Lunchbox trifle, or, back of the fridge special: dessert edition

The back of the fridge special is the cornerstone of student cooking, a bit like Ready Steady Cook but with a greater capacity for things to go sideways and a higher proportion of mince, apples, stale bread and survival kit offcasts. While next week we will deal with that most holy of culinary grails, Everything Pie, this week is all about the sweet stuff, and by sweet stuff, I mean neglected muffins, instant custard and canned fruit.

We never had trifle when I was growing up as my grandmother, who was a terrible, godawful cook, used to make an horrific version for family gatherings and as a result my mother couldn’t stand the sight of it. On the other hand, being of the British Isles, Mr Longbean has fond memories of trifle with the Sunday dinner, which I hear is more civilised than beans on toast in front of whatever movie’s on Four. Luckily the world has moved on from my grandmother’s lime jelly flavoured monstrosity and now houses such marvellous creations and mocha-berry, passionfruit and Cointreau, and black forest trifles.

Trifle consists of a mix and match of various layers in a deep, straight sided bowl or container:

Something cakey – store-bought sponge, leftover cake or muffins

... soaked in something alcoholic – liqueur, sherry, Baileys, or juice if you simply have to go teetotal

... then covered with a layer of something squishy and fruity – canned or fresh fruit, fresh or frozen berries

... then (perhaps) something gelatinous – optional, but mix up some jelly and pour it over when it’s semi-set

...then covered with in something gloopy – whipped cream, pastry cream, sweetened marscapone, custard, instant pudding, yoghurt

... and repeat (or not) at will

... finally topped with something extra – chocolate chips, broken up chocolate bars, hokey pokey bits, chopped nuts, cherries, more whipped cream, type 2 diabetes

Do it in a sundae or other tall glass, eat with that long-handled spoon you pinched from a cafe (presuming you didn’t beat it out to make a spotting implement), and feel special about things in general.

September’s banana, plum and chocolate lunchbox special

The following recipe is as it is purely because that was what was in the cupboard and fridge, as embarrassed as I am to say that chocolate and Bailey’s hadn’t been polished off after the last big aftershock.

• 8 stale chocolate muffins, forgotten and neglected
• 2 – 3 sad bananas
• 1 810g can of plums in syrup, drained
• Instant custard powder + whatever else you need with that (milk, sugar)
• Chocolate chips (white and dark)
• Baileys
• A 2 litre straight-sided plastic container with a lid, like one of those klip-lock ones

Make up the instant custard to approximately 2 ½ cups (625ml). Slice the muffins into rounds, slice the bananas thinly, and drain the plums. Preparation! 

Line the bottom of the container with half of the muffin bits and drizzle over the Bailey’s – not too much, though, or it will go gross and soggy. Make a layer of banana and then plums, breaking up the fruit and removing the seeds as you go. Use your hands, it’s more fun that way. Pour warm custard over to cover, then sprinkle with chocolate chips – with any luck they’ll melt a bit. Repeat the process and you should have just about filled the container. Pop the lid on and let sit for a few hours or overnight for all the ingredients to make friends. Serve with something other than beer – how very civilised!

A word about layering: you can make just about any dessert related bits look fancy pants by organising them into layers or whipping them up a bit then putting them in a cocktail glass. Fold mashed or pureed fruit through whipped cream to make a fool; layer fruit, berries, thick whipped cream or yoghurt, crushed biscuits or toasted muesli, and ice cream sauces to make a parfait; or go old school for an ice cream sandwich. For extra cool points, use a nutella glass.

Chocolate fudge and rice bubble treats, or, sweets for people who don’t want second degree burns

Last year I gave up on buying people Christmas presents and decided to stuff them full of sugar instead. This was a genius idea. I got to spend the day in the kitchen eating cast offs, they got little ‘bespoke’ packets of things that, in turn, made them look good when placed out on platters for guests, and no money whatsoever was spent on vouchers for stupid chain stores.

Both of these recipes are designed so that little kids can make things without having to boil sugar, keep a sharp eye on things or maim themselves for life as hot sugar burns like napalm. It also means you don’t need a lovely candy thermometer, although they are also fun, if for no other reason that they have ‘soft ball’ written on them. Make a bunch, store it somewhere secret, and impress your friend(s) with a liberal dose of ‘here’s one I prepared earlier’.

Chocolate ‘fudge’

I have seen about eight versions of this recipe, all claiming it as their secret family recipe, which generally means that one of them’s lying or all their parents got it off of the back of the same chocolate packet. This is not mine. I stole it. I just don’t remember where from.

