I have a bit of a brunch fetish – guess it comes from the fact that weekend mornings tend to be a time when I can potter around and luxuriate in my idleness and feed my desires. I usually feel the need to treat myself to some eggs at the weekend, as even  though I keep chickens in the garden, I seem to rarely eat eggs during the week. Another eggy brunch today. Though this a noisy, exciting,  chaotic assemblage of a brunch. Also a perfect hangover cure as it comforts with bacon, beans and creamy avocado, but kicks through your foggy head and hairy mouth with fresh chillies, lime and coriander. The tortilla wrap bakes in the oven – creating a pastry like crust, giving you a satisfactory crunch against the soft filling.

Pan fry some bacon bits for a few minutes, add some chopped red peppers and fry for few minutes more. Add a drained tins of beans, I used butter beans, but cannelini beans would be fine too, and mix in. Remove from heat and drizzle with some olive oil.

With a pie dish that has been lightly oiled, stuff in a tortilla wrap and shape to make a basket. Add the contents of frying pan, and throw in half an avocado which you roughly cut. Add a fresh finely sliced chilli, amount will depend on how much heat you like. Squeeze over some lime juice, stir and add a handful of fresh coriander. Use a spoon to create two wells in the casing and crack in two eggs.

Bake in the oven at 200 degrees for about 20 minutes until the egg whites are set and hopefully the yolks stay runny. Oven timings vary so just keep an eye on them.

I served with an accompaniment of finely sliced radish and the half of the avocado I retained. To complete the hangover cure, a bottle of chilled beer would also work wonders with this.

Amazing flavours from a few simple ingredients with minimal work  - Just what you need for a quick weekday supper.

Cauliflower cut into steak width slices, salted, oiled, drizzled with pomegranate molasses, and roasted until the molasses caramelise and sear into a crust on the florets.

Matchsticks of raw celeriac stained with the juices of a pomegranate which dripped into the bowl when you were beating the seeds out.

Handful of Spinach.Chunk of feta. More salt. Cracked pepper. Squeeze of lemon. Some olive oil.

Fabulous.

Gnocchi are little nugget sized potato dumplings usually made from potato and flour. From the Italian, gnocchi translates as ‘lump’, and if you have ever bought them premade in vacuum packs on your supermarket shelves, you might agree with the description. I find the shop bought gnocchi dense, chewy and quite unpalatable. To be honest I stopped buying them ages ago but I was in New York last year they were served as part of tasting menu and I was blown away. They were so light, and delicate, little potato pleasure bombs. I resolved to learn the recipe as soon as I got home and have never looked back.

There are two main things to keep in mind when making gnocchi at home. Firstly you don’t want to have them too soggy. The trick to overcome this is to bake the potatoes in their skins instead of boiling them. The potatoes then come out of the oven with the skins dry and crispy with fluffy insides. When you mash the potatoes the mash is dry – less water, means you need to use less flour – less flour means lighter gnocchi .

The other tip is not to overwork the potatoes when making the gnocchi. If you manipulate the gnocchi too much you start to develop glutens in the starchy potatoes. This means that the gnocchi will end up too chewy and doughy, so remember to keep your touch light for the perfect results.

Serves 4 to 6 (you can make them in advance and freeze them for a special occasion)

1. Preheat your oven to 200degrees. Prick the skins of 3 large potatoes (preferably a floury type like a Rooster or Kerrs Pink) and bake them in the preheated oven until they are soft (60 to 90 minutes approx).

2. Take them out of the oven and while they are still hot cut them in half lengthwise, so the steam escapes while they cool (remember steam is water and we want to keep them as light as possible)

3. Scoop the potatoes out of their skins and pass them through a potato ricer or a food mill. If you don’t have a potato ricer, you can grate them using the large holes of the grater into a large bowl

4. Add 1 egg yolk and a large pinch of salt and gently mix in with a wooden spoon. You can also add some finely shredded spinach or basil leaves at this stage for a bit of colour in the gnocchi. I used some wild garlic leaves.

5. Measure 200g of flour and add the flour to the potatoes a little at a time, using only as much as you need so that the dough will not stick your hands. Gently work the dough with your fingers to bring it all together.

