How to Eat Outside - the movie… and a recipe for dark chocolate & marmalade bread & butter pudding

My next book, How to Eat Outside is published on 18th June. To celebrate its publication I made a little film about the idea behind the book. It also contains a recipe for a dark chocolate and marmalade bread and butter pudding, cooked in a dutch oven over a fire.

Here's the movie - shot and directed by Rob Wicks of Eat Pictures - a master food film maker and all round good egg.

And here's the recipe:

Bread and butter pudding with marmalade and chocolate

The idea for this pudding was conceived at the end of a week of camping when we were left with a collection of slightly sad looking leftover bits of this and that; a stale (and rather squashed) brioche loaf, half a jar of marmalade and two-thirds of a bar of dark chocolate, not to mention some just on-the-turn milk. All in need of a good home, and what a home it turned out to be! 

The beauty of brioche (croissants would be equally good too) is that they are butter-rich so you don’t need to add any extra butter. For extra richness, substitute some of the milk for a splash of cream (single or double), if you have some handy. Just as with the crumble, a foiled-lined springform cake tin placed inside a Dutch oven is the best way to cook this recipe. 

Serves 6

1 brioche loaf (about 400g), torn into bite-size pieces

About ½ a jar of marmalade 

About 70g dark chocolate, broken into bits

2–3 tbsp sugar (any sort is fine)

500ml milk

4 eggs

Line a 23–25cm springform cake tin with a double layer of foil. Scatter about half of the brioche pieces into the base of the prepared tin. Dollop on teaspoonfuls of marmalade, using about half of what you have, then scatter over about half of the chocolate pieces. Sprinkle on about 1 tablespoon sugar. Repeat with the rest of the brioche, marmalade, chocolate and sugar. 

In a bowl, lightly whisk together the milk and eggs, then pour evenly into the tin over the brioche layers. Place the tin inside the Dutch oven, cover with the lid and hang the oven over your fire, not too close to the coals otherwise the bottom will burn. Use tongs to put 8–10 hot coals on the lid to cook the pudding from the top as well. Cook for around 25–30 minutes until the custard has set and the top is crisp. Serve whilst piping hot. 

A Friday cheer-me-up pudding

The weathers dreadful, the sky somehow feels way too low to be comfortable, and the news coming out of France over the last 48 hours is frankly appalling. Its difficult to know how to make anything better today. And so I do the thing I feel like I am best at, I cook. It helps, if only a little. Very few words are forthcoming, the wind has turned my brain to utter mush. I have nothing sensible or profound to say about food or life or terrorism or politics that will be helpful so I don't intend to try.

So just a straightforward recipe from my archive - a simple Eve's Pudding. Something I know is a comfort pud for me, and maybe for others. Its super easy, its got plenty fruit in it so may just count as one of your 5-a-day, but it will be eaten tonight (on the sofa, in front of the fire) with a puddle of full fat bring-it-on double cream. Never has a January day felt like it needed it more.

[taken from A Good Egg]

EVE’S PUDDING

For the sponge
120g golden caster sugar 120g unsalted butter 120g self-raising flour
2 eggs
3 tbsp milk
1 tbsp Demerara sugar (optional, but gives a lovely, slightly crunchy top)

For the filling
800g Bramley apples (about 3–4 medium) 50g golden caster sugar
1/2 lemon
A little butter, for greasing

Preheat the oven to 180°C/Gas 4. Lightly grease an ovenproof dish. Peel and core the apples, then slice thinly, no thicker than a pound coin. Scatter half in an even layer over the base of the dish. Sprinkle over about half the sugar and squeeze over a little lemon juice.
Add the remaining apple, the rest of sugar and another squeeze of lemon. Set aside while you make the sponge. The sponge couldn’t be easier. Simply put all the ingredients (except the Demerara sugar) into a food processor and whizz until evenly combined. An electric whisk or food mixer would be a good alternative. You are looking for a batter that drops easily from a spoon. Spread the batter evenly over the apples and sprinkle over the Demerara sugar.
Bake for around 45 minutes until deep golden brown. Pierce with a skewer to test. The apple should be soft and the cake cooked. Best served warm rather than hot, with cream or custard. 

