Do you remember the concept of pen pals? For anyone reading who may not have lived in a time before the internet, pen pals (aka pen friends) are two people who build a friendship over time by exchanging letters that are posted via traditional snail mail. These people have likely never met in person and live thousands of kilometres away from each other. Everything about this process is slow and thoughtful. As I’ve shared my love for baking online over the last few years, I have found elements of the ancient friendship building concept amongst fast-paced nature of the internet.

While the time spent hand-writing letters and tasting glue as you lick the back of a postage stamp may be relics of the past, I’ve been lucky enough to have forged many friendships online with people I’ve never met in person. We connect over our love of food and baking, share recipes and stories of our lives. It’s a true bright side of my online world and the antithesis of the world of infinite scrolling we sometimes find ourselves in.

Great Bakes, by Martin Sorge

I reminisce on these various forms of correspondence because a moment I’ve been looking forward to for years is finally here. Great Bakes, the debut book by my baking pen-pal from the USA, Martin Sorge, has finally been released into the big, wide world.

If it weren’t for the internet (and a little show called Bake Off), Martin and I would have never crossed paths and discovered that we’re kindred baking spirits. Our approach to baking and life is scarily similar despite having never met in person and living on opposite sides of the world. I interviewed Martin on my podcast, Bakeology, in 2024 and ever since then we’ve been connected by a love of baking, Star Trek, and Kylie Minogue. In other words, we’re the ultimate pair of nerds.

So it comes as no surprise that Great Bakes speaks to and inspires me in ways most other books don’t. It’s full of personality, humour, generous advice, beautiful photography, and delicious bakes that will undoubtedly become favourites no matter where you are in the world. And best of all – Martin has embraced the scales when baking. A rarity in US baking circles.

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It is with great excitement that I share my first guest recipe with you! Given Martin’s fondness for corn, I had to try one of his corny recipes and, of course, couldn’t go past his Midwestern cornbread. Cornbread isn’t huge in Australia, but it should be. Straddling the line between sweet and savoury, cornbread is as at home as an afternoon treat as it is when it’s served with some chilli. I have also learned that medium-grind cornmeal is sold as polenta here in Australia – so there’s no excuse for anyone not to embrace cornbread into their lives!

Thank you, Martin, for generously sharing this recipe, and congratulations on a spectacular book. I can’t wait to bake my way through it, and hopefully, one day, return the favour with a recipe from my very own book!

You can find all the places to buy Great Bakes on Martin’s website, and subscribe to Martin’s Substack.

Guest recipe – Midwestern Cornbread

Introduction and recipe written by Martin Sorge.

One year, instead of a birthday cake, I made my husband cornbread. He couldn’t have been happier. I have strong feelings about cornbread. It needs to be corn-forward, made with high-quality stone-ground cornmeal and a bit of sugar, and baked until it’s brown on the top and sides. The best way to infuse corn flavor? More corn. A dash of vanilla extract enhances the corniness without it verging into cake territory. This isn’t Northern or Southern cornbread it’s Midwestern cornbread.

Ingredients

• 230 g (1½ cups) medium-grind cornmeal

• 280 g (2’s cups) all-purpose flour

• 100 g (½ cup) sugar

• 2 teaspoons (8 g) baking powder

• ½ teaspoon (1 g) baking soda

• 1 teaspoon (5 g) fine sea salt

• 150 g (about 1 cup) fresh sweet corn kernels or frozen corn kernels, thawed and drained

• 120 g (½ cup) milk

• 240 g (1 cup) buttermilk

• 3 large eggs, at room temperature

• 1 Tablespoon (20 g) honey

• 1 teaspoon (4 g) vanilla extract

• 113 g (½ cup) butter, melted

Method

Heat the oven to 375°F (190°C) with a rack in the middle of the oven. Generously butter a 9-inch square metal baking pan.

MAKE THE BATTER. Whisk together the cornmeal, flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a bowl.

Add the sweet corn and milk to a blender and blend until smooth. (I use a small smoothie-sized blender or mini food processor for this task.) Pour the blended corn into the dry ingredients along with the buttermilk, eggs, honey, and vanilla. Whisk until about 80 percent combined, then pour in the melted butter and whisk until barely combined. Don’t overmix. Pour the batter into the prepared baking pan.

BAKE until the cornbread is well risen and cracked, springs back when pressed in the middle, and is toasty brown on top-30-35 minutes, depending on how brown you like the top. Let cool in the pan for at least 20 minutes before devouring. You can serve this right from the pan or transfer it to a large cutting board and cut it up.

This cornbread is best served warm and fresh, but it will last for 1 day, covered at room temperature. Briefly rewarm in the oven or microwave before serving. Slather it with salted butter and drizzle with honey.

Stay sweet
Adam x

After weeks of living amongst a city of towering boxes, and being reduced to using a single bowl for every meal, we’re finally in our new home! And so begins the fun of unpacking and piecing together the puzzle of where everything fits in our new space. High on the list of tasks, of course, was sorting through my 100+ cookbooks and Tetris-ing our kitchen items into our beautiful bright kitchen.

Getting to know a new oven

We all have anxieties about moving into a new house. Will the bed fit in the bedroom? Will the new neighbours be as delightful as they are on Ramsay Street? Most importantly, will the oven bake evenly?! As arguably the most critical tools of the home baking trade, I have spent an excessive amount of time thinking about this oven in the lead-up to moving in.

With the future of my ability to bake hanging in the balance, my first act in the kitchen was to get up close and personal with the new oven. I encourage anyone getting to know a new oven to do the same:

• Buy an oven thermometer to find the true temperature of the oven. The temperature dial on your oven often doesn’t match the actual temperature in the oven. Some ovens run hot, others run cold. An oven thermometer that you can easily hang on the oven rack will show the actual temperature of the inside of your oven. In my case, I needed two thermometers to test the temperature at either side of the oven. And it’s lucky I did! The left side of the oven runs pretty true to the temperature dial, while the right side runs 10-20 degrees cooler.

• Create a heat map of your oven. Every oven has hot and cold spots. Creating a heat map will give you another level of detail by revealing where these hot and cold spots actually are. Empowered with this information, you’ll know the best place to put your cakes and trays of biscuits to bake them as evenly as possible. To create your heat map, simply lay out plain white sandwich bread on a baking tray and place it in a 200-degree oven. After 15-20 minutes, check to see how the bread is browning. You’ll see that the bread has browned more in some places than others, creating your oven’s heat map! As you can see from mine (image below), the left side of the oven bakes quicker, the front middle is the coolest, and the back right is rather hot. Invaluable information for every home baker to know!

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Recipe - Cinnamon Scrolls with Cream Cheese Icing

What better way to kick off my relationship with this new oven than baking an all-time classic? These scrolls have all the hallmarks of a cinny scroll you know and love - spiralled soft, pillowy buns filled with cinnamon goodness and topped with a luscious cream cheese icing.

But they also have a delicious surprise hiding underneath. The generous amount of sweet, buttery filling not only ensures a beautifully filled and spiced bun. It also melts into the tray as it bakes, creating a beautifully caramelised base which hardens as it cools in the tray.

If that wasn’t enough, the smell of these buns baking will fill your house with the most intoxicating aroma that will make any house instantly feel like a home.

Ingredients

Roux (aka Tangzhong)

• 20g plain flour

• 100g milk

Dough

• 350g plain flour

• 1 teaspoon fine sea salt

• 1 ½ teaspoons, or a 7g sachet, of dried instant yeast

• 165g milk, ideally room temperature

• 1 egg, room temperature

• 60g unsalted butter, room temperature

• 20g honey

Filling

• 200g unsalted butter, room temperature

• 100g brown sugar

• 50g caster sugar

• 2 tablespoons cinnamon

• 1 teaspoon fine sea salt

Icing

• 100g cream cheese, room temperature

• 50g unsalted butter, room temperature

• 150g icing sugar

• 20 – 40ml milk

Method

Start by making the roux by placing the flour and the milk into a small saucepan over a low/medium heat. Mix with a spatula to combine, and continue mixing until the mixture starts to thicken, eventually forming a thick paste. Keep stirring and scraping for a minute or two before removing from the heat and scraping the mixture into the bowl of your stand mixer and leave to cool for a couple of minutes.

To make the dough, add the flour followed by all the dough ingredients into the stand mixer bowl. Attach the dough hook and mix on a low/medium (speed 3 or 4 on my KitchenAid) for approx. 15 minutes, or until the dough comes together as a single, stretchy dough. Use the windowpane test to see if the dough is ready.

Grease a medium bowl with butter. Scrape the dough into the prepared bowl, and then do 4-6 coil folds to shape the dough into a ball.

To do a coil fold, simply dampen your hands with some water and then tuck your hands underneath the centre of the dough, slowly lifting it up so the sides of the dough dangle down and coil back under the dough as you lower it back down into the bowl. Spin the bowl 90 degrees and repeat the coil fold steps 1-4 more times until your dough has a smooth and round shape in the bowl. Cover with a clean tea towel or shower cap and leave to proof for 1-2 hours (depending on the temperature in your kitchen), or until doubled in size.

While the dough is proofing make the cinnamon filling. Place the all the filling ingredients into a medium bowl and beat together with a wooden spoon. Set aside until the dough is proofed.

Once the dough it proofed, scrape the dough onto a lightly floured bench. Roll and stretch the dough into a rectangle approx. 50cm x 30cm. Gently spread the cinnamon filling to cover the entire surface of the dough. With the long 50cm edge closest to you, roll the dough to form a spiral log that is 50cm-wide. Slice the spiral log into 12 even pieces and place on a large baking tray or slice tin lined with baking paper.

If baking the next day, place a piece of baking paper over the shaped scrolls and then cover the tray with plastic wrap. Place the scrolls in the fridge overnight. The next morning, take the buns out of the fridge at least an hour before you want to bake them.

If baking the same day, cover with a clean tea towel and leave to proof for about an hour or until risen by about 30-50%.

You can test the proofing by gently pressing the dough with a floured finger to create a dent. If the dent springs all the way back right away the dough needs to proof for longer. If the dent springs back slowly, but not all the way back, the dough is ready for baking. If the dent doesn’t spring back at all the dough is over-proofed.

While the dough is proofing (or coming to room temperature the following day), pre-heat your oven to 170 degrees C. Bake for 30-40 minutes or until golden brown. If you have a digital thermometer you can test the doneness of the buns by inserting the thermometer into the sides of a bun. The buns are done when they reach about 90 degrees C.

Leave the buns to cool to room temperature, and let the buttery caramel on the bottom of the tray to set. Once cooled, make the icing by placing the cream cheese and butter into a bowl and beat with hand beaters until smooth. Add the icing sugar and 20ml on the milk and beat on low to combine. If you want a thinner icing add some more milk until you reach your preferred consistency. If you want a thick icing, add some more icing sugar. Generously spread a spoonful of the icing on each bun and the tear off a scroll and enjoy!

These scrolls are best enjoyed on the day they’re baked, but will keep well for 1-3 days kept in an airtight container. Store any iced buns in a container in the fridge. Let them come to room temperature before eating.

Stay Sweet
Adam x

A roll of packing tape shrieks, crashing through Madonna and Kylie’s instant classic that’s playing throughout the house, as another box is sealed shut.

The energy and activity levels are high in our house this weekend with our big house move only five days away. Between the butcher’s paper, boxes, and trips to the local op shop, I’ve still found an excuse to squeeze in a few last-minute bakes before I say farewell to my faithful kitchen. What could be better than a last-minute batch of Amaretti and some Raisin and Wine Biscuits to keep our spirits and sugar levels high?! Not convinced? Well, it has the added bonus of using up that bag of almond meal and the half-drunk bottle of wine in the fridge. Less things to pack and delicious treats? It’s clearly the best and most sensible way to spend your time while moving house…

So given our long list of things to do and the looming deadline, today’s newsletter is necessarily brief. But I couldn’t let the recipe for Baked Vanilla Custard Tart sit in my drafts any longer. Amidst all the frenzied lifting and sorting, this tart stands out as a relaxed and calming force. It takes the simplest of kitchen staples and turns them into something incredibly special.

While it took me several weeks to find the perfect balance of ingredients, baking time, and temperature, it was worth it for what, I think, is the perfect flavour and set on this tart. I use a lot of vanilla in this recipe, but given it is the star flavour, it’s worth the investment. I often skimp on (or even skip) the vanilla when it is lost in a sea of other ingredients, but here I’ve gone hard. Once you see the flecks of vanilla bean and smell the intoxicating aroma, you’ll be as smitten as I am.

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Recipe – Baked Vanilla Custard Tart

Ingredients

• 1 disc (half a batch) of my Anytime Shortcrust Pastry, plus one egg for an egg wash

• 2 whole eggs, plus two egg yolks

• 80g caster sugar

• 1.5 - 2 tablespoons of vanilla bean paste

• 500ml thickened cream

• 60ml milk, full fat

• A nutmeg, for grating

Method

Start by making a batch of my Anytime Shortcrust Pastry. Once the pastry has rested, roll out one of the portions to 3-4mm thick. Line a 23cm loose-bottomed fluted tart tin. Chill the lined tart tin for 30 minutes, while your oven heats to 180 degrees C and you get on with preparing the custard.

Prepare the custard by whisking the eggs, egg yolks, sugar, and vanilla together in a medium saucepan until the sugar has dissolved. Add the cream and milk and gently stir until combined. Don’t mix too vigorously here, as you don’t want too many bubbles to form. Set the custard aside.

To blind bake the tart case, take the chilled pastry case out of the fridge and dock the base with a fork. Weigh the pastry case down by taking a piece of baking paper that is large enough to cover the tart case with overhang over the sides. Scrunch and un-scrunch the paper a few times to loosen it up and then place it into your chilled tart case. Pour in your preferred baking weights (I like to use uncooked rice) and then place the tart tin on a large baking tray.

Blind bake for 40 minutes, spinning the tart tin 180 degrees halfway through the baking time. After 40 minutes, take the tart out of the oven and carefully remove the baking paper and weights. Return the tart case to the oven for another 20 minutes until the base is beautifully golden. Remove the tart case from the oven and turn the temperature down to 150 degrees C.

Brush the base and sides of the golden tart case with egg wash and return to the oven for 5 minutes. Give it another coat of egg wash and return to the oven for another 5 minutes. Take the tart case out of the oven and set aside while you heat the custard.

To finish preparing the custard, place the saucepan with the custard on a low-medium heat, stirring constantly, until the custard comes to 40-45 degrees. Place a sieve over a large jug and pour in the custard.

Place the jug of heated custard within arm’s reach of the oven. Pull the oven rack out halfway and place the tart tin (still on the baking tray) on it. Slowly pour the heated custard into the waiting tart case. Pop any bubbles with a cake tester or a blowtorch. Gently push the oven rack back into the oven and bake for 45-60 minutes, though check the tart after 40 minutes just to be sure.

The tart is done when the custard jiggles when you lightly tap or shake the tray. If the surface ripples, it needs more time (my tart took 55 minutes to bake).

When the tart has finished baking, let it sit at room temperature for an hour or two before putting it in the fridge for at least 3 hours (preferably overnight) to fully set. When you’re ready to serve, grate over a generous amount of nutmeg, slice, and enjoy!

