Malty gluten free sourdough with pumpkin & chia seeds

It is tempting to post something sweet and chocolatey here - cakes get the most hits on any website, especially if they claim to be refined sugar free or good for you. There is definitely a place in everyone's life for a little cake, gluten free or not! However, living well gluten free involves baking and eating the sort of everyday food that sustains, nourishes and heals, as well as delighting our tastebuds. The holy grail of which is bread, no? How to make a loaf that rises, holds together when you slice it, has flavour and depth, a satisfying crumb and thin crust? How to make this mythical loaf without recourse to gums and stabilisers, starch, strange fats and added sugar? Since the gluten free bread available to buy in supermarkets is both full of rubbish and unpleasant to eat, the only solution is to make your own.

I love a deeply flavoured loaf and brown teff is the perfect flour for something with hints of malt loaf - without the sweetness - and a touch of Weetabix on the finish. It might be my desert island flour if I had to choose one. When fermented, teff has a particularly sour quality that is perfectly balanced by the sweet nutty flavour of chestnut flour. Because I use both sweet rice flour and chia seed, the loaf has a very slightly chewy crumb with a great structure that is wonderful toasted straight from the freezer, or as bakers perk spread thickly with butter as soon as the loaf has cooled and settled. All of the flours are available from Shipton Mill.

If you check the information sheets tab on the sidebar, I give instructions for making a sourdough starter. If you want to make the loaf without a sourdough starter, just follow instructions for making it with yogurt and yeast instead of starter.

Before you start baking, you will need to activate your starter. It will need several hours to properly wake up if it has been in the fridge so to make sure it is nice and vigorous, you can feed it the night before you plan to bake and then feed it again as soon as you wake up. I generally keep about 350ml of starter as a reservoir, so each time I bake I feed 150g with 300g flour and 400g water the night before (discarding any excess old starter that isn't used), a then make a leaven the next morning to get the yeastiest results - although you could just use the starter as it is the next morning. Put any freshly fed starter and also leaven back in the fridge when you have finished using it. You can use the excess (called 'discard') for making pancakes, crumpets etc or throw it away. See my downloadable starter instructions for this.
 


Malty sourdough with pumpkin & chia seeds


150g chestnut flour
100g brown teff flour

100g tapioca starch
50g sweet rice flour or buckwheat flour
50g buckwheat flour

8g fine sea salt
10g chia seeds (or golden linseed)

2 1/2 tsp ground psyllium husk
200g active gluten free sourdough starter or leaven (or 90g live yogurt + 110g buckwheat flour + 1 tsp (5g) quick dried yeast)
1 tsp blackstrap molasses (optional)
40g pumpkin seeds


butter/lard/coconut oil to grease tins & sesame or sunflower seeds to coat
a 2 lb loaf tin - approx dimensions 25cm x 11cm x 8 cm (I use Vogue brand)

 

Whisk together the chestnut flour, brown teff flour, tapioca starch, sweet rice flour, buckwheat flour, salt, chia seeds and psyllium husk. Add the sourdough starter (or yogurt + flour + yeast), molasses and 400g tepid unchlorinated water and beat until smooth. Use your hands to squish the mixture until all the lumps have gone and the mixture starts to feel more like a soft sticky dough. You can put it in a stand mixer to do this too if you like. If the mixture still feels too wet, sprinkle over another 1/2 teaspoon of psyllium husk and beat/knead until it becomes firmer, do this again if it’s still not right and adjust your measurements for next time - psyllium husk can vary. knead the pumpkin seeds into the dough.

Oil a mixing bowl and scrape the mixture into it, cover and leave for an hour at room temperature - if you have a proving drawer, set this at 30ºC and prove for 45 minutes.

Line a 2 lb (900g) loaf tin with baking parchment or butter the inside and coat with sesame seeds or gf flour. Tip the dough out onto an oiled surface and fold one side into the centre, pinch and fold the other side over the top of it, pinch the end over and flip the dough over into the tin so that the smooth, oily side is uppermost. Sprinkle with sesame, sunflower or pumpkin seeds and put in a warm place for about 3-5 hours until the loaf has risen up to the top of the tin. Don't let it come over the top of your tin as it will flow down the sides!

15-20 minutes before the rise time is up, heat the oven to 240ºC conventional heat - not the fan setting. Put a baking tray in the bottom of the oven and boil the kettle.

Very gently ease the loaf tin into the oven – if you tap or bang it at this stage it can collapse, as there is no gluten in the mixture to hold the bubbles in. Straight away, pour a mug of boiling water into the tray in the bottom of the oven - watch you don't burn your face with the steam! Bake for 30 minutes and then turn the oven down to 200ºC and switch to fan setting for another 25 minutes.

