Usually also on the menu would be some sort of salad rather than a green bean anything. A ham is always in order, but usually a beauteously large canned one, dressed up with pineapple and cherries instead of a more Californian, Honey Baked Ham. And then to guild the lilly, there would also be the addition of a picadillo style stuffing.

Rather than go for a monster sized feast, we chose to tread lightly and simply add our quintessential celebratory rice dish. Peasant food that knows no economical bounds as both the rich and poor love it just as well.

This site has a great recipe

Try it and buen provecho!

Filed under: Food Culture ]]> http://thehankeringpalate.wordpress.com/2011/08/21/nutty-sweet-and-delicious/feed/ 1 snicolilla http://thehankeringpalate.wordpress.com/2011/07/20/rummaging-through-memories-and-rum-cake/ http://thehankeringpalate.wordpress.com/2011/07/20/rummaging-through-memories-and-rum-cake/#comments Wed, 20 Jul 2011 12:29:10 +0000 Sarah Nicole Balzac http://thehankeringpalate.wordpress.com/?p=575 Continue reading →]]>

Picture Source: http://bakingdom.com/2010/08/butter-rum-cake.html

The combination of humid heat and an injury that has left me feeling almost geriatric has wiped me out of all exuberance. However, a quick glance over at a Puerto Rican newspaper’s website left me with a sense of whimsy when I saw a recipe for a classic Caribbean cake.

In most parts of the world there’s an idea about what is cool weather cooking and warm weather cooking however, when it’s hot all year round, there’s no such thing as seasonal cooking at all–It’s always going to be hot. Of course, its cooler in the “winter,” but its still technically warm and thus no one squirms much when you stick a cake in the oven mid-summer.

Anyway, just last year Mirna’s Cakes closed. A company known for their kiosk in malls where they sold rum cakes covered in a sickly sweet glaze were a welcome treat no matter the occasion. Although, I always found the cakes to be too dark (most likely baked in a Teflon pan) and the icing to be much too cloying, I still loved them. No one in PR calls them rum cake. In fact, I think the sugar-high crowd almost always misses their boozy reality. Pre-glazing a cake with a drunken simple syrup is simply how we do things and so it’s not a “rum cake.” At least not like we know the ones from the Virgin Islands (both the US and British) are. Those are so boozed that one should have to show ID prior to consumption.

There is not a chance in heck that I’ll turn the oven on this week unless I want to risk my roommate stacking my eviction, but I might consider it some time before autumn. Reason being that this cake brings me two memories and those are of my mother begging me to bring her one when going to visit her in Los Angeles and of the flavors of my childhood. I highly recommend this recipe which I’ve translated into English from El Nuevo Dia’s website. This simple bundt cake is perfect for a potluck, a party, a simple dinner gathering or as cake to lay on the counter for when hunger pangs or for any time at all.

Rum Cake:
2 ½ Cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
½ Stick unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup sugar
2 large eggs
1 Cup buttermilk
Zest of one lemon (I recommend ½ lime ½ lemon as usually key limes are used)
Zest of 2 oranges
1 cup chopped walnuts (or almonds or non at all)

1) Pre-heat oven to 350˚F and grease and flour a bundt cake pan.
2) In a large bowl, sift all the dry ingredients.
3) In another large bowl, beat together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs one by one waiting until each egg is fully combined.
4) Slowly alternate adding the dry ingredients and buttermilk beating slowly with a wooden spoon or mixer. Mix until just combined.
5) Fold in the zests and nuts and place in the pan and bake for 55 to 60 minutes or until a cake tester comes out clean.

Syrup:
3 Tablespoons lemon juice
½ cup fresh orange juice
1 cup sugar
5 or 6 Tablespoons of rum

1) In a small sauce pan on top of low-medium heat, combine all the ingredients and stir until the sugar is dissolved.
2) Remove from heat and add rum.
3) Glaze cake while still warm and prior to un-molding. Once cooled, un-mold and serve just as is or top with a simple glaze.