This tart lasts well for three days in the fridge.

Stay sweet
Adam x

If you only learn to make one pastry in your lifetime, make it this one. It comes together so easily in a food processor (or by hand) and is incredibly forgiving and easy to use. And once you’re confident with shortcrust pastry, it could be the delicious gateway to all kinds of pastry goodness.

Developing the recipe for my Anytime Shortcrust Pastry also reminded me of the important life lesson homemade pastry teaches every baker: patience.

After nailing my Sweet Shortcrust Pastry recipe, I thought an ‘anytime’ version would be a piece of cake. “Just reduce the sugar and away you go!” I thought to myself. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t that simple. As usual, baking science had the answer.

Both sugar and flour love liquid. So when they’re combined, for example in a sweet shortcrust pastry, they fight each other for water, like kids fighting over the latest Malibu Stacey Doll. This battle of wills means less water is available to hydrate the flour’s proteins, which slows gluten development and leaves you with a tender, melt-in-your-mouth pastry. Simply taking the sugar out just means the thirsty flour gets all the water it wants, resulting in a dry pastry that cracks easily. Therefore the key to perfecting my Anytime Shortcrust Pastry recipe was to balance the hydration.

So after many, many attempts and several deep breaths over the last few weeks, I’m quite proud to share my pastry with you today. It’s perfect for tarts, quiches, galettes and pies, and is truly the only shortcrust recipe you’ll ever need.

As I mentioned at the top of this intro, making your own pastry teaches you patience. While you now have the ultimate shortcrust pastry recipe at your fingertips, it still asks you to take your time.

Don’t skip resting and chilling the dough. Roll the pastry out gently. Blind bake your tart case for longer than you think you’ll need. Slowing down will not only result in a more delicious pastry, you might also find it’s a great way to take a break from our perpetually speedy world.

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Recipe – Anytime Shortcrust Pastry

Ingredients

• 1 teaspoon fine sea salt dissolved in 60ml ice-cold water

• 400g plain flour

• 1 teaspoon icing sugar

• 200g unsalted butter, fridge cold, diced

• 1 teaspoon of vinegar

• 1 large egg (approx 60g)

Method

Start by whisking 1 teaspoon of fine sea salt into 60ml of cold water until the salt is completely dissolved. Place the water in the freezer until needed.

Place the flour, butter, and icing sugar into a food processor and pulse until the flour-butter mix resembles fine, dry breadcrumbs. Add the egg, vinegar, and salted ice water and blitz on the lowest speed until the dough starts to clump together.

Tumble the mixture onto a clean bench and use your hands to squeeze and lightly knead the dough to bring it together. Divide into two pieces, flatten into discs, wrap in plastic wrap, and rest in the fridge for at least 30 minutes, or up to 4 days. Alternatively, you can double-wrap the pastry discs in plastic wrap and freeze for up to a month.

Recipe - Roasted Winter Vegetable Galette

A galette is quite possibly the easiest savoury pastry you’ll ever make. It’s the kind of pastry that demands so little, yet delivers so much. Simply pile up your filling in the middle of a rolled-out sheet of pastry, fold the border over, bake, and voilà! Instant pastry goodness.

Here, I’ve used beautiful seasonal vegetables that I’ve roasted in fennel seeds, chilli flakes, salt, and pepper to fill the galette. But this would also be a sensational way to use up any veggies or meat you have left over from your Sunday roast. Honestly, a galette is only limited by your imagination!

One thing to remember when baking with pastry is to never put hot ingredients onto cold pastry. So if you’re roasting vegetables especially for this galette, make sure you let them come to room temperature before piling them onto the rolled-out pastry. I actually roasted my veggies the day before and added them to the pastry straight from the fridge, which worked a treat!

Ingredients

• ½ quality of pastry above

• ½ a small cauliflower or 1 small head of broccoli, cut into 4-5cm florets

• About 8-10 Brussels Sprouts, cut into quarters

• 200g fresh fennel (about half a bulb), sliced

• 200g pumpkin, diced into 2cm pieces

• 1 onion, cut into 6-8 wedges

• 1 tablespoon olive oil

• 1-2 teaspoons chilli flakes or Aleppo pepper flakes

• 1-2 teaspoons fennel seeds

• A good pinch of fine sea salt

• 100g goat’s cheese

• 1 egg for egg wash

Method

To roast your veggies, preheat your oven to 180 degrees C. Slice and dice all the vegetables and place into a large bowl. Add the chilli flakes, fennel seeds, salt and olive oil and toss to combine. Tumble the vegetables into a large roasting tray and roast for an hour or so, tossing the vegetables 2-3 times during roasting, until soft, golden and burnished. Transfer the veggies to a clean bowl or plate and set aside to cool to room temperature or rest in the fridge overnight.

If your pastry has been in the fridge for more than an hour, take it out of the fridge at least 30 mins before you want to roll it out. Roll out the pastry on a lightly floured bench to 5mm thick, and then lift onto a large baking tray lined with baking paper. Crumble most of the goat’s cheese over the cooled vegetables and mix to evenly distribute. Spoon the vegetables into the centre of the pastry, leaving a 4cm border. Sprinkle over the remaining goat’s cheese.

Brush the pastry border with the egg wash, and then gently fold the border over the vegetables. Brush the other side of the pastry border with egg wash and then sprinkle with extra fennel seeds and chilli flakes (optional). Bake in a 180 degree C oven for 45-55 minutes, rotating the tray at least once during baking, until golden brown. Leave to cool on the baking tray for 5-10 minutes before serving.

Stay sweet
Adam x

Welcome back to Slow Rise Sundays - a newsletter (usually) filled with musings and recipes, made especially for those gentle mornings where time stretches out a little. Though today’s edition is a bit different. You might remember last fortnight I mentioned that Nick and I are moving, and we’re now well into the throes of sorting and packing after five years in our current home. So while we explore long-unopened cupboards and sort through clothes we’ve not worn in years (I’m certain they’ll still fit…), these newsletters will be a bit shorter and possibly a little infrequent as we shuffle our lives 800m up the road. Though you needn’t worry - I still have some tasty treats up my sleeve, including today’s recipe which is a celebration of delicious Dutch bakes.

That’s lekker!

My love for Dutch cuisine and culture stems from my Mum’s parents (my Oma and Opa) who immigrated from the Netherlands to Australia in the 1950s. Growing up in the 90s, I was surrounded by Dutch culture and food, which I sadly didn’t fully appreciate until I was much older.

With age comes wisdom (or so I’m told!), and over the last five years or so I’ve realised that connecting to your family history is one of the most important things you can do to understand yourself and your place in the world (an essay for another day). And for me, a strong part of that connection is through food. Despite not having taken the world by storm quite the way French, Indian, or Italian food has, Dutch food is rich in history (though not all of it rosy, like many European countries who dabbled in colonisation), often delightfully simple, and, unsurprisingly, delicious. Much like today’s recipe for Boterkoek, also known as Dutch Butter Cake.

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Recipe – Boterkoek

It turns out that Boterkoek runs deep in my veins. Mum tells me that every Tuesday Oma would have a baking day (who says baking isn’t genetic!?) where she would make three or four yummy, sweet treats for the week, with Boterkoek on high rotation. While I have no memory of Oma’s baking days, there’s something quite comforting knowing that her memory lives on when I make this.

The first thing you’ll notice when you bake this is that it’s less of a cake, and more of a shortbread. Though the texture is very different to a shortbread, landing this bake somewhere in the delicious middle. Though we shouldn’t concern ourselves with labels when something this simple and delicious is concerned. Traditionally, Boterkoek is simply made with flour, sugar, butter, and salt. In this version, I’ve added in some finely chopped stem ginger, which I believe is a more Jewish-leaning version of this bake. Of course, you can leave the ginger out and replace it with some vanilla or lemon zest, or keep it traditional without any extras whatsoever.

Ingredients

• 300g unsalted butter, room temperature

• 200g caster sugar

• 1/2 tsp salt

• 300g plain flour

• 2 pieces of stem ginger, finely chopped (Optional. You could also use lemon zest or vanilla bean paste instead of ginger)

• 1 egg, for egg wash

Method

Preheat your oven to 170 degrees C. Grease and line the base of two 20cm loose-bottomed tart tins or line and grease the bottom and sides of two 20cm round cake tins.

To make the dough, use a stand mixer with the paddle attachment or hand beaters to beat the butter, sugar, and salt until light and fluffy.

Add the flour and the chopped stem ginger (if using) and beat briefly to bring the dough together. If your beaters or stand mixer starts to struggle (as mine did), abandon your beaters and use your hands to bring the dough together. Once you have a single ball of dough, wrap the dough in plastic wrap and rest for at least 30 minutes.

Lightly whisk the egg for your egg wash and set aside. Divide the dough in half and gently press the dough into the prepared tins. Brush each cake with egg wash. Use a fork to create a diamond grid pattern on the cake. Give the cakes a second brush with the egg wash and then bake for 20-30 mins, or until golden brown and the centre of the cakes look set.

Leave to cool in the tins for 15 minutes, then remove the cakes and carefully cut into diamonds. Enjoy this warm, or at room temperature. This will keep for 5-7 days in an airtight container, assuming you can stop yourself eating it all at once.

Stay sweet
Adam X

If you’re ever looking for me between 9.30 and 10.00 am, you’ll likely find me at a café waiting for my daily coffee, fighting the urge to buy a sweet treat to accompany it. Oh, you want to know my order? It’s a strong cappuccino. With extra chocolate if I’m feeling particularly playful.

My penchant for a cappuccino started very early in life. Every Friday, my Mum, often along with my Oma and Aunty, would head into town to do the groceries, run errands, and most excitingly for young Adam, have lunch at a local café. Mum would often order a cappuccino and, either out of the goodness of her heart or under duress from a needy five-year-old, scoop generous clouds of froth for me. If you’ve ever wondered why the bond between a mother and son is so strong, look no further.

So when the good people from Herbie’s Spices sent me a packet of their Spice Dust for Cappuccinos and Sweets, I was immediately transported back to those formative days that undoubtedly laid the groundwork for my coffee obsession later in life. (I didn’t start drinking coffee until I started at university, when my order was a vanilla latte – the less said about this, the better.)

With those sweet memories in mind, I’ve put my spin on the popular American coffee cake. But don’t be fooled by the name, like I was. Much like a tea cake doesn’t necessarily have tea in it, the coffee cake I’m talking about doesn’t traditionally have coffee in it. Rather, it’s made to enjoy with coffee.

Por qué no los dos?

So I’ve thrown tradition to the wind and added coffee to my cake batter and added some razzle dazzle to the defining feature of this type of coffee cake – namely, the scrumptious crumble mix on top and baked in the middle of the cake – and loaded it with Herbie’s Spice Dust.

This is a great cake for sharing with a crowd at morning tea, or having on the bench at home for easy pairing with your morning brew.

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Recipe - Spiced Coffee Cake

Ingredients

Coffee cake batter

• 3 teaspoons instant coffee, dissolved in 1 tablespoon of boiling water

• 120g unsalted butter, room temperature

• 100g caster sugar

• 50g brown sugar

• 2 eggs, at room temperature

• 160g sour cream

• ½ teaspoon fine sea salt

• 160g plain flour

• 2 teaspoons baking powder

Spiced topping

• 100g unsalted butter, room temperature

• 150g brown sugar

• 3 teaspoons of Herbie’s Spice Dust

• 1 teaspoon baking powder

• 125g plain flour

• ½ teaspoon fine sea salt

Method

Preheat your oven to 170 degrees C. Grease and line a 20cm square cake tin with baking paper, leaving enough overhanging paper so you can easily lift the baked cake out of the tin.

To make the topping, use hand beaters or a stand mixer with the paddle attached to beat the butter, sugar, and spice mix until light and creamy. Add the remaining ingredients and beat until the mix resembles wet sand. Set aside.

To make the cake batter, dissolve the instant coffee powder in the boiling water and leave to cool for 5 minutes. Using hand beaters or a stand mixer with the paddle attached, beat the butter, sugar, and cooled coffee until light and creamy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating after each egg is added until fully combined. Add the sour cream and beat until smooth. Add the dry ingredients and beat until just combined, being careful not to overmix.

Spoon half of the cake batter into the prepared tin. Use an offset spatula to evenly spread and smooth the batter across the base of the tin. Sprinkle half of the crumble mix over the cake batter, gently pressing it down. Gently spoon the remaining batter over the crumble mix and use the offset spatula to evenly spread the batter over the filling. Sprinkle the remaining crumble topping over the cake, squeezing the mix as you sprinkle to create large and small clumps. Gently press the crumble mix down.

Bake for 40-50 minutes, rotating halfway through the baking time. The cake is done when you gently press the middle and it bounces back, or when a cake tester inserted into the middle of the cake comes out clean.

Leave the cake to cool for 10 minutes in the tin. Use the overhanging baking paper to carefully lift the cake out of the tin onto a cooling rack. You can serve this cake warm or at room temperature alongside your favourite coffee. I’ll have a strong cappuccino, thanks!

This cake keeps for three to four days in an airtight container at room temperature.

Stay sweet,
Adam x

Don’t you love it when a recipe comes with a colourful, centuries-old folk tale or legend? I mean, what’s better than a sweet treat with a side of whimsy or history?!

Take canelé, for example. The story goes that in the 15^th century, nuns in a convent in Bordeaux created the recipe for canelé to use up the egg yolks left over from the wine-making process. Reducing waste AND creating one of the most delicious, sweet French exports. Thanks, nuns!

Or the Tompouce, which is the Dutch version of millefeuille (aka a Napoleon pastry) or vanilla slice. Created by a pastry chef in Amsterdam, legend has it that the Tompouce was named after a famous 70cm tall Frisian performer named Jan Hannema, with the stage name of Admiraal Tom Pouce.

Whether the naming of this Dutch delicacy was a satirical dig at the French Emperor Napoleon’s apparent* short stature is anyone’s guess. Either way, it’s a great story.

*It turns out that Napoleon wasn’t actually that short. Rather, this ‘tall tale’ was spread by some enterprising British propaganda makers who took advantage of a 19th century quirk in converting inches into centimetres.

French historical records document Napoleon as being 5 foot 2 inches tall. And back then, somewhat confusingly, a French inch was 2.71 cm long, while a British inch was 2.54 cm long. Using the British conversion of inches to centimetres shaved a good 10cm from Napoleon’s height, and a 19th century mis-information campaign was born. All I can say is ‘thank god for the metric system!’

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Recipe - Bussolai

And when it comes to folklore tales, today’s recipe for Bussolai, a buttery Italian biscuit that’s shaped in an ‘S’ shape, is no different. The story goes that these biscuits started out as a savoury bread dough shaped into a ring in the 14^th or 15^th century on the Venetian island of Burano. The ‘S’ shape became popular when a restaurant owner in Burano asked for a version that was easier to dip into a glass of sweet wine. Fast forward a few hundred years to today, and sweet and buttery versions, still shaped as both an ‘S’ and a ring, are the most common variety.

As usual, I’ve also taken a tiny bit of creative licence in my recipe by adding anise seeds to the biscuit dough as well as dipping them into a thin glaze, which I find adds a delightful sweet contrast to the rich, buttery biscuit.

