gouda and roasted pepper dip

What can I say about this lovely little dip?

Perhaps that it is thick and very well-behaved at a party, so you don't have to worry about it dripping off your chip and on to your new acquaintance's shoes?

Perhaps that you can make it ahead of time, pull it out of the fridge, swirl in some cilantro and you're good to go?

Perhaps that it's full of Gouda cheese and I can't think of another cheese that I like better in a dip?

Would that do?

Oh, right.

Well, perhaps I should also mention that it's just a tad expensive? (I find this happens when you have to buy three dairy products for one dip. But once you taste this dip, I do believe you won't mind pinching your pennies and eating beans for the rest of the week.)

Now, I hope that is enough information to help you make an informed decision. To dip or not to dip?

I will just add a few notes.

If you like kick, add two jalapeño peppers. (If you're feeling especially wild, try three! Yes, I understand that you might not have pictured jalapeños and Gouda as BFFs, but they really do like each other.)

Don't – I repeat, don't – misread your recipe and only add half a cup of Gouda cheese. By the time you realize your mistake, you will have started soaking the food processor in hot soapy water and then you'll have to wash it and dry it all over again and grate more cheese and whirl it all up again. And wash it and dry it all over again. (I might be speaking from experience here.)

Finally, you may be a sucker for hot dips. You may think you live for a chip covered in gooey cheesy hot dip goodness. But, people, some dips are better cold. Some dips may have a hot dip option, but are still best cold. This is one of those dips. I know you like options, so I leave it for you to decide. 

One year ago: a baked banana revelation
Two years ago: chocolate cheesecake and tom yum pak soup

gouda and roasted pepper dip
barely adapted from chatelaine

1 red pepper, stem and seeds cut out
1 – 2 green jalapeño peppers, coarsely chopped
2 1/2 c. (625 ml) Gouda cheese, grated
1 c. (250 ml) regular sour cream
1/2 c. (125 ml) feta cheese, crumbled or chopped
2 tbsp. cilantro, coarsely chopped

Preheat your oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit. Put the pieces of red pepper in/on an oven-safe dish and into the oven. Roast for about 15 minutes, until the pepper is a little wrinkly and looks like it's roasted. Remove from the oven and let cool.

Once the red pepper is cool, take off the skin if it seems easy. If it doesn't, don't worry about it. Chop it roughly and put it in the food processor with the jalapeño. Throw on the Gouda, sour cream and feta. Whirl until the pepper is as fine as you would like it.

You may stir in the cilantro (saving a bit to garnish) and serve right away. If you'd like to wait up to two days, store it in the fridge, bring it to room temperature, and stir in the cilantro just before serving.

hot dip option*

Replace the sour cream with 1 c. (250 g.) regular cream cheese. Bake uncovered at 400 degrees Fahrenheit until it's hot and starts to brown, about 10 – 15 minutes. Garnish with cilantro before serving. Serve with toasted baguette or pita triangles.

* But the cold dip is truly the best option. (And I'm usually a hot dip person, so you know I'm serious about that!)

zeppelin pancakes

The sun streamed in last weekend and I was surprised to think that one day soon I too would be walking around in short sleeves.

My Easter weekend could be summed up like this: three glorious days when life could lift up, up and away from the workaday world.

These light-as-air pancakes for breakfast certainly helped.

They are called "zeppelin pancakes."

Do you know what a zeppelin is? I mean, do you really know what a zeppelin is?

I had vague notions of something kind of round and floaty. After a little help from a friend, I can now tell you with authority that a zeppelin is a "rigid airship." So it seems I was on the right track.

In any case, these pancakes are definitely on the right track.

As long as you have buttermilk and sour cream around, you can whip them up almost before you can say, "Did we take out the bacon to defrost last night?"

The recipe comes from a bewitching little book called "The Breakfast Book" by Marion Cunningham. There are no photos, but there are lots of recipes and little drawings: of spoons, of bananas, of breakfast trays. It was published in 1987 and I send all my gratitude to the lovely Molly for bringing it to my attention last year.

Marion Cunningham says this recipe comes from Don Chappellet, who perfected it while making Sunday morning pancakes for his six kids. Which just shows that you can make this recipe pretty quickly and without a lot of fuss.

