Peanut butter and jelly sourdough toast ice cream

Creamy, peanut buttery, jammy and toasty all in one mouthful, this is extremely delicious and decadent ice ream. This recipe was inspired by Martha de Lacey, who runs fantastic sourdough and cookery classes on Instagram (and soon to be online, too) called The Muff Kitchen (it’s a subscription services and worth every penny). One of her homework challenges was to incorporate sourdough Into ice cream, and this was what I came up with. I adapted Martha’s crumb recipe and developed a rich peanut butter ice cream with a jam (jelly) ripple.

Just a note on the intensity of the peanut butter flavour - the first two times I made this I used the Skippy brand of smooth peanut butter, and the third time I used a pricier organic no-sugar-added version by Whole Earth. For some reason - maybe the sugar, maybe flavour enhancers - the peanut butter flavour was more intense the first two times. If you’re after more intensity try the cheap and cheerful peanut route or add another tablespoon or so of the no-sugar-added organic stuff. I’d be interested to know how you get on. You will an ice cream maker for this recipe.

Makes about 1 .2 litres

For the ice cream

100g egg yolks (from about 6 medium eggs)

150g caster sugar

130g peanut butter

250ml full fat milk

500ml double cream

For the toast

75 sourdough bread (ideally a bit stale)

30g butter

30g soft light brown sugar

a pinch of cinnamon

A pinch of salt

For the ripple

150g seedless jam of your choice

A squeeze of lemon juice

1.     Whisk the egg yolks, sugar and peanut butter together with electric beaters until lovely and creamy.

2.     Gently heat the cream and milk in a pan until just before boiling , then pull the pan off the heat and set aside for five minutes to cool a little. 

4.     Pour one-third of the cooled milk mixture into the peanut butter mixture and whisk until well combined. Pour this mixture back into the pan with the rest of the milk and whisk together.

5.     Return the pan to a low heat and cook, stirring constantly, until the custard thickens to coat the back of a wooden spoon and the temperature reaches 82C on a confectionary thermometer (this ensures the custard is free of bacteria). Remove from the heat.

6. Fill the sink with enough iced water to come half way up the sides of your custard pan. Place the pan in the water and leave to cool to room temperature. Transfer to a lidded contain and chill for at least a few hours, ideally overnight.

7.     Meanwhile, make the toast. Preheat the oven to 160C and line a baking tray with baking paper. 

9.     Blitz the bread in a food processer to rough crumbs and transfer to a bowl.

10.  Place the butter and sugar in a pan and cook gently until the butter has melted and the sugar dissolved. Don’t let it bubble too much, as we don’t want caramel.

11.  Pour the melted butter mixture over the breadcrumbs, add the cinnamon and salt and stir to combine so the crumbs are coated. Spread out in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Bake for 8 minutes, tossing the crumbs halfway through. Leave to cool and crisp up, and store in a sealed jar until ready to use.

12.  When you’re ready to make the ice cream. vigorously stir the jam and lemon juice together until runny.

13.  Pour the custard into your ice cream maker and churn according to the manufacturers instructions - basically until thick, smooth and creamy.

14.   Pour one third of the ice cream into a lidded container or loaf tin, drizzle over one-third of the jam and sprinkle over one third of the crumbs. Repeat twice until you have three layers of ice cream topped with a layer of jam and crumbs. Swirl the top lightly with a knife if you fancy.

15.  Cover and freeze until solid.

Gooseberry and lime curd

A clever writer friend of mine described the flavour of curd as fluorescent velvet and he’s absolutely right: the contrast of the sharp citrus against the buttery smoothness is dazzling and delicious. I normally use lemon juice in gooseberry curd but limes were all I had, and the result is lovely. This is adapted from a gooseberry curd recipe by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall that appeared in the Guardian many years ago. Just scale the recipe up or down, according to the size of your gooseberry haul. Serve with meringue or slathered on good toast.

Makes one medium jar

200g gooseberries, stalks removed
45ml lime juice (about two small limes)
50g unsalted butter
180g caster sugar

80g strained beaten egg, around 2 medium eggs

1. Place the gooseberries in a small pan with the lemon juice. Cook over a medium heat until the lemon juice starts to simmer, then reduce the heat and cover. Cook for a minute or so, shaking the pan, until the fruit breaks down. Remove the lid and continue cooking until the gooseberries have collapsed completely to make a puree.

2. Pour the puree through a wire sieve into a medium heatproof bowl that will fit on top of a pan without touching the bottom. Add the butter and sugar and stir.