The recipe uses three egg yolks, making it a great way to use up any yolks you may have left over from making meringue, wine (like the Beaudreau wine-makers) or my Hazelnut and Citrus Amaretti. I promise, one day I’ll tackle a canelé like our inspired French nuns, but for now I think these simple, delicious biscuits are the perfect way to use up those yolks.

The recipe that follows has been adapted from the recipe for bussolai in Adriatico by Paola Bacchia.

Ingredients

Biscuits

• 100g caster sugar

• 100g unsalted butter, room temperature

• Zest of 1 lemon and 1 orange

• 3 egg yolks

• 250g plain flour

• ½ teaspoon fine sea salt

• 1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste

• 1 teaspoon anise seeds

Glaze

• 180g icing sugar

• 3 tablespoons of juice from either the zested orange or lemon

• ½ teaspoon vanilla bean paste

Method

Preheat your oven to 160 degrees C and line two large baking trays with baking paper.

Place the sugar, butter and zest in a large bowl and use hand beaters to beat together until pale and fluffy – about 2-3 minutes. Add in the egg yolks and beat again until completely combined and the mixture looks lovely and light.

Add the remaining biscuit ingredients and beat until the mixture starts to resemble clumpy wet sand. At this point, abandon your hand beaters and use your hands to bring the dough together into a shiny, smooth ball of dough. Flatten into a disc and rest in the fridge or, if it’s cool in your kitchen, on the bench for 30 minutes.

Tear off approx. 25g chunks of the dough and gently roll into a 13-15cm sausage. Shape into an ‘S’ shape and place on the lined tray. Continue until you have used up all the dough. Don’t stress if your biscuits tear on the curves as you shape them. You can simply squeeze the curves back together once the biscuits are on the tray. Place the shaped biscuits in the fridge for 30 minutes. Bake for 15-20 minutes until the biscuits start to have a blush of light brown on the edges. Leave to cool completely on the trays.

To make the glaze, bring the juice to a simmer in a small saucepan. Remove from the heat and pour into a heatproof bowl, add the icing sugar and whisk until smooth. Dip the cooled biscuits into the glaze, allowing any excess to drip off, before placing back on the tray or a wire rack to set.

These keep well in an airtight container for up to a week in the fridge or at room temperature.

Stay sweet
Adam x

When a recipe becomes yours

I’m sat on the couch, heater on, my faithful shadow (my dog, Wicket) curled up next to me, Lucky Again by Lykke Li playing quietly in the background. My eyes wistfully wander our lounge room because, you see, this winter will be the last we spend here. After five years of calling this place our home, the time has come for us to move. While our next destination is still up in the air, I’m hopeful that the song playing is a good sign for our move.

Instead of sorting clothes or deciding which of the long-unused appliances on the top shelf should finally be donated (spoiler: we’re keeping them all), I’m thinking about what turns a house into a home. I look over to the kitchen with its illogical 90s layout and see all the delicious bakes that have been made in there – from Bake-Off practice to wedding cakes for 100+ people. I reminisce about nights snuggled on this couch watching both prestige and trashy TV. I look at the front door and see the countless people we love who have walked across the threshold to spend time or share a meal. The rhythms of life make this place our home.

But soon, someone else will live in this space and it’ll become their home. Of course, we’ll eventually do the same in another house. And as I look over at the 100s of cookbooks, dreading the thought of having to pack them all, I have a realisation. The idea of a house becoming your home is very similar to a recipe written by someone else becoming yours.

A house is designed and eventually built by people using architectural drawings, nails, and plasterboard (I’m sure other things are used to build a house, but I’m no handyman!). A recipe comes into existence in a very similar way. Someone compiles a list of ingredients and instructions on what to do with them to create something that’s (hopefully) delicious.

But this is a cold description for something that’s far more meaningful. An architect brings their experience and personal design flair informed by generations of design history to create a house. Eventually people move in, live their lives, and create a home.

Similarly, a recipe writer brings their own experiences, their heritage, or the history of the dish and ingredients used to create a recipe. Then when a special recipe comes into our lives, it become part of our story. The chicken vegetable soup served on those cold winter’s nights when you’re feeling poorly. Mum’s lasagne served on the nice plates. Nick’s fruit mince pies delivered to friends and family every Christmas. As more moments are shared around these delicious creations, I think, like a house becoming your home, these recipes become yours. Sure, Nigella may have written the recipe (guaranteed deliciousness!), but that devil’s food cake made by my Mum, my sister, and me on many occasions over the decades, is woven into our stories and indeed, our homes.

As I look back at those 100s of cookbooks and the 1000s of recipes within, I realise that recipes aren’t defined by lists of ingredients. Their true meaning comes from the people and the moments that gather around them. Just like a home.

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Off the Shelf - Baking my way through my cookbook library

Speaking of recipes and 100s of cookbooks, I’m excited to introduce you to a new section called Off the Shelf. Every fortnight I’ll pull two books off the shelf to share with you in an attempt to bake my way through my cookbook library. I’ll tell you about the book, what I baked, what went well and not-so-well. My hope is that this inspires you to browse your own shelves and reach for a book you might not have looked at for some time, or discover something completely new.

We’re kicking things off with two doyennes of Australian food – A Cook’s Companion by Stephanie Alexander and Cook Sweet by Karen Martini.

A Cook’s Companion by Stephanie Alexander

This book is an Australian classic. Originally published in 1996 and updated four times since, most recently this year, you’ll struggle to find a home in Australia that doesn’t have a copy. It is organised alphabetically by ingredient (A for apple, Q for quince, etc.) and Stephanie shares a wealth of information about how to use, store, and get the best out of each ingredient. Coming in at over 1,300 pages, it is a chunky, timeless piece of Australian culinary knowledge and history. If you only ever invest in one cookbook, you can’t go wrong with this classic.

Quince and Brown Butter Tart

Some of you will have followed along with my adventures of poaching my first-ever quinces, guided by A Cook’s Companion. Now with a fridge full of poached quinces, I was on the hunt for a delicious recipe to use them in. A simple turn of the page, I spotted Stephanie’s Quince and Brown Butter Tart, which she calls out as one of her signature dishes. How could I refuse?!

It also gave me the opportunity to perfect my shortcrust pastry recipe, which I’ve included for you below. It’s perfect for all your tart needs, so make sure you save it for later!

This tart only has a handful of ingredients, and the recipe itself is quite short, so I went into this bake with high levels of confidence. It didn’t take long to see that my confidence was misplaced. I whizzed through the recipe and made, what I thought, was a perfect tart. Sadly, this couldn’t have been further from the truth.

After sitting on the bench for no more than five minutes out of the oven I could see the filling re-liquifying before my eyes, like some strange alien phenomenon from an episode of Star Trek. So, I put it back in the oven for another 40-minute bake, only to witness it continue to stubbornly refuse to set. Again. Cue hysteria.

The flavour of this soup-in-a-tart-shell was incredible, but something had gone seriously wrong. As you can imagine, I stewed on this all night. I refused to let this tart defeat me. It wasn’t until the next morning that I realised what I’d done wrong. I added cold brown butter to the eggs, when I should have added it hot. In my ‘I know better’ state of confidence the day before, I’d thought to myself, “If I add the butter hot, it’s going to curdle the eggs!” So, I added them cold, meaning the eggs didn’t start to cook, and therefore, had no chance of setting in the oven. I should have known better than to question Stephanie’s recipe.

So that morning, I took the second disc of pastry (luckily my recipe makes enough for two tarts!) and carefully followed the recipe. And while I did have to bake the tart longer than indicated in the recipe, the second tart was absolute perfection. The lesson? Don’t get too cocky in the kitchen and always pay attention to the details in a recipe. One of the most important skills in baking is to know when to trust the recipe, and when to trust your intuition. It’s one I’m not sure we ever stop learning.

So if you make this tart, which I recommend you do, remember to add the brown butter before it gets too cold!

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Cook Sweet, by Karen Martini

Brown Sugar Dark Chocolate Cake

I joyfully received this new book from Karen Martini featuring 80 sweet recipes for my birthday last month. For the longest time, I have been on the hunt for the perfect chocolate cake recipe, so when I saw that Karen’s recipe veered from the usual chocolate cake recipe tropes, I knew this was a recipe I had to try. The recipe includes condensed milk and golden syrup (the recipe actually calls for trimoline. But, who has trimoline in their pantry?!), and isn’t the standard ‘boiling water mix and pour’ chocolate cake I’ve tried infinite times.

The finished cake was simply divine, and far more tender and moist than your standard chocolate cake. And the fudgy icing is to die for. It also lasts surprisingly well at room temperature, maintaining its flavour and moistness days after it bakes. I’m not sure I’ll ever stop my search for the perfect chocolate cake (whether it even exists!), but this cake is definitely at the top of the list.

Here are the notes I made along the way:

• The recipe didn’t have salt listed in the dry ingredients, so I added a teaspoon of fine sea salt

• I didn’t have corn syrup or trimoline, so I used golden syrup instead. You could also use honey. And to be fair, it’s such a small amount anyway, I suspect it wouldn’t matter if you left it out altogether.

• I used a 20cm round cake tin rather than a loaf. I find round tins cook much more evenly.

• The icing split when I added the chocolate, butter, and vanilla. Don’t fret! Grab your hand beaters (or whisk if you fancy a workout) and beat until it comes together in a beautiful glossy icing.

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Recipe - Sweet shortcrust pastry

Every baker should have a trusted shortcrust pastry recipe in their baking arsenal. And after years searching and testing, I’ve finally perfected my own version of sweet shortcrust pastry. It all comes together in a matter of minutes in the food processor and is incredibly easy and forgiving to handle. The secret is using a whole egg. The yolk adds to the richness of the pastry, while the egg whites add to the structural integrity of the pastry, making it easier to roll out and handle compared to a yolk-only pastry.

This recipe makes enough pastry to line two 23cm tart tins.

Ingredients

• 300g plain flour

• 75g icing sugar

• ½ teaspoon fine sea salt

• Zest of 1 lemon

• 150g unsalted butter, fridge cold, diced

• 1 egg

Method

Pulse the flour, icing sugar, salt, and lemon zest to combine. Add the butter and process until the mix resembles wet, clumpy sand. Add the egg and process on low until the dough starts to come together.

Tip the dough onto a lightly floured bench and gently knead or squeeze the dough for 20-30 seconds until it completely comes together. Divide into two equal portions, flatten into discs, and wrap in plastic wrap. Rest in the fridge for at least 30 minutes before rolling out and lining your tart tin. You can also store the pastry in the fridge for 3-4 days, or the freezer (make sure it’s double wrapped) for a couple of months.

Tips for lining and blind baking a tart case

• When you're rolling your pastry, be generous with the flour on the bench to ensure it doesn't stick. Gently lifting and rotating your dough as you roll, and re-flouring the bench as needed, it will also prevent it sticking to the bench.

• Gently lift and push the pastry right into the corners on the tin so there is no air trapped between the pasty and the tin. And then press the pastry into every flute.

• If you happen to tear the pastry you can just use a small off-cut of pastry to cover the hole.

• Use your thumb and index finger to pinch the edges of the pastry against the tin to create a smooth edge.

• Chill your lined tart tins in the fridge for at least 20 minutes.

• When you’re ready to blind bake, scrunch and un-scrunch your baking paper a few times so the paper fits more snuggly into the pastry case. I like to use uncooked rice to weigh my my pastry down when I blind bake.

• Blind baking always takes longer than you think it will - don’t be afraid to bake your pastry case for longer if you think it needs it!

• Brush your tart case with egg wash when there's about 3 minutes left on the baking time. This will give you a shiny, professional finish that will also seal any little cracks that may have formed.

A note on baking times

Baking times will vary depending on the type and size of the tart case you’re baking. But as a guide for a 23cm tart case, I would blind bake at 170-180 degrees C for approx 30 minutes with the baking paper and rice in the case, and then for another 15-25 minutes without, until its looking lovely and golden.

Stay sweet
Adam x

Walk into any classic country Australian bakery and you’ll be struck by the charming service and unfussy décor. You’ll notice shelves stacked with freshly baked bread loaves and rolls of all shapes and sizes behind the counter, not a single sourdough loaf in sight. The smell of golden puff pastry from the sausage rolls, meat pies, and pasties. And you’ll be dazzled by the pastry cabinets filled with an endless array of sweet curiosities.

Amongst the cakes, slices, biscuits, tarts, and buns, you’ll find anything your heart desires. Today I want to tell you about one particularly delicious and outrageously popular delicacy. The glistening, tri-layered, jiggly-edged classic – the jelly slice.

The genius of jelly slice lies in its simplicity:

• A base made of crushed biscuits mixed with melted butter

• A filling made primarily of a can of condensed milk and gelatine.

• A jelly topping

It’s all set in the fridge (no baking required!) and ticks every box for an unforgettable dessert. Texture from the base, creaminess from the filling, fruity brightness from the jelly.

As well as being a heavy-hitter in the bakery scene, jelly slice is also an undisputed crowd-pleasing homemade dessert. Go to any sugar-fuelled kid’s party in the 90s and you’d have found a mandatory platter of jelly slice alongside the honey joys and chocolate crackles (I can only hope that kid’s parties today experience the same delicious joy that my generation did). In my family, it still proudly makes an annual appearance at our Christmas Eve feasts.

For such a ubiquitous dessert, its origins are murky. There’s little-to-no information online about its history, and no one I know has any idea of who created it. One can only assume that this is a conspiracy of deliciously epic proportions. One where big-biscuit, big-condensed-milk, and big-jelly plotted to create an irresistible dessert that would capture the hearts and minds of countless generations, ensuring their products are perpetually in demand. And I for one am thankful they did!

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A magic jelly ratio

My version takes the classic jelly slice formula, but replaces the packet jelly with quince jelly, made with the liquid left over from my poached quinces. It’s a delicious way to use up the liquid and adds the smallest hint of sophistication to the sweet classic. Though by using the magic jelly ratio in this recipe, you could use any poaching liquid – or indeed any liquid – to flavour this slice.

450ml of liquid mixed with 2 teaspoons of gelatine powder (bloomed in 1 tablespoon of cold water) will give you a perfectly set jelly topping. It has enough structure to hold its shape with a confident jiggle, while not being so firm that you could bounce it off the walls.

Recipe - Quince Jelly Slice

Ingredients

Base

• 250g plain sweet biscuits (I used Marie biscuits)

• 180g butter, melted

• ½ teaspoon fine sea salt

Middle layer

• 1 can condensed milk (395g)

• Juice of one large lemon (75ml)

• 2 teaspoons gelatine powder

• 100ml freshly boiled water

Jelly

• 2 teaspoons gelatine bloomed in 1 tablespoon of cold water

• 350ml quince poaching liquid

• 100ml boiling water

Method

Grease and line a 20 x 30 cm slice tin with baking paper, ensuring there’s enough overhang to easily lift out the slice when it’s finished.

Make the base by placing all the biscuits in a food processor. Blitz the biscuits into a fine crumb. Add the melted butter and salt and blitz until the mixture resembles wet sand. Tip the mixture into the lined tin. Evenly spread and compact it down to create a smooth base. I used an offset spatula for this, but you could also use a spoon or a flat-bottomed glass. In fact, whatever you have handy that has a flat bottom will do. Chill the base in the fridge for 20-30 minutes.