6. Sprinkle some flour on the work surface and take the dough out of the bowl and press down, flattening it out to a disc shape. Light coat with a sprinkling of flour and fold over in half and press down again. Repeat this three more times, lightly flour, fold over the press down. If the dough still feels sticky, do it one more time, sprinkling the counter and the dough with no more than 2 tablespoons of flour. Roll the dough out into a log shape, dust the outside of flour and allow to rest for about five minutes.

7. Dust the counter again with some flour and divide the dough into 8 pieces and roll each section out into a cylinder about half an inch thick. Cut the dough into gnocchi (1 inch pieces).

8. To cook the gnocchi, place them into a pot of heavily salted boiling water. After a few minute the gnocchi will float to the top. Continue to cook for a further minute and then remove, drain and serve.

9. To make the tomato broth, I roughly chopped 8 large tomatoes and generously sprinkled them with salt and lots of olive oil, and the juice of half a lemon. The salt and lemon juice macerates the tomatoes, softening them and releasing all their juices. I let them stand for an hour or two while the potatoes bake and I make the gnocchi. (Even better if you leave the tomatoes to macerate overnight in the fridge). Gently heat the tomatoes and all the juices over a low heat for a few minutes, just to loosen the tomatoes a little more, being careful not to bring to a simmer as you don’t want to lose any of the lovely juices.

10. Serve at room temperature with a good grating of Parmesan cheese and a sprinkling of wild garlic flowers (also a dollop of wild garlic pesto in the middle).

]]> http://kitchen72.com/index.php/2012/04/wild-garlic-gnocchi/feed/ 4 http://kitchen72.com/index.php/2012/04/ham-hock-terrine/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=ham-hock-terrine http://kitchen72.com/index.php/2012/04/ham-hock-terrine/#comments Thu, 12 Apr 2012 21:23:59 +0000 kitchen72 http://kitchen72.com/?p=1130

I don’t know about you, but I find that I never have friends over for food during the colder months. All I want to do is snuggle up on the sofa in front of the fire with the curtains drawn. But at this time of year my thoughts turn to entertaining. So I am always on the lookout for easy, cheap recipes for sharing .

The ham hock is the shin of the pig just above the ankle. Ham hocks are wonderfully cheap (approx €1.50 each) with plenty of meat and full of flavour. They are ideal are long slow cooking so the meat falls apart, and because of the bone, it naturally produces its own gelatine which means that the stock its cooked in can be used to make a jelly to set a terrine. Perfect, and as an added bonus the ham hocks are virtually fat free.

Two ham hocks are enough to make a terrine to feed twelve people and talk to your local butcher in advance as you might need to order them in. The classic recipe varies from region to region all over the world, but it’s a good idea to include some cooked vegetables and or pickles in the terrine, as their texture makes a wonderful contrast to the soft meat and jelly. Serve with lots of crusty French bread, salad leaves, maybe a and a good chilled white wine like a Chablis or Muscadet.

Recipe
Roughly chop 2 carrots, 2 celery sticks, 1 onion, and add to a large saucepan with 2 ham hocks. Cover with cold water and add 5 to 10 peppercorns.

Bring to the boil and once boiling, reduce the temperature to a simmer. Continue to simmer for at least 3 hours until the meat is very tender and falls easily from the bone. When tender, remove the ham hocks from the saucepan and set aside. Allow the hocks and stock to cool.

While the hocks are simmering take a loaf tin and sprinkle a little water inside the loaf tin. Smear the sprinkled water up the sides of the tin as well to lightly coat all of the inside. Take some cling film and fit it in the loaf tin, making sure that there is plenty to overhang all sides. I usually find that I use four separate layers of cling film in a cross shape to make sure there is plenty of extra film to cover the terrine.

When the ham is cold tear the meat of the bone and throw away all the fat and skin. No need to chop the meat, as the long shreds of meat look fantastic when set in the terrine. Put the meat in a large bowl and reserve. Strip a bunch of parsley leaves from the stalk, roughly chop and add to the meat.

Now at this stage you can be creative. For the photos I lightly steamed some chard leaves, but you could use some gently boiled carrot sticks, or asparagus and add to the bowl. Quarter some cornichons (small pickled gherkins) and mix all the veg and meat together and spoon into the lined loaf tin.

