Chocolate & Hazelnut Hunks

These cookies have altered my life. And maybe my dress size.

 

Chunks of crunchy, hazelnutty, chewy cookie, stuffed with pools of rich dark chocolate & a shortbread-esq buttery crust. Straight from my kitchen to your oven.

I like to bake a batch of these on Sunday mornings and stash them away for a naughty weekday treat. There's nothing in this world which makes jump out of bed on a Monday morning faster than a hunk, not even the manly, rugged breed.

What can I say? Hazelnuts and chocolate do it for me.

For 20 of your own delicious little hunks, go grab yourself: 

225g unsalted butter, softened

225g caster sugar

170ml Carnation Condensed Milk

350g self-raising flour, sifted

175g dark chocolate (70% cocoa solids min), chopped

100g hazelnuts, roasted and chopped
A few sheets of cling film

Each batch makes enough dough for two sittings. I keep half of my dough wrapped in cling film, tucked away at the back of the fridge in the event of an emergency, (discovering TOWIE has clashed with Law & Order, a missing iPhone charger...)

I'd suggest you do the same.

Righto. In a bowl, cream together your sugar and butter until pale and smooth.

Pour in the condensed milk with or without singing high-low-chicka-low.

Give it a good whisk, sift in your flour and stir as you go.

When it begins to form a dough-like substance, grab your nuts.

Toast them over a low heat for a couple of minutes until they're good and hot.



And whizz them up in a processor until broken up but still chunky.

Pour your crumbled hazels into your cookie dough and fetch your chocolate.

Chop into bite size chunks and invite it into the mix.

Stir it all together until well combined and looking fine and dandy.

Empty it out onto a flat surface...

Divide into two even balls...

And roll them out into sausage shapes.

Pop your cookie sausage on top of a sheet of cling film and wrap it up nice and tightly.

Repeat with the remaining ball of cookie dough.



Pop them in the fridge for as long as possible, but even one hour will work wonders.

Now, the hard part. Stay busy, stay strong & whatever you do, stay away from the cookie dough. Ten minutes before cooking time, preheat the oven to 180C.

When it's thoroughly chilly grab one cookie sausage from the fridge & a sharp knife.

Chop your dough into chunky segments, around ten cookies per roll.

Pop them on a baking tray and into the oven for ten minutes or until slightly tanned but gooey in the centre. They will continue to harden whilst cooling, so even if you think they're not ready just yet, chances are they're pretty darn perfect.

Leave them to cool and serve up with jars of frothy ice cold milk.

The remaining cookie sausage will keep for a whole week at the back of the fridge, however if it manages to survive that long I would strongly suggest you see some kind of professional doctor immediately.

Hunky dory.

The Oaks

You know what's better than a plate of incredible food? Five plates of incredible food. And earlier this week, my waistband learnt that the hard way.

After a painfully long fortnight in the office my editor rounded up the troops, packed us into cars and gave us the postcode to a new little haunt in town. We found our destination tucked away down country lanes smack bang in the heart of Maple Cross. The Oaks.

The five course menu boasts a number of delectable goodies, starting with the pumpkin cream, a hunk of homemade bread and a drizzle of basil oil. Oh mama. I could feel my winter blues being quashed with each terrific gulp. If frosty weather means pumpkin cream on tap, bring it on Mr Weatherman, bring it on. My one disappointment? The bowl was just a few centimetres too long to allow my tongue to reach the bottom. Not to fear, friends. I didn't let anything stop me from draining the last few drops.

Next up came posh mushrooms on toast, or as our adoring waiter so delicately put it, 'toast of fried wild mushrooms, toavey goats cheese and balsamic shallots'. Whatever it was, it was freakin delicious.

G opted for the smoked mackerel with roasted beets and rocket. I was pretty smitten with my plateful, but I have it on pretty good stead that it was delicious. The presentation left more than a little to be desired but hey, delicious food means empty plates in a matter of minutes, right?

As soon as our plates had been whisked away, out came course number three. It was a pie. Now, if you've stuck with me for the past couple of months, you'll know that I like nothing more than a big chunky pie topped in flaky, sumptuous pastry. This little pie was not like that. This little pie was very different indeed. This little pie did not go home, or to the market, or eat roast beef. This little pie got my petticoat in a bit of a twist. Stuffed with water chestnuts, stilton and leeks, it was unlike any other pie I've had the pleasure of polishing off before. It was creamy but light, a little bland but with genius textures. I don't think I'd order it again but either way, I ate every last crumb.