Icing (provided by me, not Endi.com):
1 Cup confectioners sugar
¼ Cup fresh squeezed citrus juice
Slowly add juice to sugar while stirring, being careful not to add all of it. Just add it until you’ve reached a desired consistency. You may need to add more juice, but not likely.

It’s been screaming hot in these parts as of late and since sticking oneself in the freezer isn’t exactly an option thus I’ve decided to make ice cream. Unlike most of the US, in NYC the ice cream truck doesn’t drive around chiming music in effort to attract a swarm of children, but instead it parks itself on various street corners. Some are the classic Mr. Softy trucks and the rest either offer gourmet custard style treats (Van Leeuwen and the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck are two great ones) or like Yogo, they serve frozen yogurt — both the traditional sweet kind and the tart. As much as I love the convenience, I don’t often want to walk around and find a truck and anyway, nothing beats the home made kind!

Since ice cream making is a process, today’s experiment is not ready. In the mean while, check out this wacky recipe I came up with a few years ago for PastryScoop.com. I’m not sure if the website is still running, but as long as its still open, it’s a great resource for lovers of pastry. Chocolate Bacon Ice Cream with Smoked Caramel Sauce is much more delicious than it sounds and I promise you that you’ll love it. Click here for the article and recipe.

Elisabeth proudly showing off her Yorkshire Pudding success

Since my arrival in New York City I’ve had the pleasure of meeting up with Elisabeth several times and it’s truly been a pleasure to get to know her more.

Although she hails from a small town south of Boston, Massachusets, NYC has had her heart since the 1980s. From the Oyster Bar in Grand Central Terminal to Pete’s Tavern in Gramercy, Elisabeth knows and loves the vestiges of old New York.

This Prosecco loving, high-heeled wearing, small town girl, knows this city like the back of her hand. Elisabeth moves forward with the times while remaining true to who she is and keeping tradition close to her heart. I’ll never forget when she told me how when she goes back home she’s sure to stop at a Friendly’s in order to purchase a tub or two of their peppermint ice cream as it defines the Holiday season. I do the same thing when I visit home and bring back my beloved coffee. Those are the little moments that define our personal food history and those are the stories I love to share and read.

***This post marks the last of this blog series. Thank you to those who played a part in it, I will always cherish these stories. I’ll soon be creating a page where I’ll link all of them so future readers can have a more definitive understanding of what this blog is about.***

By Elisabeth

In many ways, mine was the classic 1970s suburban American childhood. “Like in movies!” say my children, they of the strictly urban New York City upbringing.  They love to picture me in the vast halls of my high school, taking my books from a long row of metal lockers, or cruising around town in my parents’ huge station wagon-both concepts totally foreign to them.

Like many Americans of my generation, I grew up without much connection to any particular culinary heritage.  It was “a little of this a little of that,” and despite the fact that my family background includes relations who hailed from Ireland and Germany, I was not exposed to much in the way of “family recipes” in my childhood.

My brothers and sister and I ate lots of standard-issue chicken, mac-n-cheese, and the like.  We ate hamburgers and hot dogs.  We ate fish sticks on Fridays.  We loved Minute Rice and Jell-O pudding.  My sister and I baked chocolate chip cookies from the Toll House recipe on the bag of chips, and made birthday cakes from boxed mixes.   Occasionally my mother, a bit of a free spirit, would venture into more creative territory.  She made a killer lasagna, taught to her by a Italian neighbor in her early married life.  She was renowned amongst our neighbors for her Quiche Lorraine, which contained “Bac-O’s”, a staple of our suburban supermarkets  and restaurant salad bars.  From time to time she would engage in fits of “Little House on the Prairie” style DIY, making bread, peanut butter, and once – memorably! – cheese – in our small-town kitchen.

When I grew up, I married, moved to New York City and set about becoming a bona fide foodie.  As I young bride, I was ambitious, cooking my way through the Silver Palate Cookbook, with its lengthy, byzantine recipes.  I scoured the city’s Greenmarkets and gourmet food shops, developing  finicky standards.  In Autumn, I roasted root vegetables before making my own stock.  Come Spring, I cooked ramps.  A dish I adapted from a recipe in the New York Times for Chicken with a Mustard Cream Sauce became known to my friends as “Lizzy’s Delicious Chicken”.

