Gluten-Free Lemon & Ricotta Cake

I went on a course once that was almost cult-like in its attempt to change your life through the power of positive thinking.  We had to practice all sorts of mantras and meditations, visualising our better selves becoming the best possible version we could be.  No limits, we were told.  Dream big.  Whatever you want to, you can do it.  It speaks volumes about the size of my ambition that one of the things I dreamt of having was perfectly manicured nails.  And the thing is, it might be a load of hogwash, but for a couple of months back in 2001, I had awesome nails.  

I tell you this because one other thing I really remember from this course was the idea that if you tidied up for visitors, you were insulting yourself; you should value yourself so highly that your house should be visitor-ready spick and span at all times, just for you.  And while I love the thought of that, I'm assuming I'm not meditating hard enough on having a perfect house because, well, frankly I'd rather be doing plenty of other stuff, nails included, than spend a million hours per week cleaning my skirting boards.  I will always, always be the person who, the night before a visitor, runs round manically with the hoover in one hand and the duster in the other, while with the other hand (still counting?) stir up something welcoming and hopefully delicious in the kitchen.  I definitely assume that distracting someone for long enough means that they won't be bothered about the lack of domestic goddess-ness round here.

This is one such welcoming dish, whipped up in the middle of a cleaning frenzy the night before lovely Ruth came to stay for a couple of nights.  She is gluten free, and so I knew that I had a responsibility not only to spruce up the guest room, but also to make something we could all enjoy.  This is a really lovely cake; the ricotta gives it a creamy tanginess, and serves as the perfect canvas for the sharp, sweet lemon syrup.  This gets better after a day or two, so perfect for making the night before the visitors come, and is sturdy enough to freeze well and to cart about in a lunch box.  

You can even serve it up for breakfast the next day, making you a pretty perfect host all round.  Skirting boards notwithstanding.

Lemon & Ricotta Cake (Gluten Free)

225g butter, softened
225g plus 125g caster sugar
2 eggs, beaten
1 tablespoon natural yoghurt
250g ricotta cheese
150g ground almonds
100g polenta
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 lemon, juice and zest
2 lemons, juice only
100ml water
Blueberries for decoration

Preheat your oven to 170C.  Grease the sides, and grease and  line the bottom, of a 23cm loose-bottomed cake tin.

In a large bowl or using a stand mixer, cream the butter and 225g sugar together until they are light and fluffy.  Beat in the eggs, yoghurt, ricotta, almonds, polenta and baking soda until smooth and everything is combined.

Pour into the tin and bake for 1 - 1.5 hours.  Keep an eye on the top; if it looks like it is browning too much before the cake is fully cooked, cover it with greaseproof paper.  The cake is done when a skewer inserted into it comes out clean with no crumbs.

While the cake is cooking, make the syrup by combining the water, remaining sugar, and lemon juice in a small pan.  Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for about 5 minutes, until the texture has turned syrupy.  Remove from the heat, then stir in the zest.

When the cake is cooked, leave it in the tin and pour over three quarters of the syrup.  Leave to cool completely before removing it gently from the tin.  Scatter blueberries over the top, then drizzle with the remaining syrup.

Serve with yoghurt.

Yields 8-10 slices.

Vegetable Sort-Of Jalfrezi

I have been yearning for India.  A few years ago, in another life, I spent a long, happy time there.  It is not an easy country to love; it is a slow-burner.  But let me tell you this:  when it gets you, it really gets you.  Gets you to the extent where, when the time comes to leave, you sob at the airport, on the flight, and in a taxi in Sri Lanka.  If home is where the heart is, then I will always find myself at home in this crazy, frustrating, astonishing country.  Amongst its many charms, the ones that sneak up on you and catch you unawares, the ones that take your feelings for a country from "ok well maybe this isn't so bad after all" to "I adore this place" for me were twofold.  Firstly, the people.  Obviously in a country of 1.2 billion people not all of them are adorable.  But so, so many of them are. Charming and funny and kind - oh, so kind.  Possibly one of the reasons I felt such an affinity with the people of India is the main way kindness and hospitality are demonstrated is through food.  I was lucky enough to visit some private homes while I was there - I was invariably given food, from chai and biscuits to a brand new fruit, Sapodilla (7 years on and the taste and the texture still haunt my dreams), to celebratory biryani.  I love this way of going on because that is what I do.  Food is my way of saying to people "I like you.  Please like me".  And the food in India - oh my word, the food.  I picked up a couple of recipes that I will replicate here soon, but my travels there sparked an interest in not only eating Indian food and all its many variations, but cooking it.  I worship at the altars of Madhur Jaffrey and Atul Kochhar.

So here I go with a totally in-authentic recipe.  Why this and not one from one of my Indian Cooking Heroes?  Ach, as already established, I'm quite lazy.  My most recent book acquisition is the Hairy Dieters and, just in case I haven't banged on quite enough about it, I'm trying to keep an eye on what I'm eating at the moment.  And to be fair to those cheeky chappies, I have had nothing but successes from their recipes - I can thoroughly recommend their Cawl, which gets the thumbs up from my husband (a genu-ine Welshman), and the Nut Roast from their Christmas book is a million miles away from the cliché it could have been.  In this book is a section on Fakeaways, re-creating takeaway favourites at a lower cost to the waistline.  I was lazily flicking through it, fancied some Indian food, and hit on the Chicken Jalfrezi.  I had no chicken in, but a quick inventory of the fridge revealed it was overflowing with lovely late-summer vegetables, so that's what I went with.

This is a sort-of Jalfrezi as it doesn't contain that mix of fried onion slices, peppers and fresh tomatoes that are usually associated with it.  But the sauce base is the same.  Big thumbs up from us - we had it with the leftover Green Rice that I am now happy to report freezes and reheats really well.  Nice kick to it without being blow-your-head-off hot.  Totally authentic?  Not a chance.  Good enough under the circumstances?  Absolutely.

And until the time comes when I can travel once more to my beloved India, I will get as close to it in any way I can.  This will do just fine for now.

Vegetable Sort-Of Jalfrezi
Adapted from The Hairy Dieters

2 green chillis, chopped
1 tablespoon sunflower oil
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 onion, sliced
3 medium potatoes, diced into 2cm pieces
1 small aubergine, diced into 2 cm pieces
1 bundle silverbeet (chard), shredded
1 small head of broccoli, cut into florets
100g flat beans or runner beans
1 can tomatoes
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon garam masala
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
1 tablespoon caster sugar
1 teaspoon flaky sea salt
200ml cold water plus one tablespoon
2 tablespoons buttermilk or natural yoghurt
2 teaspoons cornflour

In a large pan, over a medium heat, add the oil then fry the onion, garlic and chilli for a few minutes.  Add the spices and fry, stirring, for a couple more minutes.  Don't let the garlic or spices burn.

Add the potatoes and aubergine, cook for a couple of minutes until they start to absorb the flavours.  Add the tomatoes, sugar, and salt.  Add the water, stir in the buttermilk or yoghurt, and bring the sauce to a simmer.  Cook for about 9 minutes until the potatoes are just tender - the sauce should be reduced by about a third.  Add the silverbeet, broccoli and runner beans, cook for another couple of minutes until just cooked.

Mix the cornflour with the tablespoon of water to form a smooth paste.  Stir this into the sauce and simmer for a few seconds until the sauce thickens, stirring constantly.

Serve immediately.

Serves 5, generously.