Bake for 45 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the centre of each loaf comes out clean. If they start to brown too quickly, cover loosely with foil and continue baking until ready.
If you decide to bake brioche for breakfast the next day, prepare and bake in the same way, but allow the dough longer to prove. You will probably need around 90 minutes for it to double in size.
BEETROOT
CAKE
Most recipes for beetroot cake include chocolate in one form or another, but once you slice into this one, it has the hue of crimson-red ink and the deep flavour of the roasted beets of my childhood. The very ones – roasted, almost-burnt, skin on – that I would eat with my bare hands and tint my fingers with their juices. Back then, just a pinch of fleur de sel, and perhaps a squeeze of lemon juice, were the only necessities. Nowadays, a dust of flour and a fat vanilla pod seem to be a must.
The earthy perfume of this cake will fill your kitchen and your house. And whenever raindrops start hitting the window again, I think you should know that a slice of this delicious cake will reheat – from frozen – beautifully in the microwave, making for a perfect, almost instant, winter warmer.
Serves 8
3 eggs
175 g (6 oz) caster (superfine) sugar
seeds from 1 vanilla pod
250 g (9 oz) raw beetroot (from approximately 2 beetroots), peeled and very finely grated
175 g (6 oz) plain (all-purpose) flour
10 g (½ oz) baking powder (baking soda)
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
120 g (4¼ oz) butter, melted
Preheat the oven to 170°C (340°F). Generously butter and line a 22 cm (9½ in) cake tin with baking parchment.
Whisk the eggs, sugar and vanilla seeds for 3–5 minutes until fluffy and doubled in size.
Gently fold in the grated beetroot and incorporate the flour, baking powder and cinnamon until just smooth.
Transfer a couple of spoonfuls of the batter into the melted – but cooled – butter and mix vigorously until combined, then fold it all into the remaining batter.
Pour the batter into the prepared tin and bake for 25 minutes, or until a skewer inserted into the centre of the cake comes out clean. Leave to cool on a wire rack, then turn out onto a serving plate.
EARL GREY
TEA WEEKEND
LOAF
If there ever was to be a tale about this cake it would involve a countryside cottage where you’d be locked inside, escaping a storm. Winds would blow, trees would block roads, candles would bring the only light. Of course there’d be a wood-fired oven. And cake would be made. A simple loaf cake. Light and deeply perfumed with lemons. And with a generous amount of crème fraiche to keep it moist for days.
In France, we simply call loaf cakes cakes, pronounced ‘kek’. But whenever cream is added to the batter it becomes a ‘weekend cake’, with the underlying meaning being that it’ll last over the weekend, making it the perfect getaway food. Sometimes I’ve even found it labelled in shops as ‘ cake de voyages ’. Who knew a loaf cake could be so poetic?
If you don’t have any crème fraiche you can use double cream instead. But, of course (and this is said with a heavy French accent), I can only advise you to have a constant stock of the stuff in your fridge. I love to serve this cake with a clémentine confit and a thick dollop of crème fraiche. If you can’t find clémentines, small mandarines, tangerines or even seedless oranges will do.
Makes 1 large loaf cake
FOR THE CAKE
1 tablespoon Early Grey tea leaves
250 g (9 oz) caster (superfine) sugar
4 eggs
200 g (7 oz) plain (all-purpose) flour
zest from 1 bergamot orange (optional)
1 teaspoon baking powder (baking soda)
150 g (5 oz) crème fraiche
50 g (1¾ oz) butter, melted
softened butter, extra for piping
FOR THE CONFIT
350 g (12 oz) clémentines, around 3–4 fruit
200 g (7 oz) caster (superfine) sugar
½ vanilla pod, with its seeds
150 g (5 oz) water
20 g (¾ oz) cornflour (cornstarch),
diluted in 40 g (1½ oz) cold water
TO SERVE
extra crème