But, oh, the pancakes themselves are something to fuss about. So light they almost lift off the plate, held together with a crispy golden filigree of butter, and full of the tang of buttermilk – just asking for a pat of butter and a drizzle of maple syrup . . .

Don't wait until the next long weekend to try them. Because, you never know, they might turn a regular weekend into something that feels like a long weekend. Zeppelins will do that.

One year ago: gumdrop cookies and chocolate tomato juice cake: bad idea
Two years ago: butterscotch pudding and chocolate cheesecake

don chappellet's zeppelin pancakes
from The Breakfast Book by Marion Cunningham
gluten-free adaption from me

fries about 25 – 30 pancakes

2 eggs, separated
1 1/2 c. buttermilk
1/2 c. sour cream
1/4 c. butter, melted
1 c. wheat flour
     Or gluten-free:
     46 g. brown rice flour
     46 g. tapioca starch
     46 g. potato starch
3/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt

Heat your griddle to medium-high – this recipe will come together in no time.

Mix the egg yolks, buttermilk and sour cream together. Stir in the melted butter. Set aside.

Stir the flour(s), baking soda and salt together. Stir into the buttermilk mixture and beat until smooth. Try not to worry that it's still quite runny. Set aside.

Beat the reserved egg whites until stiff but still moist. Carefully fold them into the batter.

Butter your griddle and make your pancakes. Turn when you see bubbles opening. Fry briefly on the other side.

If you don't think you can eat all the pancakes at once, you have two options.

Option 1: Fry them all up. Save the extras in the fridge. Reheat by placing on a cookie sheet and in the oven set to 350 degree Fahrenheit for about 6 minutes.

Option 2: Save the batter in the fridge. It will lose a bit of its oompf but still make delicious pancakes; you can always stir in another beaten egg white before cooking, if you like.

paska for easter

Scott tells me he remembers eating paska at his Mennonite grandma's house for Easter.

At first, he (like me) was dubious: icing and sprinkles on bread.

But then he tried it, and my half-Mennonite boy was smitten. (I'm sure the icing and sprinkles helped lure the children in.)

When we got married, he hadn't eaten paska for years because it relies on wheat flour and eggs to make a rich, soft dough – sort of like a Mennonite brioche. Scott was diagnosed as a celiac in his late 20s and that made the wheat flour a no-go.

Then he told me about paska . . . and seeing as one of my main goals in life is to recreate our grandmother's recipes, I knew I had to find a way to make it gluten-free.

I thought it would be crazy hard . . . and then I found Mennonite Girls Can Cook. Lucky for me, one of the Mennonite girls is a very good gluten-free baker and offers this version of paska.

Scott was a bit wary at first because it didn't come in the traditional free-form shape – which would be impossible with a loose, gluten-free dough that needs to be contained as it bakes. But it did have the icing and sprinkles, so he was willing to try it.

Turns out, this is one of those too-rare gluten-free breads that tastes good (i.e., not like sand – hallelujah!) and stays fresh for days.

Now that it's Easter weekend, I'm so pleased to have this pretty Easter bread around. Ever since we took a chocolate class last year with David Mincey and learned about the child slavery involved in cacao production, we're only eating fair-trade chocolate from small producers. But it tends to come in plain bars – not the shiny, foil-wrapped eggs I like to decorate with (and, uh, eat). I finally found this little bunny and it will do nicely next to the paska.

Happy Easter to you!

Last year: gumdrop cookies
Two years ago:  butterscotch pudding


If you're looking for a regular paska recipe, I'd try this.

gluten-free paska
barely adapted from mennonite girls can cook

1 tsp. + 1/2 c. sugar
3/4 c. milk, heated to lukewarm
1 tbsp. yeast
2 large eggs
1/4 c. butter, melted
finely-grated peel of 1 lemon
juice of half a lemon
finely-grated peel of 1 orange
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking powder 
1/2 heaping tsp. xanthan gum
1/2 heaping tsp. guar gum
3/4 c. brown rice flour
1/2 c. tapioca starch
1/4 c. potato starch
1/4 c. almond flour

Grease an 8" cake pan or something similar. Set aside.

Mix 1 tsp. sugar into lukewarm milk. Add yeast to proof for about 10 minutes. Set aside.

In a mixer, beat the eggs. Add the 1/2 c. sugar and beat until light and fluffy. Beat in the butter. Stir in the lemon peel, lemon juice and orange peel. Add the yeast mixture and mix well. Set aside.

