#custard slice

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[the-things-i-put-in-my-mouth]

Big fat custard slice…..

What? Like this one @morby ?

[bakingthedetectives]

'What Now? I'm Going To Have My Cake And Eat It' - Tom Barnaby, Midsomer Murders

'She was very, very fat. She spread outwards and towered upwards. At least a quarter of her height seemed to be accounted for by her hair, which was a rigid pagoda-like structure: a landscape of peaks and waves, whorls and curls ending in a sharp point like an inverted ice cream cone. It was the colour of butterscotch instant whip.'

I'm shocked it's taken me such a long time to read any of the Midsomer Murders books. For a long time I didn't even realise there were books, the show being such an institution that it overshadowed all else. On the back of my copy of The Killings At Badger's Drift it says 'One of the CWA Top 100 Crime Novels of All Time'. I pondered what CWA meant. In Leicester CWA is a 'creative thinking' agency (whatever that could possibly be). College of West Anglia? Apparently it's the Crime Writers' Association. Well...great! If it was me running the show it would be at the very top. I have never been so enamoured with a book before. I had made a note on several pages before the end of the first chapter, which is a very good sign indeed. For me it was a connection. Caroline Graham writes like me. She's far superior, obviously, since she is actually a writer, but I couldn't escape the short sentences. I was always told at school not to use short sentences. Brackets and commas are the enemy and you just need to press on with the sentence, give it both barrels. But that's not who I am, that's not how I speak. I often cut myself short to go on a tangent that can only be illustrated with brackets when writing it down (god knows how people keep up with me when I am actually speaking to them. At least three sentences spring from my original sentence and end up far removed the point). She often starts writing a character's thoughts without telling you, and it's not until you're halfway through that you realise it's all in their mind and not part of their external world at all. It's brilliant! Finding someone that has written like this, who has been successful writing like this, brings me great joy. I have no ambitions to be a writer or to do anything with this newsletter other than to write it for myself (I'm so glad you all read it, I really am, but I do this for me first of all. I must do something and this is it), but finding someone else that makes me believe I am allowed to write as I want to is the best feeling in the world.

'You're a good boy,' she crooned, kissing him full on the mouth. Her breath was very sweet, a soft explosion of violet cachous and cream and rich vanilla. 'Mummysbestboy.' Her fingers slipped into his shirt, caressing the bony wings of his shoulder blades. 'Bestestonlyboy.'

I wanted to create a recipe for Barnaby first of all, since he is the main event, but when I started reading The Killings At Badger's Drift I was pacing around the room with excitement thinking about The Rainbirds. Obviously I had seen them portrayed so brilliantly by Richard Cant and Elizabeth Spriggs and loved them then, but reading Barnaby's first encounter with this repulsive duo really set me going. How ghoulishly fascinating they are. Dennis, a pale foppish undertaker, and Iris, a preened oppressive mass of a person. Barnaby thinks they would fit very well into a Joe Orton play and I can completely see that. As the quote above shows, their relationship as mother and son is not quite the usual. I'd quite like to put them behind glass at a museum and watch them, watch their eyes twinkling with conspiracy. When Barnaby and Troy meet them at their home, Dennis Rainbird wheels out a trolley 'built along the lines of the altarpiece at the Brompton Oratory', piled high with sandwiches and cakes. The sandwiches are cut into playing card shapes, which brings out their characters so well (marmite hearts, potted meat diamonds...). Poor Troy is handed a vanilla slice, which Dennis notes he isn't enjoying very much. 'Press him to a frangipane, then' is Iris Rainbird's response. I just love them hideously. They take so much care over their presentation, and they love every minute of it. I had to make the vanilla slice that Sergeant Troy has so much trouble with. It's slightly fiddly, this one, but I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. I've made it easier by using shop bought puff pastry, but I do feel The Rainbirds will be able to tell the difference! There will be a bit of wastage of the pastry here but I found myself snacking on this while the custard cooled, so I'm sure you'll be alright.

For the pastry: 2x sheets ready rolled all butter puff pastry some icing sugar, about 1-2 tbsp flaked almonds For the custard: 150ml double cream 650ml full fat milk 3 large egg yolks 100g caster sugar 1 tbsp vanilla bean paste 3 tbsp cornflour 3 tbsp custard powder Preheat the over 200C/180 fan/Gas 6. Fully line a 23cm square cake tin with baking parchment. To prepare the pastry, roll one sheet out onto a baking tray lined with parchment paper. Sprinkle the sheet with icing sugar so there's an even coating and sprinkle with flaked almonds. To prevent the pastry from rising too much, cover it with another sheet of parchment and another baking tray. If you have any baking beans or rice pour that into the tray to make sure it's well held down (puff pastry is very stubborn). Bake this in the oven for 25-30 minutes until the layer is dark in colour. Repeat this process with the second sheet of pastry to get your top layer, but leave out the ground almonds for this one. Peel the parchment off the sheets of cooked pastry. When cooled, trim each pastry slice to fit a 23cm square cake tin and place one sheet of pastry into the bottom of the tin. Set this aside while you make the custard. To make the custard, heat the vanilla, cream and milk on low until it comes to a gently boil. Remove it from the heat temporarily while you whisk together the egg yolks, cornflour, custard powder and sugar. Whisk until everything is combined but don't go over the top. We don't need to add any air to it. Pour a small amount of the hot milk onto the egg mixture and whisk continuously to bring it all together, then slowly add more of the milk until everything is mixed together. Put this back onto the heat and stir continuously until the mixture has thickened. It will naturally come to a boil but try to keep the heat fairly low so it doesn't burn the bottom of the pan. If you wish you can pass the custard through a sieve into a clean bowl to remove any lumps. Press some clingfilm onto the top of the custard to prevent a skin forming, then leave it to cool fully. Once the custard is cooled pour it over the pastry base in the tin and smooth over the top. Using a ruler, neatly cut the top layer into even slices. I cut mine to roughly 3.5cm. Unfortunately there isn't a great way of doing it evenly because of the tin sizes here. We've got 20cm, 23cm, 25cm etc so it's never quite even but do your best. Lay these slices on top of the custard and put everything into the fridge to chill for several hours. Chop the custard slices and serve, preferably on a rickety old tea trolley.

