asparagus & potato tart

I'm not a big watcher of food programmes on TV. I'm not sure why this is - I suppose a contributing factor is having Not Had A Telly for the past year at uni, but I was baking last night when Nigella Express came on BBC2, and I definitely wasn't a fan ... if by 'not a fan' you mean 'kind of wanted to give her a good shake', which I do. It was a bit of a crushing blow, considering I love all of her recipes and the way she writes - maybe I just don't like seeing people for real? Maybe it's a little too close to actual human contact for comfort? Maybe I should be locked up; but let's move on.

I was as surprised as anyone to find myself really enjoying Jamie At Home, then - you know; Jamie Oliver grows courgettes and potatoes and things, pours copious amounts of olive oil over everything, gets nice and grubby, and then serves an amazingly fresh, simple dish at the end of it. I'm good at maybe two of those things (read: consuming olive oil and getting dirty fingernails) so I feel a bit of an affinity for him.

However, Jamie At Home was something I could only watch on internet catch-up while I was at uni, which meant more often than not I'd be watching Jamie grilling seafood and tossing it with chopped red chilli and lemon juice on a bed of courgette ribbons, while I'd be sat at my desk eating cuppasoup, or - at best - 'insert food item here' on toast. (Under such depressing circumstances, you can see why I wasn't blogging.)

To come home and be allowed all the chopped red chilli and lemon juice I could get my hands on was a revelation (specifically; not to eat red chilli and lemon juice on their own), but it was this asparagus & potato tart that was the biggest success with my family; something I'd seen Jamie make on the programme weeks before that had made me sigh dramatically -'WILL I EVER SEE ASPARAGUS AGAIN?', type thing.

The fun irony of this story is that, since I made this, asparagus season has kind of ended.

I could say I'm doing this to you because I care, but that would be a lie. I'm doing this to you because I want you to feel my pain.

And also because this tart is delicious.

And also because I'm well brought up and am going to give you other options to use this base for. As long as you tell my mum what a nice girl I am.

Asparagus & Potato Tart

Adapted from Jamie At Home

Jamie's version of this used filo pastry and double cream, but since it's the eggs that set tarts like this, I used milk as it's what we had in. Obviously both work, but cream is richer if you're serving this for a particular occassion. I also used a fair bit less butter and cheese than he suggested; not consciously, just because I didn't feel we needed quite so much - use your own judgement.

British asparagus season is shorter than my tolerance for most TV chefs, but it's the mashed potato base of this that's so different, and almost anything could replace the aspargus. My little sister's optimistic suggestion (I don't know why I even asked) was 'SAUSAGES': I rolled my eyes, but on reflection a 'bangers & mash' tart is quite a cute idea.

500g (1lb 2oz) potatoes, peeled & cut into chunks
sea salt & freshly ground black pepper
500g asparagus spears, woody ends removed
about 400g (8oz) shortcrust pastry (or 2oog filo, Jamie's way, but he uses an extra ton of butter for this)
100g (3oz) freshly grated Lancashire cheese
100g (3 oz) freshly grated Cheddar cheese
3 large eggs
1 x 284ml pot (1 1/4c.) double cream (I used milk)
1/4 of a nutmeg
a good blob of melted butter

1. Put the potatoes in a pan of salted boiling water and cook for 15 mins. Meanwhile blanch the asparagus in a separate pan of salted boiling water for 4 mins, and drain in a colander.

2. Preheat oven to 190C (375F) and prepare an ovenproof dish (Jamie helpfully says, 'I've used many different shapes and sizes' - men. I think a 9x13" halfroaster would be the perfect size; I made one 8x11" tart and one individual one with this quantity). Roll out shortcrust pastry into a large rectangle on a floured surface and line your tart dish with it.

-- Have you ever used the trick of rolling out pastry between floured sheets of clingfilm (plastic wrap)? I would explain further, but that's basically all there is to it. I did it for the first time making this tart, and it's changed my life, to exaggerate but a little. Yet I digress --

Prick the bottom of your pastry case a few times with a fork, and if your life is empty and you don't have an Aga, cover it with a layer of baking parchment and parbake it for five minutes or so.