Make the middle layer by whisking the condensed milk and lemon juice together in a large bowl. In a clean jug, whisk the gelatine powder and freshly boiled water together, and then pour into the bowl with the condensed milk. Whisk until fully combined. Pour the filling over the chilled base, and use an offset spatula to evenly spread and smooth across the base. Put back in the fridge to chill for 45-60 minutes, or until completely set.

Make the jelly by whisking the gelatine powder and cold water together in a small bowl. Leave for 10 minutes to bloom the gelatine. Don’t be alarmed when the mixture solidifies – this is what we want to happen. Pour the quince poaching liquid into a large jug. Pour the freshly boiled water into a separate jug. Put the bloomed gelatine mix into the microwave for 5-10 second bursts until completely melted. Whisk the melted gelatine into the boiled water, and then pour into the larger jug with the quince poaching liquid. Use a stick blender or whisk to combine. Leave the jelly mix in the jug, uncovered, to cool to close to room temperature.

If any bubbles or foam settle on the top, grab a piece of paper towel and drag it over the surface to remove it.

Once the middle layer has set and the jelly cooled to close to room temperature, slowly pour the jelly over the back of a spoon onto the slice. If you can, do this while the tin is still in the fridge, which will save you from experiencing the stress-filled walk to the fridge while trying not to spill any jelly! Leave to set in the fridge for at least 3-4 hours, ideally overnight.

Once the slice is set, use the overhanging paper to lift the slice out, carefully cut into squares and enjoy. The slice will keep in an airtight container in the fridge for 5-7 days.

Stay sweet
Adam x

“Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”

These words were immortalised by Captain Jean-Luc Picard on Star Trek: The Next Generation (I appreciate this is a deeply nerdy reference, but stick with me!) That’s right. If you didn’t know already, I’m a big sci-fi nerd. Though if you’d asked me to confess this as a teenager, my response would have been one of denial.

Like many of us, I was somewhat of an awkward teen. I wasn’t great at sport. I was shy in crowds. I was still firmly in the closet. And so I searched for connection in other places. I found comfort in the escapism and acceptance of the bright future Star Trek represented. I discovered Madonna’s Drowned World Live Tour and couldn’t quite understand why she resonated with me so strongly. I was exploring strange new worlds, seeking out new life, boldly going to the dance floor in my teenage mind as I tried to figure it all out.

I often reminisce about young Adam and think he’d be proud of how confident he becomes. A proud nerd and Madonna fan who, on the rare occasion, will hit the dance floor and now explores new worlds, not via a starship, but through cookbooks and ingredients.

“But Adam, what does this have to do with Earl Grey?!” I hear you ask. A fair question. You see, every now and then something unexpected triggers these memories of young Adam. In this case, it was the arrival of a box of bergamot to my house. This beautifully fragrant citrus is the headline flavour in Earl Grey tea, and as I was pondering what to make with this incredible fruit, my mind wandered to the past.

I may not have found recipe inspiration back there, but I did find the quote that introduced this post, as well as a reminder of how far you can go by just being yourself. Proof that you don’t need a time machine or a starship to boldly go.

As you may have guessed, along with sci-fi and pop royalty, I am also a big fan of Tea. Earl Grey. Hot. But with a dash of milk in mine, please. So when the aforementioned box of fresh bergamot from a local farm in the Yarra Valley called Bergamia arrived on my doorstep, I was beyond excited. While I’ve enjoyed the tea for as long as I can remember, I’d never seen, let alone had the chance to bake with fresh bergamot before. The fruit itself is floral and zesty with a hint of bitterness, making it perfect for baking with.

I’m rather excited to share these two new recipes with you today that showcase the utterly delicious flavours of bergamot and remind me of how I got to where I am today. I really hope you get as much joy from these recipes as I do.

One quick note - if you’re unable to get your hands on fresh bergamot, you can substitute them in these recipes with any other citrus. They’ll still be delicious, but will miss the magic of bergamot.

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London Fog Cake

This cake is a play on the classic drink a London Fog (which is earl grey, vanilla and sweetened milk) but uses bergamot for a zesty and fragrant twist.

Ingredients

Cake

• Zest of 2 bergamots (save the juice for the glaze)

• 200g caster sugar

• 4 eggs (approx. 200g), room temperature

• 200g olive oil

• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract

• 200g plain flour

• ½ teaspoon fine sea salt

• 1 ¼ teaspoons baking powder

• ½ teaspoon bicarb soda

Icing

• 230g icing sugar (powdered sugar)

• 2 tablespoons bergamot juice (from zested fruit above)

• ½ teaspoon vanilla bean paste

Method

Grease and line a 20cm round cake tin, and pre-heat your oven to 170 degrees C.

Place the sugar and bergamot zest in a large bowl and use your fingertips to rub the zest into the sugar until evenly distributed and fragrant. This releases the oils and the beautiful zingy flavour in the bergamot zest. Add the eggs, olive oil, and vanilla and whisk to combine.

Combine all the dry ingredients in a separate bowl. Add the dry ingredients to the wet and gently fold until just combined. Pour the batter into your prepared loaf tin and bake for 35-45 minutes until baked – you’re looking for a golden cake that’s firm when you gently touch the middle, and a cake tester comes out clean.

Lift the cake out of the tin and leave to cool to room temperature on a wire cooling rack.

Once the cake has cooled, make the icing by whisking all the ingredients together. You want a relatively thick icing that slowly drapes over the cake, so if it is too thin, add some more icing sugar to thicken it. Slowly pour the icing over the cake so it evenly covers the top and drapes over the sides of the cake. Leave the icing to set slightly.

Bergamot Melting Moments

Melting Moments are a morning tea classic. They’re made of two buttery biscuits sandwiched together with a dreamy buttercream filling. I’ve used bergamot zest in the biscuit dough and the filling here, so the floral notes shine through the buttery goodness. The zestiness intensifies in the days after baking, so it’s best to not eat them all at once!

Ingredients

Biscuit

• 250g unsalted butter, room temperature

• 60g caster sugar

• Zest of 1 bergamot

• 230g plain flour

• 75g corn flour

• ½ teaspoon fine sea salt

Filling

• Zest of 1 bergamot

• 80g unsalted butter, room temperature

• 80g icing sugar

• Pinch of fine sea salt

Method

Line two baking trays with baking paper, and preheat your oven to 160 degrees C.

To make the biscuits, place the butter, caster sugar, and bergamot zest in a large bowl and beat (using hand beaters or a stand mixer with the paddle attached) until light and smooth. In a separate bowl, mix the two flours and salt together, and then add to the beaten butter. Mix on low until the mixture comes together. Abandon your hand beaters if they start to struggle and use your hands to bring the dough together.

Tear off heaped-teaspoon-sized chunks of dough and roll each into a ball. Place on the prepared trays, leaving 2-3cm between each ball (I made 24 individual balls). Dip a fork in some icing sugar and firmly press into each biscuit to squash it down. Re-dip the fork into the icing sugar after each press-down to ensure the fork doesn’t stick to the biscuits. Bake for 15-20 minutes until they look firm and a slightest hint of brown appears on the base. Leave to cool completely on the tray.

While the biscuits cool, make the filling by beating all the filling ingredients together until pale and fluffy. Transfer to a piping bag and pipe about a teaspoonful on the base of a cooled biscuit and then gently sandwich with another biscuit. Continue until all the biscuits have been sandwiched together. Place the biscuits in the fridge for 20-30 minutes to set and enjoy! Store the biscuits in an airtight container in the fridge for up to a week, while their flavour will intensifies.

Stay sweet
Adam x

It’s the year’s longest night - Winter Solstice. I’m huddled under a tattered umbrella in Melbourne’s Botanic Gardens, being pummelled with rain as I try my best to enjoy an immersive light show called Light Scape (scroll to the end to see my photos!). This might sound a bit grim to some. To me, it was anything but.

You see, it was my birthday. I was with my favourite people, in one of Melbourne’s most beautiful gardens, lit up by incredible projections and light installations. And I had a warm, steaming mulled wine in my hand. Does it get any better?! (I can confirm it did, with a surprise birthday cake! But more on that later…)

The story of mulled wine

Like many delicious things in this world, we have Greeks and Romans to thank for the mulled wine we enjoy today. The story goes that Greeks would lace their wine with spices and honey to hide the taste of any not-so-fine wine, rather than throwing it away.

Romans apparently cottoned on to this (or perhaps they discovered it on their own - who knows!) and gave their own not-so-fine wine the sweet and spiced treatment, but with an added twist - they heated it! Around the 2nd to 6th centuries, stories and recipes for Conditum Paradoxum (which translates as surprising spiced wine or extraordinary spiced wine) started showing up, cementing the drink’s place in history. It seems we have ancient food waste reduction enthusiasts to thank for the warming red elixir that brings so much joy today!

As the Romans travelled across Europe, so too did mulled wine. Fast forward to the 19th century, and a single line in A Muppet’s Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens cemented mulled wine’s association with Christmas in Europe.

While it may be the middle of June and very much not Christmas time, the joy of mulled wine for me is in the cosy togetherness it so often signifies. Whether you’re putting a big batch on the stove or buying a steaming cup when you’re out in the cold, for me, a sip of mulled wine is the taste of getting together with the people who mean the most, rugging up, and whiling away the long, dark nights together.

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Mulled Wine Poached Pear Galette

This galette is my celebration of mid-winter, bringing mulled wine and seasonal pears together for a dessert that oozes rustic elegance and will warm everyone from the inside out.

A galette is quite possibly the perfect pastry. Its charm lies in its rustic looks, simple assembly, and the fact that it gives you the best of all pastry worlds:

• a pie-like crust

• an open face that allows the filling to caramelise beautifully and be on full display for the world to see

• there’s no fuss of having to line a tin or blind bake the pastry.

They’re too often overlooked for their neater and more technical cousins - the tart and the pie - but I think it’s time to give the galette the love it deserves.

The pears – an often-misunderstood fruit - are the star of the show here. They’re poached in a mulled red wine that is then reduced into a deep, crimson syrup perfect for glazing the pears and drizzling generously over slices of the baked galette.

Of course, a galette is only as good as the pastry that brings it all together, and my flaky short crust pastry is the perfect partner here. It’s straightforward to bring together, easy to roll out, and has just the right amount of golden flakiness when baked. The recipe below will give you two portions of pastry which you can use for another galette or a pie, or tart, or any pastry that holds a delicious filling. It’s incredibly versatile, so if you only try one pastry recipe in your life, make it this one.

Ingredients

Flaky Short Crust Pastry

• 350g plain flour

• 1 teaspoon fine sea salt

• 1 teaspoon caster sugar

• 225g unsalted butter, fridge cold, in 2cm cubes

• 100g fridge cold water

• 15ml white wine vinegar

Mulled Wine Poached Pears

• 4 pears, peeled, cored and quartered

• 500ml red wine

• 500ml water

• 170g caster sugar

• 2 cinnamon sticks

• 5 cloves

Frangipane

• 150g almond meal

• 20g unsalted butter, room temperature

• 20g plain flour

• 75g caster sugar

• 2 eggs, room temperature

• A dash of vanilla

• ½ teaspoon of ground cinnamon

Assembly and to serve

• 1 egg for an eggwash

• Coarse sugar, for sprinkling (optional)

• Vanilla ice-cream, to serve

Method

Start by making the flaky shortcrust pastry by placing the flour, salt and sugar in a large bowl and mixing to combine. Tumble the cubed butter into the flour and use your fingertips to rub and squeeze the butter into the flour. Continue this until most of the butter becomes 1cm sized pebbles. Add the water and vinegar and bring the dough together with your hands until it starts to hold together in a shaggy mess.

Transfer the mix onto a clean bench and continue to bring the dough together by using the palm of your hand to push the flour and butter away from you, as though you’re spreading the butter across the bench. Gather the dough back together and repeat the spread-and-gather motion until the dough comes together with small streaks of butter throughout.

Once the dough has come together in a single butter-streaked ball, divide the dough into two equal portions and form into two flat discs. Wrap each in plastic wrap and chill for at least 30 minutes.

While the dough rests, make the Mulled Wine Poached Pears. Peel, top-and-tail, quarter and core the pears and set aside. Add all the remaining ingredients to a large heavy-bottomed pot and whisk to combine. Place on the stove with the lid on and bring to a gentle boil.

Add the pears and gently simmer for 20-40 minutes with the lid on (depending on size and ripeness), or until a cake tester passes through the pear pieces with no resistance. If your pears are different sizes, some may cook faster than others, so be sure to take the smaller pears out sooner if needed. Take the pot off the heat and use a slotted spoon to remove the pears from the liquid and set the pears aside to cool.

Put the pot with the poaching liquid back on the stove on a high heat to bring to the boil. Turn the heat down and simmer with the lid off for 30-40 minutes or until the liquid reduces to a syrup. Pour into a jug and set aside to cool.

To make the frangipane, place all the ingredients in a bowl and beat until well combined.

Once all the components are ready, preheat the oven to 180 degrees C (fan-forced) and line a large tray with baking paper.

On a well-floured bench, roll out one of the pastry discs into a circle approximately 5mm thick. Place the sheet of pastry on your prepared tray. Spread the frangipane on the base, leaving a 2-3cm border of pastry. Arrange the cooled pear segments in a circular pattern with the thinner end of the pears facing the centre of the galette. Fold the edges of the pastry over the pears.

Lightly whisk an egg to create an egg wash, and brush the crust of the galette. Sprinkle with coarse sugar (if using), and then bake for 45-50 minutes or until the edges are golden brown and the frangipane is cooked in the centre.

Use a pastry brush to glaze the pear segments with the reduced poaching liquid, then leave to cool on the tray.

Serve slightly warm or at room temperature, with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream and a drizzle of the poaching syrup.

If you happen to have any leftover galette, store it in an airtight container in the fridge for 3-5 days. The syrup will keep in a jar in the fridge for up to 4 weeks.

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My 41st birthday album

My birthday cake

I love cake, surprises and sharing it all with my favourite people, so you can understand why I was giddy with joy when my partner Nick and best baking friend Laura (who also won our season of Bake Off) surprised me with this cake.

It’s a cardamom cake with cardamom salted caramel and blackberry compote, combining my love of spice with Laura’s penchant for (and hobby of freezing) blackberries. It tastes as gorgeous as it both looks and sounds.

When I turned 40 last year I wrote about the joys of the Birthday Cake, saying:

“Smiles, ooh’s and ahh’s, and happy memories are always guaranteed when a birthday cake is unveiled. I think one of life’s biggest truths is that while we go to a party for the birthday person, we stay for the cake.”

I can confidently confirm that this mantra remains true 12 months on.

Light Scape

Here are some of my favourite shots from Light Scape - a rainbow winter wonderland in Melbourne’s Botanical Gardens. Wandering the gardens, mulled wine in hand, is one of my favourite winter traditions.

My birthday dinner

One moment you’re strolling the streets of Melbourne. The next, in defiance of all the laws of physics, you step through a portal into a multi-level Parisian bistro that keeps unfolding before your eyes, enveloping you in it’s chicness. Welcome to Mâison Batard - a stunning multi-level french restaurant in the heart of Melbourne’s CBD.

