Rhubarbade - ying and tang

We found ourselves in the garden centre again the other day. A weekday and all. We passed through aisles of green and shelves trailing leaves and branches like lazy octopi.I bought a tarragon plant and a gooseberry bush, spurred on by the constant disappointment on the supermarkets shelves. I'll leave the tarragon a while to get established, unlike the parsley which I have had to plant a few extra pots of. We seem to use a lot in this house and the poor little things can't keep up.As for the gooseberries, those furry little fruits that seemed to be a permanent fixture of my late childhood summers, I shall, with hope and care, now have my own supply. And each year, when the season dawns, I'll be able to have the simple joy of having grown my own sour little bombs of flavour. They are so good turned into a sauce with mackerel.It dawned on me, as I eyed the cakes and considered a nice sit down and a cup of tea, that perhaps I'm not freelance, I'm retired. It'll be a tartan shopping trolley in the supermarket, grey slip-ons and annoying everyone by travelling to leisure activities at peak time on the commuter trains next.Or not. Life, after all, is about balance. And the joys of the garden, especially this time of year, when every day brings a surprising new burst of colour somewhere, have given me a new pastime. One that appeals to my inate talent of 'pottering' about. A place of calm in the morning before a busy day, or a place of contemplation and unwinding after one, as you walk around with a drink in one hand and the hose in the other. However, I can see the amount of greenfly attacking the rosebuds may lead to swearing in a quiet corner, out of earshot of the children.And talking of Ying and yang, there is the heavenly balance when startlingly sour meets incredibly sweet: a sweet spot. Just the hint of something on the edge of tartness, almost mouth puckering but not quite. Rhubarb is the king of this. Perhaps it's just me, but that feeling of being just on the edge, when chillies in a curry are almost unbearable, when bitterness is almost too much in a sour cherry tangfastic, when lemon juice or vinegar just hits the acidic edge in a vinaigrette is where the flavour is at its best. It's almost thrilling to be there.But this is only a drink, so we'll stop with all that. There comes a point in life when you have bought too much rhubarb and you have to hold back. And you can't -- although Noah would vehemently oppose this heretical idea -- have crumble every day. So to use the remaining spears, I've made this rhubarbade. It's delicious and makes a refreshing change from the lime and mint  I love, or the cider vinegar and honey tonic I make. This vivid pink rhubarb at the height of its season is a real highlight of the year so get it while you can, and get it into as much as you can.Ingredients500g rhubarb500ml water50g maple syrup50g grated ginger (this helps bring out the flavour of the rhubarb, not that it needs help)1tsp citric acidJuice of a lemonMethodBring the ingredients to a boil in a saucepan and reduce to a simmer for about ten minutes. Leave to cool completely then strain into a bottle and chill.Dilute with sparkling water to serve, adding a sprig or two of mint if you like.

Having a ball

Recently, before Christmas and in the throes of trying to establish a new world record for sugar consumption, I bought a box of gulab jamun from the local supermarket. I've eaten a few Indian sweets before on the mean streets of Tooting: kulfi on a stick, jalebis and so on,  each time suffering an immediate and swift ecstatic rush followed by an instant diabetic death., but these were in a league of their own. They came in a palatial bath of syrup, enough to upset even the most sweet toothed cake lover. Of course, I ate the whole box.So now, as life is slowly groaning back into gear and constantly attempting to violate our cosy January, I am as much as possible off the sugar. This, in part is an attempt to try and regain my Adonis-like figure*, which I seem to have misplaced somewhere in 1994, and also, because sugar is, really, the devil's work. However, we all need a little devil from time to time, so a little treat here and there is necessary to keep up morale.These are my version of the sugar soaked sponge, baked rather than fried and not as soaked in syrup as the original (they also don't have milk powder in them). You'll need a round mini cake sphere mould or a cake pop maker, both of which are pretty cheap and easy to find. If not, you could spoon the mix into mini fairy cake moulds. The children loved making and eating these, and it makes a nice change to the icing clad, mouth clagging fairy cakes they usually want and then give up on halfway through.I used a bought caramel sauce that I had leftover from a job, but feel free to make your own, it's not hard.*not even remotely Adonis-like, more just a lot slimmer than I am now.Ingredients100g butter100g golden caster sugar100g plain flour1tsp baking powder1 egg1tsp cinnamon powder1/2tsp ground cloves1/2tsp ground cardammonA small handful of chopped pistachio nutsSome dried rose petalsA little gold leaf and edible glitter if you fancyFor the syrup50g golden caster sugar1tbsp waterA few saffron strands2tsp ground cinnamonMethodHeat the oven to 180c or turn on the machine and preheat it.Cream together the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy, then beat in the egg until smooth.Mix together the flour, spices and baking powder and add a little at a time to the butter mix, beating until smooth.Fill the moulds and bake for about seven minutes, until golden. Leave to cool a little.Make the syrup by bringing the sugar, cinnamon powder and water gently to the boil and then reducing it until syrupy, about five minutes.Pile the cake balls onto a plate, pour over the syrup and caramel sauce then sprinkle over the nuts, petals and gold. Serve slightly warm with coffee, or Thums Up! coke if you want a real rush, uncontrollable children and no teeth left. 

