Banoffee cupcakes

Banoffee – doesn’t the word just sound ludicrously delicious? Having never been a fan of the American tradition of taking two related words and jamming them together to form one, apparently time-saving new one, I do however like this one example for it’s childlike ‘nursery feel’. Mmmm….banoffee. It is only recently that I really developed an appreciation of the almost cloyingly sweet combination of banana and toffee. A lifetime of eating substandard solid, chalky, or ripe-to-the-point-of-being-almost-liquid bananas had led me to almost loathe the silly yellow fruit, although I have undoubtedly always been a lover of rich caramel flavours. On a recent holiday to Portugal , my very sweet-toothed husband ordered a doorstop sized wedge of Banoffee Pie and my - it was incredible. A pale, almost savoury, pie crust, lined with row upon row of thick, sweet slices of fragrant banana and swaddled in a melting ooze of molten, buttery toffee and a cloud of cold, stiffly whipped cream. The cream hadn’t been sullied with any sugar to sweeten its creamy blandness and that, along with the hint of salt in the crust, made the glistening toffee and bananas sing. Utterly divine.

It was the memory of this tooth-aching treat, that I was inspired to make my first batch of Banoffee Cupcakes.

With a fluffy, subtley banana flavoured sponge, it is only when you take a big bite of these babies that you really experience caramel heaven, thanks to the giant splodge of Dulche de Leche which fills the hollowed-out centre. Crowned with a halo of piped whipped cream and dusted with flakes of chocolate, these decadent cupcakes are guaranteed to please any Banoffee Aficionado.


Makes 12
• Tin of Carnation Condensed Milk
• 1 1/2 cups plain flour
• 3/4 cup caster sugar
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
• 1 1/2 cups mashed bananas 2 large eggs
• 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 125ml double cream, whipped

1. Place Condensed Milk tin in a deep saucepan and cover fully with water. Bring to the boil and leave to simmer for approximately an hour, topping up the water as necessary. It is essential that the can remains covered by water at all times, lest it explode, leaving you with a very sticky ceiling. Once the caramel has been made, remove tin and allow to cool slightly.
2. Preheat oven to 350 C. (or a little lower if fan assisted oven – no one knows your oven better than you do!)
3. Line standard muffin tin with 12 cake liners.
4. In a medium bowl, mix the flour, sugar, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda and salt.
5. Melt butter in a small pan over a low heat. Cool slightly.
6. Make a well in the centre of dry ingredients and add melted butter, mashed bananas, eggs and vanilla. Don’t overmix as this will knock all of the air out of the mixture..
7. Divide evenly, spooning into muffin cups.
8. Bake 25-30 minutes, until a toothpick inserted, comes out clean.
9. Allow cupcakes to cool on wire rack; however don’t allow them to get completely cold as they are easier to cut when still slightly warm.
10. When cold, using a teaspoon, scoop out a little of the middle section of the cake, leaving a hole in the top. Keep the sections of cake you have removed.
11. Open the tin of Condensed Milk, which should by now have turned thick and gooey. Spoon a little of the caramel sauce into the hole and place the ‘top’ back over the hole in the cake.
12. Decorate with piped whipped double cream and sprinkle with a little grated chocolate.

AMERICA - Jambalaya (Rescue Rice)

Ladies and gentleman, allow me to address the nightmare phenomenon of The Hangover. Now, I'm not just talking about a mild post-vino fogginess over the brow; a slightly wibbly tummy, that gurgles a little more than you're entirely comfortable with - no, sir, I am talking about the kind of hangover where you wake up, far earlier than you would normally arise, run (generally in a state of disarray and possibly, undress) to the kitchen, to the fridge and drink the lion's share of a litre bottle of milk. Spilling a good mouthful down the front of your t-shirt. The 'soaked-through-sweaty' hangover, when you know that no amount of Febreeze will freshen that duvet.
The kind of hangover where you can't stop picking at food, though the food that you are continually picking at is rather questionable and may start to have even the men wondering if there is any chance that they could be in The Family Way.
Cue torn apart slices of Gouda, a few grasped silverskin pickles, a couple of chocolate cookies, dunked into a big mug of tea, a smear of pate on toast, a mouthful of crispy bacon. A Twix. Basically I'm talking about the kind of hangover which looms over your person like an enormous, shadowy and cumbersome malignancy. Breathing hot whiskey vapours down your neck every time you think you might be starting to feel a little better.

