Meat Loaf: Battenberg Out of Hell

Let me start by saying that in no way do I believe Meat Loaf to be metal. Theatrical? Yes. A good singer? Of course. Popular? Undoubtedly. But these things alone do not a man of heavy metal make. So why does Meat have a bake on Kick Out the Jams? Two reasons:

1. I'm a sub editor/writer by trade. This means by nature, I love a good pun. So when a friend of mine came up with this hilarious one, there was no way I could resist.

2. More tenuous, but perhaps at the core of why he gets a cake baked, is that the pub I used to frequent as a teenager had the best jukebox in town. None of that NOW That's What I Call Music biz, just straight-up heavy metal and classic rock, from The Stones and Cream to Judas Priest and Sabbath. And the pool table only cost 20p. After the metal kids grew up and moved away, it became a bit of a ghost ship – not too many people were as keen on the music selection, scruffy pool table and off beer as we were. Although it's true that the dated jukebox was the least of her worries, the reason the landlady clung on to it was because of her full-blown love affair with the music of Meat Loaf – this thing had three album's worth on it. Faced with having an update and getting more customers, or  keeping the hits of the man she loved, she opted for the latter. And so without Two out of Three Ain’t Bad and You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth, my education in classic rock may not have been as well-rounded as it is today.

So, here's to Meat Loaf, the pub landlady, and Battenberg Out of Hell. 

Like a bat(tenberg) out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes...

When the night is over... 

...like a bat out of hell i'll be gone, gone, gone.

Battenberg Out of Hell

(Cuts into 8-10 slices; adapted from the brilliant chocolate and orange battenberg in olive magazine)

• butter  175g, softened
• caster sugar  175g
• self-raising flour  175g
• baking powder  ½ tsp
• eggs  3
• cocoa powder  2 tbsp, plus extra for dusting
• raspberry jam  150g
• Chambord liqueur  4 tbsp
• red food colouring gel  1 tube
• white fondant icing  500g, mixed with 4 tbsp cocoa

1. Heat the oven to 180C/gas 4. Make a barrier out of tin foil lengthways down the centre of a 20cm x 20cm tin.
2. Line each side with baking paper so the mix won’t leak. Mix the butter, sugar, flour, baking powder and eggs. Divide in two and add the cocoa to one half and the red colouring and Chambord to the other. Spoon the chocolate mix into one half and the raspberry into the other. Bake for 25 minutes, then cool in the tin for a short while and turn onto a wire rack.
3. Roll the fondant to a rough rectangle – wide enough to cover the cakes when stacked. Lay one half of the cake on top of the other and trim both to the same size. Cut each cake into quarters lengthways, turn each on its side and cut in half lengthways again, so you end up with 8 long strips of each cake.
4. Lay a chocolate cake strip in the centre of the fondant and trim the fondant in a straight line at each end so it matches the length of the cake. Brush the cake all over with jam, lay a Chambord strip next to it and brush with jam, then another chocolate strip, and another Chambord strip. Push together tightly, brushing with more jam if you need it. Repeat until the cake is four ‘squares’ high by four wide, then fold the fondant over the cake, brushing the overlapping fondant with jam to stick. Turn over so the seam is on the bottom, then carefully slice. 

Black Flag: Rise Above

I thought about making everything from soufflé to muffins for this post, but when it came down to it, any kind of sweet extravagance just didn’t feel right in the face of the mighty Henry Rollins.

They may be pioneers of hardcore, but an immeasurable importance in that scene and a heavy-metal influenced sound has made Black Flag a mainstay in my record collection, and Henry Rollins’ books a constant on my shelves.    

This four-seed wholemeal bread, just like Henry, is hearty, heavy and made with healthy good intentions. A few slices of this before one of his legendary shows would see you right the way through to dinner time.

We are born with a chance...

Rise above we're gonna rise above!

Rise Above

(Makes 1 medium loaf)

• brown bread flour  200g
• granary bread flour  200g
• white bread flour  100g
• salt  1½ tsp
• caster sugar 1 tsp
• fast-action dried yeast  2 tsp
• pumpkin seeds, golden linseeds, caraway seeds and poppy seeds  6 tbsp
• olive oil  1 tbsp
• egg  1, beaten 
• poppy seeds  to decorate

1. Mix the flours, salt, sugar and yeast in a large bowl, then stir in the seeds. Make a well in the centre of the flours and pour in 300ml lukewarm water with the olive oil. Mix together then knead on a floured surface for 10 minutes, adding more white flour if the dough is a little sticky.
2. Put into a clean, oiled bowl, cover and leave in a warm place to rise for an hour, or until double the size. 

3. Knock the dough back a little then shape to make an oval. 
Leave to rise again for about 30 minutes. Heat the oven to 180C/gas 6.
4. Brush the surface with beaten egg, then decorate with poppy seeds (I cut a Black Flag logo stencil, held it over the bread then sprinkled over the seeds). Bake the bread for about 35-40 minutes or until golden and the bottom sounds hollow when tapped. Cool on a wire rack.

Mötley Crüe: Dr Feelgood

The appeal of the so-called glam metal scene in the early 80s is in many ways akin to that of decadent baking blogs. It isn’t so much in recreating what you see; it’s about being totally enthralled by the sheer excess, escape and indulgence of it all. 