3. When the potatoes are done, mash them with the cheeses. In a separate bowl, mix together the eggs and cream/milk and stir into the cheesy mashed potato. Grate in the nutmeg, season well with pepper (seasoning is key in this tart) and mixed together. Spread the mash over the pastry, then take the blanched asparagus and line it up across the filling, making sure you cover it all. Brush all over with the melted butter and put in the oven for about 20 mins, or until golden. Allow to rest 10 mins before serving alongside some fresh salad.

strawberry streusel cake

You want to know what the saddest thing in the world is?

Of course you do. Everyone wants a bit of misery on a Saturday morning.

The saddest thing in the world is when you make a cake, and it's a really, really good cake (no, bear with me). And you're eating this cake, and you're thinking, 'this wasn't really the cake I had in mind', but it's nothing against the cake itself, you just sort of hoped it would be different. And you do like this cake, you really do, but you spend every mouthful thinking of the cake it could have been, and before you know it all the cake is gone, and you never really appreciated it, cause you were always thinking of something else.

Oh, yeah- I mean, sure you could apply that story to like, relationships, and life and so on. But I'm pretty much just talking about cake.

I really like cake.

So I made another one. A better one. The one I'd wanted all along.

Alright, so as delicious as Joy's strawberry streusel cake was, it wasn't the one I had in the back of my mind: you know, the one with great crumb boulders tumbled over the top, and a ribbon of strawberry filling baked through a thick, moist yellow cake. My streusel kind of got engulfed by the rising cake itself, dragged beneath the surface Atlantis-style, and my strawberries turned to chunks; and no one complained, but any excuse for another delicious attempt, you know?

Not to mention that we have so much fresh fruit in our house at the moment that I'm constantly engaged in a dramatic race-against-time to eat it before it turns to goo; as soon as I finish this post I'm going to go battle the forces of decomposition in aid of a few punnets of blueberries and some brown bananas. As soon as I bake something into safety, my mother buys armfuls more - the constant pressure! The constant lining of baking tins! I think my mum is doing this on purpose.

This really is a post full of woe, isn't it? Oh, the trouble I endure.

Strawberry Streusel Cake

Happy Love Strawberry

I turned to about a hundred different sources for this, using Joy's cake as inspiration but turning away from her recipe. This is what I had in mind: heaps of streusel topping steals the show, undercut by a generous swathe of sweet strawberry filling. You may need to bake it for a little longer; I needed to cover it with foil and give it another 15 minutes, but I later realised this was because the Aga was running cool - so use your own judgement.

Preheat oven to 180°C with rack in middle. Generously butter a 9" cake tin. Line bottom with parchment paper.

For the crumbs:
40g (1/3 c.) dark brown sugar
60g (1/3 c.) caster sugar
zest of 1/2 a lemon
1/4 tsp salt
120g (1 stick) butter, melted
250g (1 3/4 c.) plain flour

To make crumbs: in a large bowl, whisk sugars, lemon zest and salt into melted butter until smooth. Then, add flour with a spatula or wooden spoon. It will look and feel like a solid dough. Leave it pressed together in the bottom of the bowl and set aside.

Strawberry filling:
about 150g (1 heaping c.) sliced strawberries
60g (1/3 c.) sugar
2 tbsp cornflour (cornstarch)
2 tsp water

Combine strawberries, sugar, water and cornflour in a small saucepan. Cook over low heat for 5 to 7 minutes, stirring constantly until the sauce is thickened and strawberries are soft and somewhat broken down. Set aside to cool.

For the cake:
1 tsp vanilla extract
175g (1 c.) sugar
280g (2 c.) plain flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
120g (1 stick) butter
2 large eggs
120ml (1/2 c.) sour cream

Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt. Beat together butter and sugar with an electric mixer until pale and fluffy. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Scrape down side and bottom of bowl. Reduce speed to low and mix in flour mixture and sour cream alternately in batches, beginning and ending with flour, until just combined.

Spread most of batter in pan, then spoon strawberry filling over it. Spoon several small tsps of the remaining batter over the top of the strawberries and smooth them with as gentle of a hand as possible. Using your fingers, break topping mixture into big crumbs. Sprinkle over cake.