Nick spoilt me for my birthday dinner this year, and every dish was superb. Though the MVPs for me were the snapper with impossibly crispy skin (I won’t give the secret away of how they manage this magic) and the elegant chocolate mousse finale. We had:

• Oysters du Jour

• Parfait Maison Chicken Liver Pâté Tartare de Thon et Avocat Chopped Spicy Tuna Tartare

• Grilled Calamari Peas, Olive Oil, Herbs Baby

• Snapper en Croûte Sauce Beurre Blanc

• Châteaubriand au Poivre Centre Cut Eye Fillet, Pepper Sauce

• Served with Maison Bâtard Pommes Frites Salade Verte à la Française Mixed Green Leaves

• Maison Bctard Mousse au Chocolat Crème Chantilly, Belgian Chocolate Shards.

Until next time, stay sweet
Adam x

Like a Swiss Army Knife or a bottle of Windex, it could be said that a pumpkin is the ‘Jack-of-all-trades’ of the fresh produce world. Looking to add some sweet colour to your Sunday roast? Pumpkin has you covered. Fancy getting creative and sculpting a Jack-o-Lantern for Halloween? There’s a pumpkin for that! Maybe you fancy baking something spiced and delicious? You guessed it, there’s a pumpkin for that too.

Though as surprising as it may be to some, baking with pumpkin is by no means universal. While it most definitely got a run in soups and was a regular in a medley of roast veggies during my Aussie childhood, rarely, if ever, was pumpkin used in a sweet bake or dessert.

My Australian sensibilities are befuddled by the thought of a pumpkin-spiced latte or a can of pumpkin puree. But to many people in North America, it’s as common as a pavlova is in Australia. After all, the idea of pumpkin in a bake is deliciously logical. It’s sweet, full of flavour, and pairs so well with spices, making it perfect for cakes, custards, and purees. It feels somewhat remiss of us here in Australia to not be as smitten with pumpkin in our sweet bakes. Carrot is often heralded as a top-tier cake ingredient (at least in my house!), so why not pumpkin!?

I know for some, the thought of a vegetable in a sweet bake can be somewhat flummoxing. But here’s the thing – pumpkin isn’t a vegetable. It’s a fruit! I only recently learned this on the eve of my 41^st birthday. You can imagine my shock at not having realised this sooner. Of course it’s a fruit. It has seeds inside!

And so I started wondering, why is pumpkin such a cultural and baking phenomenon in the North but not here in the South? Shelley Mitchell has written a fascinating article over on The Conversation that delves into why this iconic fruit is so prolific in America. She writes that:

“…pumpkins originated in Central and South America, ending up in North America as Native Americans migrated north and carried the seeds with them. The oldest pumpkin seeds discovered were found in Mexico and date back about 9,000 years.”

Colonists have America’s Indigenous people to thank for introducing them to the sweet beauty of the pumpkin. They then swiftly started turning them into pies in hollowed-out pumpkins, as well as mixing pumpkin with apples, sugar, and spices. The first custard-style recipe appeared in 1796 in a book called American Cookery.

So that’s a brief history, but surely there’s more to the cultural hold pumpkins have in America? Indeed there is, as Jessica Stoller-Conrad over on NPR writes:

The rehab of pumpkin’s popularity began when 19th-century Americans began to move away from rural life and into the city, Ott says. “People became stressed about... moving into the office and off the farms, and [the pumpkin] starts to appear in poems and in paintings,” she says. “We’re celebrating the nostalgia for this old-fashioned, rural way of life, that no one ever really wanted to stay on, but everyone’s always been romantic about.”

Yearning for days past, pumpkins represent a simpler time. Add in the popularity of pumpkin spice, pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving and Halloween’s hold on the month of October, the evidence is overwhelming. We should all be using pumpkin in our baking (and sculpting)!

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One pumpkin, three recipes

And so today, to celebrate the humble pumpkin, I present you a triptych of pumpkin recipes, using one butternut pumpkin to make a:

• Deliciously warming Spiced Roast Pumpkin Soup

• Pepita (pumpkin seed) Praline

• Spiced Pumpkin Cake with Cream Cheese Icing.

But like any good story, there’s a twist. My cake doesn’t use pumpkin puree – whether from a can (which is relatively hard to find in Australia) or homemade. As I was researching and writing the cake recipe, I had a brainwave. Could I use my leftover spiced roasted pumpkin soup in the cake?! “Outrageous!” I thought initially.

But the more I thought about it, the more this seemingly absurd idea made sense. My soup includes pumpkin, coconut milk, and spices – all ingredients that are as at home in a cake as they are in a savoury dish. Throwing caution to the wind, I developed this recipe using leftover pumpkin soup. And let me tell you, it makes an outstanding cake. Moist, light, with hints of savoury peering out from behind the sweetness. As impossible as it sounds, this cake made with leftover soup from an entrée is absolutely delicious.

While I implore you to give the cake a try with the soup, you could sub it out for 400g of pumpkin puree.

Spiced Roast Pumpkin Soup

Ingredients

• 1-1.5kg butternut pumpkin

• 1 onion

• 2 teaspoons ground ginger

• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

• 1 teaspoon fine sea salt

• 1 tablespoon olive oil

• 1 can coconut milk

• 800ml water

• Salt, pepper, and lemon juice to season

• Sour cream and coriander leaves to serve

Method

Preheat your oven to 180 degrees C. If you have a whole pumpkin, slice it in half from top to bottom and scoop out the seeds, saving them for another recipe (like my pepita praline). Dice the butternut pumpkin into large chunks – no need to peel it first – and place it into a large roasting tray. Peel the onion and slice it into six wedges. Add the onion to the roasting tray along with the spices, salt, and olive oil. Use a large spoon or your hands to mix everything together, ensuring the veggies are evenly covered in the spices and oil. Roast for around 50 minutes, giving the veggies a mix and flipping them a couple of times during roasting, until they are golden and cooked through.

While the veggies are roasting, pour the coconut milk into a large saucepan. Fill the can with water twice to measure out 800ml of water and pour it into the saucepan. Mix to combine and then bring to a gentle simmer. When the veggies have roasted, add them to the simmering liquid, making sure you scrape all the gnarly bits that may have caught on the roasting tray. Take the saucepan off the heat and use a stick blender to puree until smooth. Taste the soup and season with salt, pepper, and/or lemon juice to taste.

Ladle into bowls and serve with a dollop of sour cream and a few coriander leaves. Store any leftovers in the fridge for up to a week.

Spiced Pumpkin Cake

Ingredients

Cake

• 400g Spiced Roast Pumpkin Soup from above (or 400g of pumpkin puree and a teaspoon each of ground ginger and cinnamon)

• 250ml canola oil (or any neutral-flavoured oil

• 4 eggs, room temperature

• 100g caster sugar

• 200g brown sugar

• 300g plain flour

• 1 teaspoon bicarb soda

• 2 teaspoons baking powder

Icing

• 125g cream cheese, room temperature

• 100g unsalted butter, room temperature

• 200g icing sugar

• 1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste

Method

Preheat your oven to 160 degrees C and grease and line the sides and base of a 23cm round cake tin.

In a large bowl, whisk together the pumpkin soup (or pumpkin puree), oil, eggs, and sugars until combined. In a separate bowl, mix together the flour, bicarb soda, and baking powder (and spices if you’re using pumpkin puree instead of the soup). Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and mix until fully combined.

Pour into the prepared cake tin and bake for 55-65 minutes, or until a cake tester comes out with only a few moist crumbs stuck to it. Leave to cool in the tin for a couple of minutes before transferring the cake to a wire rack to cool.

While the cake cools, make the icing by placing the cream cheese in a bowl and, with hand beaters, beat until smooth. Add the butter, icing sugar, and vanilla and beat until smooth. Once the cake is cool, generously lather it in the cream cheese icing, cut into wedges, sprinkle some pepita praline over each slice (if using, recipe below), and serve. Any leftovers can be stored in an airtight container in the fridge for up to five days.

Pepita (Pumpkin Seed) Praline

Ingredients

• Fresh pumpkin seeds reserved from a butternut pumpkin (I had 30g of seeds)

• 50g caster sugar

• Sea salt flakes

Method

Preheat your oven to 150 degrees and line a small baking tray with baking paper. If you have just scooped out the seeds and flesh from a pumpkin, squeeze out all the seeds into a bowl and discard the pumpkin flesh. Spread the seeds out on the prepared baking tray and roast for 30-40 minutes, mixing and flipping the seeds 3-4 times during roasting, until dry and lightly golden.

To make the caramel, place the caster sugar in a small saucepan and place on a low/medium heat. Once the sugar starts to melt on the edges, gently stir to evenly melt and caramelise. The sugar will turn a light golden colour quickly, so watch carefully!

Working quickly once the sugar has caramelised, remove from the heat, add in the seeds, and mix to combine. Be warned – some of the seeds may pop when they hit the caramel!

Pour the caramel-covered seeds back onto the lined tray and evenly spread out. Sprinkle with some sea salt flakes and leave to cool. Once completely cool, either break into shards or pulse in a small food processor to create a rough crumb. However you break it up, this praline is perfect for snacking and garnishing slices of my Spiced Pumpkin Cake.

Stay sweet
Adam x

In defence of the small, simple biscuit

I’ve been rather obsessed with biscuits lately. Though not the grandiose biscuits (or cookies) that have taken the world and food courts by storm. I’ve previously written about the (for me, frankly baffling) appeal of a biscuit the size of a bread plate, or god-forbid, a chunky filled-cookie the size of a burger bun. People go crazy for them!

In a world where maximalism reigns, I crave for the simple biscuit. One that sits comfortably on a saucer next to a steaming cup of earl grey tea. Gone in three to four bites and only requiring a handful of ingredients to pull together. The biscuit that, rather than being a meal replacement, is a little sweet treat to joyfully punctuate the day.

Italian home bakers nailed this style of biscuit generations ago. Biscotti, ricciarelli and amaretti are perfect examples of the unfussy biscuit philosophy. Inspired by this Italian simplicity I wanted to create the perfect winter version of an amaretti. Something that celebrates seasonal citrus and offers a warm counterpoint to winter’s icy breath. Orange, lemon and hazelnut come together perfectly to fulfil this comforting brief.

The orange and hazelnut feel far cozier than their classic almond-y cousin. And if you go the extra step and add the lemon curd filling – which I recommend you do – the citrus levels dial up and you get a brilliant tug-of-war between warm-nuttiness and bright-zingyness in every bite.

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Ingredients

• 180g caster sugar

• Zest from 1 orange

• 300g hazelnut meal

• 1/2 teaspoon salt

• Egg whites from 3 eggs (approx 100g)

• 2 teaspoons of orange liqueur OR orange juice form the zested orange

• 100g icing sugar

• Lemon curd, for filling (optional)

Method

Pre-heat your oven to 180 degrees, and line two baking trays with baking paper.

Place 180g of caster sugar and orange zest into a large bowl and rub the zest into the sugar to release the citrusy oils. Add in the hazelnut meal and salt whisking to combine.

Add the egg whites and orange liqueur (or orange juice) to the dry ingredients and mix until fully combined. If the mixture is too wet to easily roll into balls add in some extra hazelnut meal to thicken. And if the mixture is too thick, add is some extra liqueur or juice.

Place the icing sugar in a clean, medium bowl, and then scoop out approx 25 balls. Toss each ball in the icing sugar, then roll between your hands to make it beautifully round and place on the baking trays, leaving 3cm between each ball. If filling with lemon curd, use your finger to press in a relatively deep indentation into each biscuit. Fill each indentation with a small amount of lemon curd.

Bake for 20-25 minutes (rotating the tray halfway through) until the amaretti look dry on the outside and start to get the slightest blush of brown.

Leave to cool completely on the tray and enjoy! Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to a week.

A migration is happening

A quick final note to let you know that, slowly but surely, I’m migrating all of my recipes to Substack so they all live in a single, convenient place. As such, you’ll see some more from me in your inbox as I add new recipes and revisit some of my favourites. Some emails will be long, others like this one, a bit shorter. They will, however, all be delicious. So be sure to visit my page - https://adamstastingnotes.substack.com - and not miss a thing!

Stay sweet
Adam x

My love for citrus knows no bounds. As winter gently drapes its cold, damp blanket over Melbourne, the sight of citrusy yellows, oranges, and greens in the fruit department is just what I need to stave off the winter blues.

While the entire citrus family holds a special place in my heart, it’s the pluckiness and glowing hues of a lemon that’s my favourite. Please don’t think for a moment that I don’t adore the sweet charm of an orange, or the wry smile and bitter sarcasm of a grapefruit. But I always find myself coming back to the humble lemon. She’s the workhorse of the household, reached for by most home cooks to bring some extra liveliness to dinner, or to awaken that golden piece of fried fish or schnitzel just before diving in at the dinner table.

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But she’s also there for the special occasions, and thinking about this, my mind immediately turns to the lemon tart. This was the first thing I baked my partner Nick six years ago, and I’d like to think is a key reason he stuck around. The tart’s sophistication lies in its simplicity. The world may be filled with lemon tarts, but the good ones are few and far between. I want thin, crispy pastry with a lemon filling that has tartness levels so strong it dilates your pupils and make you see the world in a neon glow.

A good baked lemon tart and its life-changing properties are within everyone’s reach with enough time and practice. From preparing the pastry, to mixing the perfect lemon custard, to judging when the jiggle is just right to set perfectly without a crack - baking a perfect lemon tart is surely one of life’s greatest achievements. It’s certainly my idea of an afternoon well spent, and the subject of a future newsletter (pauses to make note for self).

However, I appreciate tart-making-from-scratch is not everyone’s idea of a good time. Lemon curd, on the other hand, is a baking basic that is joyfully easy to make, capturing the glowing zing of a lemon tart without the stress of tart-making.

Jars of sunshine

My lemon curd recipe is a simple pleasure. Everything goes in a single saucepan, and in less than 30 minutes, you have a jumbo jar of sunshine in your fridge for any situation that could benefit from some lemony goodness.

This curd sets like a thick pastry cream, making it perfect for filling cakes, topping scones, or, as it happens, making a cheat’s lemon tart! Simply blind-bake a tart shell (or buy one from the shops) and fill the cooled tart shell with the lemon curd, and just like that, you have a cheat’s lemon tart!

But if you’re looking for something a little different to impress your friends using lemon curd, I have the perfect recipe for you. My Crêpe Cake with Lemon Curd and Pomegranate Molasses looks impressive but is a delightfully simple affair to create. The crêpe batter comes together in the blender, and the filling is a simple Chantilly cream – half laced with lemon curd, the other half with pomegranate molasses. The cake’s 32 layers might sound laborious, but I assure you, it’s quite the opposite. An hour or so of low-stress meandering in the kitchen is all this recipe asks of you in return for a cake that is impossibly decadent and light at the same time.

You’ll find the recipes for both the lemon curd and the Crêpe Cake are below.

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Lemon Curd

Ingredients

• 3 whole eggs and 3 egg yolks, room temperature

• Zest and juice of 4-5 lemons (producing about 160ml of lemon juice)

• 125g unsalted butter, room temperature, cubed

• 230g caster sugar

• 2 tsp vanilla bean paste

Method

Crack 3 eggs into a large jug. Separate the remaining 3 eggs and add the yolks to the jug, whisk, and set aside. (Reserve the egg whites for another baking adventure.)