The stuff:

• 1 can sweetened condensed milk
• 3 cups finely chopped chocolate (dark or milk) or chocolate chips – Whittaker’s is better than Cadbury, and fancy pants stuff from gourmet shops is best of all.
• A big pinch of salt

The optional bits:

• 1 cup of chopped soft nuts – eg walnuts, macadamias (hard nuts won’t slice well, who thought I’d ever get to write that sentence)
• OR 1 cup of chopped dried fruit (eg cranberries)
• OR 1 cup of something peculiar like pic n mix or mini marshmallows
• OR a big pinch of chilli
• AND a splash of vanilla or other essence

Line a dish (eg an 8x8” pan) with baking paper. Very gently, on a low heat, melt together the sweetened condensed milk, chocolate and salt in a saucepan. You could rig up a double boiler for this, or use the microwave, or you could just watch it very closely else it will BURN and you will go to the special part of hell reserved for those who ruin chocolate (see: those people who make ‘chocolate’ coins). Remove it from the heat and add your bits, stirring well. 

Pour the whole lot into the pan and let cool – not in the fridge, somewhere else cool and dry. When you come to slice it, if you haven’t already pillaged most of it, run a large knife under the hot tap to warm it up, wipe the blad dry, then slice. This warm knife trick is also good with slices and cakes, my gift to you. Store in an airtight container, somewhere cool and dark, away from nibblers.

Rice bubble marshmallow slice

I quite like when this recipe goes wrong and you are left with pink molten goop.

• 8 cups rice bubbles
• 2 bags of marshmallows
• 110g butter
• Anything else you would like to add – chopped dried apricots, M&Ms, chocolate drops

Line a baking dish, natch. In a large glass bowl in the microwave, or on the stove in a medium sized saucepan, gently heat the marshmallows and the butter while stirring until they have melted and everything is looking creamy and delicious. Remove it from the heat (or the microwave) and add the rice bubbles and bits, a cup at a time, stirring to combine (or all at once, I've heard it both ways). Struggle to extract it from the saucepan and press down into the lined baking dish – you may want to use gloves or a big sheet of baking paper to put some pressure down on it. If you’re fancy, you can drizzle a bit of melted chocolate over the top. Cool, slice, eat – and soak the saucepan well before even thinking about cleaning it or making someone else clean it.

A word about cold things: the fridge is not a dry place, and things like these sweet bits, and also lots of other confectionary, should be stored somewhere else or in an impeccably airtight container. Little beads of fridge sweat on chocolate fudge give me the abject willies.

Toasted Muesli, or, breakfast pic’n’mix

Apparently eating breakfast every day is good for you. I wake up in a vague stupor that is barely nudged out of the way by stovetop espresso (no Nescafe here, natch, I’m a postgrad!) so I find breakfast eating a total drag. Pancakes are great and all but not really suitable for everyday consumption unless you have lots of time every morning and have no problem with living in elasticated pants. I gave up on eating toast as it usually happened in the car and I’d get messy and have to stash a toothbrush in my office. As a kid the only cereal my parents could force down me was muesli (I lived in a no sugar on your weetbix household, gross), and so it remains today.

Most bought cereals are full of all sorts of crap or, in the case of one that rhymes with Must Bite, made up of the floor sweepings and dregs left over from other cereals. By making your own muesli you can ensure that you’re not eating rejects for breakfast, while also tailoring it to your particular taste and budget. Nuts and the like are very expensive, but can be replaced with things like seeds and fruit, or you could go all ascetic and have nothing extra at all. Making this sort of thing in quantity still works out significantly cheaper than bought stuff, and if you’re well prepared you can cook it whilst using the oven to cook dinner or bake. You can also experiment with different juices and spices – ginger, lemon, dried cranberry and yoghurt covered raisin muesli? Goodbye, Mr Hubbard, I have a new breakfast boyfriend, and have spent all my student allowance on dried fruit.

Addendum: you may have noticed that the layout fairies have been doing funny things to some of the recipes – for instance, you actually have to cook banana bread, and you don’t need 13 cups of milk to make pancakes. For full, accurate recipes, go to my blog – uckai.blogspot.com – and avert culinary disaster.