In another bowl, blend the salt, baking powder, xanthan gum, guar gum, brown rice flour, tapioca starch, potato starch and almond flour until well mixed. Add to the liquid ingredients and beat on high for 1 minute.

Spoon into the pan. Let rise until doubled in bulk, which should take about an hour.

Bake at 375 degrees Fahrenheit for about 20 minutes – adjust time for differently-sized pans. For the 8" pan, keep an eye on it after 15 minutes: it should be nicely browned (don't underbake).

Let cool. Remove from pan and ice. Decorate with multi-coloured sprinkles. Once the icing has set, slice like bread to eat. Store in a tightly-sealed container at room temperature.

icing 

3 tbsp. butter
2 c. icing or powdered sugar
a sprinkle of kosher salt
1/4 c. milk
1 tsp. vanilla

Beat the butter until fluffy. Beat in the icing sugar and salt. Add most of the milk (because you might not need it all). Beat in the vanilla. You are looking for an icing that is easy to spread and slightly loose so it will "set" over the cake. Ice the cake and sprinkle with mulit-coloured sprinkles.
 

lemon gumdrops

Yesterday was my birthday.

It was one of those strange, mid-week birthdays where I had the day off but everyone around me was going about their daily work like it wasn't one of the most wonderful days of the year. (Seriously, I even had to wait to back my car out of the driveway while the municipal truck was trimming trees out front.)

I believe that climbing small mountains on my birthday sets a good precedent for the year, so I found a willing friend and her two daughters to climb with me. We fortified ourselves with tea and just-made chocolate chip cookies, and set off.

We walked up the road, thinking the path might still be too muddy. But when we reached the rocky, mossy top, we could see that at least one side of the mountain would be dry enough and oh-so-much-prettier than the paved road.

We began clambering down the rocks, telling the girls to go backwards and put one hand on the mountain so you don't fall off it and so on.

Sometimes, we found the path. And sometimes, just as quickly, the path stopped and we were scouting our own way down through the rocks and moss. This was the best part, actually, because we had to look at the ground so carefully.

We spotted dark purple flowers that looked something like camas and we found rosy sedums blooming. There was a cleft of rock that was particularly inviting to a five-year-old girl. They tried to pick up everything: from baby flowers to hairy moss to heavy rocks.

 In short, it was a perfect birthday morning. I thanked them with a little packet of lemon gumdrops.

I have only recently learned how to make these gumdrops and I am thrilled that I can now make candy without a candy thermometer. (Although I do have one. I'm just a bit scared of it.)

These little drops are old-fashioned and subtle. Their flavour comes from lemon juice, orange rind and sugar. They are soft and jiggly in a way that commercially-made candy can't be. They are lovely.

I wonder what I'll learn to make by my next birthday?

Last year: Grand Forks borscht and Up Island
Two years ago: sophisticated marshmallow squares and red lentil coconut curry soup

lemon gumdrops
via The Essential New York Times Cookbook by Amanda Hesser

4 packets powdered gelatin
1/2 c. + 1/2 c. water
2 c. + 1/2 c. sugar
juice of 1 lemon
grated zest of 1 orange
3 drops yellow food colouring

Butter an 8-inch square baking dish. Set aside.

Mix the gelatin into 1/2 cup water in a bowl. Let it stand for 5 minutes. Set aside.

In a medium pot, stir 2 cups of sugar and 1/2 cup of water together carefully. Bring it to a boil, stirring often. Use a pastry brush dipped in cold water to keep crystals from forming on the sides of the pot above the liquid. Once it boils, add the gelatin mixture and whisk in. (Don't worry if the gelatin is very clumpy; patient whisking will incorporate it into the sugar mixture.) Again bring it to a boil and stir often until it thickens, about 15 minutes.

Pour in the lemon juice and orange zest and bring to a boil for 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and quickly stir in the food colouring. Pour it into the prepared dish. Chill in the refrigerator for about 2 hours.

Put the remaining 1/2 cup sugar in a shallow bowl. Butter the tip of a large chef's knife and keep the butter handy to re-butter when necessary. Drag the knife tip through the lemon gel to make 1/2-inch squares. (Don't worry if you don't see the gumdrops pulling apart from each other at this point. They will once you're done cutting and you start pulling them up.) Butter a butter knife and work it along the edges of the pan.

