Make it one for my baby...and one more for the road

Since I posted the first words in the Bakery Window a few weeks back, I have had some interesting reactions. Some clearly still think that the c word is to be feared. Others questioned my choice of ingredients (we trifle lovers are often purists). Several asked for a translation of "Fruit I up". I myself pondered whether my trifle related waist disorder could be cured by playing squash a lot. And one of the young people with whom I share a surname asked for a recipe which she could actually eat. I will deal with these one by one, possibly drift into a moderate level rant about ironing and then lurch headlong into a recipe.

The c word (I am talking custard), a bit like aubergines, has had an understandable but ill-deserved bad press caused by early childhood traumas of the school dinner variety (for aubergines substitute 1980s for early childhood trauma and for school dinner substitute any so-called health food restaurant of said decade; why were they called health foods when the food was in fact inedible and therefore by definition unhealthy?). But I urge, nay, beg those of you who still harbour lingering fears and unresolved issues to get stuck in and start scraping out the vanilla pods. I meant what I said, juicy, fresh and succulent is best in a vanilla pod - for optimum results, the pod should be flexible enough to do this:

But if you can't, just get the best you can, something which has to be weighed out is better than something which came ready wrapped in cellophane in a tiny jar. After 2,398 more games of squash I will also be able to twist myself into that figure-of-eight-knot, or is that yoga?

Other-Ingredients-wise, don't be ruled by recipes, go ahead, knock yourself out, express yourself and de-seed a papaya, rinse some raspberries or wait till summer, go for a walk on a Yorkshire moor and spend all day trying to get enough bilberries to fill an egg cup then pop round to the greengrocers and buy a punnet or two of something more substantial (if you still have a greengrocers...this will be the subject of a future rant). Fruit I Up can only be properly understood by someone who has spent time in a postcode starting with BS, there's no translating it. The squash solution, well, I have had 5 sessions in two weeks and I can report that I feel ten years older, am now the owner of a black bandage which was sold to me as something called a sports bra, and I weigh exactly the same.

But the food for the surname sharer, one of the Apples of my Eyes, that is clearly a prompt for my flap jacks. Nut free for her, butter free for the vegans (substitute with a good oil), good for calorific intake after the activity I like to call squash but involves a fair amount of standing still watching the ball and saying "oh i can't be bothered to run that far" and just what the doctor ordered. He's not a real doctor.

Flapjacks, why on earth are they called that? Does anyone know how to flap a jack? I think they used to be made on the Yukon gold rush by rugged men taking a break from standing in 9 inches of cold rushing water rattling a seive in the hope they would find something shiny instead of using it to ensure smooth icing. But this sort of flapjack involved flour and water, so I believe, whereas the modern day f-j is an oat based product and therefore clearly a HEALTH FOOD. If you stick some seeds and berries in it then I think we can all agree it qualifies. I am one of the sad people who reads every food article in every newspaper or periodical that passes within a six feet radius of my rapidly failing eyesight, so I know that oats are supposed to be slow release carbohydrates and therefore GOOD, seeds have Omega - 3 oils in them (also GOOD) and that blueberries were the superfood of 2007 (ditto).

This particular A of my E and one of her siblings are both horribly allergic to eggs and nuts, so making them sweet treats when they were little, the traditional method of persuading children to adore you, was a special challenge. Flapjacks featured highly in the early years of all Debbonaires when they were round my kitchen as a result. When I started keeping my own recipe book 10 years ago, said A of my E wrote the very first recipes - one for flapjacks and one for egg-free bubble and squeak - and accompanied them with a poem eulogising food, and some greasy finger marks illustrating that her love (for food at least) was pure.

