Beethoven pancakes

My wife often says to our boys that she's made their lunches "avec amour". Can they taste that, I wonder? If someone who didn't love them made their lunches would they notice the missing ingredient?

Me, well I usually cook with music. On Saturday mornings I like to prepare a big breakfast to start the weekend. Often it's pancakes, ready in around 40 minutes from tipping the flour to flipping the last one. That's also the time needed to listen to Beethoven's violin concerto, a swooping soaring sound-track to my cooking that puts me in great humour, an important ingredient.

Of course it doesn't have to be that particular piece of music but it's one that I've really been listening to a lot recently, ever since I heard Nigel Kennedy playing  it on the CBC. And a benefit of this era of music streaming is that every Saturday I can listen to a different version of the concerto and taste its influence on my cooking!

This is how it works. Start with any basic pancake recipe, such as the stunning oatmeal one below. Then add the Beethoven concerto, at a high volume! Here, for your consideration, are five different versions that I've used in my recipe. These recordings are all brilliant in their own way, but quite distinct.

Anne Sophie Mutter / Berlin Philharmonic with Herbert von Karajan
This makes a very rich pancake, butter and cinnamon are a must, and it has to be served with a lot of maple syrup. That's the von Karajan influence - he doesn't want you to miss a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g. Consequently it's a bit slower to finish than the others and I must admit to find it a little bit heavy, but that provides the perfect excuse for sitting back afterwards with a book and a big pot of coffee.

Nigel Kennedy / Polish Chamber Orchestra
This recipe takes less time than the others because the measurements are a bit imprecise and the tempo is rubato'ing all over the place but it's so exciting with flour going everywhere! And Nigel's cadenza just rocks!

Joshua Bell / Camerata Salzburg
Makes flat pancakes that are flat as pancakes. Sorry Joshua, but with all these choices I won't be making these again unless I run out of baking powder...

Isabelle Faust / Orchestra Mozart with Claudio Abbado
The measures are precise and everything is well controlled,  it rises beautifully in the pan and then melts away in your mouth while breaking your heart.  A pancake and a concerto for perfectionists.

Itzhak Perlman / Berlin Philharmonic with Daniel Barenboim
It starts slowly, but it's so bittersweet, sad yet joyful. I don't yet know how to make pancakes to match the tone of Perlman's playing - it's a goal for an upcoming Saturday. Some dark chocolate perhaps? When I made these last Saturday my 8-year-old son helped me, little no-longer-so-little Phil, and I had tears in my eyes. They were beautiful pancakes and they were made with music, and with love too.

Oatmeal pancakes for 5 

(makes 15 to 18 pancakes)

In the 1st bowl:
600ml of quick cook oatmeal flakes (or around 4 handfuls if you're doing the Kennedy)
750ml of milk

In the 2nd bowl:
375ml of flour (2 handfuls for Kennedy?)
2 tablespoons of sugar (or 29.5ml for the Faust)
3 heaped teaspoons of baking powder (halve if you're doing the Bell)
1 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon of cinnamon (double if you're doing the Mutter)

In the 3rd bowl:
4 eggs, beaten
1 teaspoon of vanilla essence
125ml of olive oil (or half olive oil and half melted butter for the Mutter)

Pour the 3rd bowl in to the 1st bowl and stir (wipe away a tear if it's the Perlman)
Slowly pour the 2nd bowl in to the 1st bowl and stir

Start cooking!
(Hurry the hell up if you're doing the Kennedy, he's already in the third movement by now!)

My Mam's soda bread

Most Irish mammys make soda bread and all Irish sons think their mam's is the best. Well my mam's is really good and for the expatriate it has the advantage of not needing buttermilk, which is a hard-to-find ingredient in Montreal. It's also got an interesting texture with a bit of "bite" as it contains oat flakes.

This week I passed the venerable recipe on to my 10-year-old son and he baked a beautiful bread for the "semaine des saveurs" at school. Here it is.

Preheat the over to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. The oven should be well warmed up before putting the bread in so do this first.

Mix the following dry ingredients together in a large bowl:

• 8 ounces of plain flour
• 8 ounces of self-raising flour
• 6 ounces of oat flakes
• a flat teaspoon of baking soda
• a heaped teaspoon of baking powder
• a pinch of salt

In another bowl, mix the following liquid ingredients:

• 1 beaten egg
• 4 tablespoons of natural yoghurt
• 3/4 of a pint of milk
• a heaped tablespoon of honey

Make a well in the centre of the dry ingredients and pour the liquid mixture into it. Mix quickly with a large fork - it'll be sticky and look a bit raggy. Tip out onto a lightly floured surface and work by hand for no more than half a minute - don't knead like a yeast bread. Shape it into a circle around 8 inches in diameter, make a cross on the top with a sharp knife and place it in a greased 9 inch diameter (or larger) cake tin. Put it in the oven for 45 minutes.

When it's done it has a lovely mocha colour, like this:

That's it. Great for breakfast with butter and jam, or for lunch with smoked salmon.

There's a very good video here that shows this process; the woman looks like she really knows what she's doing but my mam's recipe is better!

Mam's plum pudding

When I was a child, the sign that Christmas was really coming was the Sunday afternoon at the end of November when the house filled with the smell of exotic spices and strong booze. My Mam, mixing the plum pudding. We all took turns to stir it and make a secret wish, then after cooking the covered bowl would be prominent in the front room for the 4 weeks of Advent, part of the countdown and a symbol of our hopes for the holiday. Unlike the Christmas cake, which was a necessary if often overlooked part of the festivities, the pudding was savoured and enjoyed. We had lots of different ways of eating it; my favourite was a slice warmed in a pan with some butter until the edges became crispy, served with creamy custard. I’m starving just to think of it. Mam and Dad always ate it with a thick layer of brandy butter on top, Dad making the same joke every year about how this broke his Pioneer’s pledge of abstinence.

Now I have the late November ritual with my kids, following Mam’s recipe.

6 oz. butter

4 eggs

4 oz. self-raising flour

4 oz. brown sugar

4 oz. breadcrumbs

Zest and juice of a lemon

Zest and juice of an orange

8 oz. raisins

8 oz. sultanas

8 oz. currants

4 oz. glace cherries

4 oz. candied fruit peel

2 oz. chopped dried apricots

6 oz. chopped dried dates

A bottle of Guinness

A swig of rum

A swig of brandy

1 tsp. cinnamon

1 tsp. nutmeg

1 heaped tsp. mixed spices (I find that Garam Masala is good)

Mix all the dry ingredients together. Melt the butter and stir in with the eggs, juice and booze. Have everyone stir and make a wish – this is very important. Cover the mixture and let it stand overnight – this isn’t very important as I never have time to do it. This is enough mixture to make one big pudding and one little one. Place the mixture in a greased heatproof bowl, cover tightly with grease-proof paper or foil, and stand in a covered pot of simmering water for around 6 hours. Add 4 weeks of Advent and the mounting excitement of children.