Place the sugar, lemon juice and zest, vanilla, and eggs in a medium saucepan and whisk to combine. Add the cubed butter and then place the saucepan on the stove and turn the heat to medium/low and stir alternating between a whisk and a spatula (to ensure you can scrape the corners of the pot the whisk can’t get into) until the mixture thickens and coats the back of a spoon - about 10-15 minutes. Don’t be tempted to turn the heat too high or boil the curd - the key to a good curd is cooking it low and slow.

Once the curd is at the desired thickness, pour it into a sieve over a large bowl. Use your whisk to push the curd through the sieve, leaving any zest and any cooked egg caught in the sieve. Cover the surface of the curd with plastic wrap and chill in the fridge overnight (or for at least 4 hours) to fully chill and set. Alternatively, pour the sieved curd into clean, sterilised jars, seal with the lid, and refrigerate.

The chilled curd will last in the fridge for up to 4 weeks.

Crêpe Cake with Lemon Curd and Pomegranate Molasses

Ingredients

Crêpes

• 140g plain flour

• ½ teaspoon fine sea salt

• 2 tablespoons caster sugar

• 50g unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly

• 6 eggs, room temperature

• 530ml milk, room temperature

• Butter, for frying

Filling

• 600ml thickened cream

• 250g mascarpone

• 1 tablespoon icing sugar

• 200g lemon curd (from above)

• 60ml pomegranate molasses

Decoration

• Any leftover cream filling

• Lemon curd

Method

Start the crêpe batter by placing all the ingredients into a blender. On a low speed, blend until the batter is smooth. This should take no more than a minute. Pour the batter through a sieve into a clean jug or bowl to remove any stubborn lumps, cover with plastic wrap, and then rest the batter at room temperature for at least 60 minutes, or chill in the fridge overnight.

Place a 24cm frying pan on medium heat. Once warm, spread a small amount of butter on the pan. I like to use the end of a block of butter to lightly coat the surface of the pan, like you would when using a glue stick on paper.

Pour a 1/3 cup of batter into the frying pan, swirling quickly to evenly coat the pan. Fry for 3-4 minutes or until golden and then flip the crêpe, frying the other side for another minute or so, until golden. Place the crêpe on a wire cooling rack to cool to room temperature (the crêpe should cool on the rack in a couple of minutes) and then transfer to a plate. Continue frying, adding butter when you think is necessary, until all the crêpe batter has been used. Mine made 16 crêpes.

Once all the crêpes have cooled, prepare the filling by whipping the thickened cream, mascarpone, and icing sugar to stiff peaks. Divide the cream into two bowls. Add the lemon curd to one half of the cream and gently fold, or whisk on low, until combined. Add the pomegranate molasses to the other half of the cream and gently fold, or whisk on low, until combined. Be careful not to over-whip the cream or it will split.

Start to assemble the cake by placing one crêpe on your serving platter. Spread over about two heaped tablespoons of the lemon cream. Top with the next crêpe and spread over two heaped tablespoons of the pomegranate cream. Repeat this layering, alternating between the lemon and pomegranate cream, until you have used up all the crêpes. Any leftover cream can be used to decorate the top of the cake. I like to also add some extra lemon curd to the top and swoosh it all around. Put the stacked cake in the fridge for at least an hour before serving.

If you have used all your cream for the filling, simply dust the top of the cake with icing sugar when you’re ready to serve.

Any leftovers will keep in an airtight container in the fridge for up to a week.

Stay sweet
Adam x

Food, travel and family are three of my favourite things. So Nick and I jumped at the chance to join my Dutch family for the final nine days of their trip to explore New Zealand’s magical North Island. While this newsletter focuses on the culinary delights we enjoyed, I have to say the cultural and familial exchange from spending time my family from the other side of the world was equal parts nourishing for the soul, hilarious, and lekker gezellig.

The first half of our trip was in the far north, based in a relaxed coastal town called Cable Bay. It is perfectly positioned to explore all the northern delights, including Cape Reinga (New Zealand’s northern-most point, where the Tasman meets the Pacific), the Waitangi treaty grounds, and the world famous Mangonui Fish Shop.

The second half of our trip was based in Auckland which has a booming food scene, especially around the waterfront and Britomart areas where we stayed. We made the most of the short time we had in Auckland and ate at some incredible restaurants and bakeries, the highlights of which I offer you below.

While this is by no means a ‘top five places to eat in Auckland’ list, it is a list of places that we genuinely enjoyed and would be delighted to visit again. So if you happen to be travelling to Auckland any time soon, this list may be of particular interest. Otherwise, have a read through the dishes and flavours and be inspired, like I was, by the creativity and respect for local produce.

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Alma

It was our first night in Auckland, and after a day of travel and jostling about airports, taxis, and hotel reception, we craved a dinner that hit as many of our criteria as possible – relaxed yet refined, effortless, lively but not too overbearing, with a menu that surprises and delights. And of course, within walking distance of our hotel. Nick spotted Alma on our initial stakeout of the Britomart area in Auckland, and we knew this Spanish-inspired restaurant would be exactly what we were after. Perched at the bar with sensational cocktails in hand (Tomato, manzanilla, vodka, and chilli for Nick, Guindilla, gin, and wild fennel for me), we ordered:

Smaller plates

• Gilda – a single mouthful (or two mouthfuls, for diners more elegant than I) of various pickles and anchovies that melted like butter.

• Anchovy and tomato tostada (pictured above) – tomatoes from the height of tomato season paired with anchovies on golden toast – what’s not to love!?

• Queso fresco, honey, and rosemary empanada (pictured above) – this was utter heaven. Shaped like a pizza rather than individual pastries, this flawless empanada had cheese sandwiched between two thin layers of scorched, bespeckled pastry that was then brushed with honey. Bliss.

Larger plates

• Octopus, ensalada rusa, cucumber, and jamón

• Beef tongue, olive, preserved lemon – this dish was awarded the best dish in Auckland in 2021 and 2022, and it’s easy to see why.

• Celery ensalada, queso, almond, and date – I know that celery in a salad might not immediately appeal, but this is a combination that should entice even the most artful celery dodgers. The fresh crunch of the celery, the sticky sweetness of the dates, and the salty cheese make for a surprising and deliciously refreshing salad.

• Tomato, yoghurt, pimentón butter

Sweet

• Smoked date queque, vanilla

• Rhubarb and citrus meringue (pictured above), with a glass of Pedro Ximénez – sweet, tart, and creamy with a crumbly biscuit base, this dessert hit every note perfectly. And when paired with our good friend Pedro, I can’t think of a better way to end a meal.

Kingi

Kingi celebrates New Zealand’s independent and sustainable seafood industry. Located in the Hotel Britomart, this former Masonic Building has been fitted out beautifully. The open, green-tiled kitchen that, if you’re lucky enough to be sat on a table close by like we were, provides a front-row seat view of the calm chefs at work. Outside of the kitchen, the exposed brick and wood finishing and the absolutely stunning pearlescent chandeliers reminiscent of glittering fish scales made for a beautiful setting for our meal.

The menu is divided into produce from the North and South Islands of New Zealand, with a list of all the suppliers and their fishing methods (from long-liners to spear divers) listed on the back. The story of how the fish moves from the sea to the kitchen to the plate transforms this from simply a delicious meal into a true celebration of the sea and the people who respect and care for its bounty. As for the food, we had:

• Wood-fired flatbread and Kumura Sourdough - A restaurant’s bread offering is one of the truest yardsticks I use to judge any restaurant. And these two bread offerings here were utterly delightful. Though I must say the pillowy interior and crispy charred crust of the flatbread (pictured above) was particularly special.

• Wild Wapiti nigiri, horseradish, ponzu

• Mills Bay mussels, nduja (pictured above) - the colour in this dish was something else - the green-lipped mussels against the deep red nduja sauce - made this dish a veritable feast for the eyes and the stomach.

• Gamefish tartare, dashi, furikake, chilli, lime

• Snapper, almond sauce, smoked eel gribiche, grapes

• Seasonal leaves, macadamia, orange, parmesan - while a good salad can make or break a meal, I don’t often flag them as a highlight. But the orange in the dressing was so delightfully fragrant, sweet, and acidic it sticks in my mind as a lovely surprise that makes you look up and say ‘oh! That’s really lovely!’

• Kamuka honey ice cream sandwich, fig, toasted barley (pictured above) - anything with fig and honey is a winner in my book, but it was the surprise addition of the subtle ginger in the biscuit that nudged this into the ‘truly memorable’ category for me.

Mudbrick Vineyard

The one rainy day we had during our time in Auckland just happened to coincide with our trip to Waiheke Island. Nevertheless, the grey skies, damp streets, and an unpleasantly undulating boat trip couldn’t put a dampener on our lunch at Mudbrick Winery. Indeed, I’d go so far as to say this little taste of winter made the whole experience that much more romantic.

Our lunch was a three-course affair in the main restaurant, which on a warm, clear day would be opened up to the beautiful blue skies and lush gardens. But after battling against the rudeness of the wintry weather, being welcomed by the sound of the rain pattering on the roof, the bricked cobbled floors, and exposed wooden beams and fairy lights was all rather cosy. And now down to business – we had:

• House-made bread – the offering of the day was wholemeal olive focaccia with olive oil for dunking. Feather-light and airy, this focaccia was the first wholemeal focaccia I’ve ever had, and I have to say I’d like more of it in my life.

• Lake Ohau Wagyu Short Rib with caramelised onion, sorrel, tonkatsu glaze (pictured above) – on a grey day, you can imagine how perfect this entrée was. The wagyu seemed to surrender almost before my fork made contact, such was its tenderness.

• New Zealand Lamb Rump with spinach, skilpadjie, coriander chutney, goat’s cheese – if, like me prior to this meal, you have yet to try the delights of a skilpadjie, I encourage you to seek one out immediately. They are a delectable South African morsel made from lamb’s liver, and in this case, were perfectly spiced and intensely flavoursome. It’s hard to top a perfectly roasted piece of lamb, but on this occasion, the skilpadjie just nudges above.

• Cherry Tart with pistachio frangipane, Chianti (pictured above) – the prettiness of this dessert was only topped by the delightful intensity of the cherry flavour, which can so often be sadly lacklustre in desserts. Classic flavours done extremely well.

Ahi

Our final dinner in New Zealand at Ahi was a real treat. Ahi’s reputation well and truly preceded this meal, with tales of an unforgettable meal being shared with us weeks before we set off on this adventure. So you can imagine our expectations and excitement levels were high.

And we weren’t disappointed. Ahi doubled down on its promise of ‘a New Zealand food story’ by serving dishes that celebrate the best produce the country has to offer, each dish coming with a tale of its connection to the land or sea. I will never get tired of meals like this, where each dish is a mystery waiting to be uncovered. Trying each element on its own, then lining up different combinations onto my fork before bringing everything together. This was an experience, not just a meal, and not one we’ll forget for a long while. Our chef’s menu included four starters and four larger dishes, so settle in because this is a long one:

• Te Matuku oyster, garden granita, Morningside cider – a beautiful, and enormous, oyster from Waiheke Island which sadly went unphotographed because it was swiftly covered with a foam that disappeared quicker than the Road Runner around a desert highway corner. Perhaps it’s just me, but I do think we can do without most foams on our plates, unless of course we’re talking about meringue.

• Poached scampi, koji butter sauce, crispy wasabi – the perfectly poached scampi was sitting in one of the most intensely flavourful sauces I’ve had the pleasure of slurping from my bowl.

• Wild goat tart with braised goat shoulder, sweet & sour mustard, hot sauce (pictured above) – this impossibly thin and crispy tart shell (we’re talking 2mm at most) held a rich goat stew that was surprisingly delicate and sweet.

• Abalone with burnt butter sauce (pictured above) – my first experience of abalone did not disappoint, nor did the sauce which resulted in more joyous bowl slurping.

• Ora’s farm fire mushrooms, “tart fine” with snow peas, stracciatella, summer truffle, hollandaise – More often than not I find truffle quite overpowering, but here, primarily in hollandaise sauce form and paired with stracciatella, it was a revelation.

• Ōra King salmon, heirloom tomato & nectarine tartare, fermented tomato ponzu, nasturtium sorbet – described to us as the ‘wagyu of the sea’ the ballotine of salmon melted like butter when it hit my tongue. And who knew nectarine and salmon could be such good partners?!

• Scotch fillet, blackberry, beetroot, sprouts – I don’t know about you, but I often find that the meat course of a degustation can be somewhat lazy in comparison to the courses that come before. Don’t get me wrong, a well-cooked piece of beef is delightful, but is it enough after the riot of flavour and colour that preceded it? Pleasingly for us, in this case it did. The perfectly pink beef was paired with blackberries that were gently warmed to make them jammy on the inside but not fall into disrepair when sliced.

• Watermelon and gin sorbet – a delightful palate cleanser.

• Many ways of Clevedon strawberries, fennel bavarois, honey sable (pictured above) – like the cherry dessert we had the day before, the intensity of the strawberry in this dessert is a reminder of how strawberries should taste. Absolute bliss.

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Small bites

It would be remiss of me not to mention what went on between meals. Whether a sweet treat after breakfast or a snack to fuel an exploration of the city, here are the places I’d recommend you check out next time you find yourself in Auckland.

Daily Bread

• Cinnamon Bun

• Cardamom Bun

• Hot Cross Bun – both traditional and chocolate with sour cherry

• Hazelnut Croissant

Mibo

• Pistachio croissant

• Almond Croissant

• Hot Cross Bun

Duck Island Ice Cream

• Sweetcorn Brittle

• White chocolate, pomegranate and macadamia

Stay sweet
Adam x

I must apologise for my tardiness - I’ve missed my chance to wish you all a Happy New Year! It seems like only yesterday that we all shouted ‘Happy New Year’ and cautiously stepped into 2026, with a hope that this year might be one filled with slightly more light than 2025.

Indeed, sometimes we need to look close to home for the light we need. And the first month of 2026 for me has been filled with crackling energy in the kitchen, as well as some exciting developments in my life.

In my professional life (yes, baking, writing, and creating is sadly still my side hustle!) I was fortunate enough to have an eight-week stint as Acting CEO of the not-for-profit health service I work for. It was so incredibly rewarding to lead a team that has such a positive impact on people that need it the most. While I learnt a lot about leadership, and it was also a reminder of what I’m capable of.

In a similar way to how my time on The Great Australian Bake Off opened my eyes to a confidence and pride I’d not experienced before, my time as CEO reminded me that when you go out on a limb, often you’ll fly. Sure, it doesn’t mean it’s easy or that other times you won’t fall, but do you know what? You might also soar. And this is the mindset I want to bring for the rest of 2026, assuming it doesn’t race away as quickly as January did!

Unsurprisingly, it did mean that my efforts in the kitchen took somewhat of a back seat.

Though it didn’t stop me recreating some beloved bakes from my childhood, trying my best to be educational and cheesy at the same time, and avoiding pushing biscuits into yoghurt AT ALL COSTS.

