a little worried that when I brought out the cake, he might wail "But I didn't want that one!"

In the end, we had the opposite problem: Daniel loved the tiger cake so much that he was distraught when I produced a knife to cut the cake. In fact, he burst into tears and I had to give him a cuddle while Nanna quickly patched the cake back together!

Luckily, fellow playmates, lollies and balloons distracted him and we were able to serve the cake with no more tears; he happily ate two pieces and told everyone how much he loved the tiger and that tomorrow he was going to have a lion cake. Guess that's next year's cake sorted then ....

Honey, why does the kitchen smell like a brewery?

The moment I laid eyes on the recipe called "Whisky-soaked dark chocolate bundt cake" on my new favourite food blog, Orangette, I knew I had to make it. The combination of whisky, chocolate and coffee was a siren call to my soul. I have a million chocolate cake recipes and a good number of those also include the combination of chocolate and coffee. But to find a recipe that combines the seductiveness of dark chocolate, the gentle jolt from caffeine and a sly nudge and wink from the alcohol ... well, it was begging to be baked.

But what's this? A cup of whisky? This was a serious, grown-up cake, not like the namby-pamby versions I've made before, with a tablespoon or two of alcohol to give a gentle kick in the aftertaste.

So I baked it. And we loved it. (In fact, the toddlers from my mothers' group would have cheerfully polished off slices if we let them!)

The smell of whisky permeated the kitchen when I was mixing the cake; the alcoholic fumes smelt stronger as the cake baked, making the house smell like a brewery. I was surprised at just how intense the whisky smell was but perhaps that's because I used Jack Daniels, which was all we had in the cupboard. Molly from Orangette suggests that you use something that you like to drink on its own, as the alcoholic flavour is the focus of the cake. I don't think I would attempt to drink Jack Daniels straight, but it nevertheless baked into a flavoursome cake. It is best to bake the cake the day before you plan to eat it, as the intense alcohol flavour softens and mellows, producing a dense, fudgy cake that doesn't punch you in the face with its intensity.

As an aside, how gloriously sexy are Bundt tins? They are the little black dress of the cake world, making even the plainest butter cake look impossibly glamorous. Although Bundt tins are more suited to a rich, intense coffee or walnut cake than a butter cake, the fluted ridges and gentle curves from a Bundt tin make cakes look extra special, far more than if they're baked in a round, or even a ring, tin.

Here is Molly's recipe, which she adapted from The New York Times, and which I've "Australianised".

Whisky-soaked dark chocolate bundt cake
(adapted from Orangette)

250g (8 oz) unsalted butter, softened, plus more for the pan
2 cups plain flour, plus more for the pan
150g (5 oz) bitter dark chocolate
¼ cup instant coffee powder
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1 cup bourbon, rye, or other whisky, plus more for sprinkling
½ teaspoon salt
2 cups sugar
3 large eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon baking powder
Icing sugar, for garnish (optional)

Preheat oven to 170°C. Grease and flour a 10-cup-capacity Bundt pan (or two 8- or 9-inch loaf pans).

Melt the chocolate (either in a heatproof bowl set over a saucepan of simmering water, or in the microwave oven) and let cool.

Put instant coffee and cocoa powders in a 2-cup (or larger) glass measuring cup. Add enough boiling water to come up to the 1 cup measuring line. Stir until the powders dissolve. Add the whisky and salt. Let cool.

Using an electric mixer, cream the butter until fluffy and pale. Add the sugar slowly, and beat until well combined. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the vanilla extract, baking powder and melted chocolate, scraping down the sides of the bowl as you go.

With the mixer on low speed, beat in a third of the whisky mixture. When liquid is absorbed, beat in 1 cup flour. Repeat additions, ending with the whisky mixture. It may seem like there is too much liquid, but don’t worry; it’s okay. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan, and smooth the top. Bake about 1 hour and 10 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the cake comes out clean (loaf tins will take less time; start checking them after about 55 minutes).

Transfer the cake, still in its pan, to a rack. Unmould after 15 minutes and sprinkle the warm cake with more whisky. The easiest way to do this is to pour some whisky into a spoon and shake it over the cake.

Cool completely before serving, garnished with icing sugar, if you like.

