
As you know, it’s one of our slightly less mental traditions at English Towers that the birthday person gets to choose whatever they like for their birthday cake. Usually, da brevren compete with each other to find the most complicated (The Mad Professor), chocolate-filled (the Death Wish Child), or retro (English Dad) recipes they can possibly find. And then, of course, when it’s my birthday, I just make whatever I fancy.
This year turned out to be a bit different. ‘I’m going to make your birthday cake’, said the Death Wish Child, confidently. ‘What would you like?’.
‘Well’, said I, ‘what I would really really like is lemon meringue pie. No, lime meringue pie, but don’t worry, I’ll help’.
‘Nope’, said the small confident one, while imaginary fireworks and laser beams went off behind him. ‘*I* shall make the pie’. So sit back and enjoy, while my wonderful offspring takes you through his birthday pie:
First you need a pastry bottom (although I suspect that I might already have one):
For the pastry, you’ll need:
200g cold butter
400g plain flour
Pinch salt
1tbsp caster sugar
1 egg yolk
4 or 5 tbsp cold water
Firstly, preheat the oven to 180/gas 4. It’s easiest to do this in the food processor (the pastry, not the preheating. That would be silly. And anyway, you’d never fit the oven in there), but you can do it by hand if you’re not as lazy as us.
Chop your cold butter into squares and add it to the flour, salt and sugar. Process it until it looks like breadcrumbs.

Now plop in the egg yolk and pulse slowly, adding tablespoonfuls of water until it just comes together.
Flour the work surface (and your trousers, and your mother, and the floor) and squish the mixture together into a ball. Roll it out to about 5-6mm thick, then roll it onto your rolling pin and unroll over your flan dish or baking tin (about 24cm should do it). When it all breaks apart, swear a bit and kind of patch it together. Nobody will notice. Push it in to the edges and trim the top.
Now to bake it blind: scrunch up a bit of greaseproof paper, then smooth it over the pastry and pour in some baking beans – you can use ceramic or whatever. I’ve got some old dried beans – for about 15 minutes.

Then take it out of the oven, remove the baking beans and put it back in to cook the bottom (ooer) for about another 5 minutes, then take it out and leave to cool. Turn the oven down to gas 2/150 degrees.
Meanwhile, make the lime curd. We use bottled lime juice in this house, but if you want to juice several limes, be my guest:
100g butter
6 tbsp lime juice (or for lemon curd, 2 lemons, zested then juiced)
150g caster sugar
2 eggs plus 1 extra yolk (keep the white for the meringue)
Take a saucepan and bung in the butter, juice, zest and caster sugar. Melt it all together slowly until the sugar is all dissolved.

Meanwhile, in a bowl, whisk the eggs and yolk until well combined. Now, take your warm, limey, butter mixture and gently pour a little bit into the egg, whisking all the time, then a bit more, then a bit more, until you’ve combined about half of it with the eggs. Now bung that lot back into the saucepan and keep whisking and simmering until the mixture thickens. Make sure there’s someone behind you at this point shouting ‘WHISK! WHISK FASTER!’.

Turn off the heat and leave to cool. Remember to just stir it occasionally to keep it from getting a skin on. When it’s about room temperature, pour it into the pastry case and pop into the fridge to cool.

Finally, for the meringue:
4 egg whites
225g caster sugar
Whisk the eggs in a very clean bowl until they form firm peaks, then keep whisking while you add the sugar, spoon by spoon, until it’s all incorporated and the meringue is thick and glossy. Pile it all on top of the lemon curd and fluff it up a bit (or you can pipe it like my man here):

Bake in the very low oven (gas 2/150 degrees) for about 40 to 50 minutes, depending on how squelchy you like your meringue. If it’s a Special Birthday Meringue Pie, you can decorate it and add candles.