Seville orange mousse & Almond thins

Every year I welcome the arrival of the knobbly thick skinned Seville oranges into the greengrocers. Some years I get around to making marmalade and some years frankly life feels just a bit too busy. But I still gain a small pleasure from just seeing them, for me they are a true mark of the time of year, a clear signal that January will soon be February as we inch slowly forward towards spring.

I have often thought it a shame that Seville’s were reserved almost exclusively for marmalade. Very bitter and inedible raw they do need to be cooked and sweetened considerably to make them palatable. This mousse was a true experiment, I knew I wanted to harness their unique taste, as I felt it could offer something different and more complex than a standard orange. In the end I added the freshly grated zest of two clementines to the mousse, they added a floral citrus note that the Seville's lacked. The result was a creamy, sharp and interesting flavoured pud that was a success even with the kids. 

The almond thins are a real doddle to make as you bake them flat in a large tray then cut them up after cooking. No faffing around with rolling and cutters. What could be easier? 

for the mousse:

2 Seville oranges, each cut into six wedges

150g caster sugar

2 eggs

300ml double cream

3 leaves gelatine 

for the almond thins:

250g butter, softened 

200g golden caster sugar

1 egg

1tsp vanilla extract

250g plain flour

200g flaked almonds

Start the mousse by adding the orange wedges to a pan along with 500ml cold water. Bring to the boil and cook, uncovered, for 20 minutes, prodding with a wooden spoon from time to time to release the juice from the flesh and the oils from the skin. Strain into a measuring jug, it should yield approximately 150 ml of orange juice, top up with a little cold water if it is slightly under. Set aside to cool for 5 minutes.

Lay the sheets of gelatine to a shallow bowl of cold water and leave to soak for 5 minutes. Remove the sheets, squeezing out the excess water before stirring through the orange juice, mixing until they dissolve. 

Break the eggs into a large mixing bowl and stir through the sugar. Set the bowl over a pan of barely simmering water, taking care the bowl does not come into contact with the water. Using an electric whisk beat together the egg and sugar until it thickens and turns a pale yellow.  Turn off the whisk and lift it a little out of the bowl - if you trail it slightly above the mixture it should leave a thin ribbon in its wake. You can use a balloon whisk rather than an electric one but it will take a fair bit of whisking to get to this ‘ribbon stage’. Pour in the double cream, orange juice and clementine zest continue to whisk for a few moments until it is well combined. Transfer to a large serving bowl, or individual glasses if you fancy, and leave to set in the fridge. This will take 2-3 hours in a large bowl, or an hour or so in small glasses.

To make the biscuits, preheat the oven to 170°C. Beat the softened butter together with the sugar in a food mixer until pale and fluffy. Add the egg, flour, vanilla extract and beat again until a smooth paste is formed. 

Line 2 baking sheets with non-stick baking parchment and scoop half the mixture onto the centre of each sheet. Use a spatula and spread the mix outwards in a thin layer until it completely covers the sheet. Sprinkle over the almonds evenly. Bake for about 15 minutes until they are a pale golden brown. Remove from the oven and using a sharp knife cut into squares. Leave to cool in the tin. Stored in an airtight tin, layered with greaseproof paper, they will keep for several days.

Boden cake frenzy

Not a recipe post this one, but a quick few photos of some gorgeous cakes I made on a shoot yesterday for the Boden Spring/Summer 2012 catalogue.  My excuse for showing them here is simply that they contained a lot of eggs, about 5 dozen to be precise. Not all from my birds I might add!

I shall be writing a full blog post for the Boden website in a day or two so won't give away all my pictures just yet, but here are a few just to tempt you.