Bake until a wooden pick inserted into cake (not into filling) comes out clean, 45-50mins (mine took a little over an hour as the Aga was running cool). Cool in pan 30 minutes, then remove from pan and cool completely, crumb side up.

peanut butter blondies

I try to be a good person.

I try to blog recipes that I've at least adapted from the original source, rather than blindly followed. I try to be original, rather than reproducing pretty much everything ever posted on Smitten Kitchen. I try to eat healthily (um, relatively. Fresh fruit cancels out sugar, right? I mean, that's science, yeah?) (if not, then what is the point of science?).

All my efforts seem to fail in the face of peanut butter/chocolate recipes.

I mean, how do you improve on something like this? Sure, you could just stir a load of chocolate and peanut butter together in a bowl and just hand it to me (oh wait, that's basically what this recipe does), but let's keep some semblance of class going on here.

Only a semblance. I wasn't going to tell you, but I had to edit a dog hair out of one of these pictures in photoshop.

(The friends who helped me eat these on Friday are now going 'hccaaaakk' and clutching their thoats.)

(Only one dog hair! It's kind of like Russian Roulette. Most of you are in the clear!)

For the record? These were worth it. When I first tried them I thought they were a little too much - my sweetness tolerance has taken a dive recently - but after being chilled overnight the flavours had melded together into sweet, fudgy squares... not to mention they cut really neatly and looked full-on adorable. I'm such a sucker.

Peanut Butter Blondies

Adapted from Butterwood Desserts, West Falls, New York via Gourmet, October 2007

Found here on Smitten Kitchen.

Further adaptation & metric conversion by Happy Love Strawberry.

These are described as 'brownies', but apparently I think my bar classification system far outstrips the professionals. Brownies mean a chocolate base, okay? Whew, you people are lucky I'm around.

I can't help feeling that these NEED to be made with soft light brown sugar. I don't know why I didn't. Even at the time, as I was stirring in ingredients, I thought, 'I should really use soft light brown sugar for this', and then I totally did not do so. Feel free to do so! But bear in mind I haven't tested them this way yet. Let me know if you do.

For blondies:
230g (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
300g (1 3/4 c.) sugar - I'm promoting the untested brown sugar version, here.
240ml (1 c.) crunchy peanut butter
2 large eggs + 1 large yolk
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
280g (2 c.) plain (all-purpose) flour
250g (9oz) milk chocolate, cut into small chunks (or chips)
1/2 tsp salt

For ganache:
250g (9oz) milk chocolate, cut into chunks (or chips)
120ml (1/2 c.) double cream (a litle milk worked for my -admittedly half quantity- version)
1 tbsp unsalted butter, softened

Preheat oven to 180C (350F). Butter a 13x9" baking pan, then line bottom of pan with parchment paper and butter parchment.

1. Beat together butter and sugar with an electric mixer at medium-high speed until mixture is light and fluffy, then add peanut butter and beat until incorporated. Beat in whole eggs, egg yolk, and vanilla. Reduce mixer sped to low, then mix in flour until just combined. Mix in chocolate chunks/chips then spread batter in baking pan, smoothing top. (It will be thick, almost like cookie batter.)

2. Bake until blondies are deep golden, puffed on top and a wooden pick inserted in center come out with some crumbs adhering, 40 to 45 minutes. Cool completely in pan on a rack, like I ever cool anything completely.

3. Make ganache: Put chocolate in a heatproof bowl. Bring cream to a boil in a small saucepan, then pour over chocolate and let mixture stand for one minute. Gently whisk in butter until it is incorporated, chocolate is melted, and a smooth mixture forms. Spread ganache on cooled blondies and let stand until set, about 15 minutes.

fruit & veg box review + smoked salmon potato salad.

Reason to blog again # 136: Freebies.

...Who am I kidding; that's like reason two. When Abel & Cole (an organic food delivery company) emailed me and asked if I wanted a free produce box in exchange for a review here, I admit my half-arsed relaunch plans kicked up a gear, and - you know the rest. I like vegetables, okay? They keep me honest. Ish.