A little bite of sweetness

When my youngest sister got married earlier this year, she had a Middle Eastern/Moroccan theme. With the wedding ceremony and reception being held at a city bar, it was easy to customise the venue and decorations to suit this theme. Amidst the coloured lanterns and rose-petal cocktails, Bec and John decided to forgo the traditional wedding cake and instead have tasting plates for dessert featuring Turkish delight, Persian fairy floss and rosewater mini cupcakes. And this was the source of Melbourne Larder's first baking commission!

When Bec asked me if I would make the mini cupcakes for her, I instantly agreed without thinking it through. After all, I bake all the time for friends and family and this was no different. But then I felt some performance pressure - after all, these would be on display as a finale to the wedding feast and would feature in photographs. I like to present food nicely but I've never really taken a huge interest in food presentation and I find that I get the best results when I don't really try. Every time I've taken extra care for a special occasion, I've felt that the finished product has fallen short of my expectations.

Still, mini cupcakes aren't difficult to make and Bec wanted a fairly simple presentation. We decided to make a butter cream icing, tint it pale pink, and pipe it onto the top. The test batch turned out beautifully but we decided the pink icing was a shade too dark and made it lighter for the final product.

As I only have one mini cupcake tray (it makes 12), the day before the wedding was spent making a triple batch of mixture and cooking 100 cupcakes. Once made and iced, we then sourced every container we could find in order to transport the cakes to the venue, where they were set out on dainty tiered cake trays and looked absolutely wonderful (if I do say so myself!) Despite stiff competition from the Turkish delight and Persian fairy floss, the cakes were a great success and quickly disappeared.

I've since made another large batch of these cupcakes, this time for the high tea we put on for my middle sister's hen's day. The beauty of these cupcakes is that they're easy to make, they have a lovely soft texture because of the sour cream and they look cute. People also tend to go back for seconds because they're so small. Although the cupcakes are perfect for a special occasion, they also make a nice sweet morning or afternoon tea treat.

MINI ROSEWATER CUPCAKES

125g butter
125g caster sugar
2 eggs
1 1/2 cups self-raising flour
125g sour cream
2 teaspoons rosewater

Preheat oven to 180 degrees. Line a mini cupcake tray with paper cases.

Cream the butter and caster sugar together until pale and creamy and then add rosewater. Add eggs, one at a time, and beat well between each. Stir in the sifted flour and the sour cream in alternate batches. Spoon into the paper cases and bake for about 10 minutes, or until golden and cooked through when pierced with a skewer.

To make icing, beat 125g butter with an electric mixer until as white as possible. Sift 1 1/2 cups icing sugar and add slowly to make a thick icing. Add 1-2 teaspoons rosewater and then add a few drops of pink food colouring until you reach desired tint. Spoon into a piping bag and pipe in a circular motion on top of each cake.

Daring Bakers challenge - Filbert gateau with praline buttercream

Elaborate cakes were back on the agenda this month for the Daring Bakers. Host Mele Cotte chose the filbert gateau with praline buttercream from Great Cakes by Carol Walter. Filbert appears to be an American name for hazelnuts. I think hazelnuts and chocolate make a great combination so was looking forward to this cake. It was a detailed cake, not difficult, but one that involved numerous preparation steps for each part before it could all be assembled. The good thing was that each part could be prepared in advance and then the cake assembled on the day you wanted to serve it, so that saved a lot of pressure and angst.

The individual parts of this cake were the filbert gateau, sugar syrup, praline buttercream (which involved making praline and buttercream separately), whipped cream, apricot glaze and ganache glaze. As I mentioned, when broken down into parts, this cake was not difficult to make but it involved time, large quantities of eggs and sugar and many dishes!

The filbert gateau involved processing toasted and skinned hazelnuts with flour and cornflour to make a fine, powdery mixture. Seven egg yolks were whisked with sugar until ribbony and they were then added to beaten egg whites before the hazelnut mixture was folded in. The result was a lovely, dense nutty cake. This was split into three and each individual piece moistened with sugar syrup before being joined together with the praline buttercream.

I ran into some problems with the praline buttercream. I have a lot of recipes for praline but have never actually made it, so I was glad to have the opportunity to try. It was quite easy - melting sugar, stirring in hazelnuts to coat with caramel and tipping onto a baking tray to let cool. I think I left the sugar a fraction too long, as it was quite dark and had a slightly burnt taste but this is a process that will be refined with practice.