An incredibly inexact recipe for toasted muesli

• A roasting dish – eg a 9x12” one, the sort the supermarket sells
• Oats
• Coconut
• Nuts of your choosing: slivered almonds, chopped peanuts, hazelnuts, etc – but not walnuts, they burn
• Seeds of your choosing: sunflower, sesame, pumpkin, linseed
• Honey or golden syrup
• Oil (canola, vegetable)
• An orange
• Cinnamon
• Dried fruit of your choosing: raisins, sultanas, chopped apricots, chopped dates

Preheat the oven to 180 degrees C. Fill the roasting dish one third full with the oats. Add a few handfuls of coconut and your nuts and seeds – but you don’t want to fill the dish more than just over half full. Grate the zest off the orange and add to the oats. Chop the orange in half and squeeze over the juice. Add a liberal tablespoonful of cinnamon.

Pour about 75 ml oil and 75ml honey / syrup into a glass bowl or jug. Microwave it very slowly (eg in 10 second bursts) until it is warm enough to combine with a stir. Pour it evenly over the muesli and stir it about until everything is coated evenly. Bake in the oven, stirring every 5 – 10 minutes to let it cook evenly. Keep an eye on it otherwise it will burn. When the muesli is turning a lovely golden colour, remove it from the oven and let it cool – don’t let it go too far or you’ll break a tooth when you come to eat it. When it is cold, stir through the dried fruit and store it in an airtight container.

A word about being flexible: this is a very inaccurate recipe because I am firmly of the belief that if you follow the recipe correctly every time, nothing interesting happens. A friend of mine can’t deal with things if she is missing just one ingredient in a recipe, but substitutions make for wonderful and sometimes bizarre surprises, and stop you from going back to the supermarket and ‘accidentally’ buying $10 worth of ice cream. Become at one with your kitchen and develop your pantry ninja skills, you can usually make do.

Fluffy pancakes, or, carbo-loading at the start of the day

Holidays! Late nights. Leisurely sleep ins. Spending all day in your PJs (more than usual). Calling in sick cos you drank too much after handing in your last piece of assessment. Calling in sick to go to the mountains. Cleaning the house for the first time five months. Indulging in ‘projects’ that mess up the property and necessitate trips to Creative Junk. Cooked breakfasts. COOKED BREAKFASTS.

So. You brought that hottie lab partner home. They didn’t walk out the door upon seeing the things growing on the bathroom wall, the Ben 10 action figures on the window and the giant cut out of Rodney Hide, his eyes gouged out with a biro, wearing a feather boa. You cooked them a steak dinner, as elucidated by CANTA (good effort). Your kitchen prowess made them all warm and squiggly on the inside and after a romantic dessert of jellytips and / or chocolate vigeur – fade out to black, fade in – it’s the next morning. Time to seal the deal.

Fluffy pancakes

Makes about 6 in an 8” frying pan, depending on your preferred level of thickness

Dry ingredients:

• 1 ¼ cups flour
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
•  ½ teaspoon salt

Wet ingredients:

• 1 egg, beaten
• 1 1/3 cups milk (or soy milk)
• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil (eg canola)

Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl – give them a quick whisk to make sure they are mixed properly and that the flour isn’t lumpy, or use a sieve. Combine the wet ingredients in a smaller bowl and whisk to combine. Make a well in the centre of the dry ingredients and pour in the wet ingredients – give the mixture a quick whisk to combine (it won’t take much) and let it sit for a couple of minutes.

Heat up your frying pan and add a knob of butter – splash a few drops of water into the pan, and when they sizzle and dance you’re ready to go. Pour in the batter (messier) or drop it in with a ladle (cleaner), then tilt the pan until it’s all even. When the outside edges are looking set and the centre is looking bubbly, flip your pancake over to finish cooking. Slide the pancake out onto a plate and cover it with foil (unless you’re eating as you go) and start again.

You will need to figure out how well behaved your stovetop is – we have gas so the heat is distributed pretty evenly, but I’ve had ovens that don’t seem to see the difference between a gentle heat and a raging inferno. Keep an eye on your pancakes - your mileage may vary.

Extras for experts: You can add a big handful stuff (such as frozen blueberries or redcurrants, or chocolate chips, or grated cheese) to the batter just before you start to cook the pancake. There is also lots of fun to be had with dividing the mix in two, flavouring (maple cinnamon anyone?) or colouring one of portions, and then pouring the two lots of batter into the pan in a big swirl, blobby circles, or a vaguely marbled.pattern. Fancy pants.

Berry sauce

Feel like a topping? Prepare this earlier and keep in the fridge or freezer. It’s also lovely on ice cream or cheesecake.