You see, the other exciting piece of news is that I’ve joined the talent family at TalentInk! It still blows my mind that I actually have management. I’m so excited to take this step and really focus on turning what I love into something bigger, and of course, sharing it with all of you. Your continued support has gotten me this far, and I hope you’ll stick around for this exciting new chapter out on that limb.

And what better way to celebrate than with a tart! The baked kind, of course.

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Sloffentaart

Long-time readers will know my love for Dutch food and baking. I’m always on the lookout for a new recipe to celebrate and explore my Dutch heritage in new ways, and so I was delighted when a Dutch follower on Instagram messaged asking if I had ever tried a Sloffentaart.

I hadn’t, and I was immediately intrigued. Who wouldn’t be?! Sloffentaart. It couldn’t sound more quintessentially Dutch if it tried. I knew I needed to find out more and have this tart in my life.

Translated into English, sloffentaart means slipper tart. Traditionally, these tarts are shaped into small, elongated batons – similar to a classic chocolate éclair – which, if you have eyesight as terrible as mine, I guess look a little like slippers.

Though there are many different types and sizes of ‘slofs’ bouncing around. The petit versions require several special tart rings – and a bit more patience than I have – so I opted for the family-sized option using a standard 23cm tart tin. While certainly not slipper-shaped, this tart has slipped right into the top spot on my ‘simple tart’ chart – both for taste and simplicity.

One of the best things the sloffentaart has going for it is that lining a tart case is not required. In fact, everything about this tart is delightfully straightforward! The dough is a biscuit-pastry hybrid that comes together in the food processor (or stand mixer, if you don’t have a food processor). You then simply roll it out, use your tart tin as a cookie cutter to cut your pastry to shape, spread on some almond frangipane, and bake with the upside-down tart tin holding the pastry’s shape.

It’s the tart you make when you want to impress, but don’t feel like fussing over lining a tart tin and blind baking. As for what you crown the sloffentaart with, it’s the best kind of choose your own adventure.

Sloffentarten are usually lathered with Chantilly (or pastry) cream and then topped with seasonal berries. Strawberries are the classic option. But in typical seasoned baking style, I encourage you to celebrate the seasons and top your tart with whatever is in abundance. It’s late summer here in Australia, so I’ve topped mine with slices of red and black plums, fresh raspberries, and a sprinkling of mint for pops of herby green freshness.

Simple, flexible, and outrageously delicious, this is the crowd-pleasing tart we all need in our lives!

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Recipe - Sloffentaart

Ingredients

Pastry base

• 145g unsalted butter, fridge cold

• 70g caster sugar

• 70g light brown sugar

• ½ teaspoon salt

• 200g plain flour

• 1.5 teaspoons baking powder

• 1 egg

Almond frangipane

• 100g almond meal

• 75g caster sugar

• 1 egg

• Zest of one lemon, juice of half the lemon

• 1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste

• Pinch of salt

Chantilly cream (watch my tips for the perfect Chantilly cream here)

• 150g thickened (heavy) cream (35% fat)

• 150g mascarpone

• 10g icing sugar, sifted

• 1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste

Toppings

• Seasonal fruits – I used a punnet of fresh raspberries and two plums (one red, one black)

• A couple of mint leaves, torn

Method

To make the pastry, place all the pastry ingredients – except the egg – into the food processor and pulse until the mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs. Add the egg and then blitz on low until the dough comes together. Tip the dough onto a lightly floured bench and gently knead it for 30-60 seconds. Flatten the dough into a disc, wrap in cling film and rest in the fridge for at least 30 minutes.

While the dough is resting, make the almond frangipane by mixing all the ingredients into a bowl until a smooth paste is formed. Taste the frangipane, and if you think it needs more lemon, add in the juice from the other half of the lemon. You may also need to add in some extra almond meal to stop the frangipane being too runny. Transfer the frangipane to a piping bag and set aside.

No need to worry if you don’t have a piping bag - you can always just spoon the mixture onto the pastry dough and smooth with an offset spatula.

Preheat the oven to 180 degrees C. Roll the rested pastry into a circle about 7mm thick and transfer to a large rimless baking tray lined with baking paper. Remove the base from your loose-bottomed tart tin and set aside. Flip the bottomless tart tin and use the fluted edges like you would a cookie-cutter by pressing it into the dough and creating a large, fluted and single circle of pastry. Carefully remove the excess pastry (save and roll into biscuits later!). If you’re piping your frangipane, use the flipped tart tin as a guide to pipe a circle, starting from the outside and spiralling inwards, until you’ve used all the frangipane. Carefully lift off the tart tin and use an offset spatula to smooth the piped frangipane, leaving a 1-1.5cm border around the edges.

If you’re spooning on the frangipane, lift off the tart tin first, spoon the frangipane onto the pastry and use an offset spatula to spread it evenly, leaving a 1-1.5cm border around the edges.

Lightly whisk an egg for the egg wash, and brush the edges of the tart. Carefully place the flipped tart tin back over the tart, trying your best to align it so you don’t cut into the pastry (but don’t stress if a little bit gets cut away). Press down so the tin touches the lined tray, fully securing the pastry within. Bake for 35-45 minutes, rotating at least once, until the pastry is golden and the frangipane is set.

When the tart is out of the oven, remove the tart tin and leave the tart to cool on the tray.

Once cooled and you’re almost ready to serve, make the Chantilly cream. Place all the ingredients into a bowl (preferably chilled), and using hand beaters with a whisk attached or a stand mixer with the whisk attached, whip until you reach stiff peaks.

Lather the Chantilly cream onto the frangipane, top with your seasonal fruits, and serve. Any leftover will keep (depending on the toppings) covered in the fridge for a couple of days.

Things I’m loving this month

Inspired by my fellow Bake Off (US) Baker and writer Martin Sorge and his new Baker’s Dozen updates, I thought I’d share a rapid-fire list of some of the things I’ve been loving this month:

• The Great Australian Bake Off finally winning the AACTA award for Best Reality Series. A long overdue accolade for the best show on TV.

• Speaking of Bake Off, I hope you’re as thrilled as I am about the news that Nigella is joining the Great British Bake Off! A strong start to 2026 in the Bake Off universe.

• Sophie Ellis Bextor live at The Forum (in Melbourne). After what feels like decades of waiting, I finally witnessed SEB live on stage and was swept away into a world of disco pop euphoria. High energy, sequins, a few high kicks and hit after hit made for a night of pure joy. Do yourself a favour and give Sophie’s Kitchen Disco a spin next time you find yourself baking up a storm.

  

• Coconut ganache. When I discovered you can replace dairy cream for 100% coconut cream to make ganache, my life changed forever. Whether you like it whimsically white or devilishly dark, this is a ganache you need to try! And its perfect on my Bounty Bar Cake.

Until next time, stay sweet
Adam x

Tis the season! Not just of festive cheer, gathering with those you love and Mariah Carey on loop. Tis the season of baking and dessert making!

And the lead-up to this Christmas has been a busy one in my kitchen! So busy, in fact, I’ve not had the time to dedicate to telling you all about what I’ve been making. Until now, of course! Despite the fact Christmas is only four days away (at the date of publication!) and I’m sure you have your Christmas treats and desserts all planned, I wanted to send you my 2025 Christmas Baking Collection, featuring all the festive deliciousness that’s graced my kitchen and tummy.

You’ll find some of my most treasured Christmas recipes (see my speculaas biscuits!), along with a couple of dessert showstoppers that, if you’re still undecided on your dessert for the big day, might strike a chord with you.

As each Christmas rolls around, I find myself holding on tighter to both old and new traditions, represented in the recipes that follow. Of course, there’s comfort in the deliciousness of it all, but it’s more than that. It’s also knowing that whether you’ve come to embrace a tradition later in life, or it’s something that you’ve carried with you for decades, traditions remind us of how we came to be in this moment. They bring a sense of comfort that, I think, reinforces our sense of who we are today.

And most importantly of all, Christmas baking gives me the sense of coming home. And this Christmas, however you celebrate, I hope you’re surrounded by your favourite people, good food, and happy times.

All that’s left to do now is grab a drink and thank you for coming along on this baking adventure with me. I can’t wait to share more with you in 2026.

Go well, stay sweet, and Merry Christmas xo

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Showstopping Desserts

Limoncello Tiramisu

I made this Limoncello Tiramisu out of the desire to create something new, and out of necessity. You see, in a flurry of curd-induced madness earlier in December, I had made a bulk amount of lemon and citrus curd that was calling out to be used! We also had leftover mascarpone cream and lady finger biscuits. The recipe practically wrote itself! I made this one for the annual Christmas gathering of my dear friends from my local dog park (our group chat is called the IttyBitty Dog Committee). It’s a tradition I just love, and proof that you never know where you’ll find your people.

Unlike a traditional tiramisu, this version is zingy, bright and light, with the perfect boozy kick from the limoncello for good measure.

The ratio of cream to biscuit is a very personal one. I like slightly more cream than biscuit (about 60:40 cream to biscuit). While I know others prefer an even balance or (quite bizarrely, in my opinion) more biscuit than cream. As such, I’ve given a range in the amount of biscuits required to cater for any preference.

How many does this serve?

The recipe makes enough for a big crowd of 17-22, depending on how big your scoops are. I assembled mine in a 3.5 litre trifle bowl for dramatic layers, but this would work equally well in a large casserole-style dish. If you have a smaller crowd to feed, simply halve the mascarpone cream ingredients. Though make the same amount of lemon curd, because it keeps for weeks and is bloody delicious!

Find the recipe here.

Sparkling Peach and Raspberry Trifle

This trifle celebrates the best of Australian summer - seasonal fruits, a shimmering glass of sparkling wine, and a whole lot of fab festive celebration!

Peaches and raspberries are in abundance right now, and they shine in all their glory in this trifle. This trifle has a sparkling peach jelly studded with raspberries, two layers of peach syrup-soaked lady finger biscuits and poached peaches, brandy custard, and is topped with lush chantilly cream. It all comes together in a burst of joyful summery freshness that’s the perfect showstopper for any festive meal.

And the best bit? You can prepare everything ahead of time. And if you’re really pressed for time, simply buy the lady fingers and brandy custard from the shops!

Find the recipe here.

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Classic Christmas Desserts

Christmas Pudding

The idea of homemade Christmas pudding used to intimidate me, but it is honestly one of the simplest desserts to prepare and is the perfect make-ahead Christmas treat. Once you’re prepared all the ingredients, everything simply comes together in a single bowl, and your stove does the rest of the heavy lifting.

Though these puddings are anything but heavy! They’re much lighter than the traditional puddings you might be used to, making them the perfect finish to any Christmas spread! The uncrystallised ginger and spices add a beautiful warmth to the pudding, with the brandy-soaked fruit bringing that festive cheer we all love. And while the time for making pudding has long past, I recommend you save this one for next year!

Find the recipe here.

Brandy Custard

While others might prefer eggnog or advocaat as their egg-based liquid of choice at Christmas time, my festive heart firmly beats only for brandy custard. It’s one of the festive treats I’ve looked forward to the most ever since Mum let me loose with the Paul’s 1 litre carton from the supermarket. I remember sneaking to the fridge and stealing a cheeky swig straight from the carton while no one (except perhaps Santa) was looking. We would devour bowls of it without any accompaniment! It truly is festive liquid gold!

But now that I’m a bit older and can appreciate Christmas pudding, my love for brandy custard is even stronger today. To have warm custard drizzled over a steaming Christmas pudding is to experience pure, unadulterated (and boozy!) festive bliss. Even if it’s 40 degrees outside, Christmas pudding and brandy custard should adorn every festive dessert spread.

Find the recipe here.

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A spiced Christmas!

Speculaas

What can I say about these Speculaas biscuits that I’ve not already said?! For me, they are the ultimate Christmas tradition, and the most perfect example of why I love baking.

Every year when I bake these I’m reminded of all the Christmases that have come before. From when I was a child and Mum and Oma would make these around Christmas, to the more recent years where I’ve made countless batches to share with my nearest and dearest.

I think about the season to come, who I can gift these to and the joy they will bring them.

I think about how these little biscuits bring people together and might play even the tiniest part in their festive memories. And this fills me with delight.

Find the recipe here.

Gevulde Speculaas

This special filled speculaas (gevulde in Dutch literally means ‘filled’ or ‘stuffed’) is a treat I save for our family Christmas Eve feast. It’s a softer dough than traditional speculaas and is filled with a lemony almond filling which combine to make such a delicious and unique Christmas treat. The filling also has mixed peel in there, which I realise is controversial in some circles, but not in mine! Here it adds an extra citrus hit that I love. I’ve suggested that its optional in the ingredient list, but for me it’s most certainly mandatory!

Traditionally shaped like a log, I wanted to try something a little different this year and made a little tart-esque number, which I think has worked delightfully well! The dough is also very forgiving, so if it tears when you place it in the tin, you can easily push it back together. No one needs the extra stress of a fussy dough this time of year!

Find the recipe here.

Speculaas Palmiers

These palmiers are a classic quick bake from my archives, that I’ve spiced up with a festive twist. They’re perfect if you need a festive treat in a hurry!

Flaky puff pastry, white and dark brown sugar and speculaas spice mix perform some festive magic in this simple, speedy, and crowd pleasing bake.

Find the recipe here.

Adam x

It’s one of the greatest feelings, isn’t it, when the smell of spring is in the air? The days ever-so-gradually stretch out and warm up, the jingles of the festive season whisper on the horizon, and most pleasing of all, oranges are plentiful. In this latest edition of Seasoned Baking, we’re marking this most delightful time of year by celebrating the workhorse of the citrus family – the orange.

Here in Australia we’re spoilt for choice when it comes to oranges. There’s a veritable relay that runs from winter through to the end of summer of different orange varieties vying for the podium. During winter, the Navel, with its cute little bellybutton and pebbly skin, leads the Relay d’Orange. But as winter acquiesces to the warm temptation of spring, the juicer, smoother-skinned Valencia grasps the baton and leads the pack through to the end of summer.

Oranges arrived in Australia relatively recently. While they had found their way to the Mediterranean from Asia in the 15^th century (bitter oranges arrived even earlier, some 3,000-4,000 years ago), they didn’t arrive in Australia until 1788, when they were planted in New South Wales by Captain Arthur Phillip. Since then, oranges have become a staple in Aussie kitchens and diets, as freshly squeezed orange juice, orange wedges at half-time of a weekend sports match, or orange marmalade on toast. It’s safe to say the orange reigns supreme.

However you like your oranges, I think we can all agree that they are spectacular in baking. The sweet acidity - like a gentle kiss on the cheek, unlike the slap-to-the-face tartness of lemon or lime - transforms any bake into a light, bright delight. And my recipe for this Orange and Cinnamon Bundt Cake is a true feast for the senses. But before we dive into the heavenly details, let me give you some of this cake’s backstory.

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We all love an origin story

I first made a version of this cake during Citrus Week on the Great Australian Bake Off. But in the flurry of the final weeks of filming where one week blurred into the next, this recipe was swiftly filed away as we pressed on with the remaining three episodes. It’s in this virtual filing cabinet where this recipe sat, waiting, for it’s time to once again dazzle taste buds everywhere.