With the stock that was used to boil the ham hocks bring back to the boil and reduce until about 300ml is left. Leave the stock to cool in the fridge and when cooled carefully pour into the loaf tin over the meat mixture. Cling film over to seal the terrine

Cut out some card large enough to cover the terrine and wrap the card in tinfoil. Lay some tins on top of the card to weigh the terrine down and put in the fridge overnight to set. The terrine will keep for up to 6 days in the fridge. Unwrap to serve.

I’m doing a Spring clean of the freezer at the moment. In other words I’ve run out of money again, well before pay day. I have a fairly good idea of what is lurking on the freezer shelves and had an ah-hah moment reading the Mission Street Food book.  They have a recipe for bone marrow, rolled in pork mince and stuffed in a squid which sounded fantastic – and whaddayaknow  - I have squid and bone marrow in the freezer. No pork mince though, and as I said, too cash strapped to recklessly buy pork mince. No sausage meat either, but I do have chorizo, and squid/chorizo is a classic combination. So with a bit of inspired lateral thinking, I decided that instead of stuffing the squid with bone marrow and chorizo, that I would make a Scotch egg with the squid and chorizo instead. This recipe makes 2 Scotch Eggs – scale the recipe up as required.

I defrosted the squid and cleaned them. Took 4 squid hoods with the tentacles and put them in a blender with 4 thick cuts of chorizo which I roughly chopped. Added a handful each of coriander and chives, a tiny dash of fish sauce, and a large tablespoon of breadcrumbs so that the squid meat wouldn’t be too sloppy when trying to mould around the egg.

I quick pulsed the blender a couple of times – enough to break the components up – but being careful not to overdo it – otherwise it would turn into a gluey paste.

Soft boil two eggs in their shells – in saucepan, just cover the eggs with cold water, put lid on and bring to boil. The moment it comes to boil, remove the pan from the heat and let the eggs rest in the warm water for no more than 5 minutes. The residual heat cooks the egg whites, but keeps the yolks perfectly runny (thanks to Heston – although he recommends resting for 6 minutes – but I find 6 minutes too long and 4 to 5 minutes perfect for me – I must be doing something wrong)

Carefully peel your eggs under a running cold tap – remember that the yolks are still runny, so the egg will break easily.

Coat the egg with flour and roll the egg in the squid mixture. I found that carefully passing the egg from hand to hand and gently guiding the mixture around the egg resulted in a perfectly even coating. If your squid mixture is too sloppy, gently roll it some breadcrumbs at this stage too. Now pop it in the fridge for 30 minutes to allow the scotch egg to firm up.

After 30 minutes, dip the egg in some beaten egg. Be careful not to drown it in the beaten egg, as just a little will do, and pass the formed scotch egg from hand to hand again to ensure its evenly coated.

Roll in some breadcrumbs. I had panko crumbs in the cupboard and the next time you pass an Asian market – you must go in and buy some – they are  the lightest, crispest crumbs – and like puff pastry – there is little point in making your own when shop bought are so good.

Deep fry them, if you have a deep fryer. I don’t, so shallow frying in a wok works just as well.

Carefully remove when golden brown, and drain the excess oil by resting on some kitchen paper.

As the oil was still scorchingly hot – I threw in some scallions to char (yes this was deliberate).

Made a quick asian dipping sauce out of peanut oil (2 tbsps) , soy sauce (2 tbsps) , rice wine vinegar (1 tbsp), ginger, spring onions  and fresh chilli

I’d never made a scotch egg before so it was a bit of challenge to go off-book and try something completely different. Delighted I did though as it ended up being  squidiculously octolicious. I was lucky enough to get the balance right between the squid and chorizo – with neither overpowering the other – and ending up much lighter than the usual scotch egg, weighed down with all that sausage meat.

I was raised on black pudding for breakfast. Part of a fry at weekends, or quickly grilled and smushed onto a piece of toast before we were bundled into the car for school. These days black pudding is becoming more popular, and not just for being stuffed into a breakfast roll. Perhaps it’s due its low cost which appeals in these times of austerity. Or maybe it’s because you can’t watch an episode of Masterchef without one of the contestants popping a piece of pudding under a pan-fried scallop with a smear of pea purée.

Black pudding is a perfect example of good honest food, and nose to tail eating, using every last part of the pig. As a peasant food it not surprising that every country has their own version of it, though the Irish black puddings are now getting global recognition. Last year three Irish producers, McCarthy’s of Kanturk, Caherbeg from Roscrea and Sean Kelly in Mayo were all honoured and celebrated by the prestigious Brotherhood of the Knights of the Black Pudding (La Confrérie des Chevaliers du Goûte Boudin)- so we in Ireland are punching above our weight again when it comes to good food.

