Nigella Lawson’s toasted marshmallow and rhubarb cake

I had many run-ups to this cake before choosing the one that was fit to celebrate OFM 200. I wanted sweetness, light and beauty: a cake that felt special. And this does feel special, not just to eat and look at, but also to make. I felt encouraged towards a more whimsical creation than I might normally bake, but nothing too dauntingly difficult. This is not everyday baking – nor does it celebrate an everyday occasion – but the whisking of egg whites to make the marshmallow icing (inspiration for which I thank the ever-illuminating, ever-inspiring American baker-sleuth Stella Parks, author of the compendious BraveTart), the pulling out of the snowy spikes, and toasting with a blow torch brought such a smile-inducing element of playfulness to the kitchen that the very act of making it felt like an essential part of the celebration for me.

The cake itself was a particular challenge. I wanted to use the yolks from the six whites needed for the icing. I didn’t want any wastage. But cakes made with just yolks can be heavy, and I knew I had to come up with the tenderest of sponges. Adding the lemon-soured milk, vegetable oil and cornflour makes this cake celestially light. And I like the idea of a cake created especially for this occasion, one never made quite like this before. I’ve filled it with rhubarb, seasonal forced rhubarb, sherbetty and puce pink, its tartness adding a necessary sour-edged note to the heady sweetness of the marshmallow.

Happy birthday and congratulations OFM, and thank you for letting me be part of it.

Cuts into 10 slices
For the rhubarb layer
new season’s forced rhubarb 500g
caster sugar 100g

For the cake
eggs 6 large, at room, temperature
unwaxed lemon 1
full-fat milk 100ml, at room temperature
cornflour 25g
plain flour 100g
baking powder 2 tsp
bicarbonate of soda ½ tsp
free-flowing sea salt ¼ tsp
caster sugar 150g
vegetable oil 150ml, plus more for greasing tins

For the icing
egg whites from eggs above
caster sugar 350g
free-flowing sea salt ¼ tsp
cream of tartar ½ tsp
vanilla extract 2 tsp

Start by cooking the rhubarb. Preheat the oven to 200C/gas mark 6. Cut the trimmed rhubarb into about 5cm lengths, if they are slender; if chunky, then cut into about 2.5cm pieces. Put in an ovenproof dish in which they will be able to sit in a single layer – I use a 23cm square Pyrex dish – and sprinkle over the 100g sugar. Mix together well with your hands, leaving the rhubarb in a single layer, then cover the dish with foil, sealing the edges well, and cook in the oven for approximately 30 minutes until cooked but still holding its shape.

Remove the foil, and leave the dish of rhubarb on one side to cool. Turn the oven down to 170C/gas mark 3. Line the bottoms of 2 x 20cm loose-bottomed sandwich tins, and lightly grease the sides.

Separate the eggs and drop the whites into a large mixing bowl (or bowl of a freestanding mixer) and the yolks into another. Cover the bowl of whites with clingfilm, and put to one side while you mix and bake the cake.

Finely grate the zest of the lemon and add to the bowl of yolks. Measure out the milk, juice the lemon and add 2 x 15ml tablespoons of juice to the milk, and leave to stand. Mix together the cornflour, flour, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda and salt and set this aside for now, too.

Add the 150g sugar and oil to the yolks and whisk on medium-high speed for 3 minutes, by which time the mixture will be rich, gleaming and billowy. Actually, it looks rather like a glorious mayonnaise.

Still whisking, but slightly more slowly now, gently pour and scrape in the now curdled milk, and once it’s in, carry on whisking until combined; the mixture looks like custard at this stage. Finally, whisking more gently now, gradually spoon in the dry ingredients. Once in, use a spatula to scrape down the sides, and fold everything gently together, before dividing the airy mixture between the prepared tins. Bake for about 20 minutes, by which time the cakes will have risen up extravagantly, the tops a golden brown; they will feel soft and puffy to the touch, but a cake tester should come out clean.

Remove to a wire rack and let the cakes cool in their tins for 15 minutes before very carefully turning out. You’ll need to loosen the edges with a small cranked spatula first. These are tender sponges, so don’t rush or be rough. Gently pull back and remove the lining paper.