If the loaf looks too dark at any point put some tin foil over the top to stop it burning – the crust will be fairly dark on this loaf anyway, so don’t be alarmed.

After 55 minutes in total take the loaf out of the oven – it should have a firm crust all round and sound hollow-ish when tapped on top. Leave in the tin for a few minutes, then lift out the loaf and bounce your fingers on the side to see if it seems firmish. If not, just put it back in the oven without the tin at 180ºC for another 10 minutes to continue cooking.

Cool on a rack and do not cut until completely cold. Slice and freeze anything that won’t be eaten within 24 hours.

 

whole rice pancakes

Where I can, I like to keep grains whole in order to slow their transit through the body. When I cook wholegrain rice, I soak it overnight in water then wash and cook in the usual way.
One weekend morning in my unvarnished, day-off state, I rather overcooked the rice for breakfast. Instead of the usual fluffy grains, I had a small pan full of rice porridge - arg! Not wanting to admit defeat, I thought I'd try using the rice to make a pancake, and the result was infinitely better than expected. The pancakes were not the most co-operative, but they formed a nice crisp buttery edge and were pliable enough to roll up. Because they didn't employ rice flour, there was no uncooked grain taste, just that fragrant cooked rice flavour - slightly sweet and nuttily complex.

The taste reminded me slightly of naan bread - although I couldn't really say why. I just instantly imagined some cumin scented, dry curry wrapped up in one of these, with a dollop of cool yogurt. Rice and curry - it's just one of those combinations I guess? Finn imagined them with banana and honey and Nick ate his thoughtfully, just as it was.

If you do eat grains, but are reluctant to use too much flour, I suggest you try these. Rice is a notoriously fast releasing starch, but combining it whole, with eggs, butter, milk and ground nuts is a good way to slow it right down and prevent any unwanted blood sugar rise.

Whole Rice Pancakes
(Makes about 8 smallish ones)

Because rice should not be kept for long once rehydrated (due to naturally occurring bacterial spores), you need to use this batter within 24 hours of making it up.

60g / 2oz wholegrain rice
2 large eggs
30g / 1 oz ground almonds (or gluten free flour such as sorghum, chestnut or teff)
200ml liquid (made up of 100ml rice water and 100ml goat milk in my case)
unsalted butter or duck fat to fry

Soak the rice overnight in plenty of water with a half teaspoon of vinegar added if you like (it helps remove enzyme inhibitors).Drain and wash the rice and cook in plenty of water until really soft. Allow the water to evaporate, but make sure there is at least 100ml left in the pan. Drain and reserve 100ml of the rice water.
Allow the rice to cool before making up the mix. Rice should always be cooled as quickly as possible, so I usually spread it on a plate and put it in the fridge.
To make the pancake batter, put all the ingredients in a blender and blend until as smooth as you can get it. If you're using gluten free flour rather than nuts, then you may need a little more liquid to get a batter consistency. For the other 100ml of liquid you could use any type of milk - nut milk, cow's, goats or coconut milk, or just plain water.
Fry very gently in butter (or Duck Fat / Coconut Oil if you prefer) in a heavy bottomed pan over a lowish heat and take great care when lifting the edges of the pancake. Allow it to form a mid brown crust and then use a palette knife to loosen the pancake from the edge all the way around before flipping it over gently. Cook for a minute or so on the other side and then transfer to a wire rack or waiting plate.
I defy you to resist breaking off a little piece of buttery crust to munch before it gets to the table!

fluffy eggs

Pictured here is an item of culinary legend from my childhood. It is a dish that conjours up a moment of calm comfort in a childhood full of chaos and freedom. Fluffy eggs. My mum sure was good with a whisk.

Essentially this is just toast and eggs, that time honoured breakfast staple. But there is something so incredible about the juxtaposition of crisp toast, melted butter, salty, peppery egg fluff and yolk, cooked just long enough to ooze into the toast. Someone cares enough about your happiness at that early hour to pick up a whisk and assemble your eggs and toast into a confection that lets the world drop away, leaving you to bask in the warm sun of their regard.

In a moment of nostalgia I made these eggs for Finn. I used some thinly sliced brazil and almond bread, a generous slab of butter and lots of fresh black pepper. I was making it up a little, but everything seemed to go to plan and Fin's eyes grew as wide as saucers when he saw his breakfast sitting on a small pink plate all fluff and barely cooked yolk.

I made one for me too, so I could share the moment. Our eyes met across the table and the years fell away as I saw myself again, egg yolk on my chin from licking the plate clean.

You could cut the toast into a heart shape for valentine's day, but I don't think you need to state the obvious. Anyone who sees you whisking egg whites while frost is still on the grass will know you love them, without having it written on a heart shaped box.