You see, Laura Foo (winner of my season of Bake Off) asked me to make the centrepiece for her 30^th birthday cake party. After the mind-blowing cake she made for my 40^th, I knew I had to pull out all the stops to make something truly special. I wanted to make a cake that included some of Laura’s favourite flavours, but also reflected our friendship. While mulling this over, I remembered that the orange and cinnamon cake was one of Laura’s favourite things I baked in the shed.

Paired with blackberry, Laura’s favourite berry, I was off and racing to create what I think is one of the best celebration cakes I’ve ever made. For those interested, it featured:

• Orange and Cinnamon sponge

• Orange curd

• Blackberry compote

• Salty orange crumb

• Swiss meringue buttercream with orange blossom

I love how bakes and flavour combinations from years past can re-emerge from the back of our minds, reminding us of loved ones and special times, while creating new memories at the same time. This is baking at its best.

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Orange and Cinnamon Bundt Cake

When I initially re-tested the recipe, I realised it was too light and delicate (what a problem to have!) to withstand the weight of being a stacked celebration cake. So as I went on to modify my tried-and-true butter cake recipe for the glorious centrepiece above, I thought to myself, “the original would be ideal as a bundt cake, especially in the new bundt tin I’ve just bought!” A true moment of serendipity!

I have to say, the orange in this cake shines in a way that most other cakes can’t even imagine, thanks to the combination of cotton-like lightness and sweet orange fragrance from the zest and juice of the oranges. This balance is something that I found was missing in the metaphorical Orange Cake Hall of Fame.

While whole-orange cakes and flourless orange cakes bring a strong hit of orange, they can be rather unsubtle and dense with their orange flavour (not a criticism, just a delicious fact!). And traditional sponge cakes scented with orange zest bring a lovely lightness, but often lack the full-bodied orange flavour I’m looking for in an orange cake. This recipe brings together the best bits of these classics for what I think is definitely a contender for the aforementioned Hall of Fame.

This recipe borrows from a classic sponge cake by whipping the eggs for 5 minutes until they are voluminous and cloud-like, before gently whipping the remaining ingredients, including a surprising amount of orange juice. It’s the bright, sweet juice, bolstered by the zest, that effortlessly brings orange flavour front and centre, as if it were suspended in a citrus-scented cloud.

As for the cinnamon, while it shares no common flavours with orange, they bring out the best in each other. The sweet orange complements the warm spice, creating a balance of flavours that taste like a warm spring sunset.

And the best part of this whole deal? The cake is beautifully straightforward to bring together. As long as you properly butter and flour your bundt tin and have a gentle hand when mixing in the dry ingredients so as not to knock out all the air, a light, brightly scented cake awaits you. I can’t wait for you to cut that first wedge and experience the intoxicating fragrance that rushes from the cake.

Ingredients

Cake

• 260g plain flour

• 2½ teaspoons cinnamon

• 1 teaspoon baking powder

• ½ teaspoon of salt

• 3 large eggs, room temperature

• 220g caster sugar

• 180 ml vegetable oil

• 225 ml freshly squeezed orange juice

• Zest of 3 oranges

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Icing

• 150g icing sugar

• Zest of 1 orange

• 25-30ml orange juice, from the zested orange

Method

Preheat your oven to 180 degrees C. To prepare you bundt tin, brush it with melted butter and lightly dust with flour, ensuring the entire inside surface is lightly covered with flour. Any exposed surface will increase the risk of the cake sticking to the tin once baked. Place the flour, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon in a medium bowl, whisk together, and set aside.

Using hand beaters with a whisk attached (or in a stand mixer bowl fitted with a whisk attachment), whisk together the eggs and sugar on high speed until pale and fluffy, about 5 minutes. With the mixer or beaters running on low, gradually add the oil, continuing to mix until combined. With the beaters still on low, slowly add the orange juice, followed by the zest and vanilla extract until fully combined.

Use a hand-held whisk to fold in the flour, in two batches, until just combined, being careful not to knock the air out of the batter. Pour the batter into your prepared tin and bake for 45-55 minutes, or until a cake tester comes out clean.

Leave to cool in the tin for a couple of minutes before flipping the cake out onto a cooling rack.

Once the cake has cooled to room temperature, make the icing (if you make the icing too soon, it will set in the bowl before you ice the cake). Place the icing sugar and zest into a medium bowl and add 25ml of orange juice. Whisk to combine, adding more orange juice if you want it to be runnier, or more icing sugar if you’d like it to be thicker. You’re looking to strike a balance between the icing being thick enough to not run straight off the cake, but thin enough to slowly and evenly drip down the cake.

Spoon the icing over the cake, and leave to set for an hour or so before slicing and enjoying with a cup of tea.

Store the cake in an airtight container for up to 3 days at room temperature, or 5 day in the fridge.

Stay Sweet
Adam x

Fancy some more Seasoned Baking? Check out the previous editions here:

• Is there salt in this?! Part 1

• Is there salt in this?! Part 2

• Miso, the funky seasoning

We’re back for another instalment of Seasoned Baking! You might remember the last few editions were all about using salt in baking (find parts 1 and 2 here).

Today we’re moving on to an ingredient that, much like salt, is an excellent way to enhance flavour. However, unlike salt, miso has extra funk and personality that brings bakes to life in a most fascinatingly delicious way.

What is miso?

Hailing from Japan, miso is a fermented soybean paste generally made from - you guessed it - soybeans (along with salt, water, and koji made with either rice or barley). While there are thousands of varieties to choose from, all have an intense, gnarly umami character to them. Some are sweeter than others (white miso), while others are fermented for longer to deepen the flavour (red miso). There’s also a yellow variety that lands somewhere between white and red in terms of intensity.

While miso is most commonly used in savoury cooking, I love using it in sweet foods – often in place of salt. It adds extra dimensions to a bake that cause many a brow to furrow as the deliciously complex flavours demand to be deciphered. To help describe its power, I’ve turned to Niki Segnit, author of the must-have book The Flavour Thesaurus: More Flavours, who says:

All of this is to say that a bit of miso can be a powerful way to season and add interesting dimensions to a bake.

Chocolate and miso are a classic pairing that works well in brownies, cakes, and icing (check out my chocolate ganache here, that uses miso and avocado). In fact, my first bake in the Great Australian Bake Off shed was a chocolate and miso cake. Oh, how sophisticated I felt! “This flavour combination will blow the judge’s minds,” I thought to myself at the time. While the flavours slapped, it’s a shame that the cake was ‘a little dry’ and I ran out of icing to decorate the cake. Still, a solid first bake!

Here are other combinations you could try:

• Miso and honey - Niri Miso is a popular condiment that is made of miso, honey and water. Niki Segent describes ”the extremes of salt and sweet [as] so balanced, it’s as if your tastebuds have been put into painful, yet deeply soothing yoga position.” I think this combination could make for a spectacularly delicious icing for a cake, cupcake or banana bread.

• Miso and banana - A hit of miso would revive any tired banana bread recipe you have lying around! Why not throw some chocolate chips in there too.

• Miso and vanilla - Add some miso to homemade vanilla custard for a serious edge of butterscotch (another tip from Niki!). I could also see this working beautifully in a creme brûlée or a burnt basque cheesecake.

• Miso caramel - 2023 Great Australian Bake Off winner Laura Foo makes a killer miso caramel, levelling-up the classic salted caramel with added sophistication. Follow my salted caramel recipe here, but swap out the salt for 2-5 teaspoons of white miso.

• Miso and yuzu - The filling you see oozing out of the cake above is yuzu pastry cream, and pairs brilliantly with the miso and chocolate.

But earlier this year I also discovered that miso works delightfully well with peanut butter.

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When the old and new collide

Indulge me for a moment as we take a detour to my childhood, and the timeless classic that is the Australian Women’s Weekly Big Book of Beautiful Biscuits. Now, I realise that I’ve referenced this book before, but its influence on my childhood runs so deep that it’s part of my baking DNA, and therefore, worthy of multiple mentions.

The MVP biscuit from this book, for me, is the Peanut Butter Crinkle. A simple biscuit made with pantry staples, this was on heavy rotation in my house growing up. They would invariably feature in one of Mum’s weekend bake-offs, much to my Dad’s delight. I bake these classics often and have never felt the need to tinker with them. They are perfect as they are, as all classics are.

However, during my 40^th birthday bakery crawl, I discovered the Peanut Butter and Miso Cookies from Falco in Collingwood, and I knew I had to try and recreate them.

A very quick Google search later, and I discovered that these have in fact been around for years, their popularity thanks largely to the New York Times Cooking recipe. Which, despite being behind a paywall, has over 8,500 5-star ratings and 900 comments.

I do love being late to a trend, so I set off on a laggard’s-journey to merge this new flavour with my childhood favourite. The big finish of this journey is the recipe you see below. A blending of the old and new - the classic size and mandatory cross-hatch pattern, with added intensity and moorish-ness from the miso, and a little extra sweetness and crunch from the demerara sugar.

A final thought on size

The recipe below makes 24 biscuits sized how I think the perfect biscuit should be. Ideal for placing on a saucer alongside your cup of tea, and enjoyed in no more than four-to-five bites. While I can understand the appeal of a biscuit the size of a bread plate, or god-forbid, a chunky filled-cookie the size of a burger bun, there’s something to be said about a less-is-more biscuit. They’re understated and chic. The perfect little treat. Want more indulgence? Have a second!

And here, I dare you to stop at one.

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Recipe - Peanut Butter and Miso Crinkles

Ingredients

• 125g unsalted butter, room temperature, cubed

• 1 teaspoon vanilla

• Zest of 1 lemon

• 140g brown sugar

• 140g crunchy peanut butter

• 50g white miso paste

• 225g plain flour

• 1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda

• 100g demerara sugar

Method

Preheat your oven to 170 degrees C, and line two baking trays with baking paper.

Place the butter, vanilla, lemon zest, brown sugar, peanut butter and miso in a medium bowl (or the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment). Beat all the ingredients together, scraping down the bowl as needed, until light and creamy. Add the flour and bicarb soda and beat until just combined. Place the demerara sugar in a separate small bowl and set aside.

Roll tablespoon-sized balls of the dough between your hands, before gently flattening into small patties about 2cm thick. Grab a fork and press it twice into each dough-ball, creating a crosshatch pattern. Gently press each biscuit into the bowl of demerara sugar and then place each onto the prepared trays, leaving at least 3cm between each.

Bake in the preheated oven for 15-20 minutes – rotating the trays halfway through the baking time – until the biscuits look set and are lightly golden on the edges. Watch them closely towards the end of the baking time, because they can catch quickly. Leave to cool to room temperature on the trays, before trying your best to stop at one.

These will last for up to a week in an airtight container.

Note - If time is on your side, you can dial up the flavour in these biscuits even more by resting the unbaked crosshatched and sugared biscuits in the fridge for up to two days before baking.

Stay sweet
Adam x

Sometimes life calls for a simple cake to offer some simple comfort.

As we speed towards the end of the year and are faced with a constant cascade of news from a world that seems to be fracturing faster and deeper by the day, stealing a moment of quiet is starting to feel more and more like a privilege.

This cake was a gentle step back into what I love after weeks of work stress and busyness that crowded my mind like a train platform full of commuters at peak hour. All I wanted to do was get on the train to where I wanted to be, but the masses made it utterly impossible to move. As time lumbered on, peak hour passed and the crowds dispersed, I could finally step towards the people and the things I love.

It’s a reminder that the simple pleasures are so often the ones that mean the most. Coming home to a smile from the one you love, or to the bounding exuberance of a four-legged friend. The smell of a cake just baked, cooling on the bench. The joy in sharing a slice and capturing a moment with the ones that mean the most. This is what makes life sweet.

I’ll admit, this is a lot for a simple loaf cake to carry. But going through the process of testing, sharing, tweaking, and re-testing, I was reminded of why I bake in the first place. Discovery, connection and deliciousness. And so for me that’s more than enough reason for this cake to hold a special place in my life’s recipe book.

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Meet Limonene

While my penchant for fennel seed in my baking is no secret, it has flummoxed more than a few people when I put it in a sweet bake. But I promise you, when it’s combined with the hint of lemon in the cake, and the zing of the luscious passion fruit icing, it all makes sense.

At the risk of getting too nerdy, science backs me up here. You see, all three ingredients – fennel seed, lemon zest and passion fruit – contain various amounts of the same flavour molecule called limonene (among others). As the name suggests, limonene is what gives ingredients their signature citrus notes. I also picture limonene as an effortless Hyacinth Bucket-esque character, shrill of voice, making sure everyone knows how well-to-do she is, while throwing spectacular candlelight suppers on summer evenings for her friends.

In any case, all you really need to know is that when ingredients share the same flavour molecules, they come together to create harmonies of flavour that make the final product oh-so delicious, which is most certainly the case here.

I tested this cake with a thick icing and glaze, and the feedback (in person and on Instagram) was overwhelmingly in favour of the luscious thick icing. It’s the perfect consistency to gently drape the cake without all pouring off like a traditional glaze. And because of this, almost every bite benefits from a hit of extra zingy sweetness, and the odd crunch of passion fruit seeds.

Much like one of Limonene’s famed candlelight suppers, this cake will linger in your mind long after the last bite.

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Recipe – Fennel seed and lemon cake with passion fruit icing

This simplest of cakes requires no special equipment beyond a whisk, spatula and couple of bowls. It also follows a classic cake ratio of equal parts flour, egg, sugar and oil. Deliciousness couldn’t be easier!

Ingredients

Cake

• Zest of 1 large lemon, or 2 small lemons (save the juice for the glaze)

• 200g caster sugar

• 4 eggs (approx. 200g), room temperature

• 200g olive oil

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

• 200g plain flour

• ½ teaspoon fine sea salt

• 1 ¼ teaspoons baking powder

• ½ teaspoon bicarb soda

• 3 teaspoons fennel seeds

Luscious passionfruit icing

• 250g icing sugar

• Pulp from 1 large passionfruit (about 2 tablespoons)

• 2-4 teaspoons lemon juice

• 30g melted butter, cooled slightly

Method

Grease and line a loaf tin (mine was 12cm x 22cm), making sure you leave some overhang so you can easily lift out the cake later, and pre-heat your oven to 170 degrees C.

Place the sugar and lemon zest in a large bowl and use your fingertips to rub the zest into the sugar until evenly distributed and fragrant. This releases the oils and the beautiful zingy flavour in the lemon zest. Add the eggs, olive oil and vanilla and whisk to combine.

Combine all the dry ingredients in a separate bowl. Add the dry ingredients to the wet and gently fold until just combined. Pour the batter into your prepared loaf tin and bake for 50-60 minutes until baked, and a cake tester comes out clean when inserted into the middle of the cake.

Lift the cake out of the tin and leave to cool to room temperature on a wire cooling rack.

Once the cake has cooled, start the icing by whisking the icing sugar, passionfruit, melted butter and 2 teaspoons of the lemon juice. Taste, and add more lemon juice if you fancy more zing in your icing. This will also make the icing slightly runnier, so balance with some extra icing sugar if you wish to thicken the icing.

Liberally lather the top of the cake with the luscious icing. It will gently drape down the sides of the cake, which is what you want! Leave the icing to set slightly before slicing and enjoying with a cup of tea.

Store this cake in an airtight container for up to three days at room temperature, or five days in the fridge (just let your slice come back to room temperature before eating!)

Stay sweet
Adam x