Once the cakes are completely, completely cold – which will take about an hour – you can get on with the icing. But first, tear off four strips of baking parchment, scrunch them, then unfurl them and make the outline of a square with them on a cake stand. (This is to stop you covering the cake stand with sticky marshmallow icing later. It may sound a faff, but I wouldn’t advise you to leave out this step.) Place one of the cakes on it, top-side down. Also, now’s the time to lift the rhubarb pieces out of the syrup onto a plate (and yes, there is a good reason not to do this earlier).

So, to the icing: get out a tall pan that you can sit your big bowl o’ whites on (without the bottom of the bowl touching the water) and heat a little water in it until just about to come to a simmer. Mix the 350g of sugar, the salt and the cream of tartar together and add to the egg whites. Then sit the mixing bowl on top of the pan, so it’s gently warmed by the barely simmering water underneath and, just using a balloon whisk (making sure it is thoroughly washed and grease-free), keep whisking for about 3 minutes, to dissolve the sugar. I couldn’t say this is hard to do, but you can really feel it on your forearm. I’m always grateful when my 3-minute timer goes off.

Once the sugar’s dissolved and you have a smooth opaque mixture that’s warm to the touch, remove the bowl from the saucepan. Whisk at high speed for 5 minutes with a freestanding mixer, and for 6-7 minutes if using an electric handheld whisk, by which time the whites will be very, very thick and ludicrously voluminous.

Finally, whisk in 1 teaspoon of the vanilla and when it’s incorporated, whisk in the remaining teaspoon, then give a good fold by hand to make sure every bit is mixed in.

Dollop a generous amount of marshmallow icing onto the waiting cake, and smooth right to the edges of the cake, so that you have a layer about 1cm thick. Now, cover this with the rhubarb, though leave about half a centimetre perimeter around the edge. You might want to tip the rhubarb plate slightly as you transfer the slices, to make sure you leave any pooling liquid behind.

Top with the second cake, right way up, and use just under half the icing left in the bowl to cover the top, going just over the edges. Then carefully spread the rest of the icing thickly around the sides – leaving a tiny bit in the mixing bowl – until the whole cake is completely covered.

Dip your fingers in the bit of icing left in the bowl and then dab the top and sides of the cake, lightly pulling up spikes of marshmallowing icing. Gently pull out the strips of paper, and seal the bottom of the cake in with any remaining icing should you need to.

Now, take the cake somewhere you can kindle fire safely. Light a blowtorch and, holding it fairly near the cake and with not too timorous a flame, toast the top and the sides of the icing.

I find this cake best to slice if left to stand before serving; 1-2 hours is fine, though it suits me always to have it ready 3-4 hours before I need it. And you need to slice generously, as with all layer cakes.

Nathan Outlaw’s monkfish on the bone with rosemary and orange butter

OFM has always brought together the best of traditional cooking with all that is exciting and new so I’ve designed my dish to reflect this. Cooking the fish traditionally on the bone gives extra flavour and stops the flesh from shrinking, while adding a fruit-based butter may seem strange but, in fact, enhances the flavour of the fish incredibly well.

To serve 4

monkfish tail 1.2–1.5kg on the bone, trimmed of sinew and skin
sunflower oil 100ml
orange finely grated zest of 1
cayenne pepper ½ tsp
rosemary 1 tender sprig, leaves picked and finely chopped
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the rosemary and orange butter
rosemary 2 tbsp, chopped
garlic 2 cloves, peeled and chopped finely
spring onions 12, trimmed and finely chopped
oranges finely grated zest of 2
unsalted butter 250g, softened
olive oil to drizzle

Place the monkfish in a dish and add the oil, orange zest, cayenne, rosemary, salt and pepper. Turn the fish so that it is coated all over, cover with clingfilm and leave to marinate in the fridge for at least 2 (or up to 6) hours.

To make the butter, put the rosemary, garlic, spring onions and orange zest into a bowl. Add the softened butter and mix together until evenly blended. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Set aside until needed.

