Downton Grub Files

This is the second installment of the Downton Grub Files (the first can be seen here) wherein I share a Downton Abbey worthy recipe so we can all have appropriate snacks to sustain us whilst we alternately cheer and shake our fists at our television screens at 9pmEST each Sunday. This week’s question: Who is your favourite character? I’m on Team Dowager Countess! Again, I plead with you all- NO SPOILERS!!! Do NOT tell me or anyone else what happened if you are one of those who saw all of Season 3 already. Let us have our fun like you did!

What would you say if I told you there was something even butterier than butter? Creamier than cream? Would you say I was crazy?

Well, I am crazy. Crazy like a FOX. An English fox, that is…

That magical substance that’s creamier and butterier than cream and butter goes by the name of Clouted Cream. It is also referred to by the names Devon Cream and Clotted Cream. I prefer ‘clouted’ because -let’s be honest- clotted anything sounds pretty unappetizing. Clouted makes the cream sound like it has clout. And believe you me, when the cream is done like this, it has clout!

It’s made from cream (not ultra pasteurized) that rests at room temperature for twelve to twenty four hours and then is cooked at a very low temperature for another eight to twelve hours. The result is that the richest, creamiest bits of the cream rise to the top and ‘clot’ into a thick, buttery, creamy spread. As we said, ‘clot’ is not something that usually sounds appealing when it comes to food. Once you’re past the name and biting down into a toasted crumpet or scone topped with clouted cream and jam, I promise you’ll forget whatever misgivings you had. If you think of the creamiest mascarpone or the thickest whipped cream you’ve ever had, you’re on the right track. It’s a fabulously thick, creamy spread that is dotted with miniscule deposits of butter that melt almost instantly when they hit your tongue.

Clouted Cream is an integral part of a cream tea; the meal, not the drink. Cream tea is one of those fabulous English inventions that more Americans need to have in their repertoire. It’s not complicated; it usually consists of a scone -split in half and toasted- smeared with clouted cream and topped with strawberry jam and a pot of tea. Doesn’t that just about sound like the best thing ever? Now that you have scones in your possession (You DID make scones, right?) all you need is the Clouted Cream.

It is terribly simple to make, although planning ahead is necessary since the process takes about 48 hours (all but 10 minutes of that is resting, hands-off time.) Starting with a quart of unpasteurized or pasteurized and homogenized (but never ultra-pasteurized) cream, you go through the steps described above. When all is said and done, the clouted cream rises to the top and the liquid sinks to the bottom. You cool it down in steps, scrape the good, thick stuff off and pop it into the refrigerator. There isn’t much, really, of the clouted cream… maybe you get between two-thirds and a cup of it. The rest of the cream that sinks to the bottom of the dish can be saved to use in baking more scones*. If you bake more scones, you need more clouted cream. It’s a self-perpetuating cycle of creamy deliciousness.

*If you’re lucky enough to have access to farm fresh, raw cream (as I am), the remaining cream that was at the bottom of the pan is still whippable. In other words, you can still make whipped cream from it. I did!

There is some regional disagreement as to which ought to come first on the scone (or crumpet, as I’m using here today). Some folks say jam first, cream second. The other contingent -to which I belong- prefers cream first and jam second. The reason I like this arrangement best is because the thick cream melts ever so slightly into the toasted scone or crumpet and then the jam settles nicely on top. Do it whichever way makes you feel happy and decadent. Just DO do it, would you?

Let’s clot some cream, shall we, and position ourselves firmly on our couches with sustaining treats all around us. It’s Downton Abbey time and we will not be moved.

(Pssst. This is so NOT British, but if you were to smear some of the Clouted Cream on a slice of toast made from the world’s best Cinnamon Swirl Bread, you just might die of happiness. So don’t do it. I can’t be responsible for that.)

Clouted Cream a.k.a. Devon or Clotted Cream | Downton Grub Files

Clouted Cream -an integral part of the English cream tea- is a creamier than cream, butterier than butter, thick spread made from raw or pasteurized heavy cream. This indulgence is usually topped with strawberry jam.