Then sit down with some pink champagne and blow your candles out, wishing with all your heart that you get to spend every birthday just like this, with the people that you love.
Thanks, Charlie xxxx

So Jamie’s releasing some new products soon called Jamie Oliver’s Kitchen Kit. I’m going to be reviewing them (I know, selfless devotion to finding the best stuff for you, my loyal reader).
Here’s an brand new and exclusive look at the new Kitchen Kit, ably demonstrated by the man himself, and giving you a brilliant take on Eton Mess to boot:
Wow it’s hot. If you’re in Ireland, where I spent several summers bemoaning the fact that the south of England was always about 8 degrees warmer than us, then ahahahaha erm, I mean you’re probably not experiencing the epidermis-melting heat of the last few days here in England, but trust me, it’s hot.
And when it’s hot, all thoughts of chocolatey desserts go right out the window. I mean, yes, there’s ice cream, but for a proper, easy summery dessert, you can’t go wrong with a pav.
Originally named after Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova (the dessert was said to emulate her frothy white tutus/feather-light movements/believe what you like), it’s a lovely mixture of crispy, soft-centred meringue, softly whipped cream and luscious summer fruit.
You’ll need:
4 egg whites
225g caster sugar (I normally use golden, but for perfect whiteness use ordinary)
300ml whipping cream, softly whipped
1/2 tsp vanilla bean paste or vanilla extract
1 punnet really ripe fruit – raspberries/strawberries/whatever you have
So first, whisk up the egg whites in a really clean bowl. You need to get them light, airy and… erm… peaky, so it’s best to use an electric whisk or a whisk attachment on your food processor. Remember, even a hint of egg yolk and you’ll have to throw the whole darn lot away – break each egg separately.
Now just add the sugar 1 tbsp at a time, checking the mixture by pinching it between your fingers every so often. If it’s still grainy, you need to mix it more before the next spoonful goes in. Eventually you’ll have lovely soft peaks of glossy white meringue.
Now just dollop it onto some greaseproof paper on a baking tray – if you’re really precise you can draw around a plate first in pencil so you get a perfect circle – or you can make several smaller ones if you want individual portions.
Then pop it in a low oven – gas 2/150 degrees for about 40 minutes. Open the oven door and let it cool completely. You don’t want a rock hard lump of meringue, you want it cracky on the outside and soft and squidgy in the middle.
Just before serving, softly whip the cream with the vanilla and pile it all on top of your meringue.
Bung on your fruit (artfully, or just lob it on like I do) and present your masterpiece à table (in your best French accents please).
Oh, and remember, if it breaks when you try and get it off the baking paper, you can always just stick it together with a bit of cream, or there’s always Eton Mess.
Good old Anna Pavlova eh? Over to you, then, what’s your perfect summer dessert?
My lovely commenter Jen contacted me on Twitter yesterday and said she’d just made some of my lemon meringue cupcakes. I was inspired to knock up a batch, but when I went to find the recipe of course they weren’t here as I’d done them as a guest post for Rosie Scribble back in March.
Anyhoo, if you haven’t seen them, they SO deserve another outing. In fact, even if you don’t bother to make the meringue bit, do make the cupcakes and the lemon curd. They’re rather lip smacking, even if I say so myself:
You will need:
170g softened butter
170g caster sugar
3 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
170g self raising flour
So firstly, beat the butter and sugar until very pale and creamy. Then beat in the eggs, one at a time, giving the mixture a good mix in between. Add in the vanilla extract, then gently fold in the flour until well combined.
Dollop the mixture into 12 muffin cases (about 1 tbsp each) and bake at 180/gas 4 for 15-20 mins until they’re just springy when touched. Set aside to cool while you make some lemon curd (you can buy it, but home-made is just so much nicer, and very easy):
100g butter
2 lemons, zested then juiced
150g caster sugar
2 whole eggs plus one yolk (keep white for the meringue)
Take a saucepan and put in the butter, lemon juice and zest and caster sugar. Melt it all together slowly, stirring until the sugar is all dissolved. In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs and yolk until well combined. Now, take your warm, lemony, butter mixture and gently pour a little bit into the egg, whisking all the time, then a bit more, then a bit more, until you’ve combined about half of it with the eggs. Don’t bung it all in at once or you’ll get lovely bits of scrambled egg floating around in your lemon curd.
Now bung that lot back into the saucepan and keep whisking and simmering until the mixture thickens. Turn off the heat and leave to cool. It will thicken a bit more when cooled. Oh and remember to just stir it occasionally to keep it from getting a skin on.
When it’s about room temperature, and the cakes are cooled, you can add about a tablespoon (or as much as you can balance without it dribbling off the edge of the cupcake) onto each cake:
Finally, just give your meringues a very quick go either (carefully!) under a hot grill, or give them a blast with a kitchen blowtorch, just to ‘set’ the meringue and very gently brown the tops.
Feel free to leave your cupcakes bare, but they’re crying out for all manner of silly glittery, hearty, pink decoration (or is that just me?).
Oh and make sure any leftover lemon curd is refrigerated and used up within a couple of days (I never have that problem).