If you are barbecuing, light your barbecue at least 30 minutes before you plan to cook, or preheat your grill to medium-hot. When the coals are white hot or the grill is ready, remove the monkfish from the marinade and lay on the barbecue grid or grill rack. Cook for 4 minutes, then turn the fish over and cook for a further 4 minutes. Remove and set aside to rest on a warmed tray.

To serve, scoop spoonfuls of the butter evenly over the monkfish tail and return to the barbecue or grill for a couple of minutes until the butter has melted. Lift the monkfish carefully off the tray and onto a warmed serving plate then pour over the melted butter and any juices from the tray. Serve in the centre of the table and let everyone help themselves. I like to serve this with new potatoes and chargrilled fennel.

Fergus Henderson’s roast duck with duck-fat mash, duck-offal toast, and radish, watercress and crispy-duck salad

I can’t think of any better way to celebrate than eating a bird from head down to webbed toe. You will start with the offaly toast, to get the juices flowing in a ducky kind of way, then the sharp salad cuts through the richness, those nuggets of caper and cornichons providing the essential “neaugh” factor.

I will add that duck fat is extremely good for you, which is why everyone in Gascony lives so long, so this is a celebration of duck and of life.

To serve 4
duck 1 usual-sized, with innards

For the crispy duck
duck’s gizzard, legs, wings, neck
coarse sea salt a handful
ground mace ¼ tsp
ground allspice ¼ tsp
garlic 4 cloves, sliced
sage ½ bunch, chopped.
rendered duck fat from the bird (see directions)
duck fat 1 standby pot

For the salad
radishes around 20, ideally English breakfast radishes with leaves, washed thoroughly
watercress a large bunch, leaves only
lilliput capers 1 tbsp
cornichons a handful, chopped
red onion 1, thinly sliced
garlic 1 clove, thoroughly minced
extra virgin olive oil 150ml
lemon juice of
dijon mustard 1 tsp
white wine vinegar ½ tsp

For the duck mist
port or brandy a glug
stock (see below)

For the stock
duck’s wing tips and backbone
leek 1, cut into chunks
white onion 1, halved
carrot 1, cut into chunks
whole peppercorns 1 tsp
thyme and bay a bundle

For the duck fat mash
potatoes 4 large
rendered fat from the crown (see directions)
sage leaves 1 tsp, chopped
garlic 2 cloves, minced

For the duck-offal toast
banana shallot 1, finely chopped
garlic 1 clove, minced
thyme leaves 1 pinch, chopped
duck fat 2 tbsp
port a healthy glug
duck’s liver and heart
brandy a healthy glug
butter a knob
white bread 4 bite-sized pieces, halved, crusts removed

The day before: the bag of innards which rests inside the duck, helpfully gathered by the butcher, is essential. From this bag, remove the neck and gizzard and place them in a ceramic or plastic bowl. Put the liver and heart to one side for use tomorrow.

Remove the legs and the wings from the bird. Snip off the wing tips and pop them onto a roasting tray, which you will use shortly. Add the limbs to the bowl with the neck and gizzard and season liberally with the coarse sea salt, mace, allspice, garlic and sage. Mix well, cover, and leave in the fridge overnight.

On to your stock. Snip out the bird’s backbone and add it to the roasting tray where the wing tips await. Set the resulting crown aside for tomorrow. Run the offcuts through a hot oven at 200C/gas mark 6 for 20 minutes or so, to brown. This is not an exact science, but the browning will add depth of flavour to the resulting stock.

Remove the browned pieces from the pan and reserve any fat. Place them into a large saucepan with the leek, onion, carrot, peppercorns and herb bundle. Cover with water and simmer on a low heat for a couple of hours, until the stock is rich and flavoursome.

The day of your feast: you will need to render the fat from your plump bird, for confiting the crispy bits and for your potatoes. Trim the excess fat from the crown, particularly the nuggets of fat inside, and place into a small pan with a couple of tablespoons of water. Simmer gently until the fat has melted and the water has evaporated. Strain the resulting rendered fat, to join yesterday’s little haul.

