Speculaas men
Speculaas men

Of all the vices that spatter my soul, like toothpaste across a mirror, buying secondhand cookbooks is the one I find the hardest to give up. It might not seem that terrible a habit to you. Noble even – the pursuit of knowledge and social good at a price I can afford. But if you’d ever had to troop from Oxfam to Save The Children to Scope with me and wait by the china dogs and the vinyls while I indulge my bibliophilic lusts, then you’d know there is nothing innocent about my cookery book collecting.

Whenever I see a charity shop or jumble sale, the urge to go in and root through the musty biographies and the beach reads hits me like a hunger. The prospect of getting my hands on the perfect cookbook lights up my pleasure centres, and I’m through the door and throwing old ladies out of the way before you can say: “Are you sure you’ve got the shelf space for all that?”

The cookbook that I’m after – my favourite kind, my ultimate high – has a mahogany sideboard on its cover that’s laid with a candelabra, a fruit-filled horn of plenty, crystal glasses and a meal so brown it looks like edible depression.

I’ve found many treasures of this kind over the past few years. Immediately afterwards I hug them to my heart, rustle through the pages and boggle at the recipes. But the joy doesn’t last. The jolly fonts, the dimly lit photos, the novel use of pineapple – they can only sate for so long. And like a junkie jonesing for heroin or a dieter dribbling for cake, I’m back out on the streets and searching for more tomes from the 20th century.

Dutch Cookbook
Dutch Cooking has an excellent cover

My friend Bellerina has a particularly good eye for secondhand cookbooks and, knowing my predilections, she hunts them out for my birthday and Christmas. Thanks to her I own Papino Papaws Please!, a 1972 celebration of “the neglected poor relation of sub tropical fruits”, which has recipes for Pawpaw cream cheese surprise, Beachcomber’s mousse and Dreamy marshmallow quickie.

I also I owe her for European Kitchen by Marie Merrington (the Gay Gourmet), a 1974 tour of the continent that takes in Tunny fish creams (Greece, of course), Lamb curry (Spain, obviously), and Health salad (Switzerland, naturally). The cover is plain, but the illustrations inside are a treat.

However, the book she gave me that has captured my attention most is Dutch Cooking by Heleen A M Halverhout. Written for “friends of our Dutch food”, it’s filled with recipes for the kind of solid Dutch food that I want to wrap myself up in when the skies are grey and low. Brown beans and bacon, meat croquettes, doughnuts, pancakes and spicy gingerbread.

Baking speculaas, the cakey Dutch Christmas biscuit, makes my kitchen smell like Santa’s grotto. It’s a bit early in the year for tinsel and twinkles, but gingerbread is as good by a bonfire as by a nativity scene and Haverhout’s recipe resulted in so much dough, I had to freeze half of it. So, in a way, I’m just getting ahead with my Christmas baking.

I’ve reduced the quantities so it only makes ‘lots’ rather than ‘tonnes’ and, instead of decorating the biscuits with flaked almonds, I smooshed them into the dough. Because I’m childish, I cut out gingerbread men and munched them limb by limb. Excellent served with warm milk and a hot water bottle.

Speculaas men
Makes loads

225g plain flour, plus extra for dusting
60g dark brown muscavado sugar
1/2 tsp baking powder 
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 nutmeg, grated
Pinch of ground cloves
75g cold butter, chopped
75ml skimmed milk
50g flaked almonds

1 Sift the flour into a large bowl and stir in the sugar, salt and spices.

2 Add the butter and rub it in with your fingertips to make breadcrumbs. Stir in the milk to bring the dough together.

3 Turn out onto a work surface lightly dusted with flour. Flatten out with your hands and pile the flaked almonds into the middle. Bring the edges up over the almonds and knead a couple of times to push the almonds through the dough. Wrap in clingfilm and chill for 15 minutes.

4 Preheat the oven to gas mark 4/180°C/fan oven 160°C. Dust 2 large baking trays with flour. Roll the dough out on a flour-dusted work surface until it’s 1/2cm thick. Stamp out biscuits, transfer to the trays and bake for 10–15 minutes or until the biscuits are lightly coloured. Lift off the tray with a palette knife and cool on a wire rack. Eat plain, or decorate with glacé icing.

Tagged with: BakingBiscuitsCookbooksDutch food
 

17 Responses to Speculaas men

  1. Miss South says:

    I am obsessed by speculaas/speculoos at the moment and had been struggling to find a good recipe to indulge with.

    As a second hand cookbook lover, I presume you know about the Vintage Cookbook Trials where Elly and Alix try out recipes from these books and wonder why they are all garnished with a prawn?

    • ginandcrumpets says:

      I don;t know about that – do all the old recipes come served on a tray glazed with lime jelly, too? They often do.

  2. Helen says:

    I have the same problem. I’m amazed we’ve not bumped into each other and fought over books. Bet you don’t have the Yugoslav cook book or Essential Russian Cooking? Blimey we’d have a field day with each others book shelves.

  3. I too have the addiction!got some lovely 50s Fanny Craddock books which are among my faves also early Good Food Guide recipe books fascinating seeing the places in there:)Though if I cook from them its best to stick to the baking recipes.Love the cover on the dutch book:)

    • ginandcrumpets says:

      I find that the baking and the desserts are the things that change the least over the years. The starters, on the other hand, are where fashionable madness lurks. Banana curry puffs with mayonnaise is one of my favourites and I am going to spoil a dinner party by serving them one day.

  4. Rachel K says:

    It’s never too early for Christmas cookie spices. Great recipe btw.

    Like you I’m addicted to trawling through second hand book shops. But having moved house because I had run out of space for all my books I had to draw a line! But I do love those old 1950s and 60s cookbooks. Though unlikely to ever cook anything from them!

    • ginandcrumpets says:

      I feel like not cooking from them is cruel – steals the purpose form the books. So I try to do at least one recipe. Keeps dinner interesting.

  5. Rodney Burbeck says:

    You would love a book I just reached for from my bookshelves: ‘The French Cook’ by Louis Eustache Ude who worked in the kitchens of Louis XVI before coming to England where he worked for the Earl of Sefton and the Duke of York, and became the first chef at Crockford’s gambling club. He wrote ‘The French Cook’ in 1813. The edition I have is a facsimile of a US edition first published in Philadelphia in 1828. One of the recipes is ‘Pigeons Cooked in all Manner of Ways’ which contains the inflammatory (by today’s standards) instruction: ‘A pigeon pie is a very plain dish, which is left to the management of common female cooks’. Ahem! I wonder what Nigella would say to that… But don’t judge him on that lapse, this is a wonderful book to dip into (no pun intended), and his recipe for turtle soup was reputedly so good that Mrs Beeton purloined it.

  6. Hazy says:

    I’m married to a Dutchy and have the same book. The recipes are entirely authentic and spot on – whether or not the food is a taste sensation is debatable – but its generally comforting wholesome fare.

  7. Su-Lin says:

    I really shouldn’t be reading this. All my bookshelves are full. These speculaas look fantastic though!

  8. Canal Cook says:

    Lovely, I used to love eating these when I lived in Holland. Though my favourite thing is speculaas paste, its like peanut butter using speculaas instead of peanuts.

  9. Alix says:

    For all those Speculoos (the Belgian version) fans, both the crunchy and the creamy pastes are now available in Waitrose! There’s no end to the tasty things you can do with them, but a good old spoon is usually all that’s required to enjoy them.

  10. [...] I’m beyond greed. That the desire to acquire has passed me by. But I have my weaknesses. Secondhand cookbooks, for example. I can’t resist rooting through charity shops and market stalls for broken-spined, [...]

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