Bacon, parsnip & cheese brunch muffins

Here's a recipe for savoury brunch muffins I made last weekend - I suddenly realised the week had been whistling by, I can't believe its Thursday already. As some of you may be dreaming up your weekend breakfast already it seems like an opportune moment to share this. 

Savoury muffins are really easy to knock up and the tasty permutations are endless. These contain bacon and a grated parsnip. I had one lurking in the fridge and thought if you can have a carrot cake, then surely you can have a parsnip muffin. Celery, gently softened in a little butter or oil, would be good too, as would red onion or grated courgette. Add a few chopped herbs, a bit of bacon, chorizo or shredded ham, and some sort of crumbled hard cheese - experiment to your hearts content, just try to keep roughly the same flour to egg and yogurt ratios. 

Bacon, parsnip & cheese brunch muffins

6 rashers smoked streaky bacon, cut in 1cm strips

1 fat parsnip, peeled & coarsely grated

150g plain flour

100g wholemeal plain flour

2 tsp baking powder

½ tsp bicarbonate of soda 

½ tsp smoked paprika 

130g cheese, crumbled or grated (e.g. cheddar, feta, manchaego)

250g Greek (or other wholemilk) yogurt

2 eggs

4 tbsp olive oil 

Salt  & freshly ground black pepper

12 hole muffin tin, lined with cases

Preheat oven to 180°C

Fry the bacon for a few minutes until crisp but still succulent. Stir through the parsnip, turn off the heat and set aside.

In a large bowl mix together both flours, the baking powder and bicarbonate of soda and the smoked paprika. Stir though the bacon and parsnip, and about 100g of the cheese, ensuring it is well mixed.

In a small bowl beat together the yogurt, eggs, olive oil and season with a little salt and freshly ground black pepper. Pour into the large bowl with the dry ingredients and fold through to roughly combine. Don’t worry about a few lumps and bumps, or even little bits of unmixed flour, muffins, savoury and sweet, benefit greatly from a light touch.

Spoon into the muffin cases, sprinkle over the rest of the cheese and bake for about 20 minutes until deeply golden and springy to the touch. 

These are best ate whilst fresh and warm, possibly smeared with a little butter. As a bonus they also freeze really well so you could always make a double batch and freeze half for a later date. To serve, defrost then warm slightly in the oven to bring them back to life.

Lemon Cheesecake with raspberries

I adore a proper homemade cheesecake, its creamy velvety texture a true indulgence on so many levels. You need time and patience for the baking and the chilling, and your wallet need not be too slight either, with all that cheese, cream and fresh fruit this is far from the cheap through-it-together cakes I make on a more regular basis. And as for what the ‘health police’ would have to say….. But what a glorious treat it is and once in a while a true pleasure both to make and to eat.  Sometimes, to coin a phrase, you are worth it. And so are your loved ones. On this occasion I was inspired by the glut of cheap raspberries in the shops at the moment, but any seasonal fruit would be lovely, strawberries, blackberries, blueberries - whatever feels right. 

As a small aside, I used the leftover lemon, cut in half, to shove inside a chicken I was roasting that evening - the best strategy I know for ensuring a fragrant and moist bird. Whilst I have no plans to give up eating chicken, watching the hens up the garden as I do this gives me a new level of respect for these gorgeous feathery creatures.

A note on the tin: I normally make a cheesecake in a round spring form tin, as is the norm. But on this occasion I chose a rectangular loaf tin, simply because I fancied the idea of cutting a neat square slice rather than a wedge and I’m happy to report it worked well. But do use a more traditional round tin if you prefer.

For the biscuit base

175g digestive biscuits

45g butter, melted

For the cheesecake:

600g full fat cream cheese

125g full fat creme fraiche

2 large eggs, plus 1 yolk 

150g caster sugar

Finely grated zest 1 lemon

Raspberry topping:

300g fresh raspberries

1tbsp icing sugar

Preheat the oven to 160°C. Then prepare your tin - either a 25cm diameter springform tin or a long loaf tin of about 30cm. Line the base with baking parchment, and butter well on the sides. With my loaf tin I cut a long strip that came up the sides to help lift the cake out.