It is terribly simple to make, although planning ahead is necessary since the process takes about 48 hours (all but 10 minutes of that is resting, hands-off time.)

Ingredients

1 quart raw or pasteurized and homogenized heavy cream (Do NOT use ultra-pasteurized. I have not tested this recipe with it because I have been told it will not 'clot')

Instructions

Set the cream (in a lidded jar or the container in which it came) on the counter at room temperature for 12-24 hours.

Pour the room temperature cream into a glass, stoneware or stainless steel pan. The cream should be about 2 to 3-inches deep in the dish. Cover with foil or a tight fitting lid and place in an oven set at 180°F for 8-12 hours, or until there is a thick layer of cream collected over the top with yellow pools of butter fat on it.

Let the covered dish cool to room temperature and then move to the refrigerator for at least 8 hours.

Scrape the thickened layer from the top; this is your clouted cream. Keep in a tightly covered container in the refrigerator until ready to use. This should last about 3 days. Apply generously to your scones, crumpets or toast.

http://www.foodiewithfamily.com/2013/01/19/clouted-cream-a-k-a-devon-or-clotted-cream-downton-grub-files/

Recipe printed from Foodie With Family | Rebecca Lindamood http://www.foodiewithfamily.com

The body of this post and the printable recipe do NOT contain SPOILERS, however, I cannot make any promises about the comments section. If you are not caught up on Downton Abbey (Episode 1 of Season 3 as of this writing on January 12th, 2013), you may not want to read comments. I also ask -No, I BEG and PLEAD- that our friends overseas (or those who somehow saw all of Season 3 already) refrain from giving away what happens in any episodes past where I am!

Whoopsie! Forgot to include how MUCH cream in the ingredients list. It is fixed now!

I am an unapologetic anglophile from television programs to music to art to literature to food.

It is an idea that started with a simple question on the Foodie with Family facebook page…

“Are there any Downton Abbey fans here?”

In sixteen hours, more than seventy people ‘liked’ the post and there were twenty four comments. I knew I wasn’t the only mega Downton Abbey fan out there. Obviously. I hear internet chatter. I read newspapers. I see the news. I know it’s a big deal. What I didn’t know was how many Foodie with Family readers would be interested in me blathering on about how on Sunday the children are duct taped into bed after I rush home from taking my eldest to youth group at lightning speed just so I can see the Dowager Countess, Lady Grantham, Lady Mary, Sybil, Edith, week-ends, Mr. Bates and Anna, the abhorrent Thomas, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Pattimore, Daisy, Mrs. O’Brien, upstairs and downstairs, and lush costuming.

OH, THOSE COSTUMES. The dresses! The DRESSES, I tell you!!!!!!

Yes, I record it on the DVR, but if you have to ask that, you’re not getting my point. I want to watch it the very second it’s airing on PBS. I don’t want to wait one fraction of a second to get my weekly Downton fix.

More than I want to dress like Lady Mary, do something jolly with my hair like Edith, or just plain LOOK like Sybil from time to time, I want to be as witty, incorrigible and stalwart as the Dowager Countess Violet. Every time she speaks, I hush the imaginary people in the room with me. Imaginary, because I DO NOT allow anyone in the room with me lest they should talk over, wiggle, or otherwise interrupt my show.

My husband likes to sit in the other room with the door closed and laugh at me as I yell at the t.v. (Thomas, Mrs. O’Brien, and the former Mrs. Bates, I’m looking at you…), swoon (Oh hello, Lady Mary and Matthew, Anna and Mr. Bates. Yes. You all make my heart go pitter patter.), and otherwise sigh, moon, and mope when episodes conclude. After listening to me watch the conclusion of Season 2, he asked, “Is that what I sound like when I watch football?” My response included something intimating that if football had dresses like that I’d watch it, too.

I was late to the Downton party because of a fun little personality quirk where I deliberately avoid trying anything large crowds of people love. Yeah. That’s working out really well… So far, I can add Harry Potter books, Downton Abbey, and So You Think You Can Dance to that list.* The ONLY advantage to having taken so long to discover the series (midway through Season 2) was that I got to park myself on the couch for an indecent amount of time and watch Season 1 in one sitting.

