However inevitable, it's always a tragedy when a good bake goes bad at the hands of its own popularity. We've all seen what roadside services, chain bakeries and supermarkets have done to Victoria sponges, blueberry muffins and their over-blown, sickly, synthetic friends.
Take shortbread – a stalwart of the biscuit world, so simple, undeniably classic and at the heart of many recipes that have taken on more extravagant themes. While its range stretches from Michelin-starred dessert menus to your Grandma's house, all too often it comes in tweed-themed wrappers with a cup of tea that looks like it's been poured straight from the drip tray. But hey, given the sales figures, clearly one woman’s bastardised recipe is another’s yardstick of success.
So how does this play out in the world of metal? To my mind, it’s in the form of Metallica. In the way that there is no simple answer to ‘do you like cupcakes?’, the question ‘are you a Metallica fan?’ elicits a similarly hesitant response. While they may now be more big money than big four,
Kill 'em All, Ride the Lighting, Master of Puppets and …And Justice for All didn't so much make an impact as establish a new horizon on the heavy metal landscape. But with their fifth release, the so-called 'black' album, came the beginning of a departure from their thrash roots to a more palatable, commercially viable sound. However ‘metal’ it might have been to the new fans that got them to the top of the Billboard charts, many of those loyal from ’83 were left hoping for a return to the days of Seek and Destroy, but that became less and less likely with each new release.
That's not to say that widespread appreciation is misguided – look around any rock club when Enter Sandman comes on, and I’d wager that 90% of the crowd are singing along. With that in mind, I decided to risk adapting a classic biscuit with a few crowd-pleasing flavours for my Metallica bake. This recipe is a combination of my Grandmother's brief, handwritten note on the subject of shortbread in her recipe scrapbook (method reads: 'put it in the oven for a bit, then see what you think'), the basics of a pecan sandie, and a few of my own ideas. I decided to add ground almonds to make a less sandy dough, and a few drops of orange essence and some grated orange zest to balance the richness. After chilling, I rolled the dough in finely chopped pecans to pep up the crunch.
So this is my tribute to the ‘black’ album – my Grandma might be left wondering why I felt the need to alter the beloved 6oz-4oz-2oz ratio, but there’s no denying the popularity that a few on-trend flavours can bring.
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| Exit light... |
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| Enter night... |
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Take my hand...
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| ...we're off to Never Never Land. |
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Enter Pecan Sandmans
(Makes 24)
unsalted butter 115g, room temperature
caster sugar 55g
plain flour 130g
ground almonds 40g
salt a pinch
orange essence 2 tsp
orange zest 2 tsp
pecans 100g, finely chopped
- Heat the oven to 180C/gas 5. Beat the butter and sugar together with a wooden spoon, then add the flour, almonds and salt. Add orange essence and orange zest to taste, then shape into a long sausage. Wrap in clingfilm and roll until evenly shaped. Chill in the fridge for a minimum of 30 minutes.
- Unwrap the dough and roll in the chopped pecans until evenly covered, then slice into 2cm-thick rounds (it's important to chill the dough so the rounds hold their shape). Bake for about 10 minutes, or until lightly browned – keep an eye on them to make sure the pecans don't burn. Cool on a wire rack.