So the praline was not the problem but the buttercream was. I used the measurements given, which were US measurements and may not have strictly translated to Australian measurements. To make, egg whites were whisked until foamy and thick and then whisked over boiling water until the whites were warm and the sugar dissolved. Nearly 400g of butter was separately beaten until smooth and creamy and the meringue was then blended in separately to make a thick and creamy buttercream. So far, so good. Then I added the 1-2 tablespoons of liqueur and the mixture split. Despite following the emergency instructions on how to make the buttercream come back together, it didn't work and became a gluggy, buttery mess. Although it looked awful, I couldn't justify throwing such a large amount of butter out, so I added icing sugar and a little cocoa and this saved the icing, making it stick together and taste like icing rather than butter. I've tried a similar buttercream recipe in a previous DB challenge and haven't been happy with the results, so I think I'll stick with my trusty Australian Women's Weekly vienna buttercream in future. I also ran the recipe past a chef friend to see if he could give me some advice on where I went wrong but he thought the method sounded odd and said that he would normally make a butter icing or a meringue icing but not combine the both. Perhaps this shows the difference in Australian and American recipes, methods and palates. Any advice from American cooks will be gratefully received!

Once the buttercream was saved, I sandwiched the gateau portions together with the buttercream, with some whipped cream on top and then made the chocolate ganache, which is my favourite part. Cream and a tablespoon of corn syrup are heated and poured over grated dark chocolate to make a luscious thick glaze to dribble over the cake.

I took the finished cake along to share as dessert with my table at a fundraising trivia night. Everyone thought it looked like tiramisu but it didn't taste at all like tiramisu. It was a very nice cake and was quickly devoured but we all thought it was too sweet for our tastebuds. Only small pieces are needed and I thought that sandwiching the cake together with buttercream and whipped cream was too much - one or the other would have been enough. With the amount of effort that went into making this cake, and the fact that it really was far too sweet, I don't think that I will make it again. But I enjoyed the process and could see adaptations for this cake to adjust it to my palate - moistening the gateau slices with coffee syrup and sandwiching with a small amount of whipped cream before icing with ganache is an alternative I'd like to try.

Rosy red rhubarb

I think of rhubarb as a grown-up treat. Although mum grew rhubarb at home, I never really enjoyed it as child. I found the tart taste too sharp for my palate and was frightened by the knowledge that the leaves were poisonous (although we never ate the leaves, it was one of those pieces of information that tends to lodge in a child's mind).

Now, however, I adore rhubarb and cannot resist buying a bunch when I see it for sale at a market (provided that it's in season and looks healthy). My palate now enjoys the sharp-edged sweetness of rhubarb that I disliked as a child. I love its ruby-red colour and the way something that looks like red celery can be cooked down with sugar into a meltingly soft puree to stir through custards for a pretty dessert or mixed with natural yoghurt and muesli for a delicious, healthy start to the day. Soft rhubarb topped with a rich, nutty crumble is a favourite winter dessert.

After buying a bunch of rhubarb at the Slow Food Farmers' Market, a rhubarb crumble was the first recipe on my list. But that only used half the bunch, so I turned my attention to other recipes. Most was used for a sweet compote to eat with yoghurt for breakfast but I used some of the compote to top spicy, buttery baby cakes in a recipe that I found on the Gourmet Traveller website. These simple cakes have a gingery taste that is beautifully offset by the little jewels of rhubarb puree dotted on the top. Although I made these cakes in the mini loaf tins as specified, I think these would also work well in muffin tins. This recipe is definitely going into the "make again" file.

BABY SPICE AND RHUBARB BUTTER CAKES

225g soft unsalted butter
3/4 cup golden syrup
3 eggs
225g plain flour
2 tsp baking powder
2 tsp ground ginger
2 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground cloves

Rhubarb compote
2 stalks of rhubarb, thinly sliced
55g caster sugar

For rhubarb compote, combine rhubarb, sugar and 1 Tb of water in a saucepan. Bring to boil over high heat, reduce heat to low, cover and cook for 2 minutes or until softened, then cook, uncovered for eight minutes or until liquid has reduced and rhubarb is soft. Cool.

Cream butter and golden syrup until pale, then add eggs, one at a time, beating well between each addition, until mixed in.

Sift over flour, baking powder and spices and stir to combine, then spoon into nine lightly greased 2/3-cup capacity mini loaf pans and spoon 2 tsp rhubarb down centre. Bake at 180 degrees for 12-15 minutes or until just cooked. Allow to cool slightly, then turn out onto a wire rack and cool.