By the time my children arrived in the early ’90s I was a full-blown Food Snob and I saw to it that my babies quickly followed suit.  When I made my mother’s Quiche for Preschool Parent dinners, I always cooked my own bacon and made sure to use fine gruyère cheese.   My son eschewed the boxed fluorescent mac-n-cheese of my youth in favor of the Barefoot Contessa’s Panko-Crumb-Topped masterpiece.  My daughter, then about eight, voiced her appreciation at a friend’s house upon taking a bite of grilled chicken: “Mmm! Ras-al-Hanout!” We were all thoroughly spoiled by the infinite epicurean possibilities at our fingertips.

At some point I began to hunger for something more.  On a visit home, I raided my mother’s recipe collection and came away with a number of handwritten recipe cards.   These were the forgotten treats of my childhood!  My grandmother’s Butterscotch Sauce.  Our friend Mona’s Zucchini Bread.  My Great-Aunt Mary’s Molasses Crinkles.  This last one especially called to me.  Mary was my paternal Grandmother’s sister; a frequent and beloved visitor to our home, and by unanimous consent, “The Best Cook in The Family.”  I wanted my own children to taste those cookies.  I perused the list of ingredients, and was a bit put off to see that it included Crisco vegetable shortening.  Please! This was not something I kept in my streamlined city kitchen!  So I made up a batch of the cookies using butter, with predictable results: rock-hard, inedible blobs.  Humbled, I made a second attempt, using Great-Aunt Mary’s prescribed Crisco, and voilà!  Perfect, sugary gems!   We started making them all the time, using different colored sugars for various holidays and occasions.   For several years, my daughter made them almost weekly for my son’s running teammates and their families.  In fact, we gave the recipe to his school for a cookbook, renaming them “Dylan’s Dad’s Favorites” after their biggest fan.

Sometime later, I posted this recipe on an internet food forum, and was thrilled beyond measure when the far-flung members started baking and enjoying them.   As time went by, I had a visit in NYC from one forum member, the lovely Kate, AKA Norm.   When she posted photos of her visit to me on the same forum, she included a shot of my Great-Aunt’s handwritten recipe card, which was hanging in my kitchen during her stay   Another friend posted back, “When I saw the card, I felt like crying!”  Such are the bonds created by this kind of sharing.  I invite you to try this simple, delicious recipe.  But please, call it by its proper name, “Great-Aunt Mary’s Molasses Crinkles.”

Great-Aunt Mary’s Molasses Crinkles
2 ½ Cups flour
1 Cup brown sugar
1 egg
4 Tblsp molasses (or golden syrup)
3/4 Cup vegetable shortening
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp cinnamon
Raw sugar for decorating
1) Mix all the ingredients together, shape into balls (walnut sized)
2) Dip top into raw (or any) sugar
3) Bake in a 375ºF oven for 12 to 15 minutes

Megan is Californian to the core. An incredibly hard worker, who loves to spend as much time on the water as she does with her family. I love seeing her Facebook updates on what she’s cooking for dinner as it’s always mouth watering and makes me want to join the clan.

A mother of one and married to her husband of 26 years, Megan is deeply devoted to those she loves. She is a core member of one of the two forums I’m part of and I couldn’t imagine it with out her. Here’s a little bit on her own personal food culture, how it was developed and a recipe that’s as much an American staple as apple pie.

I’m an American, a born and bred Californian, and when I think of American food hamburgers, meatloaf, potato salad and baked beans come to mind. But for me, American food is a cuisine of many old traditions, plus the influx of new cultures. I have been heavily influenced by 4 major cookbooks – The Original Betty Crocker Cookbook from the 1950’s, The Frugal Gourmet Cooks American by Jeff Smith, How to Grill and, finally, Miami Spice both by Steven Raichlen.

For me, cooking is about love and comfort. It is my way of relaxing at the end of a busy day, a creative outlet, a way of bringing friends together, and a way of satisfying my family without breaking our budget. My mother was a good cook, but she didn’t have a passion for it. However, she did like to make certain dishes that were easy and rewarding, and she taught them to me. 

