Ginger Syrup

So, at the moment, I'm still eating my way through my pantry's contents without replacing much. Oats are a point of contention: I haven't found any that are grown in Germany, and whether that's possible is something that I'm yet to research. My spelt oats are especially close to my heart. Unfortunately, products here only have on the label where they were packed, which we all know is usually a long way from where they turned sunlight into deliciousness. Sigh.

So, something I'm doing in order to preserve a few foreign favourites is to infuse vinegars or syrups. It's something that'll make the transition to eating more local food just that little bit easier: some of the familiar flavours of home. Because honestly, the flavours of Australia are a world apart from those of Germany, where the short growing seasons mean that fruit especially tends to be both tiny and rock-hard, and sometimes in need of a flavour boost.

So, with the last remaining knob of gnarled and dry ginger in my fridge (I don't even want to know which country it came from; I'm covering my eyes and ears here) I made a ginger syrup to drizzle over compote or yoghurt. It's simple and delicious, and turned a ery dark colour simply because the raw sugar I found had colour added. This is exactly why I'm going to be carefully reading my labels from now!


Ginger Syrup

1/4 cup fresh ginger, sliced finely or shredded
2 cups water
1/3 cup raw sugar

Simmer all together gently for 20 minutes. Allow to cool in the pan so that the ginger can further infuse, and then strain and pour into a jar. Store in the fridge - it lasts for ages, and has quite a kick to it!

Unkillable Cake

I'd like to introduce you to a recipe. It's a recipe for all bakers to unite under - it's unkillable. No matter what you add to this recipe, be it fruit or nuts or untold quantities of chocolate, it still turns out perfectly. You can bake it as a cake, as cupcakes or as muffins, depending on which size snack you like to eat. And, best of all, you don't have to be finicky with the recipe - it's all in one bowl, mixed together. You barely have to wash any dishes.

The unkillable cake ratio is always the same, and then I add extra fruit or other flavourings into the mix. If I add cocoa powder or something dry, then I'll add a touch more liquid to compensate, but honestly, I've made this batter both thick and thin, and all it really changed was the baking time. It's just a cake, not light as a sponge or dense as a mudcake, but for the world's easiest baking, it's pretty unbeatable.

So, here's a simple berry muffin. I made these with blackberries, because I foraged a few kilos of them, and needed to use them up quickly. My favourite, however, is always strawberry cakes, but I'll admit that it's also good with sour berries like red currants or cranberries.


Easiest Berry Muffins

2 cups self-raising flour
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup oil
+ enough soymilk to bind.

1 cup berries*
1 & ½ tbsp vanilla powder*

Mix the first four ingredients together in a bowl, until just combined. Fold in the berries carefully so as not to break them.
Spoon into muffin tins (line with muffin papers if you’re like me, and avoid washing up at all costs).
Bake in a 180 degree C oven for about 25 minutes, or until a skewer pressed into the centre of a muffin comes out clean. Allow to cool on a wire rack, or if you don’t have one, just eat them all while they’re still hot!

*Ok, I confess, I added more. Add as many berries as you can fit into your bowl.
*Vanilla powder seems to be vanilla flavour of preference for the locals here. If you have vanilla extract, which I find much better than the powder, then please use it. Even vanilla essence is ok here! Just remember to adjust the quantities accordingly.

Apple 'Butter'

This post is a lie, an untruth, a complete fallacy. But I refuse to make an apology. Why should I? I admit, I’m fully aware that my apple butter contains absolutely no butter whatsoever. I’m lactose intolerant – why would I want to contaminate something as good as this?

These apples are so thick, so creamy, and so buttery that they justify the name. Think lemon curd without the eggs, or jam without the sugar. This is concentrated fruit flavour, in the easiest possible way. And now that apples are coming into season, it’s a great way to use them. These were only €1.40 per kilo from the Dom Markt, and they were crisp and tart. This is like applesauce, but so much better.

And, in my obsessive-compulsive way, I couldn’t bear to throw out the peels and cores: I made an apple syrup at the same time. So really, this is two recipes in one, but if you’re not a syrup person (do people like that exist?) then feel free to simply cook the apples.

I recommend that while you’re preparing the apples, you sit them in a big tub of acidulated water. You can add the juice of a lemon or two in order to keep the apples from browning, or a scant ¼ cup of white or cider vinegar. It won’t affect the flavour.

I pressed my apples against the strainer using a spoon, which meant that my syrup isn’t perfectly clear, but that my apples are extra thick and creamy. It’s up to your personal preference. Allow the apples to cool in the strainer before you press them, to make an even thicker butter.

Apple butter is fantastic slathered on scones, toast or fruit loaf – anywhere you’d like to use jam, really. It has minimal sugar, so it’s a healthy alternative to other fruit jams, and it’s also fantastic swirled through yoghurt and scattered with oats. Or even straight from the jar… not that I’ve tried it, of course.

Apple Butter

2kg apples, peeled and cubed* (variety of your choice – I recommend tart apples!)
1/3 cup raw sugar
lemon juice to taste
¼ tsp ground cinnamon

If you’re making the syrup, simmer the peels and cores in barely enough water to cover until they’re soft – about 20 minutes. Reserve the liquid and compost or discard the apple remnants.
Simmer the apple pieces in the reserved apple stock, adding enough water to barely cover. (If you’re not making the syrup, just simmer the apples in plain water). Add the sugar and cinnamon. Cook until the apples are soft but not mush – mine took about 30 minutes.
Remove the apples from the liquid, and strain, pressing to remove extra liquid, if desired.
Blend the apples, in batches if necessary, until smooth. Jar as required and allow to cool before storing in the refrigerator.