Still reeling from the undefinable pie, I was distracted by the smell of rich beef stew wafting from right under my nose. More food. Stew, creamy mash and glazed carrots. It did exactly what it said on the tin, warmed my cockles, made my tastebuds tingle and filled my tummy. It was the kind of food that makes you feel proud to be British and/or give up your day job to become a pitch fork wielding farmer.

It was just one spring of rosemary away from me grabbing my wellies and riding off into the night on a tractor. After desert was served and respectfully demolished, of course.
Whenever I look at a desert menu there are three words which my I'm drawn to. The first is chocolate. The second, caramel, and the third, salt. This little tart had been teasing me from across the room. Soft chocolate, pecans, vanilla ice-cream and salted caramel sauce. What a beautiful hoebag she was.

Suitably stuffed and unable to move, we laughed, drank and shared stories until our tummy's could take no more. We made our way back to the cars before hitting the hay (by this I do really mean bed, the farmer career dream was nothing but a distant memory at this point) and sleeping it off.

I would strongly recommend getting your toosh down to The Oaks and checking out the delicious dog-walkers pub/restaurant with a gourmet twist menu. The five course banquet is priced at a ludicrously fair rate and you can check out your options right here on their website.

Asian Chilli Beef

At least once a fortnight, I have the following conversation:

The Boy: "What's for dinner tonight, Charles?"
Me: "Whatever you fancy, cherub. There's some mince in the fridge, I could whip up something with that if you'd like? And stop calling me Charles, my name is Charlotte."
The Boy: "Oh, right. Spaghetti Bolognese it is."
Me: "What's wrong with with Spaghetti Bolognese? You love my Spaghetti Bolognese. It's still your favourite isn't it? You still like playing the 'guess the top secret ingredient' game, don't you? You were ever so close last time..."
The Boy: "Of course I do, Charles. Of course I do."

I have recently come to consider the idea that The Boy is not being totally honest with me. Back in the olden days when we first got together, the mere thought of Spag Bowl was enough to make him drool. Nowadays, he seems slightly less enthusiastic. Last week I decided to quite literally spice things up a little bit. As much as I adore a bowl of beefy, tomatoey ragu, I'm also a fan of change. And chillies.

A pack of lean mince beef took pride of place on my weekly shopping list as usual, but this time it would arrive on dinner plates in Asian Chilli Beef form. To make enough for two hungry tummys, you'll need:

500g lean mince beef

3 x garlic cloves, crushed

2.5cm chunk of ginger, finely grated

1 x green chilli

1 x red chilli

2 x tbsp caster sugar

1 x tbsp lemon grass paste/2 x tbsp grated fresh lemon grass

1 x lime, juiced

70ml soy sauce

50ml rice vinegar

A big handful of coriander

Olive oil for frying

First up, prep your ingredients. Crush the garlic, grate your lemongrass and chop your ginger. Finely slice your chillies and avoid poking yourself in the eye at all costs. It burns. Bad.

Sizzle your oil in a large hot pan. Throw in your mince and give it a good stir. Whilst it's still nice 'n' pink, add your lemon grass. Take a whiff, it smells good, right?

Leave it to brown for another 2-3 minutes before sprinkling in your garlic, half of your chopped chillies and the ginger mush. Give it a taste and season accordingly. When it's cooked through, add your sugar, soy sauce, vinegar and lime juice.

Pop the lid on your pan and leave it well alone for around twenty minutes. When your sauce has thickened slightly and your beef is dressed in a rich, caramelised goo, grubs up!

I served mine in lettuce wraps, but fluffy white rice or a jacket potato would be equally as delicious. Whatever you lay your chilli beef on, top it with chopped coriander and the rest of your chillies.

Wrap em up, grab a napkin and get down with yo' bad self.

The Boy was pleasantly surprised by my new supper time creation and even requested it go on regular rotation. Perhaps I had been stuck in a mince meat rut after all, but this was the perfect recipe to get out of it. Bolognese will always have a space in my heart (even if it is clogging the main artery) but perhaps it was time for a change.

