Nigel Slater's recipe for almond and marzipan biscuits
A last-minute sweet treat for Easter. The lemon zest and toasted almonds lend an Italian note. These will keep for a fortnight in a biscuit tin (that is, if they're not all eaten today).
Set the oven at 175C/gas mark 3-4. Line a baking sheet with greaseproof paper.
Lightly toast 100g of flaked almonds in a shallow pan until pale gold in colour, then set aside. Break 250g of marzipan into large pieces and put them in the bowl of a food processor with the almonds, then process briefly to large crumbs.
Add 200g of caster sugar, then finely grate the zest of a lemon and add to the bowl. Process for a few seconds to combine. Stir in 35g of plain flour.
In a separate, medium-sized bowl, beat 75ml of egg whites (approximately 2 eggs) until almost stiff, then fold in the crumb mixture, until just combined.
Take 1 heaped tbsp of the mixture, roll it into a ball, then place it on the lined baking sheet. Repeat with the rest of the dough.
Bake for 10-12 minutes until the cookies have spread. They should look slightly under-done. Remove from the oven and leave them for 10 minutes to settle before transferring them carefully to a cooling rack with a palette knife.
Makes about 20. Ready in 45 minutes
The biscuits are fragile directly after baking. Let them rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before sliding a palette knife under them and lifting them on to a cooling rack.
Eaten an hour or so after baking, these are soft, crumbly and cookie-like; a few hours later and they become crisp and biscuity – just the sort of thing to serve with coffee or a glass of sweet golden wine. (Dunking is a thoroughly good thing here.)
Follow Nigel on Instagram @NigelSlater
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Edinburgh Live
3 hours ago
- Edinburgh Live
Queen Elizabeth II 'banned' one popular ingredient in royal family kitchens
Our community members are treated to special offers, promotions and adverts from us and our partners. You can check out at any time. More info Despite the opulence of their dining settings, the culinary preferences of the royal family, particularly those of Queen Elizabeth II, were surprisingly specific and somewhat modest. A former Royal chef who spent over ten years preparing meals for the late monarch and her family revealed that certain pungent ingredients were strictly off-limits. "The Queen didn't like garlic or strong onions, viewing them as antisocial," shared ex-royal chef Darren McGrady in a chat with Heart Bingo. "So we didn't use garlic in her meals." READ MORE - Edinburgh dad's new career after going viral on Facebook 'by chance' READ MORE - The Queen's steadfast 'antisocial' breakfast habit she refused to change While not an official royal decree, it was treated as such, ruling out dishes like garlic bread or spicy curries from Her Majesty's menu. However, this aversion to garlic wasn't a universal sentiment within the palace walls. "Prince Philip, however, loved garlic and would have it at his dinner parties," McGrady added, hinting at a divergence in royal culinary tastes. Despite presiding over a vast empire, the Queen's palate was notably unpretentious. "She was very frugal, likely due to her wartime upbringing," McGrady noted, reports the Mirror. Luxurious items like lobster, foie gras, and caviar were reserved solely for state banquets. On ordinary days, the Queen was content with simple, homely fare. "We cooked meals like cottage pie," he said. Breakfast was indeed a rather simple affair. "The Queen's breakfast was at 9am, served in her room. She'd help herself to cereal from a Tupperware container - especially Special K - even though there were 20 chefs available to cook anything," the chef reminisced. Yet, when it came to chocolate, the Queen's self-control wavered. "She loved dark chocolate, especially anything over 60 percent cocoa. Any dessert with chocolate on the menu was sure to be chosen," the chef divulged. Her birthday indulgence was a sumptuous chocolate ganache, a legacy from Queen Victoria's chef—a penchant apparently passed to Prince William. "When I worked for the Queen, William loved dark chocolate and asked for chocolate ice cream." Despite rumours, the Queen didn't shun all robust flavours. "The idea that the Queen didn't eat seafood while traveling isn't true - we regularly cooked scallops and shrimp for her," the chef clarified. Each member of the Royal Family had distinct palate preferences. "Prince Charles, now King Charles, was the most adventurous. He brought organic food into the royal kitchens long before it became mainstream," the chef remembered. His Highness's taste extended to Mediterranean and Italian dishes and he would even gather wild mushrooms from Sandringham for the kitchen staff to prepare. But Royal hospitality had its limits; bespoke dishes for visitors simply did not happen. During his remarkable 11-year tenure serving the Queen, a Royal chef revealed that there was never a vegetarian, gluten-free, or lactose-intolerant guest at the table. "If you dined with the Queen, you ate what the Queen ate. If you didn't like it, you'd stop for a McDonald's on the way home,' he noted. Interestingly, even the royals themselves have been known to indulge in fast food delights. Recalling a memorable incident with Princess Diana, the chef shared that she once changed plans for Princes William and Harry, opting for a more casual dining experience by saying: "I'm taking them out." When questioned about the destination, her response was simple: "McDonald's." As the chef offered to prepare homemade burgers, protesting, "I can do burgers better than McDonald's," Diana delivered the charming retort, "I know that Darren, but they want the toys in the Happy Meal."