Dust the spiced salt off the limbs and gizzards, place them in a pan and pour over the reserved fat, to submerge. If you find that there is not enough you can supplement with a little of the bought duck fat, but ideally we are seeking a closed duck loop. Bring up to a gentle simmer on a medium heat, then place the pan into a medium oven 190C/gas mark 5 for 1 hour, until tender but not falling apart. Lift out the pieces, place them on a rack and leave to cool. Turn the heat up a little, then return them to the oven on the rack for 40 minutes. They should be wonderfully crisp. Remove from the oven and set aside.

Render your duck crown: prick it all over with a sharp fork, to give an escape route for all the lovely fat under the skin. Rub with salt and pepper. Place the crown, skin-side down, into an oven-proof frying pan over a medium heat and gently brown on each side until the skin is pale golden and crisp to the touch and the fat has melted in to the pan. Pour this fat off, and reserve. Turn the crown skin side up and place the pan into a preheated medium oven 190C/gas mark 5 for 20 minutes, until crisp on the outside but pink inside. Rare duck is not the aim, this would not be nice. We are looking for a pleasurable blush. Remove from the oven and rest for another 20 minutes.

While the crown is in the oven, you have two further tasks to perform: making your Duck Fat Mash, and the little offal toasts. You may feel that time is a little tight, and if so peeling the potatoes the night before will give you some breathing space (enough to have a celebratory tot of the cooking brandy). If you wish to prepare in this way, remember it’s important to keep the peeled potatoes submerged in water, otherwise they discolour.

Simmer the potatoes in salt water until tender, then drain and mash together with about 4 tablespoons of the reserved hot duck fat from the crown, the chopped sage, the minced garlic and salt and pepper to taste. Set aside, keeping warm, while you make the toasts.

For the offal toast, sweat the shallot, garlic and thyme in 1 tbsp duck fat over a low heat. When they are translucent, add the port and simmer until the liquid has disappeared. Place into the bowl of a blender and wipe the pan. Turn up the heat and pan fry the heart and the liver for a minute or less on each side, until still blushing. Deglaze the pan with the brandy, then add these little nuggets of delight into the blender alongside your port mixture. Wait until they are just gently warm, not hot, and blitz with the knob of butter. Melt the remaining tablespoon of duck fat over a medium heat and fry the pieces of bread until golden. Allow to cool slightly then spread with the offal mixture. Salt to taste. Serve these to your guests to get them in the ducky mood, while you prepare the salad and the duck mist.

In a large bowl, tear apart the crisped duck limbs, neck and gizzard into bite sized pieces. Some will be larger, some will be smaller, according to the nature of the part. This delightful textural variation is a good thing. Add to this the whole radishes with their leaves, the watercress, the capers and cornichons and the sliced onion. In a small jar whizz together the garlic, olive oil, lemon juice, mustard and vinegar. Pour half of this vinaigrette over the salad, retaining half for a future occasion – this is the St John vinaigrette, which we use on all sorts of salads. Toss together vigorously until everything is happily coated. Set the bowl on to the table.

Once rested, remove the crown from the pan. Put the pan onto a medium to high heat and pour in a couple of ladles of the stock. Finish with a glug of port or brandy, whichever you have in your hand from the earlier tipple. Bubble to burn off the alcohol, then remove from the heat. You are not looking to reduce to a heavy gravy or jus, this duck mist is just a moistener.

Slice the breasts, serve on the mash with a gesture of duck mist. As you spoon the liquid over, bear in mind this should be a thick cloud rather than a downpour. Allow people to help themselves to the accompanying salad. A feast of many – indeed every – parts.

Anna Jones’s layered rainbow vegetable bake

I’m grateful for the support OFM has given to vegetable-led food and eating without meat. While supporting traditional cooks, the magazine is also forward-thinking. This bake is my version of a rich potato pudding I ate this winter on a bitingly cold day in Stockholm. I have mentioned including some smoked water here – it is by no means necessary but it does lend a very pleasing smoky note to the calm creamy custard (I buy mine from Halen Mon). You can, of course, just leave it out, or if you have some, use smoked salt to season instead. It’s also worth noting that a sturdy cake tin with a good seal is needed here to stop any custard escaping – a deep gratin dish will work if your cake tins are not up to it.