One of my earliest memories is one of learning how to make Sour Cream Cake. I stood on a kitchen chair, following the directions as my mother spoke them, struggling to hold the mixer and scrape down the batter at the same time. I remember my mother laughing as we topped the batter with chocolate chips, saying “oh, one for the cook” as we nibbled a few.

I lost my mother last year, and my father passed away a few months ago. A few weeks later, a friend asked for recipes for cakes that traveled well, and I posted it on our forum with a short description of its history with my family. Another forum friend, Mary, adopted the recipe for her Book and Coffee shop in Western Virginia. It was a great success, and she asked if she could name it for my mother. My mother’s friends and family always called her “Dolly”, and so “Dolly Cakes” were born. It’s such a graceful tribute to my mother!

Sour Cream Coffee Cake
Here is the recipe, a simple, 60s retro cake that is delicious, easy to make, and travels well. Mary added some cocoa to the batter, and macadamia nuts to the topping.
6 Tlbs (1/3 cup) soft butter or margarine
1 Cup plus 1 Tlbs sugar
2 eggs
1 1/3 Cups all-purpose flour
1 ½ tps baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1 Cup sour cream
1 package (6 oz) semi sweet chocolate chips
1) Mix butter with one cup of sugar until blended, then beat in eggs one at a time.
2) Stir flour with baking powder, soda and cinnamon. Blend withcreamed butter and sugar mixture. Mix in sour cream.
3) Pour batter into a greased and flour dusted 9 x 13 inch pan. Scatter chocolate chips. over the top of the batter, then sprinkle with remaining 1 tablespoon of sugar.
4) Bake at 350ºF degrees for about 35 minutes.

Sunset Magazine, 1969

Megan does not have a blog, but for more posts by Mary join her at Southern Plenty

Kate or Norm as most call her, is endlessly entertaining. Her stories regarding her past, her present and her future world travels are like little vignettes on the story of a woman truly grabbing everything out of life. Her appreciation for foreign ingredients is also entertaining as what she finds odd is usually very normal to so many of us. Even transcending this fascination to grocery stores across the globe which she unabashedly photographs. In fact, I’ll never forget her tale of having gotten in trouble for taking pictures of the famously camera shy, Dean and Deluca.

Kate’s everyday, girl next-door look, gives no evidence to how truly interesting she is. It’s been a pleasure to read her stories and click through her pictures, which make me feel like I’m right there next to her and I hope you’ll feel the same after reading this guest post. 

By Kate

Whatever else I might have been like as a child, I imagine my parents had quite an easy time with me when it came to food.  I have always eaten pretty much anything put in front of me, and unlike many children it seems, was always willing to try new foods.

As an adult I have maintained my try-anything-once attitude towards food; an attitude that I believe has served me well over the years.  I am fortunate enough to have had the experience of living on 3 different continents over the last 6 years as my husband is in the military.  Naturally home-loving, I don’t think that either he or I would have chosen to move house every 2 years but as the Army throws these opportunities at us we do our best to roll with it and make the most of whatever new situation we find ourselves in.  This of course also means that we are able to whole-heartedly embrace the food cultures in which we find ourselves.

From 2006-2008 we were posted to Ontario, Canada.  You might not think that the cuisine of North America is all that different to that of the UK, but we certainly found ourselves adjusting our diets.  In the past we had eschewed the burger, deriding it as ‘junk food’, but what a revelation a good burger was to us!  Home-made all-beef patties, sliced gherkins, relish.  We even developed an only-slightly-ironic taste for square slices of processed cheese (or ‘cheese possessed’ as we now lovingly refer to it!).  Barbecuing is practically a religion during a Canadian Summer and we bought a fabulous smoker barbecue that bears more than a passing resemblance to Stephenson’s Rocket.  What an excitement to be able to hot-smoke salmon and chicken over woodchips!  Despite being hundreds of miles from the sea, we ate far more seafood than we ever had before; it was so cheap compared to UK prices, as was steak.  I still fondly recall the first and only time I have ever made Beef Wellington, using a great slab of fillet steak that had cost perhaps $20, but would have been 4 times that price in England.  Burgers, steak, ribs, lobster, we ate everything with gleeful abandon.  We even sampled poutine, the heart-attack-inducing Quebecois dish comprising of chips (sorry, fries), gravy and cheese curds.  Thank heavens we also gorged on fabulous locally grown produce – Niagara peaches, blueberries,  sweetcorn, squash – and did plenty of exercise, spending our Summers walking, cycling and swimming and our Winters skiing and snowshoeing.