Whizz the biscuits in a food processor until they form fine crumbs, then pour in the melted butter and pulse until thoroughly mixed. Tip into the prepared tin and press down firmly with the back of a metal spoon. Chill in the fridge for a few minutes whilst you make the topping.

In a clean food processor, or in a bowl with a wooden spoon, beat together the cream cheese, cream fraiche, eggs and egg yolk. When they are really smooth stir in the sugar and lemon zest. 

Take the tin out of the fridge and wrap the base and sides in a double layer of foil then lower into a large roasting tray. Pour the cream cheese mixture over the biscuit base and level a little with the flat of a knife. Add enough boiling water to the roasting tray so it comes just over halfway up the side of the cheesecake tin. Cooking in a water bath creates a more gentle and nurturing heat, resulting in a really smooth textured cheesecake. If you are going to the trouble of making a cheesecake I think this extra step has got to be worth it.

Carefully transfer the roasting tin to the oven and cook for 45 minutes. Then turn off the oven and let it cool, with the door shut, for 30 minutes. Lift it out of the roasting tray, unwrap the foil and place the tin on a cooling rack. When it has reached room temperature transfer to the fridge to chill for at least 4 hours, a little longer if possible. 

Slide a knife round the tin to loosen the edges and ease out the cake. Transfer to a serving plate and scatter with about two thirds of the raspberries. Puree the remaining raspberries with a little icing sugar to make a quick coulis and drizzle over the top. 

Summer berries & cream shortcake

I made this cake a week or so ago, on a damp and dreary so-called summers morning aftersports day had just been cancelled for the second time because of the famous Bristol drizzle. I made this to cheer up a disappointed 6 year old for whom performing at sports day in front of his dad was to be the highlight of his term. 

It seems laughable now but I had to arrange the raspberries on one side of the cake, and the strawberries on the other as he likes the latter only in jam form. Once asked ‘why don’t you like strawberries, you really like strawberry jam’ - he replied, ‘well they don’t have any jam in them’.  Ah, the joys of feeding children. If you don’t have kids you can not begin to understand how frustrating they can be…..

All photos copyright Oliver Edwards

Summer berries & cream shortcake

This gorgeous, indulgent summery cake is based on the American-style shortcake, a sort of hybrid between a scone and biscuit, rather than the crisper Scottish shortbread. I love them both but to my mind this one is marginally easier to eat when sandwiched around a pile of berries and softly whipped cream. You could easily adapt this recipe to make individual shortcakes but I wonder if that would be missing the point slightly - the glory of this cake is ‘wow’ when you present the towering confection to your loved ones. 

275g plain flour

25g polenta 

75g caster sugar

1tbsp baking powder

a pinch of salt

125g unsalted butter, cold & cut into 1cm dice

150ml full fat creme fraiche 

1 large egg

for the filling:

200g raspberries

200g strawberries

2tsbp caster sugar

250ml double cream

1tbsp icing sugar, plus a little extra to dust

1tsp vanilla extract 

In a food processor pulse the dry ingredients until they are thoroughly mixed. Then add the cold cubes of butter and whizz to a breadcrumb texture. Take care not to over process or the result will be a tough not tender shortcake. You could, in theory, do this by hand - rubbing gently between fingers and thumbs as if making pastry the old fashioned way. But as its important not to get the butter too warm I find it more reliable to quickly use a food processor. 

In a jug, measure the creme fraiche, beat in the egg and then pour into the processor and pulse until just combined to a dough. Don’t overdo the mixing, less is definitely more in this case.

Turn dough on floured worktop, cut in half roll each half lightly into a ball. Using flat of palm press and turn gently until you a have a disc about 1cm thick and the size of a victoria sandwich sponge tin - about 23-25cm. Keep roughly the same size but don’t worry too much about perfection, this is delicious home cooking not the pasty section of a fancy restaurant. 