Today’s recipe is for a Black Pudding Croquette. The crispy breaded fried exterior yields with a crunch to reveal a soft interior made from creamy mashed potatoes, rich black pudding and spring onions. Now this is something I have eaten for brunch with a poached egg and hollandaise sauce, and for dinner served with pigs cheek and pickled rhubarb (further details below). Though it would also work brilliantly with a simple fried pork chop and some greens.

Method

Peel and boil 200g of potatoes in a large saucepan. Mash them with a tablespoon of butter and milk (add more butter if required).

Roughly chop 200g of black pudding and fry in a little oil for a minute, just to soften the pudding, not to crisp it up. Take out of the oil and add to the mash. Finely chop 4 spring onions and add to the mash. Give the ingredients a good stir to incorporate. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Mould into 4 equal burger sized shapes, though you could easily roll them into balls or cylinders if you’d prefer.

Roll the croquette in some flour, then dip in beaten egg, and coat with bread crumbs.

Shallow fry in plenty of hot oil until golden brown and drain on kitchen paper.

I served this with pigs cheek which was blasted in a pressure cooker with stock, carrots, celery, onions, and star anise. Took the cheeks out and reduced the stock to syrupy consistency. Quick pickled some cut strings of rhubarb in hot water from a tap and white wine vinegar (about a 1/2 cup of water to a tablespoon of vinegar) with a good pinch of salt and sprinkle of sugar. Also took a cup of the liquid used in the pressure cooker to glaze some savoy cabbage.

If I had more patience, I would have had nicer photos showing all the components. But I was hungry, and this was good.

]]> http://kitchen72.com/index.php/2012/04/black-pudding-croquette/feed/ 1 http://kitchen72.com/index.php/2012/04/pasta-pomegranate-pistachio-parmesan-and-purple-kale/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=pasta-pomegranate-pistachio-parmesan-and-purple-kale http://kitchen72.com/index.php/2012/04/pasta-pomegranate-pistachio-parmesan-and-purple-kale/#comments Sat, 07 Apr 2012 15:57:24 +0000 kitchen72 http://kitchen72.com/?p=1063

Super simple. Minimal cooking. All you have to do is boil water for pasta. Perfect for this time of year, when you want to be sat in the garden with the weekend papers, not stuck in your kitchen. A plate of contrasts in textures and tastes. I can see myself eating a lot of this over this Spring. Serve at room temperature and a glass of Muscadet!

Boil some water – salt it till it tastes of the sea. Add pasta to cook. Cut pomegranate in half. Use a wooden spoon to beat the outside leathery skin over a large bowl, until all the pomegranate seeds fall out. Keep an eye out for stray pith from the pomegranate that may fall out and remove. De-shell two large handfuls of pistachios. Wrap the pistachios in a folded tea towel and roughly crush with a rolling pin. Add to the bowl with the pomegranate seeds. Light steam some kale leaves and add to the bowl. Pour in a tablespoon of pomegranate molasses. Squeeze in the juice of half a lemon. Salt and pepper. Drain the pasta and stir into the bowl with the other ingredients. Toss the pasta to coat in pomegranate juices. Allow to cool a little. Add a good glug of olive oil, and plenty of grated paremesan cheese.

Bought the Joe Beef cookbook and read it one sitting yesterday. It calls itself ‘a cookbook of sorts’  as it is part memoir, part rumination of their food philosophies, with plenty of recipes and beautiful photos. It’s a mission statement for their artistic interests, a declaration of their love of food and life, and I loved it.

How can you not love a book that has a dish simply called ‘Kale for a Hangover’? I’ve been banging on for ages about how good kale is and its  amazing restorative powers. In the book they go on to say “We can’t explain why this helps cure hangovers, but it does. It’s like a vitamin with a sugar coating (the coating being the bacon and butter).” Amen.

Today’s brunch recipe includes kale, naturally, and sweetcorn fritters. The fritters are thicker than a normal pancake, soft, sweet and a little crunchy from the kernels. Unfortunately fresh corn isn’t in season, tinned is ok, but look to use fresh corn if you can.

