Welsh Tea Bread: Bara Brith
Fishwives, cow boobs and a rebellious cake recipe
I’m in a revolutionary frame of mind.
As with most things revolutionary, it all began in Paris.
Back in September, I visited Versailles. As I climbed the grand staircase to the royal apartments, I remembered this was the route taken by revolting Parisians back in 1789. Revolting in both senses of the word. They were angry, but also smelly. Not only had they spent 6 hours trudging through mud and rain to reach the palace, but half of them were Parisian fishwives. I imagine their smell was as offensive to Marie Antoinette as their angry demands to put her head on a spike.
My rebellious thoughts continued in San Francisco, where I listened to podcasts on the history of Socialism, and its angry-teenager offshoot, Communism1. I learned some fun facts: Lenin was a keen cyclist, and Trotsky played croquet while exiled in Siberia, but remain unclear if Stalin enjoyed a round of golf.
In between learning about the favorite past times of people you don’t want to imagine in lycra, I marched (well, more like walked) through the streets of San Francisco as part of the No Kings day of demonstrations, demonstrating against a modern-day despotic regime run by an actual golfer2.
Although there are some mornings when I resemble an eighteenth century Parisian fishwife on a bad hair day, I attended this march without a pitchfork, or its modern equivalent, the humorous sign.
In fact, the marchers seemed to be enjoying themselves so much, I did wonder what impact they’d have on the status quo. Would France have become a republic if the mob had stormed the Bastille dressed as cows carrying a “This is Udder Madness” banner?
Doubtful.
The French might dump cow manure in front of government buildings, but I can’t see them wearing fake udders. They don’t really do funny demonstrations. They mean business.
If they’re unhappy with something, whether it’s being ruled by a despotic monarch, retiring at 62, or being told the ratio of butter in their croissants has decreased, they’ll do something about it. And with their Sixth Republic probably round the corner, it’s clear how effective a mob of angry Frenchies can be.
In comparison, you’ve got to wonder if Americans aren’t just too comfortable, or more interested in having their humorous sign appear on Instagram, to do what it takes to overthrow a tyrant.
In France, one of the tipping points that brought the revolting masses onto the streets was the price of bread, aggravated by the mistaken belief that Marie Antoinette told them to eat cake instead.
Perhaps we’ve reached a similar point in San Francisco, where only this week I saw one dog being fed a $6 croissant, and another an $18 bowl of salmon salad. Maybe if someone banned dogs from eating French pastries and protein bowls, the masses would rise up from their screens, put down their iPhones, and start making Molotov pumpkin-spiced-latte cocktails.
Or maybe not.
Perhaps all the USA needs is a dose of Gallic résistance. France could boost its economy by renting out some of its angry manifestants, sending them across the Atlantic for a small fee, with a bonus if they succeed in toppling the regime.
Just an idea.
As a true Brit, I didn’t let these political podcasts or marches sway me into setting up barricades in the Castro or handing out seditious pamphlets on San Francisco’s trams.
Instead I focused my revolutionary zeal on tampering with a traditional Welsh recipe: Bara Brith.
Adding dried prunes and cherries, and throwing in chunks of chocolate, is as close as I’ll ever get to overthrowing the bourgeoisie. If you feel like joining me in this foolhardy attempt at culinary insurrection, you’ll find the manifesto recipe below.
I hope you enjoy this week’s dish.
Until next time,
Mark x
This Week’s Kitchen Menu
Here’s a selection of the meals we’ve eaten over the past two weeks. Tomatoes are still everywhere at the market, and they’re so tasty I can’t help buying them every week while they’re still around. On the contrary, figs are getting hard to find, so when I found them this week I had to make a tart because it might be the last time until next summer.
Chicken Musakhan wraps (I didn’t use this Ottolenghi recipe, but it’s similar)
Fig frangipane tart (the tart case came from this recipe, the filling from this one, but I swapped the apricots for figs)
Lamb kofta with turmeric, saffron and pomegranate rice
This Week’s Recipe
Welsh Tea Bread: Bara Brith
Bara Brith3 is a traditional Welsh recipe, but at the risk of being banned from entering the principality, I’ve tinkered with the ingredients by adding some dark chocolate chips and prunes. But I didn’t want to stray too far from the original recipe, for fear of ending up with a Christmas cake. Christmas treats are banned in this house until December (which is when I eat two months’ worth of cake to make up for my restraint).
Despite the sugar, Bara Brith is one of those cakes that deserves the title “semi-healthy” because it contains zero fat. You can (and probably should) slather each slice in butter, but prior to that it’s healthy status remains strong in my book.
This recipe has been adapted from one by Nigella Lawson.
Preparation time: 8 hours (or overnight) to soak the mixed fruit; 10 minutes to prepare the cake mix
Cook time: 40-50 minutes
Serves: Makes 15 slices
Ingredients
450g or 3 cups mixed dried fruit. I used 100g or ⅔ cup each of dried cherries and dried prunes; and 250g or 1⅔ cups raisins, but you could also use sultanas or even dried apricots
300ml or 1¼ cups freshly boiled water to make the tea
Two teabags (I used one English Breakfast and one Earl Grey, but use whatever black tea you have available)
100 grams dark Muscovado or light brown sugar (less intense than muscovado, but easier to find in the US)
2 teaspoons ground mixed spice, or ½ teaspoon each of cinnamon, cardamom, cloves and allspice
1 large egg
50g or ¼ cup dark chocolate chips
250 grams self-raising flour (or the same of plain flour + 2 teaspoons of baking powder)
½ teaspoon fine salt
1 tablespoon runny honey (to glaze the cake )
Method
Start by making the tea using the boiled water and teabags. Leave it to infuse for 5 minutes and squeeze the bags dry to make the tea even stronger. Put the mixed fruit, sugar and spices in a large bowl, pour over the tea and leave to soak for at least 8 hours (preferably overnight). You can, of course, reduce this time if you want to make the cake sooner, but it will impact the overall flavor.
The next morning (or whenever you want to bake the cake), heat the oven to 180°C/350°F, and line a 900g/2lb loaf tin.
Add the flour to the mixed fruit (and the baking powder if using plain flour), and give it all a stir to mix everything together. Beat the egg and pour that in too, along with the chocolate chips, and give it all another stir so the flour has been completely absorbed.
Scrape the mixture into the prepared loaf tin, smooth over the top with a spatula, and bake for 40-50 minutes. You’ll know the cake is done when a skewer (or piece of spaghetti) comes out clean.
Remove to a cooling rack and brush the top of the cake with the honey (I warmed the honey in the microwave for 10 seconds beforehand to help it spread easier). Now leave it to rest for 1 day if you can. If you can’t (I didn’t), then at least let it cool for about 30 minutes. Serve by cutting into slices and spreading each with a thick slab of salted butter.
Variations: (1) You can skip the chocolate chips, and just use raisins/sultanas for a more traditional cake; (2) If you want to be even less traditional, add the zest of one orange if you like.
These are part of the fascinating Origin Story series of podcasts, by two very funny (and clever) journalists Dorian Lynsky and Ian Dunt. Each week they tackle the real, but often hidden, stories behind some of the main themes in politics. You should listen to it if only to hear Ian Dunt’s amazing laugh.
Despite protesting against kings, I feel the need to clarify that I have no desire for my own monarch to be toppled, though the same can’t be said for some of his relatives. Come to think of it, the US could do a lot worse than packing Trump off into exile – preferably on an island with no internet or McDonald’s – and replacing him with another Epstein fan: King Charles’ disgraced brother, Prince Andrew.
In Welsh, Bara Brith means “speckled bread”, but I think the original Welsh name sounds more appealing.