3. Sit the bowl on top of a pan of gently simmering water and stir until the sugar has dissolved completely and the butter has melted.

4. Carefully remove the pan from the heat and the bowl from the pan and let it sit for a few minutes to cool a little. Add the butter to the bowl, the bowl to the pan and the pan to a gentle heat.

5. Stir continuously until the mixture thickens enough to leave ‘ribbons’ or a trail on the surface of the curd that keeps its shape and doesn’t melt away immediately. For me, this took a good 15 minutes, so be patient,

6. Pour into a clean jar and keep refrigerated - it will be good for a week or so. If you’re making larger quantities, ensure the jars are clean and sterilised, store in the fridge and use within 4 weeks.

Rhubarb and white chocolate cobbler

Doris tore around my garden last week, hell-bent on spoiling the first fragile signs of spring: she flattened the daffodils with her ferocious breath just as the buds were beginning to unfurl, and stamped on the purple crocuses that had popped up outside the window next to my desk. Thankfully, along with this howling harridan of a storm, nature also delivered rhubarb.

I'm growing this tantalising vegetable in the garden border - the crimson stalks look promising but they’re not quite ready to pick yet. Until they are, forced rhubarb will tide us over, the stuff magically 'forced' to grow in darkened sheds and under terracotta pots that has just appeared in greengrocers. For food lovers, this really is a glorious time - rhubarb brings a splash of colour to the dreary February kitchen, as well as mouthfuls of zing and vibrant flavour to palates jaded by endless brassicas.

It's a perfect ingredient for a time of year when the weather is erratic. Its cheery colour and tang works beautifully in upside down cakes, frangipane tarts, jams and comforting winter puddings like the one below. But it's also equally delicious in lighter, fresher food. For example, I have some golden beets in the crisper drawer as well as some spare rhubarb stalks, so I’m going to turn them into Yotam Ottolenghi’s vivid beetroot and rhubarb salad this week. I also love to pickle rhubarb – it's gorgeous as a mouth puckering side to oily fish like sardines (there's a recipe for grilled and soused sardines on toast with pickled rhubarb salad, pictured below, in my latest book, easy Easy Mediterranean).  

I try to keep bowls of roast rhubarb in the fridge throughout the season for quick snacks and easy puddings. Unless you're making jam, don't boil rhubarb; its glorious colour turns to sludge and the flesh is easily reduced to mush. Roasting is best and the following method works for me: just toss chunks of rhubarb with caster sugar (20g of sugar per 100g rhubarb), place in a single layer in a roasting tray and roast for 15 minutes at 200°C, or until tender but still retaining its shape and colour. You can add a squeeze of citrus juice  to the tray before cooking - lemon or blood orange is lovely - or maybe a cinnamon stick or some star anise. There's probably no more gorgeous breakfast in the summer than a bowl of chilled roast rhubarb served with a splodge of full-fat Greek yoghurt or labneh, and a handful of almonds or pistachios.

If you're still hankering after something decadent and comforting - and honestly, who isn't in this weather? -  this pudding is the business. The tangy, acidic sharpness of rhubarb works a treat with the rich creamy notes of white chocolate, in the same way that rhubarb and custard is such a perfect pairing.

Rhubarb and white chocolate cobbler

For the cobbler topping

150g white chocolate

120g plain flour

20g rye flour

40g ground almonds

60g soft light brown sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda

1/4 teaspoon salt

100g cold butter

150g Greek yoghurt

For the rhubarb

Butter for greasing

1kg trimmed rhubarb, chopped into 4cm pieces, and in half if very thick

300g caster sugar

60g plain flour

Method

1. Start by popping the white chocolate into the freezer, ideally an hour or so ahead of cooking. This will help the chocolate retain a little shape while it's in the oven and give you lovely chocolate bursts in the finished pudding. Preheat the oven to 180°C and butter a 20cm round baking dish

2. Toss the rhubarb with the sugar and flour and tip into the prepared baking dish. It might seem like a lot of flour but stay with it.

3. Now make the cobbler topping. In a mixing bowl, whisk together all the dry ingredients. Grate the butter into the bowl and rub it in with your fingertips to produce what looks like rough breadcrumbs. 

4. Chop the chocolate into pieces about the size of your small fingernail and add to the dry ingredients. Stir in the yoghurt to make a stiff dough - try not to overmix.

5. Place blobs of the dough on top of the rhubarb and flatten slightly so the top is almost but not completely covered. Bake for 30-35 minutes, or until the top is golden and you can see juices bubbling slightly at the edges. Serve with vanilla icing or gently whipped cream.