Butter your fingers and pull a couple gumdrops up (possibly with the help of the butter knife at first). Pull them apart and coat them in the sugar. Repeat until you're all done.

cheddar corn chowder

This recipe has quite the claim to fame: it won the church bake-off back in 1994. (It was submitted by a parishioner named Michelle Henseleit and I think she is a genius.)

Well: wouldn't you want to try a recipe that comes first in a church bake-off?

Right, I would. And I did, back in the mid '90s when it was hot off the presses.

And you know what?

It has never let me down. It is the best corn chowder I have ever had the pleasure to slurp up . . . even without the crumbled bacon bit garnish. (That was back when I was an ideological teenage vegetarian and didn't know what I was missing.)

This recipe has served me well: for dinner and for leftovers for lunch.

I made it in university in Halifax and Victoria.

I made it when I lived in Vancouver in a house with five adults and a baby, and the men who sat around the dinner table shocked this sheltered girl with their giant appetites.

I made it in our apartment in Ottawa when we had forgotten how cold a real winter could be and needed something warm and creamy to defrost our fingers and toes.

Now, I make it in our little apartment back in Victoria and my husband says with a happy sigh, "I always like chowders." (I take it this is a hint.)

It's an easy-going recipe: fry a bit of this, add some stock and cream, cook a bit, add the corn and wine, stir in copious amounts of aged cheddar. Oh, and a bit of freshly-grated nutmeg. Crumble bacon bits on top.

Did you hear all that?

Cream. Corn. Wine. Nutmeg. Aged Cheddar. Bacon bits.

Right. So now you know why this won the bake-off and why you probably need to make it for dinner tonight.

One year ago: Grand Forks borscht
Two years ago: Canadian boterkoek and sophisticated marshmallow squares

cheddar corn chowder

feeds 4

3 tbsp. butter
1 onion, chopped
1 large potato, diced
1 bay leaf
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/4 tsp. ground sage
2 c. (500 ml) chicken stock
1 c. (250 ml) 10% cream
1/2 c. (125 ml) milk
1 1/2 c. corn (frozen or canned)
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 c. white wine
2 tbsp. parsley, chopped
2 tbsp. green onion, chopped
 1 1/2 c. aged cheddar cheese, grated
4 – 5 slices bacon, cooked and crumbled

Heat heavy-bottomed pot over medium-low heat. Melt the butter, and add the onion, potato, bay leaf, cumin and sage. Cook, stirring often, for about 5 minutes or until the onion has softened.

Pour in the stock, cream and milk. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat so it simmers. Cook until the potato is tender, about 10 – 15 minutes.

Add the corn, nutmeg, wine and most of the parsley and green onion. Simmer for 5 more minutes until it's heated through. Take the bay leaf out.

Stir in the cheese, a bit at a time. Heat until the cheese is melted, but don't let it boil (or it might be difficult and separate on you). Serve with crumbled bacon bits and some of that parsley and green onion you kept.


 

caramel chocolate mousse

If there's one thing I long for, it's counter space.

When we were visiting my dad last weekend, I kept looking longingly at the expanse of counter space in his kitchen. Of course, we made good use of it, with this chicken curry and then buttermilk pancakes with frozen huckleberries and brambles.

Oh, and did I mention the caramel chocolate mousse?

Because that's what I really want to tell you about.

On Sunday afternoon, while Scott and dad were out pouring concrete for a gate (seriously!), I got to hang out in my dad's sunny little house and do my two favourite things: cook and read.

I started with the mousse. As you see, the sun was pouring in and everything was going swimmingly.

Well, it was . . . until I got a bit cocky about melting the chocolate and this horror happened.

What is that monster, you may ask?

That monster is overheated chocolate, where the cocoa has divorced itself from the cocoa butter.

(I don't know how they convince them to join up in the chocolate factories, but let me know tell you, they will never reunite in your kitchen. Goodness knows I tried.)

After that horror – in which my main panic was that my mousse would be a goner and I wouldn't get enough time to read before the boys got back – I found some more chocolate and got back on track. Dear readers, follow these instructions for melting chocolate carefully and don't let it get too hot!

It should look more like this:

Now, back to the whole idea of caramel chocolate mousse. It's a good one, don't you think?