Sugar free yoghurt, cardamom and elderflower bundt cake.

I bore my wife every year with constant updates on the elder state, and my excitement and her relief peaks when the buds start to open into flowers. Pick them first thing on a sunny morning, they’ll have more flavour then.It’s such a symbol of the beginning of summer and homemade elderflower cordial makes a great addition to prosecco or just as a drink on its own. You can also lightly coat the flowers in a thin batter and make fritters or use them to decorate a pudding.I wouldn’t say it’s good for you (but what cake is?) however, using xylitol means it’s sugar free and spelt flour is so much better for you than refined white wheat flour. The low fat yoghurt works really well too, so you can pretty much enjoy this with a clear conscience. After all, a little of what you fancy is good for you.Serves:                                    8Preparation time:      10 minutesCooking time:            45 minutesIngredients125g unsalted butter125g truvia or xylitol1tsp vanilla extract1 egg250g spelt flour1tsp baking powder1tsp bicarbonate of soda2 tsp elderflower cordialSeeds from 8 cardamom pods250ml low fat natural yoghurt2tbsp orange flower waterIcing sugar and elderflowers to decorate.Method:

1. Heat the oven to 180c and grease a bundt tin.
2. Grind the cardamom seeds to a powder.
3. In a food mixer, beat the butter, xylitol, cardamom, vanilla and orange water until fluffy.
4. Beat in the egg and cordial until smooth, add the baking powder and soda, then fold in the flour and yoghurt in alternate spoonfuls.
5. Pour into the cake tin and bake for 35-40 minutes or until golden and a skewer poked in comes out clean.
6. Leave to cool for a few minutes before turning out onto a wire rack.
7. When cool, sprinkle with icing sugar, petals and elderflowers if available. If you fancy, you can also serve this with an orange or elderflower syrup.

Spiced peaches with Amaretti crumbs and sage syrup

A ripe peach is a thing of beauty; soft and juicy, slightly messy and best eaten over the sink. Peaches also go really well with rich meats, but in this instance I roasted them in spices and a little wine to serve as a simple pudding. They respond really well to spices, and especially the aniseed and floral flavours of Szechuan pepper. The Amaretti biscuits complement the natural almondy flavour found in peach stones.  Serves: 4Prep time: 10 minsCooking time: 35-40 minsIngredients8 peaches, on the firm side of ripe4 star anise1 cinammon stick1 tsp ground Szechuan peppercorns2 vanilla pods1 tsp ground allspice2 tbsp caster sugar1 small glass white wine (Sancerre or Gewürtztraminer are good)4-6 Amaretti biscuits, crushedA few lavender leaves and toasted almonds to garnishFor the syrup:60g caster sugar100ml water8 sage leavesMethod

1. Heat the oven to 180°C.
2. Slice and stone the peaches, lay them on a roasting tray and scatter over the remaining ingredients and pour in the wine.
3. Roast in the oven for about 35 minutes, or until nice and soft but still holding their shape.
4. Meanwhile, make the syrup by bringing the sugar and water to a boil, then stirring until the sugar disolves. Simmer hard for another five minutes or so, until you have a nice syrup. Add the sage leaves and leave to infuse while the peaches finish cooking. Remove the sage leaves before serving.
5. Leave the peaches to cool for a while, and serve with the crushed Amaretti sprinkled over and some of the syrup. If you like, you could also serve with ice cream or very cold Eiswein.

How to food style it

1. The colour of these peaches is wonderful, so be sure to choose a plate that brings that out. I normally prefer white but in this case a grey would work well.
2. Place one half, cut side up on the plate, slightly off centre then rest the other one at an angle against it, again, cut side up.
3. Sprinkle the crumbs over the peaches, put one of the star anise on the plate along with the almonds and lavender leaves. Pour over a little syrup.