It was an emotional wrench to leave Canada in many ways, but on setting foot back on UK soil we immediately felt that we were home.  Straight away we began remembering all the foods that we had missed while we were away: many of these I can no longer recall, but being back really made me realise how fortunate we are in the UK to have such a range of supermarkets with such a vast choice of stock.  Never again will I complain about Tescos, we don’t know how good we have it.  Added to this the incredible range of ‘artisan foods’ available both in markets and supermarkets.  What sticks in my mind most of all however was our excitement at being able once again to make a clotted cream tea.  It seemed to be the epitome of ‘Englishness’ to spend a day out walking in beautiful countryside, then come home to freshly baked scones, home-made jam and a tub of Devon clotted cream.

Now, from 2010 to 2012 we are in Brunei, on the island of Borneo, in South-East Asia.  Inevitably, and excitingly, our diets have changed once again and we have embraced this change.  I saw it in Canada too, but it’s so noticeable here that many expats simply try to recreate food from their home countries.  You can almost do that, but not easily or well – and it will certainly cost you a lot if you only eat foods imported from your home country.  Inevitably we have the occasional evening when we crave a taste of home, any European dish will do, but most of the time we eat Asian – plenty of rice, noodles, soups, stir-fries.  This has its health benefits too; both of us lost half a stone in weight during our first 3 months in Brunei, and after nearly a year here the weight has stayed off.  Less dairy (no clotted cream!), less red meat, more fruit and veg, much of it local.  Our Asian holidays over the last year have had a real food focus as we have gone out of our way to discover the dishes that make each country what it is; and what amazing things we have discovered…  Rice paper rolls and Beef Pho in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam; sweet coconutty sticky rice with sesame seeds for breakfast in Myanmar, and pickled tea-leaf salad for supper; spicy Chiang-Mai sausage in Thailand, plus taking a fantastic Thai cookery course.  At the heart of any country is its cuisine, and what an adventure to explore it.

I feel that this piece should really include a recipe…  but where to start?  Peach pancakes and maple syrup in honour of Canada?  Spicy Mee Goreng from Brunei?  I welcome all these recipes into my life, but England is where my heart and home is so I will go with the traditional plain scone (recipe).  Serve with home-made jam and real clotted cream.

For more posts by Kate, join her at It’s The Norm

Filed under: Defining Food Culture, Food Culture, Recipes Tagged: Asian flavors, Asian food, British food, British Navy, Brunei, Canada, Canadian food, clotted cream, Emma Bridgewater, England, scones ]]> http://thehankeringpalate.wordpress.com/2011/07/06/norms-life-in-food/feed/ 2 snicolilla Kate's face peaches single scone Noodles noodles 2 cat kitson http://thehankeringpalate.wordpress.com/2011/07/05/insights-on-food-culture-while-in-the-home-of-a-dutch-foodie/ http://thehankeringpalate.wordpress.com/2011/07/05/insights-on-food-culture-while-in-the-home-of-a-dutch-foodie/#comments Tue, 05 Jul 2011 17:55:19 +0000 Sarah Nicole Balzac http://thehankeringpalate.wordpress.com/?p=377 Continue reading →]]> ***Series Summary – In an effort to clarify my personal definition of food culture, I’ve invited a few food forum friends to share stories and recipes on my blog, with the hope of it giving us insight into the culture developed within their own home kitchens.***

Hetteke or Het as I know her, has the spitfire personality and humor that I adore. Constantly entertaining, she is also very wise. She may not have a blog, but her posts on the forum are always a great read. 