Fluffy Eggs  Makes 2 portions

2 large  eggs
2 Slices of bread
butter
sea salt
black pepper

Toast the bread and butter it as generously as you like. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 200ºC fan/220ºC conventional oven

Separate the eggs and leave the unbroken yolks each in half a shell, wedged carefully in the egg box while you beat the egg whites with a pinch of salt and lots of black pepper until stiff.

Make a nest on the buttered toast with the egg white, leaving a space in the middle just big enough for the egg yolk to sit. You probably won't use all the egg white - you could keep it in the fridge to add to a batch of bread, or stir into an omelette.

Put the toast and nest onto a baking sheet and plop the yolks carefully into the space so as not to break them.

Bake for 5-6 minutes, until there is a skin on the yolk, (but not much more than that) and the fluff is crisp and golden. If you don't like a really runny yolk then give it another couple of minutes.

Serve immediately or all your hard work will flop disappointingly. Provide salt, pepper and maybe a dollop of homemade ketchup.

 

A simple, creamy, zesty, garlicky broccoli soup

Yesterday morning Bridport woke to find itself clothed in a fine layer of snow. Only the third time for Finn, so all the more thrilling as we vicariously enjoyed his delight. As the morning wore on, salt breeze playing over the grass, sun warming the air a little, the snow melted back into the earth, leaving only a little slush in the gutter that splashed up our backs as we cycled home. Finn salvaged what was left under a bush on the sheltered side of the house and stashed it lovingly in the freezer.

The rest of the country came to a standstill, factory lines ground to a halt, lorries lay at the side of the road like earthworms dug up and blinking in the light. Snow fell, and fell, and fell, in great drifts,  muffling the busy work day week into an unexpected holiday.

Nick was tucked up warm with an early night, after a tense drive home from snowbound London. I  on the other hand just couldn't sleep as the snow had me feeling all Christmas eve. So after a little stitching and television I found myself in the dark kitchen cradling a mug of chamomile, watching the night.

Snow had started to fall again while the house slept. Fat flakes fell in an endless drift from the sky, magically appearing from the blackness and twirling their way inevitably down to land thickly on the ground. The lawn was already obscured by a thick white blanket that reached across our garden and into the road, vehicles and postboxes stranded like bumper cars abandoned here and there at the end of a ride.

Bushes on the lawn looked edible as crystalised roses, encrusted with sparkling white sugar, dredged on from above with a generous hand. There was such absolute quiet, I realised that I was holding my breath, waiting for something. I held my warm cup close to my lips and breathed out a steamy shawl , like a child misting the sweetshop window.

The night sky was alive with dancing snowflakes as they followed every gust of wind, chasing each other to the ground, sparkling miraculously through the inky night to appear like a shower of gold leaf under the sodium glow of street lamps. For such a show of sparkle and life, they fell in complete silence.

My ear waited for a sound to come, seagull or distant engine hum and yet there was none. The town slept deep, as though a spell had been cast, as though I had stepped through our kitchen door into Narnia or a silent movie. Whilst I wasn't looking, the town had taken a sleeping draught and twelve princesses skipped away through forests of silver trees, to dance all night and ruin their flimsy silk slippers, unseen by any but me.

At last, in the midst of all this magical silence, a car crunched gingerly down the hill, rolling to a slow stop on the other side of the road. A pair of black tracks followed it through the pristine snow. The spell was broken. I drained my cup and headed for bed.

When it snows, you want to be out there enjoying the miracle - not stuck in the kitchen. So here's a soup that can be made in minutes, tastes as creamy, delicate and satisfying as something that you spent hours over, and features super food centre stage. Get out there and throw snowballs with abandon, knowing you can be sitting down to a bowl of this almost before the snow has melted on your wellingtons.
 


Broccoli, Garlic and Lemon Zest Soup (serves 4-6)


If you need to reheat this, do so very gently or you will destroy the fresh flavour and end up with something rather cabbagy. It's best made fresh.

550g broccoli florets
30g butter
3-4 cloves of garlic
zest of 1 lemon
2 large pinches of sea salt

Wash and chop the broccoli into small florets.

Mince the garlic finely and melt the butter gently over a low flame in a medium to large saucepan. When the butter has melted, add garlic and sweat for a couple of minutes until translucent but not coloured at all.

Grate the zest from the lemon and add to the pan with salt and brocolli, stir to coat.

Pour over 1 1/2 pints of boiling water and bring back up to the boil again.

Boil gently - a kind of aggressive simmer, not a rolling boil - until the stalks of the broccoli are soft, but still bright green. Don't let the broccoli turn olive green or the soup will lose its freshness.

Puree in a blender (or with a stick blender) until completely smooth and creamy. Adjust seasoning to taste, adding more salt or some black pepper if you like, possibly a little lemon juice - but not too much.

Pour into bowls and top with a swirl of yogurt.