When it comes to sweet treats, not many are as extravagant as the ice cream sundae. I wouldn’t eat one every day – realistically it’s reserved for times of serious emotional crisis or a terrible hangover – but if you’re going to make something so wrong that it’s right, you might as well go all out. And the key to a good sundae is along the same lines as what makes a band like Mötley Crüe so successful: the individual ingredients are as bold as the aesthetic is striking. 

So what does an ice cream sundae look like when I need to Kickstart My Heart? It’s a two-pint skull tiki glass packed full of brownies, salted caramel, vanilla ice cream, pecans and bourbon-spiked cream.

No one took indulgence as seriously as Mötley Crüe – so let me introduce you to the one I call Dr Feelgood.

He's the one that makes you feel alright...

He's the one they call Dr Feelgood...

He's gonna be your Frankenstein.

Dr Feelgood 

(makes one massive sundae)

BROWNIES

• unsalted butter  30g, softened, plus extra for the tin
• plain flour  50g
• cocoa 50g
• baking powder ½ tsp
• salt  a pinch
• caster sugar  45g
• egg 1
• vanilla extract ½ tsp
• milk chocolate chunks  50g
• hazelnuts  50g, roughly chopped
• dark chocolate chunks  50g

   

SALTED CARAMEL

• carnation condensed milk  ½ tin, boiled in the sealed tin for 4 hours.
• sea salt flakes  1 large pinch

TO SERVE

• vanilla ice cream  4 large scoops
• double cream  300ml
• bourbon  2 tbsp (or to taste)
• pecans  a handful, toasted then roughly chopped

1. Heat the oven to 180C/gas 5, then butter and line the smallest square baking tin you have – if necessary it’s ok to use a small circular tin as the brownies will be cut into chunks. 
2. Mix together the flour, cocoa, baking powder and a pinch of salt, then beat the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy. Add the egg and vanilla. Gradually add the flour, then stir in the hazelnuts and chocolate chunks. Bake for about 20 minutes, or until cooked, then cool on a wire rack and cut into 2cm chunks.
3. Whisk the cream to soft peaks, adding bourbon to taste.
4. To assemble, put a layer of brownie chunks in the bottom of a large dish (or tiki glass), followed by the salted caramel, vanilla ice cream and a few spoonfuls of the cream. Repeat, then put the rest of the cream into a piping bag and swirl in circles over the top. Scatter with the chopped toasted pecans, then find someone to help you eat it.  

 • If you want a quick fix just buy pre-made brownies and a tin of Carnation caramel.

Metallica: Enter Pecan Sandmans

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. 

Exit light...

Enter night...

Take my hand...

...we're off to Never Never Land.

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

1. 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. 
2. 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.

Ginger Baker Creams

A post about Ginger Baker will hardly come as a shock. Even as a member of Cream, he was really asking for it, but with a name – and a career – like his, it's only right to have a whole post to himself.

Baker's unique style undeniably shaped the emerging sound of heavy metal drumming, fusing modern jazz techniques with a passionate, intense and at times aggressive diversion from the world of 60s 4/4 pop. The influence of Ginger's work with Cream and Blind Faith can be heard in the music of greats such as John Bonham and Bill Ward; but his reputation as one of the first 'wild men of rock' has also endured. Several solo albums, wives, tax evasions and years of serious addiction to the brown stuff later, Ginger now lives the life of a recluse in South Africa. But if the recent documentary Beware of Mr Baker is anything to go by, he's not lost any of that notoriously fiery attitude. 

So how can baking represent a man of such magnitude?

In the land of biscuits – and drums – quite simply, two are better than one, as the sound of Baker's double bass drum set up will testify. Although fresh cream might have been a more suitable filling, I've gone with a rich white chocolate buttercream. As for the biscuits themselves, they are inevitably packed full of ginger, with a hint of nutmeg and cinnamon to offset the sweet filling, and given a more chewy texture by the addition of rolled oats. 

A Ginger Baker, whichever way you look at it, is a creature of some pretty impressive substance. 

Ginger Bakers

(Makes 16)

• vegetable oil  160ml
• golden caster sugar  200g
• egg  1 large
• black treacle  3½ tbsp
• plain flour  200g
• rolled oats  200g
• bicarbonate of soda  2 tsp
• ground cinnamon  1 tsp
• ground ginger  2 tsp
• ground cloves ½ tsp
• soft light brown sugar  2 tbsp
• white chocolate  100g
• unsalted butter 140g, softened
• icing sugar  140g

1. Heat the oven to 180C/gas 6. Mix the oil and sugar, add the egg, stir to combine then  add the black treacle, plain flour, oats, bicarbonate of soda and the spices. 
2. Mix to a firm dough, then divide into roughly 32 pieces, depending on how small or large you want the biscuits to be. Roll into balls, then flatten into circles on a lined baking sheet. Sprinkle with soft light brown sugar then bake for 10-12 minutes until a dark golden colour, then cool on a wire rack. 
3. While the biscuits are cooling, make the buttercream. Melt the white chocolate over a pan of simmering water, then cool a little. With mix the butter and sugar with electric beaters (adding the sugar bit by bit), then slowly incorporate the white chocolate. 
4. Assemble the biscuits by piping buttercream around the outer edge of one, then sandwiching with another biscuit. 

Could fill spoons full of coffee...

...Could fill spoons full of tea...

...Just a little spoon of your precious love, is that enough for me?