This particular box of vegetables was delivered by a very nice man called Rob yesterday morning, much in the manner of Father Christmas, if Father Christmas were in the habit of handing out lettuces.

Considering I hadn't been sure what to expect, I was impressed. The vegetables in particular (spring onions, several courgettes, a rather sweet little cucumber, charmingly grubby new potatoes and young carrots, two very photogenic little gem lettuces, and broad beans in their pods) were seasonal, fresh - the sort of thing you hope, rather than necessarily expect, organic food to be. If these were your vegetables for the week, you'd be pretty well off, in a hearty, 1940s-diet sort of way. They made me want to sit outside and pod broad beans into a vintage colander with a couple of small children - and I loathe small children.

The fruit - an armful of sweet pink apples, a bunch of fairtrade bananas and a little round melon (which my mum ate for breakfast this morning) - were equally in great condition and perfectly ripe, but considering it's the middle of Summer, I felt they could have branched out a bit more on this front. When I think of the fruit in season at the moment - strawberries! raspberries! peaches! - it seems a bit of a crime not to take advantage of them while they're around. Soft fruit isn't ideal for deliveries like this, but having gone to all the trouble of a sturdy box and some very well-thought-out packing, I'm sure they could have slipped a punnet of cherries or blueberries in, for example.

Yet it's hard to be critical in the face of dirty vegetables. I like Abel & Cole, and not just because they gave me free stuff (yeah, my allegiance is easy to win). I like their approach, their friendly notes slipped into the box, their ethics. I like their potatoes.

You know what I like to make with potatoes? Potato salad. I never said I was original.

My Favourite Potato Salad
Happy Love Strawberry

This salad originally used bacon, and I'm not usually a girl to leave bacon *out* of a dish, but we had smoked salmon in the freezer and the combination of smoked salmon, lemon juice and watercress is too good to ignore. I know, I know, there's a recession on. Feel free to use a packet of bacon instead - 6-8 rashers would do it.

Incidentally: this bowl? Isn't it just crying out for potato salad? Seriously, if someone asked me to design a bowl for potato salad, I would design this one. People ask me to do this sort of thing all the time.

700g/ 1lb 9oz new potatoes
200g smoked salmon
150ml sour cream
2tbsp olive oil
2 tsp lemon juice
bunch of watercress

1. Lightly scrub the potatoes, getting off any dirt, but don't peel. Unless you have very small ones, I tend to chop mine into halves or quarters. Boil for 10-15 minutes until tender.

2. Mix together the sour cream, olive oil and lemon juice and season, with plenty of black pepper. Remove any tough stalks from the watercress - I tend to rip it up a little at this point, but you can coarsely chop it if you're classy.

3. Drain the potatoes and cool under cold running water in a colander. Cut the smoked salmon into strips with kitchen scissors (if you're using bacon you can either cut it into strips or just tear it up). Toss the potatoes in the dressing and toss in the watercress and salmon. Season to taste before serving.

Abel & Cole website here.
Fruit and veg boxes here.

apricot galette with brown sugar cinnamon pastry.

Hello, world.

Remember me? I used to write inane, cheerful and cake-centric food blog posts. It made me rather happy, and the people were lovely, and my friends got to eat lots of sugar, and really everyone was a winner. Apart from my mother, who funded my flour rations. But it was kind of for the greater good, and ultimately, she got a cake like this for her birthday, so who was complaining?

But then the metaphorical winter came. And, er, also the literal winter. And also I went to uni and couldn't really afford that much butter - or, I could afford that much butter, but I couldn't afford all the fresh vegetables and salad to balance it out and prevent, you know, heart disease.

But recently, the sun has come back, and I came home; the summer produce has invoked the drive to put fruit in pastry (I can't look at a piece of fruit without wanting to put it in a tart case! I keep snatching nectarines out of my sister's hand and shouting things like, 'PIE!', overzealously. I'm not even very good with pastry); I began to get sickeningly enthusiastic over cooking for my family again; and I developed this strange tic where I compulsively add lemon zest or juice to just about everything.