Serves 6-8
butter 30g, melted, plus extra for greasing
onions 2 medium, peeled and thinly sliced
beetroot 500g, peeled
waxy potatoes 1kg, peeled
sweet potatoes 500g, peeled
chard or other greens a small bunch

For the custard
eggs 4
creme fraiche 200ml
whole milk 300ml
smoked water 2 tbsp, optional
dill a large bunch

wholegrain or sweet Swedish mustard to serve

Grease a 23cm spring form cake tin with butter. Heat a frying pan on a medium heat and add ¼ of the butter and the onions, once they have started to sizzle turn the heat down to low and cook them slowly, stirring from time to time for about 20 minutes until they are soft and sweet but not brown.

Next, cut the beetroots into ½cm slices then cook them for 10 minutes in boiling salted water, turn the heat off and leave them in the pan for another 10 minutes to continue to soften.

Slice the potatoes the same thickness as the beetroots and slice the sweet potatoes a little thicker, then cook both in a large pan of boiling salted water for 5 minutes. Once the onions are cooked, tip them into a bowl and keep the pan to use for the chard. Prepare your chard, strip the leaves from the stalks and wash well. Finely slice the stalks and finely shred the leaves. Put a little butter into the pan and add the stalks and cook for 3-4 minutes before adding the leaves and cooking for another 2-3 minutes until the chard has wilted.

Preheat your oven to 180C/gas mark 4. To make your custard, whisk the eggs in a bowl and add the creme fraiche, milk, a good grind of pepper and a pinch of salt, and the smoked water if you are using it, and mix well. Finely chop the dill.

Once all the vegetables are cooked, start to layer the bake. First lay half of the potatoes over the bottom of the cake tin, overlapping them a little, top with ¼ of the onions, and ¼ of the dill. Next a layer of beetroot, then another ¼ of onions and then dill, then a layer of sweet potatoes, onion and dill, and finally cooked chard finishing with the last of the onions and dill. Lay the final half of potatoes over the top and then slowly pour over the custard bit by bit.

Place the bake in its tin on a baking tray and put it into the oven for 1 hour until the potatoes on top are brown and a skewer comes out clean.

Giorgio Locatelli’s buckwheat ravioli with potatoes and caviar

A version of this dish was originally created for a decadent dinner for Donatella Versace with Kanye West and Mariah Carey. The food theme was black and white. Recognising that OFM readers, even those celebrating the 200th issue, may not have Versace-sized budgets, I have reduced the caviar to mere mortal amounts and also offered a luxurious twist with wild mushrooms.

Serves 4
For the buckwheat pasta
‘00’ flour 300g
buckwheat flour 200g
warm milk 40ml
eggs 3-4 whole, plus 2 yolks
salt 3g
olive oil 5ml

For the butter sauce
shallot 1, thinly sliced
white wine 200ml
white wine vinegar 25ml
bay leaf 1
black peppercorns 2
juniper berries 1

double cream 50ml
butter 400g (cut it into 1cm cubes the day before using and keep inside the fridge)

For the potato ravioli
new potatoes 350g
butter 100g, diced
rosemary 1 sprig
salt and freshly ground black pepper
buckwheat pasta dough 1 recipe quantity (see above)
egg 1, beaten, to brush the pasta
butter sauce 500ml (see above)
caviar 100g
chives 1 small bunch, chopped

To make the buckwheat pasta: mix the flours in a mixing bowl and add the warm milk. Add the rest of the ingredients and mix until incorporated. The amount of egg depends on the type of buckwheat flour used, so start with less and add as you need. Press towards the side of the bowl. Cut in four and press into compact balls. Cover in clingfilm and let it rest for at least 2 hours or overnight in the fridge.

Roll the first ball of dough with a rolling pin (keep the rest covered with a damp cloth) until it is about a centimetre thick, and will go through the pasta machine comfortably (if it is too thick, the pasta machine will have to use so much force to make it go through that it will damage the machine and squeeze out too much moisture in the process, so the pasta will be dry). There isn’t an exact number of times you will need to feed the pasta through the machine – each time you make it, it might be slightly different (and not every pasta machine has the same number of settings), but use the next few steps as a guide, and after a while you will get the hang of rolling the pasta, and feel your own way.