Never had one? Well, lucky, smug you. But, no matter, for I have found the perfect hangover cure. It even tops the Bloody Mary and 'Seafood Cup', that I purchased and consumed on Brighton Pier when sunny summer’s day, when I was feeling particularly afflicted. This curative properties of this spicy feast - literally, a 'jumble' of flavours and textures - are nothing short of miraculous. Spicy, stodgy, toothsome, comforting and easy to throw together and leave, bubbling away on the pan, leaving you plenty of time to laze in a powdered milk bath reading a Marlene Dietrich biography....no? Just me then?

SOUTH AFRICA - Tamatie Bredie/Tomato Bredie

Seeing as the tournament is actually being held there, I thought it was only appropriate to begin this challenge with something traditionally South African. The recipe advised me to make this the night before, stating that it improves with keeping. Having just sampled a spoonful - I have to agree. The popular dish of Tomato Bredie is a rich, mildly spiced tomato based stew, made with meat (mutton or beef), paprika, chilli and potatoes. I left the Bredie cooking overnight on a low heat, to allow the meat became extra tender.


·1 lb mutton or beef shoulder
·1½ cups water
·6 ripe red tomatoes
·70g can tomato paste
·3 potatoes
·3 cloves garlic
·2 onions
·1 tablespoon vegetable stock (I used Marigold Organic Stock Powder)
·2 Tbsp vegetable oil
·1 Tbsp butter
·1 Tbsp potato flour
·2 tsp sea salt
·1 tsp sugar
·1 tsp mixed herbs (I used a mixture of oregano and dried parsley)
·½ tsp freshly ground black pepper
·½ tsp paprika
·¼ tsp chili powder


1. Cut the meat into 1 to 1 ½ inch cubes
2. Peel and dice the potatoes.
3. Peel and crush the cloves of garlic.
3. Peel and chop the onions.
3. Heat the oil and butter in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan, over a medium heat until the butter discolors slightly.
4. Add the meat in batches and stir-fry until brown. Remove each batch with a slotted spoon and keep aside.
6. Season the browned meat with salt and pepper.
7. Sauté the onions in the remaining oil until golden, soft and translucent
8. Add the tomatoes, tomato paste, sugar, chili, paprika, garlic, herbs, water and stock.
9. Bring to a slow boil.
10. Add the prepared meat, reduce the heat, cover and simmer the bredie very slowly for 2 hours.
11. Add the cubed potatoes and continue simmering for another ½ hour.
12. Thicken the gravy with a little potato flour mixed with water.
13. Ideally, prepare a day in advance and leave the flavours to develop in the refrigerator.

Reheat and serve with steamed rice. Traditionally, a handful of chopped parsley will be added to the rice.

World Cup Recipe Challenge

I loathe beginning this piece with such a trite ‘soundbitey’ cliché – but it’s true; football madness has indeed gripped the planet. Now, although I personally have tried – and failed – on occasion, to see the merits of this most beloved game; the roar of the crowd, the…er….smell of the football boot….I am afraid to admit that it is all somewhat lost on me. Living in close proximity to Hampden football stadium has allowed me plenty of opportunity to get up-close-and-personal with avid followers of the game. Ah, many a glorious sunny afternoon I have spent, holed up in my flat, trying to muffle the raucous sounds of the jubilant winners (and sore losers) as they stream down my street; shirtless and well lubricated with their particular poison of choice. However, the World Cup is a different matter. I actually do find the whole event quite exciting – and although I admittedly will never fully understand the offside rule – this is one football event that I am quite prepared to get into the spirit of.

So in true food-lover fashion, I am going to pay homage to this summer of football with my favourite medium. Grub.

The plan is, that for every game*, I will choose one team and prepare a dish from their nation's culinary repertoire and document the experience on this blog. Like the fickleness of a football game, I expect this endeavor to be riddled with strife, elation and near misses – let’s just hope I don’t get red-carded.

* budget permitting. There may, of course be occasions when this is just not practical (or when I am too tired and just want a big bowl of cereal for my dinner) but basically I want to make sure that every nation playing is covered.

Hello.....and welcome.

At the age of seven, at the height of approximately 4 foot, I would sit cross-legged on the floor of our town's local library, just LOOKING at pictures of food in the recipe book section. Big, glossy images of dark, lustrous Sachertorte, pasta ribbons, slick with herbed oil, glistening jewelled fruit pies and geometric oozy wedges of softly blooming cheese. The only difference today is; now I can reach the hob without a step. Nothing changed - the love remains. Comforting, seductive and eternally satisfying - this is my blog. Or rather, my love letters.