Carefully lift and slide each circle onto baking trays lined with parchment and bake 180°C for around 10-12 mins until risen and golden brown. Whilst still warm cut one disc into quarters, then each quarter into 2 leaving you with 8 wedges. Set aside to cool completely on a wire rack whilst you prepare the filling.

Mix the raspberries, strawberries and caster sugar in a large bowl and set aside for a few minutes. In another large bowl whip the cream with the icing sugar and vanilla extract - you are looking for soft delicately whipped peaks not stiff solid cream. 

Once the shortcakes are cold, place the complete disc on a pretty plate. Pile the cream on top and spread out with the back of knife. Top with the fruit and arrange the wedges of shortcake around in a fan, sprinkling all over with a little extra icing sugar. I found it easier to use only 7 of my 8 wedges, that number seeming to fit better over the filling. Leaving the extra wedge as a little chef’s perk with a cup of coffee…..

This cake is best eaten the day you made it - it will lose a certain something if it sees the inside of a fridge. But if you do need to chill it, make sure to bring it to room temperature before serving. Or failing that a mere few seconds per slice in the microwave can have a miraculous reviving effect. 

Peach & almond cake with lavender syrup

Almond-based cakes are my all time favourite, perfect as a grown-up pudding with creme fraiche, or for afternoon tea with friends, or even as an indulgent solitary breakfast in the garden. I love the dense, damp eggy-ness you get with almonds and for the baker they are so much more forgiving than the elusive ‘light-as-air’ Victoria sponge, a cake I still feel I have yet to to master.

I am the first to admit that the initial motivation for baking this cake was an aesthetic one, being desperate to capture the gorgeousness of the lavender flowers into something edible. And because they grow in a loose hedge under the peach tree it made sense to me to pair them together in a rich and fragrant cake. As it turned out the flowers, whilst imbibing the syrup with a lovely, almost gingery note, added little in the looks department, darkening deeply on cooking. So the answer was to strain the syrup and sprinkle over a few fresh vibrant coloured flowers at the end. You, and the bees that enjoy them so much, may feel this is a completely unnecessary step, but for me the enjoyment of eating starts simply with the way my food looks. 

for the lavender syrup:

180g caster sugar

20g fresh lavender flowers, about 4 tablespoons (pick tight deeply coloured buds)

100ml cold water 

for the cake:

225g unsalted butter

225g caster sugar 

3 eggs

150g ground almonds

100g plain flower

1 tsp baking powder  

500g peach flesh - about 5 large peaches - cut to bite sized pieces

a few extra lavender flowers to garnish (optional)

23-25cm spring-form tin, lined on the base and greased around the sides

Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 5.

Make the syrup by bringing all the ingredients to the boil in a small heavy based saucepan. Simmer for 5 minutes, then turn off the heat and allow to infuse whilst you get on with the cake.

Beat the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy. The easiest way to do this is in a food mixer, but a wooden spoon and plenty of elbow grease will do the job just as well for the more energetic. 

Add the eggs, one at a time, mixing well between each addition. Tip in the almonds, flour and baking powder and fold together until well combined. Finally fold the peach flesh gently through the cake batter. Pour into the prepared cake tin and bake for about 45-50 minutes, or until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean. 

Remove the cake from the oven and pour over the strained syrup, allowing it to cool in the tin a little before you try to remove it. Decorate with a few fresh lavender flowers scattered over the top, which your guests can eat, or simply admire before discretely picking off…...

In search of a pudding

Some nights you just need cake or pudding - something nice to look forward to once the kids have gone to bed. And tonight is one of those nights. Outside its sunny but cold and windy, not al fresco eating weather, so something sweet to comfort and warm as I snuggle on the sofa, thankful Friday is here at last.

