Forget the old ten minutes of ache-inducing kneading – science has shown that time is more important than effort. Just give the dough three very short, light kneads on an oiled worktop, just ten seconds for each. This gives a brilliant crumb texture for little effort.

Using oil rather than flour stops it sticking to your hands, and avoids extra unmeasured flour drying the dough out. Use a good ale like Everards’ Beacon, and for flour try the excellent stoneground flours from Claybrooke Watermill.

Dan Lepard (left) with Claybrooke Mill’s head miller Spencer Craven

1 Stir water, ale and honey together in a mixing bowl, sprinkle in the yeast and stir well. Add flours and salt, mix well to a soft rough mass, then cover the bowl and leave for 10 minutes. This pause gives the flour time to absorb the moisture and helps the stretchy gluten develop.

2 Lightly oil a 30cm patch of worktop, knead the dough gently for about 10 seconds then return it to the bowl, cover, and leave for 10 minutes. Repeat this light kneading sequence twice more at 10-minute intervals, then cover the dough and leave for an hour.

3 Flour worktop, shape dough into a ball, place it seam side down on a floured tray, then cover and leave to rise for an hour. Heat the oven to 220C/200C fan (Gas 7) and place a dish containing boiling water on the lowest shelf to help colour the crust.

4 Cut a cross in the top of the dough with a sharp blade, place the loaf in the oven with a good 10cm gap between it and your dish below, and bake for about 45 minutes until richly coloured. Then move the baked loaf to a wire rack to cool.

Dan Lepard’s new book Short & Sweet is out now.

Take me to Dan Lepard’s website.

To subscribe (and also join Great Food Club for free) for £17.50, click here.

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Graham, a retired architect from Stamford, said: “I enjoy creating the front covers for Great Food magazine. It’s reignited my love for painting.”

If you’d like to discuss possible projects or commissions with Graham, call him on 01780 482012 or email jillandgraham@tiscali.co.uk

Click here to download the brochure and entry form.

Click here to download the exhibitor form.

When?
March 11, 2012

What?
The UK’s first festival celebrating mustard and everything that goes with it.

Where?
Scalford Hall near Melton Mowbray, former home of Colonel Colman, founder of Colman’s Mustard.

Why?
Because Britain needs a mustard festival.

Further info:
The Great British Mustard Bash was conceived by Rosemary Jameson, founder member of Guild of Jam and Preserve Makers and owner of Jam Jar Shop;  it is sponsored by Great Food magazine.

For further details, please contact Rosemary: mustard@jamjarshop.com

I think it’s the best part of the preserving year – it’s hectic and a race against the clock to get enough marmalade made for the whole year from the short season of Seville oranges (December to February).

Some people part-process the oranges and freeze the resulting pulp to use throughout the year, but I have never done this myself. I like the fact that the clock’s ticking: it’s a short session when the whole kitchen gets sticky and every surface is covered with jars.

I’ve only once made marmalade from ‘raw’ oranges – that was when I was 15. It was enough to put me off for life. Since that first batch I’ve always cooked the fruit first, which makes it much easier to cut the peel into the size you prefer and gives a beautifully rich, intense flavour. The peel is firm but tender from the double cooking – none of those nasty rubbery bits!

There are so many delicious variations for marmalade – we get asked for a ginger recipe all the time. You can add a little of what you fancy – whisky or brandy, black treacle for Dundee marmalade, or try making it from limes or tangerines.

Marmalade has been around in some form since well before Tudor times. Originally, the Portuguese word ‘marmalada’ referred to a sticky paste made from fruit, usually quince, and sugar. The word, or a form of it, still exists in most of Europe today, but we know from our holidays abroad that when ordering marmalada we will actually be served jam, as it still describes the type of confection, not a particular preserve. We need to add the name of the fruit to be sure of receiving exactly what we are expecting.

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Gammon glaze

1 To make a brilliant glaze for a cooked gammon or bacon joint, mix three to four tablespoons of chunky marmalade (home-made, of course!) with two tablespoons of soft brown sugar and one teaspoon of mustard. I use my own wholegrain, but any will be OK.

2 Remove the rind from the cooked joint and spread the mixture over the surface, pressing down as well as you can.

3 Stand the joint on a wire grill over a roasting tin and bake for around 20-30 minutes in a medium oven, basting frequently. My son sometimes uses plum jam instead of marmalade, but that’s for the autumn.

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Pancake Day

Pancake Day is coming, so when you’ve made your marmalade, why not use some of it to make a delicious pouring sauce for pancakes?