Put the machine on the first (thickest) setting, then feed the piece of pasta through, turning the handle with one hand and supporting the dough as it comes through with the other. Then change to the second setting, and put it through again. Repeat another 2-3 times, taking the setting down one each time. Don’t worry if the pasta appears slightly streaky, this should disappear as you carry on rolling it.

Next, fold the strip of pasta back on itself, put the machine back onto the first setting and put the pasta through. Repeat 3-4 more times, again taking the setting down one each time, and you will see that the pasta begins to take on a sheen. As it begins to get longer, you will find that you have to pull it very gently, so that it doesn’t begin to concertina. You shouldn’t need to dust it with flour, unless you feel it is too soft and likely to stick and stretch too much.

Now you need to cut your strip in half. Keep one half covered with a damp cloth, then fold the length of the other strip into three, bringing one end in and the other over the top of that, so that the pasta is the same width as the machine. Roll it with the rolling pin, so it is no more than half a centimetre thick, then put the machine back onto the first setting and feed the pasta through – the opposite way this time, ie widthways, not lengthways. The idea of changing direction is to put equal elasticity and strength throughout the pasta. Keep feeding it through this way, taking it down two or three settings as you go.

Finally, fold the pasta back on itself, then put the machine back onto the first setting, and take it down again through the settings until it is about 1.5mm thick. By now the pasta should be nice and shiny, with no lines in it, and you are ready to use it to make the filled pasta. It is best to use each sheet as soon as it is ready before starting to roll the rest of your dough.

If you don’t have a pasta machine, remove the clingfilm from the chilled pasta and start to flatten the dough with your hand, then use a rolling pin to roll it out until you have a thin layer of 1mm.

To make the butter sauce: put the shallot, white wine, vinegar and herbs and spices together in a big pan and let the wine reduce by half.

In a deep sauté pan, warm the shallot reduction and 2 tablespoons of the double cream. Let it reduce by half.

Take the pan off the heat but stay close to it. Slowly, whisk in the cold diced butter. Don’t add more butter until the previous has almost melted.

Check the temperature of the pan, it needs to be neither too hot nor too cold, otherwise the butter may split.

Keep adding the cubes of butter while whisking until you have the amount you need. If the butter starts to split or if it is too thick, add a little hot water. Season and pass through a fine sieve into a container. Keep it in a warm place.

To make the potato ravioli: boil the potatoes in their skins for about half an hour, then peel while still warm and put into a food processor and blitz.

In a small pan, melt 100g of butter with the rosemary, so that the flavour infuses, and the butter starts to colour. Remove the rosemary sprig and slowly add the butter to the potatoes and continue to process until smooth. Season with salt and freshly ground balck pepper. Transfer to a bowl, cover with clingfilm and leave to cool.

Brush one piece of pasta lengthways down one side with beaten egg, then place the filling as if doing a rectangular ravioli 3cm long, leaving a space of about 3-4cm between each mound. You should have enough to make around 10-12.

Fold the other half of the pasta over the top, carefully matching the long edges down one side and pressing them together, then doing the same the other side. Gently press down around each raviolo (don’t worry if you compress the filling a little as you go).

Using a pasta cutter cut out each raviolo 1cm bigger than the filling, Now you need to seal each one and press out any air trapped inside, so take each raviolo and carefully, with your thumbs, pinch around the outside. If you hold each one up to the light, you can see where the filling is, and whether you have smoothed out all the air pockets.

Bring a large pan of salted water to the boil, put the ravioli into the boiling water and cook for 3-4 minutes, then drain them using a slotted spoon or a spider and transfer to a pan containing some butter sauce. Toss gently for a minute or so. Spoon some butter sauce on each of your plates, then arrange the ravioli on top, spoon the rest of the butter sauce, add a sprinkle of chopped chives, and with the help of a teaspoon, add the caviar on top.

Note: An alternative to caviar could be wild mushrooms. Sauté 1 finely chopped clove of garlic, add 200g of mix wild mushrooms, add ½ glass of white wine and evaporate the alcohol. Cook the ravioli, add to the mushrooms and finish with 1 tablespoon of parmesan and chopped parsley and garlic.