[lookitcookit]

Custard slice

This is the poor relation of the French mille feuille, layers of puff pastry enclosing a creamy custard and topped with a thin layer of icing, usually with lines creating a feather pattern.

It looks OK. It has the basic right ingredients, but it’s been refrigerated too long, so the pastry is so hard you need a sharp knife to cut it.  The custard filling is spot on - the Vanilla Slice (as it’s called) has just what the Brits like; a creamy custard made from milk, eggs, sugar and whipping cream. It’s no accident that the French call ‘custard’ ‘creme anglaise’  - English cream. Now for the topping. The yellow on white looks a bit insipid (and is hardly visible in the photo below). The icing is thick and therefore very, very sweet.  Only 318 calories per slice!

Having said all that, I’ve just demolished one - after walking to the shops and feeling virtuous. I did enjoy it. There is a strange phenomenon that if you like something very much, you will still take some pleasure in eating a slightly inferior version. You may disagree with me on this. There’s the opposing argument that says the more you like something, the less you can tolerate a less-than-perfect dish.

Never mind, back to work now, feeling quite happy with my indulgent break.

One last thought: here are two more photos.  The first, taken some while ago, was my imperfect attempt at home (but they did taste gorgeous) and the second is perhaps the most promising of the whole lot, seen in a pastry shop in New York.

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Sylveon Custard Slice 🎀 ( X | X | X - X | 🎀 | X - X | X | X )

[fullcravings]

Vanilla Custard Slices

[fullcravings]

Custard Slice - Kremsnita

[bryonyashaw]

The Ultimate Custard Slice - because adulting NEEDS Dessert!

Let’s be real - adulting is hard. Bills, emails, pretending to know what you’re doing… But hey, at least there’s custard slice to save the day! This isn’t just any dessert; it’s layers of flaky pastry and creamy custard that say “You deserve this.”

If you want to wow your kids or just treat yourself because, honestly, why not? Here’s a ridiculously easy custard slice recipe with zero judgement if you eat the whole thing in one sitting.

What You’ll Need (aka the Ingredients That Make Life Better)

For the pastry:

• 2 sheets of ready-rolled puff pastry (because who has time to make it from scratch?)

For the custard filling:

• 500 ml whole milk (or just enough to keep you sane)

• 4 egg yolks (the golden nuggets of yum)

• 100g caster sugar (sweetness is life)

• 40g cornflour (because we want that custard thick, not runny)

• 1 tsp vanilla extract (for fancy vibes)

• 30g butter (because butter makes everything better)

For the icing top:

• 150g icing sugar (powdered sugar for the fancy folks)

• 2-3 tbsp boiling water (handle with care unless you want a custard volcano)

• Optional: vanilla or lemon juice if you’re feeling extra

The Foolproof Method (aka How Not to Burn Your Kitchen Down):

1. Bake the pastry:

Preheat oven to 200°C (or 390°F if you’re old-school). Lay your pastry sheets on a baking tray, prick with a fork (not a sword), and bake for 12-15 minutes until golden and flaky. Try not to eat the edges while waiting. Let cool because lava-hot pastry is not a good look.

2. Whip up the custard:

In one bowl, whisk egg yolks and sugar until they look like a tiny, pale sunshine. Stir in cornflour - this is the secret to custard that doesn’t flop.

Heat the milk in a saucepan until almost boiling (don’t let it go full volcano!). Slowly pour the hot milk into your egg mix, whisking like you’re on a cooking show.

Pour it back into the saucepan and stir over medium heat until it thickens up like a pro custard should. Take off heat, stir in butter and vanilla like the boss you are.

3. Assemble:

Slap one pastry sheet down on a tray (parchment paper helps, trust me). Pour that glorious custard on top, smoothing it out like it’s a spa day for your taste buds. Top with the second pastry sheet. Chill in the fridge for at least 2 hours - or until you can stop staring at it.

4. Icing time:

Mix icing sugar with boiling water (add a splash of vanilla or lemon if you want to get fancy). Spread that glossy goodness on top and let it set. If it drips down the sides, congratulations - you just made a proper custard slice.

5. Serve with a happiness and zero regrets.