The Guardian
a day ago
- The Guardian
How to make coffee and walnut cake – recipe
Today is my birthday, so I'm celebrating with a classic that, for all the sticky tres leches and sophisticated sachertortes I've enjoyed in recent years, remains my absolute favourite, my desert island cake: that darling of the WI tea tent, the coffee and walnut sandwich. The great Nigel Slater once named it his last meal on Earth, and I'm hoping to have it for tea. Prep 30 min Cook 25 min Serves 8 225g room-temperature butter 4 tbsp instant coffee (see step 1)100g walnut halves 4 eggs 225g soft light brown sugar 225g plain flour 3 tsp baking powder ¼ tsp fine salt Milk (optional) For the icing165g room-temperature butter425g icing sugar ¼ tsp salt 4 tbsp double cream (optional) If you've forgotten to get your butter out of the fridge, begin by dicing and spacing it out on the paper to soften (remember, you'll need some for the icing, too). Mix the coffee with two tablespoons of boiling water and leave to cool – I like the nostalgic flavour of instant coffee here, but you can substitute three tablespoons of espresso or other strong coffee, if you prefer. Toast the walnut halves in a dry pan until they smell nutty, then set aside a quarter of the most handsome-looking ones to use as decoration later. Roughly chop the rest. Heat the oven to 180C (160C fan)/350F/gas 4, and grease and base line two 20cm sandwich tins. Crack the eggs into a bowl and beat. Put the butter in a food mixer or a large bowl anchored with a damp cloth to steady it, then beat it briefly to soften. Crumble in the sugar to break up any lumps, then carry on beating for several minutes, until the butter is really light and fluffy; scrape down the bowl as required. With the mixer (or your wooden spoon) still going, gradually pour in the eggs and beat to incorporate, again scraping the sides as necessary. Tip the flour and baking powder into a bowl, whisk to knock out any lumps, then add to the batter. Using a large metal spoon, gently fold the bottom of the mixture over the top, but do so only once. Add the salt, half the coffee (keep the rest for the icing) and the chopped walnuts, then slowly fold in, just until the flour and coffee are completely incorporated – bear in mind that the more more vigorously you fold, the more air you will knock out of the batter, so it's important not to overdo it. The batter should by now fall from the spoon, slightly reluctantly but without the need for violent agitation; if it doesn't, loosen with a little milk. Divide evenly between the two tins (weigh them for perfection). Put in the oven, on the middle shelf if using a conventional setting, and bake for about 25 minutes (check after 20, though!), until well risen but not too dark. Remove the tins from the oven, leave to cool for 10 minutes, then take out of the tins and put on a rack to cool completely. Meanwhile, make the icing. Beat the butter until soft; my mixer is not good with smaller amounts so I tend to use a mixing bowl, again anchored to the work surface with a damp cloth, and electric beaters or a wooden spoon. Sift in the icing sugar to get rid of any lumps, then add the salt. Beat to combine, then add the reserved cooled coffee and the cream – though optional, the latter does make the icing easier to spread; for a less rich result; use a splash of milk instead. Put the less perfect looking of the two cakes (there's always one) on a platter. Top the cake on the platter with a little less than half the icing, leaving it thicker around the edges where it will be seen, then pop the second cake on top. Spoon the remaining icing over the second cake, spreading it out neatly and adding a few swirls for interest, then arrange the reserved toasted walnuts pleasingly all over the top. Avoid chilling before slicing and serving, unless it's really necessary. Felicity Cloake's new book, Peach Street to Lobster Lane: Coast to Coast in Search of Real American Cuisine, is published by Mudlark at £16.99. To order a copy for £15.29 go to
Telegraph
2 days ago
- Telegraph
‘This could pass as homemade': The best and worst supermarket lemon sorbet
Cold, refreshing lemon sorbet; tangy and citric, with a depth of fruitiness. We may have (thank goodness) given up on serving scoops 'to cleanse the palate' between the fish and the meat course, but it's still an excellent way to end a meal. Or top it with a splash of vodka and a glass of prosecco to make a sgroppino, an Italian dessert-cum-after-dinner-cocktail. The high street offers many options, from supermarket own-label tubs to specialist producers. In my blind taste test of nine, I looked for a real fruit juice flavour, rather than the overwhelming taste of lemon flavouring. Lemon zest and oil have a place in sorbet, but not at the expense of juice. As for that important acid note, I want it to be nuanced and natural, not the sour slap of citric acid which has nothing to do with citrus fruit, as it is produced industrially by fermenting sugar. Skip to: I also scrutinised the ingredients lists, keeping an eye out for additions that manufacturers may use to improve the texture and slow the melt (more on which below) – after all, they have to produce a sorbet that will survive a journey home, perhaps an hour in a hot car, before being returned to the freezer. Effectively, it's partially defrosting and refreezing, which is disastrous for the texture of a homemade, all-natural sorbet. Some of those made with industrial emulsifiers (which give sorbet a spumy, or foamy, texture, melting to a froth rather than a syrup) did, in fact, taste good – but the best-flavoured one contained none at all. Which, in my books, is pretty cool indeed. How I tasted Each lemon sorbet was scooped into a glass while I was out of the room. The glasses were assigned a letter to anonymise them. I returned and tasted, making notes on flavour and texture. Once the identity of each had been revealed, I compared their ingredients lists and the weight-to-volume ratio.