Chef Michael Smith thought it up, and I saw it in his new book when I was flipping through it at the bookstore a couple weeks ago.

I have been intrigued with the idea of using caramel as a deep, dark base for chocolate ever since I saw this video about chocolate ice cream last summer. (Also check out Melissa Clark's cool sunglasses.)

This mousse is dish-heavy – pot to make the caramel, double boiler to melt the chocolate, bowl to whip the cream – but it's actually pretty simple. Also, I am relieved to finally have a reliable technique for caramel.

(Before this, I had a 50% chance of my caramel seizing into grains of horrible hard sugar. Which is not pretty. I'm fairly sure I'll have a 100% success rate of smooth, lovely caramel with Michael Smith's technique.)

I decided to mix the caramel and chocolate cream together before folding it into the whipped cream. I was afraid the sticky caramel would take too much mixing and deflate the whipped cream. Pre-mixed with the chocolate, the caramel folds in like a dream.

After a couple hours in the fridge, it takes on that airy, dense texture that I want in a mousse. (Do  you know what I mean: substantial but light?)

As for the taste – well, let's just say the caramel is worth it. It lends a deeper base of flavour, almost the way a homemade stock does for soup.*

In the end, I got my mousse into the fridge within less than an hour, and had lots of time to get back to my other important goal for the afternoon: sitting in the reclining chair next to the window and reading my book with a cup of tea.

*I will note that the original recipe calls for milk chocolate instead of dark chocolate, so as not to overpower the caramel base. I didn't have any milk chocolate, so I used dark and I think I'll keep it that way. I may also be influenced by the fact that I make my caramels pretty dark so they can stand up to the dark chocolate base.


 Last March: grand forks borscht
Two Marches ago: dahl for dinner, dahling

caramel chocolate mousse
slightly adapted from michael smith

1/4 c. (62.5 ml) sugar
1 c. (250 ml) whipping cream (separated to 2 tbsp + 2 tbsp + 3/4 c.)
2 oz. (62.5 g.) dark or milk chocolate, chopped finely
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml) vanilla extract

Take out a small saucepan with a heavy bottom. Pour in 1/4 c. of water. Sprinkle the sugar over the water, making sure the sugar doesn't touch the inside edges of the pot. Do NOT stir. Turn on the heat to medium. Keep an eye on it, but don't touch it. Eventually, the sugar will melt and the water will boil. As it begins to lightly brown, you may swirl the pot gently to help it brown evenly, although I don't find it necessary. Once it starts browning, keep an eagle eye on it. When it's deep golden brown, take it off the heat. Get out a shallow bowl and a whisk.

Stand back and get ready for some spattering. Carefully pour 2 tbsp. of cream into the caramel. Whisk until smooth. Transfer the caramel into the shallow bowl. (It is important to do this because the caramel will keep cooking and hardening in the hot pot.) Cool to room temperature, about 20 minutes. Set aside while cooling.

Now, it's time to melt the chocolate and cream. The important part here is not to overheat the chocolate. Get a clean whisk ready. Heat water to a simmer in the bottom of a double-boiler, or nestle a bowl over (but not in) a pot of simmering water. Keep the heat down to minimum so the water only simmers and doesn't boil. Put the chopped chocolate in the bowl. Pour in 2 tbsp. of cream. Whisk until the chocolate is just melted, then take the bowl off the heat and keep whisking until it's smooth. Set aside to cool somewhat.

Whip the remaining 3/4 c. of cream with the vanilla until it's whipped cream. Set aside.

Whisk the caramel and chocolate cream together. Gently fold it into the whipped cream until it's all a nice chocolate brown colour. Leave in bowl or put into serving glasses. Chill for at least two hours or even one to two days. Serve as is or with a bit of shaved chocolate on top.

eating out

Months ago, my landlord put these bulbs in little jars of water. As I watched them freezing into solid ice-cube bulbs in December, I had my doubts.

I shouldn't have.

Spring does always come – even if you're a little narcissus bulb straining to bloom in a little jar of ice.

Now it's February and they've had just enough shelter in our foyer to grow way, way up and blossom right out. They were a nice treat to come home to after working and visiting friends in Vancouver last week. (It was ever so rainy, but that's Vancouver in February for you.)