Netherlands born and raised, Het’s interest in food developed during a time in her childhood where she lived in Ireland Scotland. Now a mother of two living in Rotterdam with her love, she cooks with passion and describes it with even more fervor. 

Het taking a break while enjoying the BBC Good Food Show in Birmingham, England with fellow "forumers" June 2011

By Het

The Netherlands is not famous for its food culture. We don’t have many Michelin-Star restaurants and our celebrity chefs are few and far between. Ever since the Americas were discovered, the evening meal here consists of boiled potatoes, overcooked veg and pork chops or meatballs. A gravy with little brown bits in gets people excited in the Flat Countries. Food should be cheap and nourishing, quickly made and even quicker inserted into face. – It’s just there to keep you alive.

After reading this, you might wonder about the title of this blogpost. But I am a Dutch foodie, I truly am. I’ll stand up in a room full of international foodies and pledge: I adore food. I adore tastes, textures, smells. I love cooking, getting my hands stuck in, my kitchen dirty, my oven hot. Food hardly ever scares me off, either for eating or cooking (well, except for making Crème Brule, but everybody needs a recipe that they just can’t master). As a clog wearing (in my youth only, mind you), tulip growing, alas not blonde Dutch woman, where did that come from?

I come from a family of foodies and bakers. My father’s granddad was a baker and he passed on his skills to my dad. As a kid I remember the loaves of bread sitting on the stove, to gently rise. The smell of the baking bread just as I went to bed… My mum came from a family whose fortune had evaporated. They never got used to the poor mans staple diet of potatoes. Instead, her mother chose to rather have a good steak once a week and eat bread all other days, than to have mediocre meals throughout. Perhaps the fact that my parents both grew up in the somewhat French-influenced south of the Netherlands had something to do with their foodie-ness too.

When I was growing up, we had all kinds of foods, [which was] before the big cooks ever dreamed of fusion cooking. Indonesian, Italian, Eastern-European, Spanish, Mexican, Indian cuisine – you name it, we ate it. All parts of all animals were consumed. It turned into a nearly religious experience for my parents: cooking stuff nearly nobody dreamed of cooking (and sometimes quite rightly so). I didn’t enjoy all the tastes, and the pressure on tasting (and liking) everything. Sometimes we had really posh three, four of five courses dinner with endless waiting in between with my mum slaving in the kitchen. On the more joyful occasions, food was nice and not too complicated, the company good and my parents relaxed. Those were the moments I loved and they soaked deeply into my veins.

Now I have my own family, and I am raising foodies too. I don’t do posh dinners. What we regularly do is have people over for meals. I rustle up something nice. It could be lasagna, tapas, a fish dish, a barbecue. When I feel like it, I’ll spend the whole day in the kitchen. But never when the guests are there. Then is the time to relax! We sit round the table, have food, drink our drinks, enjoy each other’s company and just chat about whatever comes to mind. My children love these evenings too. They know that they don’t have to sit at the table endlessly and that they can just enjoy the food and then go off to play. My relaxed attitude during these gatherings usually leaves me with a lot of washing up to do in the morning, but the intimacy shared when sitting around a table and enjoying a lavish meal, chatting away, is more than worth that effort!

Dutch Easter breakfast while in Italy. Food Served: Jewish "matzes", boiled eggs, chocolate eggs etc., and orange juice, freshly squeezed by Het's girls! One of Het's daughters also pictured.

The first thing that caught my eye with Brenda, were pictures of her two gorgeous grandchildren always giving her a hand in the kitchen. Brenda’s hilarious, relaxed sense of humor was such a contrast from the serious dedication she possessed for the art of making bread. A task that although not has hard as most make it seem, does take a lot of patience.

Born in Scotland to Irish parents, Brenda now lives in Northern Ireland with her husband, her two West Highland terriers and the constant visits of her two adult children, their spouses and her daughter’s kids, Luis and Rhyley.

Along with her sweet and handsome Mike, Brenda has traveled the world twice over giving her a great insight of kitchens all around which she brings forth to her own home even though at the heart, Brenda will always be a classic home cook.