So you know the rules by now. The birthday person is entitled to request, nay, demand, the birthday cake/dessert/artery clogging confection of his/her choice and nobody’s allowed to complain; especially not me, and I have to make the bloody thing.
The Death Wish Child, my smallest, most accident-prone offspring, when not frequenting his local accident and emergency department or engaging in some form of muddy violence thinly veiled as a contact sport, is a bit of a chocolate lover. The child has miraculously survived to celebrate his 11th birthday. I know. It’s a miracle. And his birthday request was for… and I quote… “a cheesecake. Ooh, no, a chocolate cheesecake. Ooh, no… a double chocolate cheesecake. Yes. With a meringue topping. Erm, and sparklers”.
So there you have it. I’ll give you the recipe, not so much because I expect you to actually make one yourselves, more so you can marvel at the placement of so many calories in so small a cake tin. Be afraid:
300g dark chocolate digestive biscuits
100g butter, melted
175g dark chocolate
500g cream cheese
100g icing sugar, sieved
200ml double cream
Soooo, whizz the biscuits in a food processor, or put them in a strong freezer bag and bash hell out of them with a rolling pin (this step is particularly therapeutic if you have an ex-husband, or so I’m told). Then pour over the melted butter and mix well. Press the mixture into the bottom of a springform cake tin lined well with plenty of clingfilm (make sure it overhangs the sides) and put it in the fridge to set.
Meanwhile, melt the chocolate in a bowl over a pan of simmering water (remember not to let the bowl touch the water) and put aside. In a fresh bowl, beat the cream cheese, then add the icing sugar and beat well together:

Set that aside and in another bowl (yeh sorry, not very washing-up friendly this one), whisk the double cream until it’s lovely and fluffy, then set that one aside too:

Now check the chocky to make sure it’s blood temperature, and start to add the cream cheese mixture one spoon at a time, stirring well until it’s all combined:

Now fold in the whipped cream:

…and let the dog lick the bowl (awww, g’wan…):

Now pile the whole lot onto the cooled biscuit base and level it off with a knife and return to the fridge to set. Now, if you’re sane, you’ll walk away right this minute and serve your delicious dessert with a flourish and maybe some fresh raspberries:

If you’re mental, though, and prepared to do anything for your child just because it’s his birthday, crack on with the meringue. First, preheat the grill to very hot, then take 2 egg whites, plop them into a clean bowl and whisk until really fluffy and stiff. Now gradually add 115g caster sugar:

Whisk until the meringue is glossy and thick, and a generous stolen fingerful doesn’t contain any hint of gritty sugar. Take the cheesecake out of the fridge and carefully remove all the clingfilm. Now pile all the meringue over the top of your cheesecake, smoothing it over to the edges but leaving some little peaks, and chuck it quickly underneath your very hot grill just to singe the very tops of the mountains, as it were.
Serve, with sparklers, to an overexcited child, happily hiding your exhaustion, whilst secretly dreading what concoction the Mad Professor’s going to be demanding for his birthday in less than 10 days’ time. Phew.