I cook half the tin of corn in 150ml of milk with a tablespoon of cream. Then blitz it with a hand blender. This gets the milk infused with the flavour of the corn. Add the blitzed milk to 100g of flour, 2 eggs and a good pinch of salt. Mix in some finely cut fresh chives. Combine until all ingredients are incorporated to make the thick batter. Melt a tablespoon of butter into a pre-heated frying pan and add a dollop of the fritter batter when the butter begins to froth. Flip after a minute or two and brown the other side. Test the first one to make sure it’s cooked through. If  it’s still a little runny in the middle, add a tablespoon of milk to the remaining batter.

The accompanying mango salad is simple – half a mango cut into dice, half a small red onion chopped finely and a handful of baby tomatoes cut in half. Squeeze over the juice of a lime and some finely shredded red chilli (to your own preference – I like lots). Add a good tablespoon of olive oil (more if you need it). Throw in some fresh coriander,  and a good pinch of salt. Let stand at room temperature for 30 mins to let the onions mellow and the other flavours mingle. I then remove the salsa into a serving bowl, and use the juices and oil left behind in the mixing bowl to dress the kale leaves with.

As I bit into the toast the rich, decadent, wobbly marrow on top oozed a little , leaving a faint smear of fat on my lips. I was in a fancy restaurant in New York (Minetta Tavern) and surely I couldn’t just drag my tongue across my lips. The fuck I couldn’t. I licked my face clean after every bite, begrudgers bedamned. There’s a reason bone marrow is popping up on restaurant menus all over the place. They call it God’s butter.

Historically Irish cooking was considered a peasant cuisine, where every part of the cow was eaten but the ‘moo’. Though these days we’ve all become more trained to buy our meat pre-packaged, and are missing out on treats like bone marrow. It’s accepted to frame ‘nose to tail’ eating as respecting the slaughtered animal by wasting none of it. Also you can discuss embracing forgotten techniques if you’d like. But let’s cut through the shite, the main reason you should head down to your butchers and demand a bag of bones is the taste.  Bone marrow has a slight  nuttiness, unctuous, creamy and subtly sweet, the taste is incredible. Cooked as part of a rich stew, or simply slathered across some toast, it’s all good. Of course if you’re concerned that there is no more to marrow than just fat. Well there’s good news. It is dense in monounsaturated fat, which helps lower cholesterol and is imbued with vitamins and minerals. FTW.

Marrow bones can also be used to make stock and cooked marrow can be whisked into soups, risotto or sauces to enrich them and add a depth of flavour. I’ve made marrow butter by blending bone marrow with butter and parsley. Rolled into some clingfilm, put in the fridge and later cut into discs to melt onto a piece of steak, or into a pasta dish. Another way is to roast the marrow, remove from the bone and let it cool again so it hardens up. Roll the chilled marrow in some flour and shallow fry in a pan until browned and crisp on the outside and the marrow melts on the inside. However my favourite way of enjoying bone marrow is the simplest, roasted and spread onto some toasted bread with sprinkling of sea salt and served with a sharp parsley, shallot salad to cut through the creaminess of the marrow. This preparation has its resurgence from Fergus Henderson’s St. Johns restaurant in London, though the recipe below is closer to the salsa verde I love so dearly than the parsley salad used there.

Shopping

When buying bones talk to your local butcher in advance as he may have to order them in. Ask for centre piece of shin, ideally from the hind legs of  a grass fed cow. The centre cut bones should cost no more than about 50c per piece and will be about two inches in height.

Prep

Preheat your oven to 200 degrees, and line the bottom of your roasting tray with some tinfoil because fat will leak out when roasting. Put the bones onto the tin foil, standing up  with the thick end of the bone on the bottom, so they’re more stable when moving the tray in and out of the oven.

After about 15 minutes the marrow should be slightly bubbling and have come away from edges a little. Thicker bones will take a little longer, so keep an eye on them. While the bones are roasting you can make the dressing.

Salsa

Strip the leaves from a bunch of parsley, using about half of leaves one of the supermarket herb pots. Thinly slice 2 shallots, or a half a mild small red onion and mix with the parsley into a bowl. Whisk in 2 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil and 1 tablespoon of freshly squeezed lemon juice. Add a teaspoon of rinsed capers and 1/2 a teaspoon of Dijon mustard. Mix all the ingredients together until well combined.