Fast forward a decade, said A of E was recently attempting to impress a paramour with flapjack making and from observation of the process and result, though delicious in their own way, I rather think I have both failed and aided her in her use of foodstuff as a sweetener. Aided, because frankly what better start to a romantic evening than melting butter, stirring in sugar and oats and waiting for the toasty tastiness to be ready to pop onto a cake stand and serve with a side order of snogging. Failed, because her cavalier attitude to measurements, though signifying a pleasing devil-may-care approach to rules, can occassionally result in over-crispy snacks or a soggy pastry bottom and who wants to be known for a soggy pastry bottom? (though even using ready made pastry can end that way - to be continued at a later date).

These flap jacks can be made in advance of any picnic, camping trip or long journey and used as a more than satisfactory substitute for anything you can buy in a a bus station, airport cafe or campsite shop. They are definitely competition for anything on sale in an overpriced lunch emporium with a French name - having a french name doesn't justify charging a quid for a snack, and calling it LURVE is no excuse.

One will keep a small child from whining for approximately 7.5 minutes and a large adult for slightly less, which, when you are waiting for a train or a pause in the torrential rain of south wales campsites, can make the difference between happiness and illegal acts of violence. A of my E, this is for you to download and save, the modern day equivalent of cut out 'n' keep, so that your flapjacks may always be sticky. The rest of your love life is your own problem.

The Thangam Bakery Kitchen Window

THIS IS NOT A LOVE BAR

400 - 450 g oats - I use a mixture of jumbo oats from the horribly smug organic supermarket (now isn't that a ridiculous combination of words?) down the road and some rolled oats from a box with a picture of a nice man in a hat, from the lovely shop across the road (not a hint of smugness there)

250g butter (or equivalent in sunflower oil if you are vegan)

2 tablespoon golden syrup (go to the smug ones for organic fairly traded if you can bear the smugness or get elsewhere if you can - but do get fair trade, unfairly traded sugar stuff is just plain wrong)

2 - 3 tablespoon black treacle (ditto)

250 g golden sugar (ditto. Actually any sort of sugar will do but again, fairly traded only please, you must only rot your teeth with a clean conscience, dentists of quality everywhere agree)

About a mug full or so of bird food - nuts, seeds and berries, according to taste and season and allergies - I like sunflower, pumpkin and sesame seeds, with some almonds and hazelnuts (unless making them for the A of Es) and some plump blue raisins (unless making them for my mother, she's not allergic, she just doesn't like them, unless they are in my christmas cake smothered with almond paste and I don't tell her they are there - honestly, this works) or cranberries (unless making for someone who doesn't like cranberries) or cherries (unless you are making them for me, except for those sticky purply ones which haven't been subject to cruel and unnatural practices involving food dye)

METHOD

Melt butter, sugar, syrup and treacle all together in a big pan slowly - do NOT allow to boil or bubble, that's where you went wrong, A of my E, you were making toffee. Remove from the heat.

Suddenly remember to turn on the oven - about 175. Grease two large baking trays, the sort with edges, not the totally flat sort, but not deep.

Stir oats into the butter-sugar-syrup-treacle mixture - not all of them at once, you want to stir properly and you want to check for texture. Add some of the bird food stuff and stir some more - is it sticky? If it is still practically liquid you have to add more oats. If you want flapjacks on the crispy side, add more oats or birdfood till it is a bit dry looking. But I would recommend erring on the side of sticky caution.

Spread the mixture into the greased trays. It will be difficult to flatten at first, keep sticking to the spoon, but perservere - this is the only fiddly bit of this recipe so it isn't that bad is it. Flatten with the back of the spoon.

Put in the oven and bake for about 20 - 25 minutes. The mixture should be darker, be slightly crisping on the top but still squishy if you push it with your spoon - don't do this with a finger unless you like being burnt. Leave it to cool slightly in the tin, it will firm up as it cools. Cut into squares or slices before it goes totally cool. Remove from tin as soon as you can do this. Serve on a cake stand or wrap in bits of foil and take it for the road.

NEXT TIME: as well as the hinted at ironing rant, honestly there will be a main course recipe. It may be a tart. Or a pie. But it will involve the mysteries and wonders of pastry.