Recipe from Gourmet Traveller website

The great lamington debate

A plate of lamingtons at a work morning tea has been the catalyst for a great debate among my colleagues: should lamingtons have jam in the middle or not? My answer is an unequivocal no!

First, some background. A proper, home-made lamington is a true delight: a cube of light, airy butter or sponge cake, dipped in chocolate icing and rolled in desiccated coconut. Lamingtons are one of my favourite cakes and there is nothing more delightful for morning tea when made properly. Get it wrong, though - the cake is too dry and crumbly, or the icing is not the right consistency - and there's nothing worse.

There's no clear indication of when or how lamingtons were first baked, with many weird and wonderful anecdotes on the internet. Some stories say that a cook improvised when discovering that the sponge cake to be served up for afternoon tea had gone stale and the chocolate icing and coconut was used to disguise this and make it more palatable. It is thought that the cakes were named after Charles Cochrane-Baillie, 2nd Baron Lamington, who served as Governor of Queensland from 1896 to 1901.

However they came into being, lamingtons have become a recognisably Australian cake - indeed, in 2006 the National Trust of Queensland named the lamington as one of Queensland's 12 favourite icons. When I was growing up, lamington drives were very popular as fund-raisers for schools and the football and netball clubs. I think this is where some people developed a preference for jam-filled lamingtons, as these lamingtons were flatter and drier than home-made ones and the strawberry jam helped to moisten and flavour the cakes.

The classic Australian cookbooks all agree that lamingtons do not have jam or whipped cream in the middle. The Presbyterian Women's Missionary Union (PMWU) cookbook (first published in 1904), Cookery: the Australian Way (the standard home economics textbook for secondary school students, first published in 1966) and Stephanie Alexander's The Cook's Companion all feature similar recipes for butter cake and chocolate icing, although Stephanie prefers a Genoese sponge cake to butter cake.

It is easy to get lamingtons wrong. The cubes should not be too big, nor too small (too many bakeries sell gigantic lamingtons that are disappointingly dry and tasteless). The cake should be moist and not dry or crumbly. The cubes are much easier to cut and ice if you make the cake the day before and leave it in the fridge overnight. I like the contrast of the butter cake with sweet chocolate icing and the coconut. To me, a filling of jam or whipped cream makes the cake too sweet and detracts from the lamington's pure simplicity. Those who prefer otherwise say that the jam adds a sweetness and texture to what is an otherwise bland cake.

Let me know what you think - jam or no jam?

Friday morning tea - crunchy amber cake

I recently wrote about the treasured recipes in my grandmother's cookbook and mentioned in passing that a 'crunchy amber cake' won the 1965 Butter/White Wings bake-off. I then received an email from Sally, who had eaten Crunchy Amber Cake many years ago and was keen for the recipe so she could make it again.

I must admit that when I initially looked at the recipe, I was dismissive of it. But, in the interests of research, I thought I should try the recipe before I posted it for Sally, so at least I would have an idea of what the cake was like.

Well, I'm glad I tried it! My initial scepticism was misplaced. Although there are several steps involved in making this cake, it's surprisingly easy to make and looks quite impressive. A butter sponge is sandwiched together with a caramel custard and topped with a meringue topping that is browned in the oven. The finished product looks quite impressive (sadly I don't have a photo to show, as the hungry hordes descended on the cake the moment it came out of the oven and demolished it before I could get the camera) and would make a nice dessert cake. It's quite sweet, so small slices suffice. However, because of the meringue topping, it's best eaten on the day it's made.

CRUNCHY AMBER CAKE
As supplied by Mrs B. D. Calvert of Tasmania - the winner of the Butter/White Wings 1965 bake-off competition.

Cake mixture
125g butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 whole egg, plus one egg yolk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 1/2 cups self-raising flour
1/2 cup milk

Cream butter and sugar until fluffy. Add eggs and vanilla; beat lightly. Fold in flour alternately with milk, mix well. Divide mixture into two 7-inch layer tins [note - I used one 8-inch round cake tin and just sliced the cake in half]. Bake in a moderate oven (180 degrees) for 20 minutes [if you bake in one tin, the cake will take 30-40 minutes to cook]. Remove from tins and cool.

Filling
90g butter
4 level tablespoons brown sugar
2 level tablespoons cornflour
pinch of salt
1 egg yolk
1 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Melt butter. Add sugar and stir to dissolve. Remove from heat. Add cornflour and salt and stir until smooth. Return to heat and cook gently, stirring all the time. Beat together the egg yolk, milk and vanilla. Add slowly to mixture and stir well. Bring to the boil and cook for two minutes. Cool. (The mixture should thicken as it cools, so you may need to put it in the fridge to thicken it up. You want it to be spreadable but not runny).