By Brenda

Wheaten Bread (or Brown Soda Bread as it is called by non-Irish folks) is a part of the everyday diet in this part of the world. Very quick and easy to make, it is a wonderful accompaniment to most dishes and delicious with just butter and jam or cheese. I learned to make this at my Mother’s knee. Very few meal times at home did not have this bread on the table. The very smell of it baking takes me back to my childhood. It is a haunting feeling to think that a Grandmother of mine, perhaps two hundred years ago, was making this bread too.

Two major factors have long affected the course of Irish baking. The first is our climate. In this land where the influence of the Gulf Stream prevents either great extremes of heat in the summer or cold in the winter, the hard wheats, which need such extremes to grow, don’t prosper… And it’s such wheats that make flour with a high gluten content, producing bread which rises high and responds well to being leavened with yeast. Soft wheats, though, have always grown well here.

The other factor, in the last millennium at least, has been the relative abundance of fuel. The various medieval overlords of Ireland were never able to exercise the tight control over forest land which landowners could manage in more populous, less wild areas, like England and mainland Europe: so firewood could be pretty freely poached, and where there was no wood, there was almost always heather, and usually turf too. As a result, anyone with a hearthstone could afford to bake on a small scale, and on demand. The incentive to band together to conserve fuel (and invent the communal bake-oven, a conservation tool common in more fuel-poor areas of Europe) was missing in the Irish countryside. Short elapsed baking times, and baking “at will”, were easy.

These two factors caused the Irish householder to bypass yeast for everyday
baking whenever possible. The primary leavening agent became what is now known here as bread soda: just plain bicarbonate of soda (baking soda), hence the name “soda bread”. For a long time, most of the bread in Ireland was soda bread — at least, most of what was baked at the hearthside (“bakery bread” only being available in the larger cities). Soda bread was made either “in the pot,” in yet another version of the cloche baking which is now coming back into vogue, but which was long popular all over medieval Europe: or else on a baking stone, an iron plate usually rested directly on the embers of the fire. From these two methods are descended the two main kinds of soda bread eaten in Ireland, both north and south, to the present day.

In Ireland, “plain” soda bread is as likely to be eaten as an accompaniment to a main meal (to soak up the gravy) as it’s likely to appear at breakfast. It comes in brown or white, and two main types: cake and farl. The latter are primarily regional differences. People in the south of Ireland tend to make cake: people in Northern Ireland like the farl better (though both kinds appear in both North and South, sometimes under wildly differing names). Cake is soda bread kneaded and shaped into a flattish round, then cut with a cross on the top (this is supposed to let the bread stretch and expand as it rises in the oven but it’s really to let the fairies out) and baked on a baking sheet. A farl is rolled out into a rough circle and cut through, crosswise, into four pieces and usually baked in a heavy frying pan or on a griddle, on top of the range rather than in the oven.

With all this said, the basic business of baking soda bread is extremely simple. The urge to be resisted is to do more stuff to it than necessary… this is usually what keeps it from coming out right the first few times. Once you’ve mastered the basic mixture, though, you can start adding things, coming up with wonderful variations like treacle bread and so on. Now you have had the history…………. go make some!

Wheaten Bread
8oz/225gms wholemeal flour (whole wheat)
4 oz/100gms plain flour (all-purpose)
Approx. 15 fl. ozs/400mls butter milk
1oz/25gms butter
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda (baking soda)
1 tsp sugar or honey
1 tsp salt
1) Greased and floured round sandwich tin (loaf tin)
2) Oven temp 350ºF 180ºC Gas 4
3) In a large bowl mix together all the dry ingredients. Cut the butter into small pieces and rub through.
4) Add enough buttermilk to form a soft but easily handled dough. It should not be runny.
5) Knead lightly and quickly into a round and place in prepared tin. (It is essential you use light hands)
6) Cut a deep cross in the bread. (To let the fairies out) Sprinkle with oats if desired
7) Bake for approx 40 Minutes
8) When it comes out of the oven cut yourself a big slice, slather it in butter not minding that it dribbles down your chin in the enjoyment of it all.

For more posts by Brenda, join her at Tea and Wheaten Bread