I thought about going to some sort of support group over the lemon thing, but when I sounded this out to a couple of people I was forced to conclude that no such group exists.

So I came back to blogging. Please be gentle.

This galette is the perfect example of my newfound pastry-urges (and hello, it contains the phrase brown sugar cinnamon pastry in its name. Surely you understand). This is a terrible thing to admit, but I don't think I'd eaten a fresh apricot before this - dried apricots, apricot yoghurt, apricot squash; but never the real shebang - but even with my lack of experience, I could tell the ones we had were perfect. I didn't even know when apricots were in season - for the record: right now.

Appearance-wise, this tart was a little less than perfect (one reason I like these freeform galettes; you can say you were going for 'rustic'), but I suspect this is due to my resolutely slicing the apricots rather than just halving them (there wasn't really enough room, but I loved the tumbled effect), not to mention that I just couldn't resist that pastry - brown. sugar. cinnamon. - and there was probably supposed to be a good deal more of it than I, um, ended up with. All the same, the galette I ended up with was not a 'serves 8-10' affair; I'd say closer to six, if you don't want to roll your pastry out uncomfortably thin (and it's better if you don't).

Apricot Galette with Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pastry

The beauty of this is how incredibly simple it all is; the pastry is made in minutes in the food processor and the fruit is just tossed with brown sugar (and - I couldn't help it - lemon zest, because no one's ever told me that lemon *doesn't* go with apricot...). This means you could use just about any fruit - this is crying out to be made with plums, in that late Summer-early Autumn period around August and September. Do it for me.

Adapted from BBC Good Food magazine.
Serves 6-8.

pastry:
150g plain flour
50g wholemeal flour
2tsp cinnamon
140g cold butter, cut into small chunks
85g light muscavado sugar
optional zest of 1/2 a lemon
1 egg, separated

filling:
700g apricots, halved and stoned (I sliced mine)
1 tbsp demerara sugar

1. Oven to 200C. Put the flour & cinnamon in a food processor and add the butter, processing to make fine crumbs. Reserve 2tbsp of the muscavado sugar, then add the remainder and the lemon zest, and briefly mix. Add the egg yolk and 1 tbsp water, then pulse to make a firm dough. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and briefly knead. Wrap in cling film and chill for 30 mins.

2. Toss apricots in the reserved muscavado sugar. Roll out pastry on a sheet of baking parchment to a roughly 30cm round. Slide pastry & paper onto a large baking sheet. Cover with apricot halves/slices, cut sides up, and fold the edges of the pastry over the fruit, leaving the centre uncovered.

3. Lightly beat egg white and brush over the pastry. Sprinkle with demerara sugar and bake for 30-35 mins until the pastry is crisp and the apricots tender. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.

Hiatus Notice (& Truffles)

Um, so you might have noticed my unexplained absence from HLS this past couple of weeks. But fear not, because I'm back now to make up for all that, except for in that way where I'm actually... not.

Basically, I've been meaning to post for pretty much ever now, and somehow it just hasn't happened. I've had the pictures ready. It would've taken five minutes to find the recipe and type it out. But actually sitting down at the computer and writing has not been something I've had a lot of time for recently - admittedly, I've been at home, and doing ridiculous hours at work over Christmas, and trying to catch up with my friends, and trying to fit two essays in. But even more than that, I think, I kind of lost the motivation. I felt like I should blog, rather than that I really wanted to. Which I've never felt until now. It might just be the chronic-overfeeding from Christmas, but I'm just not as interested as I was.

So. Here is where I announce an indefinite hiatus. You remember the one I thought I'd need to take when I left home and went to uni? The one I'm totally overdue on? Yeah, that one.

Don't take 'indefinite' to mean 'long', either. It just means... indefinite. Give me time to get my mojo back; chances are I won't last til February.

On a happier note (for me. Some people are probably quite glad I'm taking a break from blogging XD), truffles!


The base recipe for these is one of my Gran's (long-term readers will have come across her recipes before), which we make every Christmas in our house with little variation. This year, I'm very excitable (oh, wait. Not just this year) and I'd seen a blog post with various themed truffles, so I decided to pillage their ideas and then lose the link and be unable to credit them properly. I'm great at making decisions like this, but rarely in advance.