If one of you lovely lot could remind me of this lesson in five years time, when I'm having the same fortnightly conversation with The Boy about my Asian Chilli Beef, that would be just lovely.

Oozy Floozy Sausage Rolls

Just so you know, I'm about to introduce you to some very naughty little sausages.

Rich, salty and deliciously crispy, my homemade sausage rolls are the ultimate kitchen floozy. Just look at them, all tarted up in their sesame seeds and buttery pastry. 

They should be ashamed of themselves.

Throughout the cold months, I serve mine up with homemade chips and onion gravy, but when it's good 'n' hot outside, these little wonders of mine make for the ultimate picnic food. 

You know what that means? It means homemade Oozy Floozy Sausage Rolls all year round, baby.

Once you've tried these, I promise you'll never buy the mass produced, plastic wrapped crud found in supermarkets ever again. Have you checked out the meat content in that stuff? It's frightening. 

To make a batch of the little tarts, you'll need:

12 x chipolata sausages. Thick breakfast sausages will not work in this recipe, it's chipolatas or nuthin' i'm afraid.

1 x egg

1 x full fat ready rolled puff pastry (I'm a full time working woman with two cats and an overgrown man-child to feed, I do not nor will I ever have the time to create my own pastry in the foreseeable future, however if you're up for the challenge, please be my guest!)

1 x tbsp fennel seeds 

3 x tbsp sesame seeds

1 x hunk of parmesan 

A good handful of grated cheddar. This is optional. Although it helps to give them their oozyness (technical term), you risk a soggy bottom if you add too much. I'd recommend a light sprinkling at very most.

First up, turn the oven up to 225C, unroll your pastry on a flat surface and crack your egg into a bowl. 

Give it a whisk and brush it on until it's good 'n' glossy. With a sharp knife, slice the pastry in half, lengthways. You should be left with two long strips of shiny pastry. Put the remaining egg to one side, you're going to need that later.

Easy peasy sausage squeezy. Now, it's time to get porky.

Divide your chipolatas in half and lay them horizontally, you should have six sausages slightly overlapping each other on each strip. Just make sure you have enough pastry below the sausage line to keep them tucked away in their cheesy little sleeping bag whilst they're in the oven.

Next up, sprinkle over your fennel seeds. Even if you're no great fennel fan, don't leave them out. They give the pastry a beautiful, rich taste and really liven up the sausages. Trust me on this one.

Grab your block of parmesan and grate a good wedge of it over your sausages. Really go to town with it, the saltiness of the cheese is incredibly mouth watering and delicious on the pastry. Let your little cheese spiders roam free, baby.

Now, here's where the 'oozy' comes into it. Take a small handful of cheddar cheese and scatter it over the top of your sausages. As I mentioned earlier, you don't want to overdo this step. You want gooey, crunchy sausage rolls, not soggy (but delicious) mush.

Once that's done, it's time to fold your pastry over into one big roll. It's a little fiddly, but be gentle and patient with it. The last thing you want is a hole in your pastry.

Find what works for you and stick with it. If my sausages are being a little difficult, I sometimes squish them down to make a bit more room.

Once you've managed to form your two rolls, do a small but energetic celebratory dance and grab yourself a fork. The hard bit is over. Phew. Now, you want to bind the clasp of your rolls by gently pushing your fork into the pastry.

Repeat down both sides until it looks a little something like this:

Brush over the remainder of your egg wash (you put it to one side earlier, remember?) so they're good and shiny. Now, it's time for makeup. You know the drill, grab your sesame seeds and shake it, baby!

Make sure your rolls are coated nice and evenly. I find that the sesame seeds add to the overall crunch of the sausage roll, so I like to finish off mine with an extra dusting, just for luck.

Chop each of your two rolls into 10-12 mini sausage rolls, either with a sharp knife or a pair of scissors. Lay your little campers on a lined baking tray and soak in their bald beauty. Phwoar.

Pop them in the oven and leave them well alone for around 22-25 minutes. When they're beautiful and golden, they're good to go.

Leave them on a cooling rack for a couple of minutes and immediately nibble at one. You will burn your tongue and you might even shriek in agony, but sweet baby cheesus, it is SO worth the pain.

Oh yeah, that's the stuff right there.

Supermarket sausage rolls all of a sudden seem a thing of the past, don't they?

Let me know how yours turn out, I'd love to see pictures!