*To be fair to myself, I can also add the Twilight books, which -after reading- led me to conclude that my personality quirk might actually be useful in some ways. To quote Snorg Tees, “Real men don’t sparkle. Real men defeat dark wizards!”

I quickly discovered that I really couldn’t get through an episode of the show without something to eat since so much of it revolves around time spent at the dinner table or in the kitchen. Since I love a good theme, I decided to stock myself with British Isles treats to nibble while slowly and inexorably becoming part of my furniture. And here’s where my idea came sidling in like Mr. Carson in the dining room. Why not post a little of the grub I made to sustain myself during my Downton Abbey marathon sessions? Just as quickly as the thought was hatched, I could almost hear the Dowager Countess saying, “What IS grub?” The Dowager Countess is apparently my grammatical conscience.

Today is my first contribution to the Downton Grub Files and it’s a doozy; Earl Grey Raisin Scones with Sticky Lemon Glaze. These moist, flaky scones are packed with Earl Grey soaked raisins and a touch of lemon zest and topped with a sticky, absolutely, unequivocally un-Downton finger-licking, Sticky Lemon Glaze. Every time you bite into one of the juicy soaked raisins, you get a little subtle pop of Earl Grey tea. I’m pretty sure Mrs. Patimore would be a-okay with slurping the glaze from your fingers, so go for it.

Tune in every Saturday while Downton Abbey airs for a great new classic British fare recipe to eat while you watch on Sundays! Who’s your favourite on Downton? What moments made you GASP? Cry? Scream at the television? (Come on, I can’t be the only one who did it!)

Earl Grey Raisin Scones with Sticky Lemon Glaze | Downton Grub Files

Moist, flaky lightly lemony scones studded with Earl Grey soaked golden raisins are perfect to nibble while watching Downton Abbey or just because you can.

Ingredients

1 cup golden raisins soaked in 1 1/2 cups (12 ounces) hot, extra-strong Earl Grey tea for at least an hour
4 cups (1 pound 1 ounce, by weight) all-purpose flour (preferably King Arthur all-purpose or Galahad flour.)
2 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons baking powder
2 tablespoons sugar
8 tablespoons (1 a stick of butter or 4 ounces by weight), very cold and cut into 1/4-inch cubes, divided
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
zest of one lemon, divided
juice of one lemon
1/2 cup sweetened condensed milk

Instructions

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with a silpat or parchment paper and set aside.

Pour the raisins and tea into a fine mesh strainer and let drain thoroughly.

Whisk together the flour, salt, baking powder and sugar in a large mixing bowl. Add about 1/2 of the cubed butter and work in with a fork, two knives, a pastry cutter or your fingers until the mixture resembles lentils. Add the remaining butter and work in, leaving some slightly larger pea sized -or even larger- flakes of butter.

Add half of the lemon zest, and the drained raisins to the flour, then toss through gently until evenly distributed, taking care not to mash it in. Add 1 1/2 cups of the cream, sprinkling it over the top, then tossing to combine. Pick up a small amount of the mixture and try squeezing it gently together. If it crumbles, or if there are dry crumbs in the bottom of the bowl, add more cream -1 tablespoon at a time- until you have a mixture that holds together as a shaggy dough when squeezed gently. Use a bench scraper or spatula to gently fold the dough in on itself until it forms a shaggy mass you can turn out onto a very lightly floured surface.

Divide the dough in half and gently pat out the dough into two 7-8 inch discs that are about 3/4 of an inch thick. Carefully transfer the discs to a parchment lined baking sheet. Use a bench knife or Chef's knife to cut each disc into 8 wedges, cutting straight down and not sawing back and forth to help it rise higher in the oven. Gently separate the wedges so there is a little space between them.

Whisk together the remaining lemon zest, the lemon juice and the sweetened condensed milk until smooth. Lightly brush the tops of the unbaked scones with the glaze.