• 1 cup water
• 1 cup sugar (white is good, caster is better)
• 3 cups of berries (frozen is fine)
• Cornflour or arrowroot

Combine the water and sugar in a small saucepan, preferably heavy-bottomed. Heat it slowly, stirring until the sugar has dissolved. Turn up the heat a notch and bring to a slow boil, letting it boil for 5 minutes. Add the berries and simmer for 5 minutes (plus another minute or so if using frozen berries), stirring frequently. Turn the heat right down. Combine 1 tablespoon cornflour and 1 tablespoon water in a small bowl until you have a thick paste. Add it to the saucepan, stirring well. Do it again if you would like a thicker sauce – bearing in mind that the sauce will also thicken upon cooling. Remove from the heat. If you are planning on freezing or refrigerating it, let it cool to room temperature before transferring it to another container.

A word about mixing: when it comes to things with lots of flour, such as pancakes, cakes, or muffins, be careful that you only mix things up enough that they are combined. Otherwise your lovely baked goods will be tough and chewy, and nobody likes it when their breakfast bounces.

Steak - aka a big bit of cow v2.0

It’s Mr Longbean’s birthday! This is code for ‘it’s time to have something other than beans on toast for dinner’. For the omnivores amongst us, the excuses for a flash steak dinner are legion: a new special friend whom you are trying to impress; a successful assignment; marking the failure of first year calculus for the second year in a row; graduation; make ups; break ups (table for one); earthquake days when the only available heat source is the barbecue; meat parties after a raffle win at the local tavern; the decision to drop out of uni and become an adventurer for hire. Almost any occasion is a steak occasion, unless you don’t like eating things with faces, in which case, awkward.

Lovely steak

One lovely bit of steak

Olive oil

Salt, pepper (optional)

Let your steak sit at room temperature for a good half hour to hour. Put a bowl over it if the cat is getting nosy. Rinse it and pat it dry with a paper towel. Select a sturdy pan. If you have a proper cast iron skillet, then immediately award yourself a gold star. Brush it or wipe it gently with a bit of oil. Heat it up as hot as you can, until either the oil begins to smoke, or until a few droplets of water hiss when thrown onto the hot surface.

Wipe or brush the steak on both sides with a little bit of oil and, immediately before you put it in the pan, season it with a tiny bit of salt and pepper – if you leave it for too long, the salt will draw out some of the lovely juices (in fact there is even argument as to whether you should to this at all). Throw it in the pan and listen to that lovely sizzle. Open a window or turn on the extractor, things will get smoky.

While you can find cooking times easily online or in a cookbook, given the variety of thicknesses of steak, especially when getting them from somewhere other than the discount bin of the supermarket, it can be more accurate to judge with your eye. For a medium rare steak, wait until red juices are beginning to form droplets on the top of the steak, then turn it, then remove it from the heat when droplets form on that side too – on our hob this is about 4 minutes per side. For medium, wait until the droplets are pink and beginning to pool before turning. For well done, the bane of the grill cook and an insult to expensive cuts, wait until the juices are pooling and almost clear, then punch yourself in the face.

Once you have removed the steak from the heat, place it on a warmed plate and let it sit for at least 10 minutes. You might like to set the oven to its lowest temperature (usually about 50C) and put it inthere. Resting the meat is a rule, not an option, and can be an extreme test of willpower. 

Pro tips:

• Don’t turn a steak more than once. Only sneak a peek on its underside if you think it might be charring and, if so, turn down the heat a bit. Otherwise, don’t prod it, don’t poke it, don’t don’t wiggle it or press it down. If you do, all the steak magic will disappear and you will only have yourself to blame. 
• Steak with the bone in takes somewhat longer to cook than without. 
• More tender cuts, like fillet (filet mignon), take a little less time than sturdier cuts like a ribeye. 
• Steaks ‘marbled’ with fat taste the best, so stop checking the calories on everything
• Don’t use stewing steak or anything that needs a slow cooker. The great chef in the sky will weep tears of béarnaise sauce and you will be cast out of the meat eater’s heaven to endure forty days and nights of water crackers and light beer.

Serve with something classy such as potato rosti, sautéed leeks and mushrooms and a sturdy shiraz blend, or, at a pinch, a scoop of chips, a sprig of parsley and a Speight’s Old Dark.

A word about pans: a good skillet will last you a lifetime. It is also good as a self defence item in case of home invasion or overly zealous drunken flatmate mistakenly coma-ing on your bed with you still in it.