The varieties are: Gingerbread (above), Hot Chocolate (with sprinkles), and Christmas Pudding (this was originally going to be mince pie, as they have fruit mincemeat in, but then I wanted to decorate them more so they sort of morphed).



Basic Truffles
From my Gran's recipe
Makes not a lot; we usually do double quantities. In this case I made single quantities three times so I could flavour them differently.

85g (3oz) plain chocolate
1 egg yolk
15g (1/2 oz) butter
15g (1/2 oz) icing sugar
1 tsp whipped cream - I'm always a bit dubious over this instruction since the cream melts anyway. I think my Gran may have meant 'whipping cream' or the squirty uht stuff you get in a can. I always religiously whip my cream, but you don't have to feel obliged to my Gran's instructions and can do whatever, heh.
2 tsp dark rum
45g (1 1/2 oz) ground almonds


1. Melt chocolate in a bowl over a pan of water (I always do it on low in the microwave). Add egg yolk, sugar, butter, cream, rum and almonds. Remove from heat and beat with mixer until thick and pasty (you should be able to handle it without it being hideously messy. Just a little bit messy is fine).

2. Roll into balls and decorate, then place in truffle cases. Keep in a cool, airtight container.




For Gingerbread Truffles

Add ground ginger and ground cinnamon to taste, so that the flavour is clear but not overpowering. I then rolled the truffles in cocoa powder and a little ground ginger. I really want to try these using gingerbread cake crumbs in place of ground almonds but didn't get the chance; I think it would work, so give it a go.

For Hot Chocolate Truffles

I replaced the rum with the same amount of brandy (you could also use brandy cream if you had that), added a dash of cinnamon, and coated the truffles in chocolate vermicelli (chocolate sprinkles). These were closest to the base recipe, I think.

For Christmas Pudding Truffles

I added a couple of tsp of fruit mincemeat to the truffle base, meaning I had to double the quantity of almonds to keep the truffles at the right consistency for rolling. I can't remember the exact quantities I used, so add the extra ground almonds in bits until you get to the right texture. I mixed my leftover cocoa powder and vermicelli together to roll these in, then decorated with melted white chocolate and teeny tiny fondant holly sprigs. I was least confident in these ones, but they ended up being far and away my favourites ^__^.


I'll be back soon, various loves of my life. Don't miss me too much. x

Visions Of Sugar Plums

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

-Extract from The Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore

- Very lazy blog post by a weary Ms. Blue

Night-Before-Christmas Slice
Makes 12
Recipe from Super Food Ideas: December 2007 via http://www.taste.com.au/

150g (1 c.) mixed dried fruit (I used raisins, currants, sultanas (I know those three are basically the same thing, but whatever), then finely chopped dried apricots & dates)
200g (half a jar) mincemeat
75g butter, chopped
40g (1/4 cup) brown sugar
1 tsp orange zest
1 tbsp orange juice
60ml (1/4 cup) brandy
1 egg, lightly beaten
70g (1/2 cup) plain flour, sifted
35g (1/8 cup) self-raising flour, sifted
60g pecans
1 tsbp apricot jam

1. Combine dried fruit, mincemeat, butter, sugar, orange rind, juice and 40ml (a couple of tbsp) brandy in a saucepan over medium heat. Cook, stirring, for 3 to 5 minutes or until sugar dissolves. Remove to a large bowl. Allow to cool to room temperature.

2. Preheat oven to 150°C. Grease a 8" tin and line with baking paper, allowing a 2cm overhang at both long ends. Add eggs and flours to dried fruit mixture. Stir to combine.

3. Spread mixture over prepared pan. Top with nuts. Bake for 25 minutes or until a skewer inserted in the centre comes out clean. Combine jam and remaining brandy in a heatproof, microwave-safe bowl. Microwave on medium-high (70%) for 30 seconds or until jam melts. Brush cake top with jam, cover, and allow to cool in pan. Cut into pieces to serve.



I know it's not the night before Christmas yet, but I thought I'd give you a bit of time ^__^.