So I had a lovely birthday, thank you so much for all your good wishes. I got lots of donations to my KitchenAid fund, which is now looking quite healthy, plus lots of lovely bits and pieces for my garden (including a fantastic Eucalyptus tree from the boys), and 6 new sparkly Denby mugs from Hubby to add to my collection:

Sensible Uncle I and Lovely L bought me Ching He Huang’s new Chinese cookbook, and Mad Uncle A gave me a nice wodge of cash (although I’m pretty sure the empty card was provided by me Ma as he didn’t seem to know a lot about that bit). Jen sent me the wondrous flowers you saw yesterday and the Disreputable One stumped up an eye-wateringly generous cash donation, which arrived via an enormous white courier van (well you can never be too careful) and so did my Ma. And yes, I probably accept that at my age I shouldn’t still be getting cash in the birthday cards from my parents.
As you know, the tradition here at English Towers is that the birthday person gets free reign to choose whichever birthday cake they like. Unfortunately, being Chief Domestic Goddess, that means I get to make my own. Still, I had me Ma here. And plenty of sodding about and giggling later, we came up with this:
First for the easy peasy pastry:
115g butter, melted
100g caster sugar
200g plain flour
Pinch of salt
Preheat the oven to 180/gas 4. Pour the melted butter into the sugar and stir. Then add the flour and salt and mix it around until it becomes a thick paste. Press the mixture into a loose bottomed (steady) flan dish or baking tin (about 24cm should do it), then bake it blind (scrunch up a bit of greaseproof paper, then smooth it over the pastry and pour in the baking beans) for about 15 minutes. Then take it out of the oven, remove the baking beans and put it back in to cook the base for about another 5 minutes, then take it out and leave to cool. Turn the oven down to gas 2/150 degrees.
Meanwhile, make the raspberry curd. We couldn’t find fresh raspberries, so we used a decent tinned brand and just squished the contents through a sieve, but you can use the bought stuff or just purée some fresh ones:
100g butter
4 tbsp raspberry purée
1 lime, zested then juiced
150g caster sugar
2 eggs plus 1 extra yolk (keep the white for the meringue)
Take a saucepan and bung in the butter, raspberry purée, lime juice and zest and caster sugar. Melt it all together slowly until the sugar is all dissolved. In a bowl, whisk the eggs and yolk until well combined. Now, take your beautiful pink mixture and gently pour a little bit into the egg, whisking all the time, then a bit more, then a bit more, until you’ve combined about half of it with the eggs. Now pour that lot back into the saucepan and keep whisking and simmering until the mixture thickens – remember it’s going to be baked in the pie, so don’t worry about making it really spready consistency at this stage. Turn off the heat and leave to cool. Remember to just stir it occasionally to keep it from getting a skin on. When it’s about room temperature, pour it into the pastry case.
Then for the meringue:
4 egg whites
225g caster sugar
Whisk the eggs in a very clean bowl until they form stiff peaks, then keep whisking while you add the sugar, spoon by spoon, until it’s all incorporated and the meringue is thick and glossy. If it’s your birthday and you’re rather prone to things pink and gorgeous, you can add a couple of drops of raspberry juice or cochineal here to give a delicate pinkness to your billowy meringue. It’s best not to do this after several glasses of wine because it all gets a bit silly and giggly. What? Oh, no, of course I don’t mean me. Pile it all on top of the raspberry curd and fluff it up a bit. Bake in the very low oven (gas 2/150 degrees) for about 40 to 50 minutes, depending on how squelchy you like your meringue.
Garnish with pink edible glitter (okay so you don’t really have to do that bit) and serve with a nice bottle of chilled rosé Prosecco and the company of your wonderful family. Cheers!

And no, I have no idea what the jar of Hellmann’s is doing in the background completely spoiling my shot. I blame the alcohol.
I’m having a lovely day…
There’s pink sparkly cards:

…beautiful pink flowers:

…and pink meringue too (more of that later):

Next comes the pink champagne…

So, chocolate muffins, then. I make them more times than I care to admit to and, as a dabbler, tend to add at least one extra little something: some chopped white chocolate, maybe, or some orange zest… dried cherries are surprisingly nice… sometimes I’ll decorate them with ganache, or just melted chocolate, and sometimes I just leave them alone and unadorned. This version came about after making muffins and wishing there was something else I could pipe onto them apart from buttercream, which I love, but Hubby detests. So first up for the muffins, you’ll need:
170g butter, softened
170g caster sugar
3 eggs
115g self raising flour
55g cocoa powder
So preheat the oven to 180/gas 4 and beat together the butter and sugar until they’re really light and fluffy. Add in the eggs one at a time, beating really well after each addition, then sieve the flour and cocoa into the bowl and fold them in gently. If the mixture’s a bit thick, add a slosh of milk.
Put paper muffin cups into the holes of a muffin tray and put a tablespoon of the mixture into each one (it should make about 12). Bake them for about 15/20 minutes until the centre springs back up when you push it with your finger. Leave them to cool on a wire rack:

Now, get cracking on the meringue:

Take a really clean bowl and whisk up two egg whites until they’re really stiff (yes, yes, you can do the ‘holding the bowl over someone’s head’ thing if you like). Now whisk in 115g of caster sugar one tablespoon at a time, whisking really well between each spoonful until the meringue is thick and glossy.
Now comes the fun bit. Preheat the grill to medium and then you can just dollop the meringue on top of the muffins, or you can crack open the piping kit (yay!) and pipe little swirls of meringue over the muffins. Once they’ve been piped, it’s your prerogative as Head Chef to pipe the rest of the meringue straight into your mouth. Now just let them heat gently under the grill until they’re kind of golden with a few darker tips – watch them carefully as they burn really easily. BTW: If you’re worried about eating raw eggs, you could always pipe them onto greaseproof paper on a baking tray, then bake them in a really low oven, and just stick them on top of the muffins with a spoonful of whipped cream. Yum. I was also thinking these would be lovely made without the cocoa (make up the difference with flour) and with a tsp or two of vanilla extract, then you could even add a hint of pink food colouring into the meringue – fab for a girly party.
And there you have it. Gorgeous, gooey meringue and rich chocolate cake. A mixture, I think you’ll agree, made in heaven. As I always say, there aren’t many things in this life that can’t be improved with a big dollop of meringue.

I’m still struggling with this photography lark, y’know. It’s not easy trying to take classy pictures when you’re up to your elbows in egg whites. I’m going to wreck my camera at this rate. Still, here we go with another step by step: this time a classic lemon meringue pie.
For the pastry, you’ll need:
115g butter, melted
100g caster sugar
175g plain flour
Pinch of salt
Firstly, preheat the oven to 180/gas 4. Pour the melted butter into the sugar and stir. Then add the flour and teeny pinch of salt and mix it around until it becomes a thick paste. Press the mixture into your flan dish or baking tin (about 24cm should do it), then bake it blind (scrunch up a bit of greaseproof paper, then smooth it over the pastry and pour in the baking beans) for about 15 minutes. Then take it out of the oven, remove the baking beans and put it back in to cook the bottom (ooer) for about another 5 minutes, then take it out and leave to cool. Turn the oven down to gas 2/150 degrees.
Meanwhile, make the lemon curd:
100g butter
2 lemons, zested then juiced
150g caster sugar
2 eggs plus 1 extra yolk (keep the white for the meringue)
Take a saucepan and bung in the butter, lemon juice and zest and caster sugar. Melt it all together slowly until the sugar is all dissolved. In a bowl, whisk the eggs and yolk until well combined. Now, take your warm, lemony, butter mixture and gently pour a little bit into the egg, whisking all the time, then a bit more, then a bit more, until you’ve combined about half of it with the eggs. Now bung that lot back into the saucepan and keep whisking and simmering until the mixture thickens. Turn off the heat and leave to cool. Remember to just stir it occasionally to keep it from getting a skin on. When it’s about room temperature, pour it into the pastry case.
Finally, for the meringue:
4 egg whites
225g caster sugar
Whisk the eggs in a very clean bowl until they form stiff peaks, then keep whisking while you add the sugar, spoon by spoon, until it’s all incorporated and the meringue is thick and glossy. At this point, it’s best to keep passing children from all trying to nab fingerfulls of the meringue mixture. I find something pointy helps here. Pile it all on top of the lemon curd and fluff it up a bit. Bake in the very low oven (gas 2/150 degrees) for about 40 to 50 minutes, depending on how squelchy you like your meringue. Guard the pie with your pointy implement until it’s at room temperature, then quickly take it into the bathroom, lock the door, and stuff into face.