Alas, the cupboards and fridge are both fairly bare so I had to wing it a bit. My first thoughts turned to creme brulee, or even a proper rice pudding. Both of these need double cream - I had none. I found a pack of dried figs lurking in the back of the cupboard. A quick snout in the fridge revealed two thirds of a block butter, just about enough to make a cake and, most pleasingly, an unopened bottle of my favourite oloroso sherry.

So cake it was. A sort of fig and oloroso syrup upside down cake. And, of course, a small glass of sherry for the cook. It is Friday after all.

Fig & Oloroso upside down cake

you need:

5tbsp demerara sugar

50g unsalted butter

4tbsp dry Oloroso sherry (I like Sainsbury's Taste the Difference dry oloroso)

250g soft dried figs, sliced in half 

zest of 1 lemon

170g caster sugar

170g unsalted butter

2 large eggs

170g plain flour

1tsp baking powder

1tsp vanilla extract

1-2tbsp milk

23-25cm spring form cake tin, greased & based lined with baking parchment

what to do:

Preheat the oven to 180°C.

Add the demerara sugar to a heavy bottomed frying pan and warm over a low heat. After a few minutes the sugar will begin to melt - resist the temptation to stir but give the pan a little shake from time to time to release and mix the granules. As soon as they have melted add the butter and sherry, taking care as it will spit and sizzle. The sugar may clump up and harden again, but stir gently over a very low heat until the butter melts and the syrup comes together. Add the figs and lemon, stir thoroughly to mix then pour into the cake tin. Set aside whilst you make the cake batter.

In a food mixer, or with an electric whisk, cream the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well between each. Sift over the flour and baking powder and pour in the vanilla extract. Fold gently with a large metal spoon, adding just enough milk to make it soft enough to fall off the spoon with ease.

Spoon the batter into the tin over the figs and level with a knife. Bake in the oven for 35-40 minutes or until a skewer inserted in the centre comes out clean. Remove from the oven, and allow to cool for 5 minutes in the tin. Carefully turn out the cake onto a large plate and peel off the baking paper.

Like many cakes, this one is at its best when eaten warm, fresh from the oven, perhaps with a dollop of rich Greek yogurt or creme fraiche. Indeed the day after baking a cake, not being remotely snobbish about these things, I often give my cakes, piece by piece, a 10 or 20 second zap in the microwave. It'll revive them no end. I hold my hand up high and admit to using a microwave, not often, but sometimes they are exceedingly useful. And warming cake is a case in point.

Friend and foe in the garden.....

What a lovely afternoon I had on Saturday. The sun shone, the breeze blew and I spent a few hours doing what I love best, pottering around the kitchen experimenting in a leisurely way. My friend Jo came over, armed with a nice bottle of rosé, and we set to in the kitchen, cooking and gossiping whilst the kids charged about the garden.

The previous week hadn’t been so carefree. The chickens had been sickly and off colour and egg production was at a real low - from a glorious four eggs a day everyday to just one if we were lucky. We were baffled, nothing had changed in their routine, the weather had been great and yet they had gone from happy to miserable in a matter of days. I contemplated calling the vet but figured that an inner city vet would have a sketchy knowledge of chickens at best. A lot of anxious head scratching later and we had a eureka moment.  The rhubarb that had sprung into life over a matter of days was right next to their run and on inspection we found that the leaves had been well and truly stripped wherever they touched the mesh of the enclosure. 

Rhubarb leaves, I knew, were poisonous to humans, containing very high levels of oxalic acid, but I had no idea they were harmful to chickens too. A bit of time on Google confirmed it - the chickens had poisoned themselves, or more accurately I had poisoned the chickens by growing my rhubarb so close to them. In my defense the rhubarb came first but nevertheless I felt bad. So we hurriedly created a physical barrier between plant and chicken using a couple of limestone paving slabs leftover from landscaping the terrace, then crossed our fingers and waited to see if the situation improved. I had visions of tearful distraught children as we told them the chickens were ill, not to mention the possible end of the my Egg a Day blog adventure. But thankfully it worked, after a couple of days we were up to two eggs a day, then three, then after a week we were back up to the normal four a day. 