For the apple syrup, reduce the remaining syrup until it’s thick enough to pour over a good waffle. ;)

*This was a dozen medium-large apples for me. I simply peeled them, cut them into quarters, took out the cores, and cut the cored quarters in half. The larger the pieces are, the less water they’ll absorb, but the longer they’ll take to cook. It’s your call.

Pumpkin Scones

You see that thing there? Well, you probably weren’t aware of it, but that honest pumpkin is an item of almost unbearable beauty. Why, I hear you ask, am I so engrossed with a pumpkin that’s technically a squash? (Which I’m going to deliberately, albeit mistakenly refer to as pumpkin for the rest of this post.) Because I’m living in Germany, where pumpkin is strictly seasonal. Coming from Australia, where pumpkin is available year-round (and lasts, uncut, for longer than I’d care to admit to keeping a pumpkin for), I was in for a surprise when I moved here. The inexpensive, sweet and humble vegetable that made it into almost every dinner I ate was suddenly off the menu.

But thankfully, I have cause for celebration. Summer squash is in season, which means that pumpkin will soon follow. In the meantime, a lovely golden Hokkaido is all that I need to tide me over. The skin is thin enough to eat, much like other Summer squashes, but it’s near enough to a Butternut to be used instead. So what’s an Australian woman to do, when faced with the return of a loved vegetable? Pumpkin scones, of course.


Anyone else think that the melty deliciousness makes it look like one scone is eating the other? It's a bit like pacman. But they really are that good!


I won’t pretend that I didn’t get stuck into the roasted pieces. I have to confess, it’s my favourite way to enjoy these vegetables, and they need nothing more than a sprinkling of salt. Melt-in-your-mouth perfection.


I’ll also confess that I haven’t taken Mrs Bjelke-Peterson’s famed recipe here. Partly I’m not too convinced about that husband of hers, and partly I’m a lazy baker. Yep, you heard it right. My recipe is simpler, easier, and lazier. What more could you ask for? You don’t even have to own scone cutters… because mine are still back in Adelaide. I used a floured knife to make square scones. If you have a little extra that you can’t nicely shape, just roll it into balls. Or you could do that for all of them, but that goes against the grain of laziness here…

Pumpkin is the easiest vegetable to prepare. You can toss it with your oil of choice (I love olive oil, but if you have a better idea, go right ahead) and bake it until it’s soft and browning. Or you can steam it in the microwave, lamenting that you don’t have any microwave-safe dishes, and accept that it’ll come out looking like alien babies:

Oh, and you’ll probably only need half of Hokkaido, if that’s what you’re using. The moisture level of your mash will dictate how much flour you need to add – my mash was quite dry, because I let the pumpkin cool before I mashed it. If you mash it before it cools, and then have it covered in your fridge, it’ll retain a lot more moisture. You can drain any condensation before you use it. You only want two cups of mash.

Feel free to eat the rest as is. Not that I did that, or anything…

This method of making scones is unconventional because you don’t need to rub any butter into the flour. In fact, it’s even more unconventional because I chose to use olive oil instead of butter. You’re going to have to trust me that it’s delicious, and that it made perfectly moist and fluffy scones with a comfortingly soft pumpkin flavour. You simply mix the wet ingredients, then add them to the dry. A few kneads to bring it together, and you’ll be slathering them with the spread of your choice in no time at all.

Pumpkin Scones

2 cups cold mashed pumpkin (steamed or roasted)
3 cups (approx) all-purpose flour (plus 1/2 to 1 cup extra for kneading)
3 tsp baking powder*
½ tsp bicarb soda
1/3 cup olive oil
¼ cup milk or soymilk
½ cup sugar*
flour, to use whilst kneading
milk or soymilk, for glazing

Preheat your oven to 220 degrees Celsius (200 degrees for a fan-forced oven).
Mix wet ingredients together in a bowl.
Sift dry ingredients into a bowl and form a well in the centre.
Add the wet ingredients to the dry, stirring slowly to incorporate. You’ll need to use your hands as the mixture becomes stiffer, but don’t hesitate to add the extra flour if you need it. Add it gradually – it’s much better to have a sticky dough to work with than a dry, tough one. You can always add more flour, but you don't want to need to add more liquid.
Turn the dough out onto a floured board (be liberal with your extra flour, here) and give it a few minutes kneading, until it comes together as a smooth ball. If your dough is too sticky, add more flour to the board as you knead, and the dough will gradually incorporate it.
Using scone cutters, or a knife, cut the scones into the shape of your choice.
Place your scones 3cm apart on a baking tray and brush the top with milk or soymilk.
Bake for 12-15 minutes, until nicely golden. Your scones should sound a little hollow when you tap them.
Eat them immediately, with the spread of your choice. (I’ll post a recipe for apple butter soon, so you can try them together for the perfect Autumn snack!)
I prefer hot scones with a spread of margarine (or butter if you eat milk products), but of course you could let them cool and eat them in the traditional manner, with jam and cream.


*A note on baking powder: I’m using the European product, which isn’t nearly as strong as the Australian/American brands. Use self-raising flour instead of plain flour if you can find it, and omit both baking powder and bicarb soda.
*A note on sugar: I use raw sugar, simply because I don’t like the amount of processing it takes to get white sugar. Raw sugar tastes delicious, but if you want a slightly stronger, more caramel flavour, brown sugar will also work a treat. Likewise, if you only have plain white sugar, by all means, use it.
*A note on your mashed pumpkin: let the pumpkin cool before you mash it, so that it retains less moisture. Hokkaido is good because if you let it cool completely, you get an incredibly solid, thick mash.