Topping
2 egg whites
1/2 cup white sugar
1 tablespoon coconut
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 tablespoon slivered almonds

Beat egg whites stiffly; add sugar slowly. Beat until smooth. Combine coconut, sugar, cinnamon and almonds in a separate bowl. Spread the filling between the cakes. Spread the egg-white mixture over cakes, then sprinkle the sugar and spice mix over this. Heat the oven to 200 degrees and turn off. Place the completed cake in the oven for five minutes to set the topping.

Luscious lemons

Lemons are one of my favourite fruits. Although we have our own lemon tree growing in the backyard, I love receiving bags of juicy, golden lemons from friends and family. There's always so many different uses for them, both sweet and savoury, as the feature ingredient or as a flavour enhancer. I lean towards the sweet side of things when using lemons. In winter, lemon delicious is one of my favourite desserts, with a creamy, custardy lemon sauce hiding beneath a golden sponge topping. I have several delicious lemon cake recipes to choose from, including a lemon and yoghurt version and a magnificently huge, dense lemon sour cream cake. And nothing beats a slice of lemon tart with double cream on the side.

Having received a generous bag of lemons recently, these are some of the lemon dishes we've been feasting on. Of course, lemons are great to have on hand so that the zest or juice can be added to seafood or chicken dishes. When we're getting near the end of the bag, I like to make up lemon curd to use in cakes or tarts, and a hot lemon drink is a great pick-me-up when I feel a cold coming on.

I've been making the following lemon cake for at least 15 years. It's a Beverley Sutherland Smith recipe from an afternoon tea cake feature in Epicure in The Age, probably in the late 1980s or early 1990s, and it quickly became a family favourite. It's a wonderful soft, buttery cake with the sweetness offset by the tart lemon flavour. A sticky sugary syrup on top means there's no need for icing. This is a great morning or afternoon tea cake.

LEMON CAKE

125g butter
1 1/4 cups caster sugar
grated rind of 1 lemon
3 tablespoons lemon juice
2 large eggs
1 1/4 cups plain flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/3 cup milk

Topping
grated rind 1 lemon
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1/4 cup caster sugar

Butter the base and sides of a 20cm round cake tin. Line the base with non-stick baking paper and butter this also. Preheat the oven to 180-190 degrees.

Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the lemon rind and juice and mix well.

Sift the flour and baking powder over the top and add, alternately, with milk. Spoon into the tin, smooth the top and bake for 10 minutes. Turn the oven down to 170 degrees and cook for 45 minutes, or until a skewer inserted into the centre of the cake comes out clean.

Allow to cool for 5 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack to cool.

To make the topping, mix all the ingredients in a small saucepan and heat until the sugar has softened. Spoon over the top of the cake while still warm.

The recipe says to let the cake cool completely before cutting but I find I can't resist slicing off a piece of warm cake - there's nothing better than a slice of warm cake fresh from the oven!

Old-fashioned cakes stand test of time

I am the temporary custodian of my grandmother's cookbook. It's been passed around my mother and aunts and has now come to me. It's a tatty old A5 book, its brown leather cover held together with a strip of floral contact paper. Page after page is filled with my grandmother's copperplate writing, interspersed with recipes clipped from old newspapers and magazines. There's a leaflet from the White Wings National Bake-off competition. First prize for 1965 is "crunchy amber cake" (butter cakes sandwiched together with a custard filling and iced with a spiced meringue topping browned in the oven), while the "seafood banquet pie" took the honours in 1963.

Grandma's cookbook is filled with recipes for puddings, cakes, biscuits and slices. There's a short "savouries" chapter, mostly for casseroles. Surprised by the amount of sweet recipes, as I tend to think of dessert as being a luxury in the thrify past, I asked mum why there were so many. She explained that savoury cooking was quite plain, often meat and three vegetables, so there wasn't much need for recipes, as most housewives had a repertoire they'd acquired growing up. There was more scope with sweet food, hence the number of recipes.

Robert Drewe wrote in The Age on 23 December 2006 about finding his nan's cookbook, which contained recipes for 54 puddings, 41 cakes and 35 types of biscuits. "It's contents highlight the single biggest change in Australian eating habits since [nan's] cooking heyday: the sad passing of puddings and cakes," he wrote. "Apparently her family ate these delicacies all the time. If so, mystery of the ages, family albums show that they were all thin."