All this travelling means I have new Vancouver restaurants to recommend: one Chinese and one with a cozy ski lodge feel. I'm also making up for lost time, and I've added favourite spots in Edmonton and up Vancouver Island. Hop on over to hop & go fetch it to read about them.

I'll be back with a new recipe soon – although I'm back on the road again this weekend. I did make a nice little eggplant parmesan for Valentine's Day, but it wasn't quite perfect. When it's up to snuff, I promise to share it with you. In the meantime: here's to eating out and not doing dishes!


One February ago: turnip puff to the rescue!
Two Februarys ago: lemon loaf, little lemon cakes and olympic nanaimo bars

gumdrop cake and turning 2

Last night, I dreamed of gumdrop cake.

I saw a slice of cake, close up. It was white and fluffy and the gumdrops were perfectly distributed throughout the cake – you know, almost suspended in the air of the cake. It was a beautiful thing.

In fact, if you make this cake with regular wheat flour, that dream can be your reality.

If you make this cake with gluten-free flours, your pretty gumdrops will drop (ooh, foreshadowing!) to the bottom half of the cake and give you a gumdrop layer cake.

I have given this a great deal of thought today and I believe that, according to the laws of physics, that is just the way things are meant to be. I mean, with no gluten to hold up the gumdrops in the cake, what can they do but drop?

Anyway, all that to say: it doesn't matter! Because whether you have gumdrop studded cake or gumdrop layer cake, you still end up with a rich, buttery cake that is just right for celebrating.

Yes, this little blog is turning two and I thought rainbow gumdrops were appropriate for celebrating this toddler achievement. I am also celebrating with a new plum and star anise header and – coming very soon – a print button so you can quick-as-a-snap print just the recipe you want.

You might say, "Stephanie, my goodness, two years! You have posted 84 recipes in that time! What are your favourites?"

And I would say:

* grand forks borscht
* salmon with sugar-salt rub
* loganberry jelly
* chocolate raspberry horse turds
* sophisticated marshmallow squares
 
Or maybe you wouldn't say that at all and you would like me to get back to the gumdrop cake, please. Certainly.

 Mrs. Doucet strikes again!

I first tried this cake days – days, I tell you! – after New Year's when I was visiting Angela in Halifax many years ago. Her mom had sent this cake home with her after Christmas.

I had never eaten gumdrop cake before and I was entranced. I do believe I ate a small slice every day of the four or five days I visited. The cake was dense and soft, and the chewy gumdrops provided pockets of chewy, gummy love.

This cake has a somewhat indecent amount of butter. Do not be tempted to cut it. I repeat: do not. I do believe the butter – and the milk and the sugar – gives it a lovely buttery flavour and helps it have a long, stable shelf-life. (Which is perfect, since this cake is rich and you will be happy with just having a little slice every day.)

After all, it's birthday cake. It should have lots of butter and milk and sugar – and gumdrops.

One February ago:  whisky marmalade and bacon-wrapped dates with olives and almonds
Two Februarys ago: creamy celeriac soup and muesli
Related: gumdrop cookies

gumdrop cake

If you'd like to scale the recipe down to half – which I highly recommend if there is only one or two of you in the house – use a 6-inch pan and bake for about one hour and 15 minutes. If you use an 8-inch or 9-inch pan with half a recipe, bake for about 35 minutes.

2 c. regular gumdrops or jujubes*
1 c. butter
3 eggs
2 c. sugar
2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 c. + 2 1/2 c. wheat flour
     Or gluten-free flours:
     98 g. uncontaminated oat flour
     98  g. sweet white sorghum flour
     98 g. sweet rice flour
     98 g. tapioca or arrowroot starch
     98 g. potato starch
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
1 c. warm milk

Cut gumdrops into thirds and sprinkle with 1 cup of the flour. Cover them, and leave them to sit on the counter overnight.

When you're ready to start baking, preheat the oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit. Butter a tube pan. Dust with flour.

Beat the butter, eggs, sugar and vanilla together until somewhat fluffy. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, mix the flour(s), baking powder and salt together well. Alternately add the milk and the dry ingredients to the butter mixture. Fold in gum drops. Pour batter into prepared pan.

Bake for 1 1/2 hours, or until golden brown and your cake tester comes out clean. Let cool fully before eating. Keeps well in a sealed container on the counter for quite a while.

* Use regular gumdrops or jujubes, not the baking ones. Take out any that are black or clove-flavoured.