So it was in a particularly joyous mood that I set about creating a few eggy recipes this weekend. And the one I wanted to share first was not only a celebration of the eggs themselves, but also of the rhubarb that seemed to make the chickens so poorly. The inspiration was the rhubarb and custard sweets I loved so much as a child - something about the sharp almost fizzy rhubarb side, with the smooth creamy custard side was to my mind sweetie shop perfection. The result was a variation on the classic English egg custard tart, with a layer of sweet-sharp rhubarb on the base.

My resolution for my latest blog entry was to get better at photographing my recipes, both during their creation and the final result. People eat with their eyes and I know pictures would be appreciated. You would think that given my day job as a food stylist I would have no problem with this. But to be perfectly honest with you I am finding something like ‘stage fright’ setting in every time I cook for the blog - that because of my job, my photographs should and could be perfect, yet I am not a photographer, my skill is in the art of presentation, not the science of f-stops. But I will try harder and I will seek help to learn ….next time…. by the time the tart was ready, Jo and I had sunk the rosé, cracked open a second bottle and it had got dark and gloomy. For which I can only apologize.

But believe me, the tart worked - creamy baked vanilla custard, sweet but tart rhubarb, crisp buttery pastry. And healthy, lively chickens once again. A happy day indeed. 

Rhubarb & custard tart

Serves 6-8

Give yourself plenty of time to make this tart - there are various chilling and cooling stages that are best not rushed.

What you need:

for the rhubarb:

300g rhubarb, sliced in 4-5cm pieces

80g granulated sugar

for the pastry:

200g plain flour, preferably super fine ‘oo' grade

125g butter

2 tbsp icing sugar

for the custard:

300ml single cream

4 egg yolks

½ vanilla pod

50g caster sugar

1-2 tbsp demerara sugar, to finish (optional)

What to do: 

Add the rhubarb, in a single layer, to a shallow non-aluminum pan. Sprinkle over the sugar and add a mere tablespoon or two of cold water. Gently poach the rhubarb over a low heat, resisting the urge to stir too much - you don’t want a mushed up puree but lightly poached pieces in a little syrup. Give the pan a shake to and fro from time to time to make sure to ensure its not sticking. Set aside to cool. 

Make the pastry, either by hand or in a food processor. Out of sheer convenience I always use my processor but I have long suspected that my pastry would be better if I made it by hand, the old fashioned way, by rubbing the butter gently into the flour using the tips of your fingers. The way I was taught at school. One day I shall experiment with this theory. Either way stir the icing sugar through the butter and flour crumbs and add just as much cold water as you need to bring it all together in a ball. Wrap well in clingfilm and chill in the fridge for at least 30 minutes. 

Whilst the pastry is chilling pour the cream into a small pan. Cut open the piece of vanilla pod and scrape in the seeds, then add the pod. Gently warm the cream a little, but taking care not to boil it, turn out the heat and leave to infuse.

Heat the oven to 180°C. Grease a 25cm loose bottomed metal flan tin and roll out the pastry to fit. Gently line the tin, trim and line with baking parchment and baking beans and bake blind for 15 minutes. Remove the beans and paper and bake for a further 5-10 minutes or so until the pastry is cooked through. Remove from the the oven, allow to cool a little, then spread over the rhubarb and syrup. 

Back to the custard. Fish out the pod and discard (or wash, dry and add to a jar of sugar for lovely vanilla-scented baking). Add the egg yolks and sugar and mix really thoroughly before gently pouring into the tart on top of the rhubarb. Carefully transfer to the oven - I find sliding it onto a baking tray helps prevent slops - and bake for 20 minutes, or until the custard has just set. 

I finished off the tart by sprinkling over a little demerara sugar and browning it quickly under a hot grill - it looked very pretty and caramelized but I’m not how much it added to the taste.