1 Melt 175ml marmalade in 175ml water over a low heat, stirring until smooth.

2 Add two tablespoons of butter and stir again until evenly combined.

3 Serve warm with a stack of pancakes.

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Rosemary Jameson owns Jam Jar Shop and Jam On The Hill.

The following stores are now stockists and all will have the Jan/Feb 2012 issue on sale from January 10, although it is available in most stores from Jan 3. Phone your local store to check before setting off.

Waitrose Four Oaks, Sutton Coldfield
Waitrose Harborne, Birmingham
Waitrose Hall Green, Birmingham
Waitrose Peterborough
Waitrose Huntingdon
Waitrose Stamford
Waitrose Rushden
Waitrose Lutterworth
Waitrose Lincoln
Waitrose Oadby, Leicester
Waitrose Kingsthorpe, Northampton
Waitrose Daventry
Waitrose Towcester
Waitrose Lichfield
Waitrose Kenilworth

Great Food is also available to buy in more than 150 newsagents (including WHSmiths in Leicestershire & Rutland), farm shops and delis all over the region. More stockists will be added throughout 2012.

The eateries on this map have all been recommended by readers or tested by Great Food magazine.

Some of the restaurants on the map offer special deals to Great Food Club members. Click here to find out more.

Click here to download the map

Called B14, the group comprises Lucky 13 Bakehouse, Change Kitchen (vegan and vegetarian foods), Cuffufle Chutney, Wanton & Furious (chocolates) and Kings Heath charcuterie and cheese specialist, Capeling & Co.

The quintet is working together to stock the shelves of Capeling, plus jointly creating hampers to sell at markets and seeking new outlets with which to supply its complementary products.

“By forming the B14 collective we can co-promote each others’ products,” said Neil Baldwyn, head baker at Lucky 13. “Also, Capeling benefits from a supply of locally-produced artisan foods and we get great shelf space. In addition, we all enjoy extra manpower at markets. There are loads of food businesses springing up in this city and joining forces seems a good idea.”

‘B14’ refers to the Kings Heath postcode.

RECIPE 4

Surrey Stew

Delving for possibly the last time into this relic of food heritage, I take my culinary adventure through the Win-the-War Cookery Book south – Surrey Stew, to be precise.

Trying to dig up the roots to this casserole dish, I failed to find any snippet of evidence to explain its birth. The only thing to assume is that some hungry soul in Surrey made a casserole one day, added a personal twist (the cloves, perhaps?) and dubbed it a hometown classic.

Unlike my previous WWI creations, I did not struggle to translate measurements, or grapple with the time conundrum. I’m all too familiar with the process in a humble casserole. My main challenge in fact, was resisting the urge to add a bottle of ale to the mix. Fortunately I remembered the luxurious nature of such an element, felt a torrent of shame take me, and focused my efforts back onto this wholesome meal of rationed ingredients.

The first part of the recipe involved browning the pieces of beef in butter, having coated them thoroughly in well-seasoned flour (not wheat – so I chose barley). I was a little worried and reluctant – when making my beef-in-beer stew, I tend to just chuck the meat straight in, pink and mooing, and let the slow cooking do the job. I persisted with the instructions however, adding the onions, carrots, turnip, spice and herbs, seasoned well and popped into the oven for a few hours.

Victory. A delightfully tender and delicious stew emerged from the oven and warmed all its devourers from head to toe. “But no stock?!” they gasped, “No garlic?!” they exclaimed. Indeed, it was a surprisingly flavoursome dish (though I won’t be giving up the missing elements any time soon), and a classic wintery finale to my WWI journey.

Scroll down for Beth’s other recipes and for more information about the cookbook she is using

For more blogs from Beth, click here

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RECIPE 3

Parkin

There is no doubt that the women on the home front certainly had cooking nailed. Working my way through these WWI recipe challenges, I’ve learnt that the speculative nature of the processes involved mean much intuition is required.

This week’s challenge is no different, with the usual absence in the recipe of exact timings and common units of measurement. Hmm…wish me luck.

Having experimented with a hot savoury dish and tried my hand at baking bread, I decided to go for a sweet treat this time: Parkin. Whilst conducting a little research, I gleefully discovered my timing couldn’t be better. Traditionally, Parkin is made and devoured on or around Bonfire Night in the English North.

There are actually a few versions of this treacley snack – some are more cake-like, whereas the original Yorkshire Parkin is nearer the biscuit end of the spectrum. My attempt seems to be of the latter variety (well, as close as I could get it).