 Eating

Put the roasted bones, parsley salad and some toast on a large plate. To serve, scoop out the marrow and spread it on the toast. Sprinkle with some sea salt and top with the Salsa Verde.

Since I left home I was always a city-centre boy and fully accepting of the transient nature of the people around me. I saw little value in engaging with those around me. Head down, defences up. Six years ago I had a bit of shock when moved a little further out of the centre and into a lovely square with a well established and active community. Not knowing how to engage, or recognising the value, I nodded, contributed my annual subscription to the residents association and steadfastly refused to engage. My community were the glittering shiny people down the road in town. Why would I need to hang out with people I didn’t know on the street, when I could not talk to people I didn’t know in town?

Well things change, and what was an eye opener to me was when an old college friend moved onto the square about 18 months ago and observing how effortlessly they integrated. For fucks sake, they knew peoples names, and what they did. Watching them interact with the neighbours made me reflect on my own engagement. Don’t get me wrong, I was perfectly polite, a nod here a wave there, but all perfunctory. It made me think of how others must have viewed me, rushing by with barely a glance and a grunt. I resolved to change  and am now more involved,  finding the time to stop and talk, leaving a weekly surplus of eggs from the hens in a basket on the front gate. Little things, but I feel better for it, as the attention I give to others has been responded to. It’s a subtle shift, but I feel more rooted in where I am, and happier for it.

I recently came across an Irish initiative to meet and reconnect with neighbours over food that really appeals to me. Concept is simple, it’s about sharing a simple lunch with your neighbours that you organise yourselves on a national day of community celebration.  Street Feast is a fantastic idea and this year is on 17 June 2012. I will be looking to organise one here, and I hope that you can all click on the link and are inspired to organise your own. The best ideas are the simplest, and in Ireland right now I feel that there are plenty of experiences we could be sharing and conversations we should be having with our neighbours.

Long preamble over. I talked about sharing because this monster of a brunch, cannot be eaten alone – needs many mouths to eat!

I’ve been on a bit of a brunch buzz lately, trying out new recipes and ideas, and I came across a strangely named Dutch Baby pancake recipe and fell in love with it (I thought it was on Huffington Post but can’t find the link).

This is a sweet breakfast dish  - it’s effectively a sweet Yorkshire pudding. The batter is simply made with eggs, flour and milk, seasoned with vanilla and cinnamon, and sweetened with a little sugar. It is baked in a cast-iron pan, and puffs up like a huge monstrous pudding, about the the size a large plate.  The batter when baked is light and fluffy, with a crispy crust covered with little edges that catch when baked and turn a beautiful golden brown. Though don’t be surprised that something this big and beautiful can last forever, it does deflate a little when taken out of the oven, so don’t be too disappointed.

The preparation time takes all of about 5 minutes, and once you pop it into the oven you can sit back and relax with the rest of the family till it’s done – the perfect lazy pancake brunch, no slaving over a hot pan making thin little crepes over and over. And when it’s done, you can all sit down to eat it together, which is surely the point a perfect brunch.

Traditionally you can serve these babies with a squeeze of lemon, butter and caster sugar. However I like to mix berries into the batter, whatever is to hand, blueberries, cherries or  raspberries. A dollop of thick Greek yoghurt, sweetened with some honey and a scattering of toasted almond flake also make a fine accompaniment.

For the photos I poached some rhubarb and served with Greek yoghurt and extra strong coffee

Dutch Baby Pancake (Makes one 9 inch pancake)

2 tablespoons (30g) unsalted butter
2 large eggs
60 grams all-purpose flour

125ml  Full fat milk
1/4 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon Vanilla Essence or seeds from a fresh pod

1/2 teaspoon of ground cinnamon
Fruit and icing sugar, for serving.

Method

Preheat oven to 200°C. Place the butter in a 9 inch cast iron frying pan or cake pan and put in the oven.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, flour, salt, vanilla and cinnamon until combined. Add berries at this stage if you want them baked into the batter, or reserve them and serve on top like a fruit salad if you would prefer. When butter is melted, remove pan from the oven (be careful, it’s very hot) and swirl butter around until it coats the bottom and the sides. Pour the batter into the pan and place it back in the oven.

Bake until puffed and golden, about 25 to 30 minutes. Serve immediately with a squeeze fresh lemon juice and fresh fruit.

Don’t forget to sprinkle with icing sugar!