I haven't counted the number of puddings or cakes, but Grandma's book is full of delightfully old-fashioned recipes: flummery, strawberry float, junket ice-cream, blancmange, treacle cakes, sago treat, refrigerator biscuits, marshamllow cake or slice, and cream puffs (at least three recipes, one marked "unsatisfactory - too thin a mixture").

There's the evocatively named ruby cakes, topsy cake, dark cake, johnnie cakes, rock cakes, golden wattlecake, "slice using cake crumbs", Rickety Anns (sultana biscuits), Commando Tarts (butter biscuits topped with jam and meringue), Coconut Belles, Luncheon Cake, Fiesta Cookies, Chinese Chew, Fairy Biscuits and "Economy Biscuits by the Lady Mayoress of Melbourne".

I chose to make the intriguing "Bible Cake", mostly because of the novel way that the recipe is written. For those who haven't got Bibles at hand, luckily the recipe provides a "translation" (I've also converted from imperial to metric). It makes a large cake, a cross between a very light fruit cake and a pound cake. It's extremely moreish and is a great match with a cup of tea.

RECIPE FOR BIBLE CAKE

Take (1) 250g of Judges 5:25; (2) 250g of Jeremiah 6:20; (3) 1 tablespoon of 1 Samuel 14:25; (4) 3 of Jeremiah 17:11; (5) 250g of 1 Samuel 30:12; (6) 250g of Nahum 3:12 (chopped); (7) 60g of Numbers 17:8 (blanched and chopped); (8) 500g of 1 Kings 4:22; (9) season to taste with 2 Chronicles 9:9; (10) a pinch of Leviticus 2:13; (11) 1 teaspoon of Amos 4:5*; (12) 3 tablespoons of Judges 4:19 - the last clause.
* 'Leaven' is equivalent to baking powder

Mixing instructions: Beat 1, 2 and 3 to a cream, add 4 one at a time, still beating. Then add 5, 6 and 7 and beat again. Next add 8, 9, 10 and 11 (having previously mixed them), and last of all add 12. Bake in a rather slow oven (170 degrees) for not less than an hour and a half.

Translation:
(1) butter
(2) sugar
(3) honey
(4) eggs
(5) raisins
(6) figs
(7) almonds
(8) flour
(9) spice
(10) salt
(11) baking powder
(12) milk

Cupcake heaven

The whole world seems to be in love with cupcakes. Maybe it's their cute size and shape, or the fact that they feel less indulgent than a big slice of cake, or just that they seem to invoke a party atmosphere. There's been a spate of cupcake books recently featured in the food news, so it seems the trend is definitely not over.

My mothers' group recently held a joint first birthday party for our babies. In between reminiscing about our first meeting, lamenting how quickly the first year had gone and that our little newborns were now toddlers, and chasing said toddlers around the playgym, we of course found time for birthday cake. I was one of the designated cake makers and what better choice could there be than vanilla cupcakes iced with bright green, pink and yellow icing?

Jennifer Graham, of Crabapple Cupcake Bakery fame, recently published her cookbook book, which spilled the secrets of her fabulous little cupcakes. The basic vanilla cupcakes were delicious little morsels, loved by both adults and children alike. I made and tinted a basic butter icing, rather than Jennifer's buttercream, which seemed too rich for our little audience.

VANILLA CUPCAKES

2 3/4 cups plain flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
200g softened unsalted butter
1 cup caster sugar
4 eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 cup milk

Preheat oven to 170 degrees. Line two 12-hole muffin trays with cupcake papers.

Sift flour and baking powder. Cream the butter for 1-2 minutes. Add the caster sugar one-third at a time, beating for two minutes after each addition. After the last addition, beat until light and fluffy and the sugar is almost dissolved. Add the eggs one a time, beating for one minute after each addition or until the mixture is light and fluffy. Add the vanilla extract.

Add one-third of the flour and beat on low speed until combined. Add half the milk and beat until combined. Repeat with remaining flour and milk, finishing with the flour. Be careful not to overbeat or the mixture will toughen. Spoon the mixture into cupcake papers until they are about three-quarters full. Cook for 18-20 minutes. Turn out of the tin and cool on a wire rack.

Recipe from The Crabapple Bakery Cupcake cookbook