Like the teacup mystery of the Fish Sausages (see below), I had to take time to contemplate the sizing of a breakfastcup. I don’t think I ever really sussed this out, but nonetheless, in went a portion of coarse oatmeal. A teaspoon of ginger followed (I can do teaspoons), then a touch of salt. I added the margarine as instructed, and the treacle in its tablespoonfuls, but my heart sank when I saw “A little milk” in the recipe. I decided to pour the milk for the amount of time it takes to say “A little milk”, and this may have been unwise. The mix was sloppy when it was supposed to be a “firm paste”. The only solution was to contribute more oats, and this seemed to do the trick.

Formed into biscuit shapes and popped into the oven, I had no idea how hot or how long to bake them for. I settled for 150 degrees until golden brown (about 45 minutes). The outcome was a thick, gingery, crumbly biscuit, which actually tasted quite good. The added oats killed the sweetness a little… but I guess that makes for a more guilt-free treat. Now just a flask of tea, gloves, a woolly hat and a bracing walk among fallen leaves, and I’m all set.

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RECIPE 2

Barley Bread

I am a bread-making virgin. Despite the self-professed baking-fanatic that I am, this is the shameful truth. So as if to scold myself for the neglect of such a timeless necessity, I am returning to the old traditions of bread-making – well, as old as the WWI era. I take to the kitchen, armed once again with the trusty Win-the-War Cookbook in the hope of a courageous bread victory. My opponent: Barley Bread.

The initial obstacle in this challenge was where on earth to locate the barley flour. Surely, I thought, this hasn’t served as an ingredient since 1918? Though proved wrong when I finally discovered one lonely bag on the shelf of an organic food shop, its packaging certainly led me to believe it had been sitting there on its dusty bottom since WWI.

Back to the kitchen, and a few battles awaited me.

Gills. Previously thought to be part of a fish’s anatomical makeup, are presented here on the recipe as a measurement. I was baffled, but managed to find out that one gill equates ¼ pint and added the ‘three gills of tepid water’ accordingly.

The other significant hurdle was kneading my dough. I wasn’t instructed as to how long to do this, simply that I should do it ‘well’. My patience clearly needs some exercising, as this part of the process was perhaps where I fell short. I think I was missing the vital air pockets that produce a light, fluffy loaf.

So was it a victorious attempt? Well, the overall finish admittedly produced a golden, rustic (brick-like) exterior. The centre on the other hand, was not so triumphant: fairly dense and a little stodgy. Perhaps it’ll make a nice bread & butter pud…or a nuclear bomb shelter.

Scroll down for Beth’s first recipe and for more information about the cookbook she is using

For more blogs from Beth, click here

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RECIPE 1

Fish Sausages

I wasn’t initially enticed by the name of this dish, this being the first of my attempts to recreate a WWI meal. Though a fish-lover I am, surely a fish and a sausage should never cross paths. Then I thought about this concept a little more, perused the recipe, and decided that if a fish finger and a fish cake were to marry, this would inevitably be the product.

Of course, one must remember to be forgiving of dubious titles and unusual ingredients; rationing leaves little space for conventional cooking. This one, however, was one of the friendlier looking ones in the weathered pamphlet of WWI cuisine, so recipe at hand (or rather, in PDF), I donned my imaginary Edwardian apron and got to work.

The first on the list of ingredients: Two teacupfuls of cooked fish.

I admit it, I spent more than a few minutes deliberating what constitutes a teacup, and concerned myself deeply with the conundrum of how much fish I should attempt to squish into said cup. Eventually coming to the conclusion that guesswork was a much happier approach, I overcame the measurement hurdle and the rest followed pretty simply.

The outcome was definitely edible, and quite tasty. I was pleased and with the golden breadcrumb exterior, and positively beaming at the well-seasoned haddock interior. The sausage shape was not so easy to achieve. Sporting more of a potato croquette look, mine were short and stumpy. I’m sure a dollop of ketchup should help disguise that, unless I’ve exceeded my rations…

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ABOUT THE BOOK

This is not an ordinary cookery book. It is a war cook book; and it is a cook book to win the war on. As the British soldiers of the First World War fought on valiantly, there was clearly a food battle in action on the home front. With the introduction of rationing, The Win-the-War Cookery Book played a vital role with its waste-reducing advice through revised versions of traditional recipes. I was lucky enough to browse this patriotic piece of food history as I considered the first dish for my assignment. The challenge: produce four WWI recipes from this book. I’ve spotted some fairly alien ingredients amongst the recipes, such as cow heel, maize meal, and dripping, so I’d better dig out my hair net and start scouring the pantry…