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?

Alice Cooper: Feed My Frankenstein

It's not just Halloween; it's Alice Cooper's Halloween Night of Fear at London's O2 Arena. Clearly, I'm not there, so instead, I've decided to list a few reasons as to why Alice Cooper and Kick Out the Jams were destined to meet:

• Welcome to my Nightmare is one of the best concept albums of the seventies (he was competing with the likes of Floyd, Bowie and The Who at the time… so that's some pretty stiff competition).
• Poison is my karaoke song.
• He is Dave Mustaine of Megadeth's godfather.
• His appearance in Wayne's World cements it as it is one of my favourite comedy films ever.
• Most of my baking is done while listening to podcasts of Nights With Alice Cooper.
• He's the golfing buddy of Thin Lizzy's incredible guitarist, Scott Gorham. 

And if I wasn't so into the huge scope of heavy metal theatrics, I wouldn't be writing this blog.

With that in mind, I present:

Feed My Frankenstein

(Makes three cakes, enough to serve between 30-35. I used topsy turvy tins)  

RED VELVET CAKE (bottom cake)

• unsalted butter  350g, softened
• golden caster sugar  350g
• eggs  6, beaten
• plain flour  100g
• self-raising flour  280g 
• cocoa powder  40g
• whole milk  2-4 tbsp
• red gel food colouring  1 tube, or 3-4 tbsp red food colouring

CARDAMOM AND ORANGE MARBLE CAKE (middle cake)

• unsalted butter  225g, softened
• golden caster sugar  225g 
• eggs  4
• self-raising flour  250g
• orange essence  2 tbsp
• orange  1, zested
• whole milk  1 tbsp
• ground cardamom  1½ tbsp
• green gel food colouring   a few drops (you can make more 'green' if you want, I added a few drops to achieve a 'cardamom' colour

DEVIL'S FOOD CAKE (top cake; adapted from David Lebovitz)

• cocoa  9 tbsp
• plain flour  200g 
• salt  ½ tsp 
• bicarbonate of soda  1 tsp
• baking powder  ¼ tsp
• unsalted butter  115g, at room temperature
• granulated sugar  200g
• eggs  2 
• strong, cold coffee  120ml 
• whole milk  120ml

VANILLA BUTTERCREAM

•  unsalted butter 750g, at room temp
•  icing sugar  400g
•  royal icing sugar  350g
•  vanilla extract  2 tbsp, or 2 tsp vanilla bean paste

CHOCOLATE GANACHE

• dark chocolate  150g
• black gel food colouring  a few drops 
• double cream  200ml

1. For the red velvet cake, Heat oven to 160C/gas 5, then butter and line the base of a 25cm tin. Beat the butter and sugar until light and creamy, then gradually add in the eggs. Fold in the flours, cocoa and a pinch of salt, followed by the milk and red gel colour.
2. Spoon into the tin and bake for an hour or so, until risen and a skewer comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack.
3. For the cardamom and orange marble cake, heat oven to 180C/gas 4. Butter and line the base of a 20cm tin. Beat the butter and sugar, then gradually add the eggs. Mix in  the flour, milk and vanilla extract.
4. Divide the mixture between two bowls. Stir the orange essence and orange zest into the mixture in one of the bowls, and the ground cardamom and green gel colour into the other. Drop the orange and cardamom mixtures into the tin alternately – do not try to spread or swirl the mixes, they will do it by themselves as you continue to add.  
5. Bake the cake for 45 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean. Leave to cool on a wire rack.
6. For the devil's food cake, heat the oven to 180C/gas 6 then butter and line a 15cm tin. 
7. Sift the cocoa, flour, salt, bicarb of soda and baking powder into a bowl. Beat the butter and sugar together for about 5 minutes until light and creamy, then gradually add the eggs.
8. Mix the coffee and milk, then stir half of the dry ingredients into the butter mixture, then add the coffee and milk and stir in the rest of the dry ingredients.
9. Pour the mixture into the tin and bake for 25 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack. 
10. To make the buttercream, mix the icing sugars then gradually beat into the butter with the vanilla extract using an electric whisk, trying as you go to make sure the balance of butter and sugar tastes right. 
11. To assemble the cake, cut off any uneven tops on the cakes then stack in order of size, spreading a little buttercream on each one to stick together. Coat the top and sides with the buttercream using a palette knife. You'll need to dip the knife in hot water every now and again to make the icing is as smooth as possible. 
12. To make the ganache, melt the chocolate over simmering water, then add the gel colour and cream, until a thick but still pourable consistency. Spoon a puddle onto the top of the cake, then gently push out to the sides to create dribbles. You might need to use a teaspoon for this, or start the dribble from the top, adding more ganache as you go so it runs down the length of the cake.

Hungry for love... (or cake?)

...and it's feeding time.

Ozzy Osbourne: Bark at the Moon

For some reason, no-one else tried astronaut ice cream as a child. If you're not in the know, it's freeze-dried ice cream. It's roughly the same weight and texture as polystyrene, and dissolves to a sticky custard as soon as it hits your mouth. Should this description make you want to throw a fiver Amazon’s way, the best flavour is neapolitan. It's the stuff spacemen's dreams are made of, once they've flown to the moon, that is. 

Everyone feels nostalgic when they rediscover childhood sweets – if that wasn’t the case, there would be no rational explanation for adults buying white chocolate mice. So having not seen astronaut ice cream in more than 20 years, I had to get some, despite extortionate USA import mark ups. It’s fair to say that the reaction of my uninitiated friends varied from horrified to lukewarm. But as soon as I tasted it, I felt eight years old, and it was once again it was the coolest thing I had ever eaten. 

I'll hold my hands up and say that zero-gravity versions of kitsch desserts have no direct link to Ozzy Osbourne. But the point at which they meet in my mind is the amazing feeling of discovery. Six years on from space food, my brother-in-law presented me with a selection of tapes: Black Sabbath, Paranoid, Master of Reality, Blizzard of Ozz, Diary of a Madman and Bark at the Moon. It kick-started my love of rock and metal, and every time I listen to those albums, I'm 14 again. It was the coolest music I'd ever heard – and, just like the astronaut ice cream, it has lost none of the magic. 

Welcome to Kick Out the Jams.

Bark at the Moon

• dark chocolate   200g
• milk chocolate   200g
• astronaut's ice cream   1 pack (buy from Cyber Candy or Amazon), broken into various-sized pieces, to decorate
• peanut M&Ms, crunch bars or mini cookies   broken into pieces, to decorate
• edible silver glitter spray   to decorate

1. Line a 20cm springform tin with baking paper. Melt the dark chocolate over simmering water, then pour into the base of the tin. Melt the milk chocolate in the same way, then pour over the dark chocolate. Swirl to make a marbled effect, scatter over the astronaut's ice cream and broken crunch bars, biscuits or M&Ms. Chill for 2 hours in the fridge, or until set. 
2. Release from the springform tin, then spray liberally with silver glitter.

Those that the beast is looking for...

...listen in awe and you'll hear him...

...bark at the moon.