Blood orange, cardamom & rose cake

For the cake:
225g Butter, at room temperature
225g Caster sugar
4 Eggs
225g Self-raising flour
5 Blood oranges, peel and pith trimmed away then cut into thick slices
Finely chopped zest and juice of 1 large orange
½Tsp Freshly ground cardamom seeds

For the drizzle:
75g Caster sugar
Juice of 1 large orange
1Tbsp Honey
1Tsp Dried rose petals

1 Heat oven to 180C/fan 160C/gas 4. Beat the butter caster sugar together until pale and creamy, then gradually whisk in the eggs, one at a time. Sift in the flour, add the orange zest, juice and cardamom then mix until well combined.
2 Grease and line a round, 23cm cake tin. Arrange the blood orange slices across the bottom of the tin – cut a few in half to fill any large spaces but don’t worry if there are a few gaps. Spoon over the cake mix, level with the back of a spoon then bake for 40-45 minutes, or until a skewer comes out cleanly.
3 Heat the orange juice, sugar and honey together in a saucepan until the sugar has dissolved. Turn the cake out onto a plate and drizzle with orange syrup – finish with a sprinkle of dried rose petals.

Forager's cookcard #2: Dulse

There are so many edible species of seaweed to be foraged on our shores - dulse is probably my favourite. Eat this frittata piping hot just after cooking - or let it cool, pop it in the fridge, and eat the next day.

Dulse frittata
A large handful of dulse fronds, roughly chopped
1 Onion, sliced
1 Garlic clove, grated
A small sprig of Rosemary, finely chopped
400g Cooked new potatoes, sliced
4 Eggs
Salt & pepper
Olive oil

1 Fry the potatoes in an oiled non-stick pan until they start to crisp up. Add the Dulse, onion, rosemary and garlic, then keep stirring on a low heat for a further 10 minutes.
2 Beat the eggs in a bowl. Season, then put to ones side.
3 Try to space everything out evenly in the pan, then pour in the beaten eggs. Let the frittata cook for 7-10 mins on a low heat, then pop the pan under the grill for a few minutes to cook the top.

Hot cross buns

Food styling: Carla Ovenden

Summer foraging special

The heart of the matter

 I was ill-inclined to rekindle the ashes of what had been a brief and tempestuous relationship with the globe artichoke. Last year’s debacle - an event that quickly imploded into a spectacle of profanity and vegetable abuse, was blighted from the outset and resulted in an oversized thistle making a prompt, window facilitated exit from my life.

 Simple start this time: cut the stalk off, trim the top and boil for 35-45 minutes. After draining and resting the artichoke on a board I begin to peel off the outer scales - they fall away easily, my fingertips quickly pointing out that the inner layers remain hotter than the surface of the sun. A generous slab of butter over the steaming leaves prompts an unusual development - scraping the smooth, pulpy inside of a scale into the mouth with your teeth feels odd yet strangely satisfying. Still, not one to order on a first date. A recipe I’ve found in an old book enthuses the merits of chewing on the tough outer scales too, an opinion that upon reflection, seems misguided. They’re horrid. Spooning out the furry choke is the final step en route to the heart.

 “Is that it?” remarks a visibly disgruntled girlfriend, eyeing the heart suspiciously while offering a cusory glance at the heap of debris on the board. Nonplussed, I quarter the heart before adding a sprinkle of salt and few grinds of black pepper - it’s a brief but tasty affair.

 Having spent the best part of an hour unravelling its babushka doll exterior, I’ll concede that the resultant volume of ‘choke heart matter appears less than impressive. In its uncooked form an artichoke has a fantastic sculptural beauty; the aesthetic transition is the equivalent of arriving at the Albert Hall to find Dick Van Dyke on stage performing ‘The Planets’ solo on a nose flute. No actually, I’d pay good money to see that. Maybe it is worth the effort.

Posted on bbcgoodfood.com 24th April 2009