Make Your Own Magic!

If you fancy becoming a fellow conjuring cook, follow the links below to all the recipes from my blog so far.

• Aunt Petunia's Masterpiece - Delia Smith's All In One Sponge
• Cauldron Cakes - Usborne Cookbook for Boys' Chocolate Chunk Muffins
• Pumpkin Pasties - Coop Cheesey Butternut Squash Pasties
• Mrs. Weasley's Fudge - Mum's Simple Fudge
• Hagrid's Rock Cakes - Hairy Bikers' Rock Cakes
• Deathday Party Eggs - Roald Dahl's Stink Bugs' Eggs
• Butterbeer - Roald Dahl's Butterscotch

Have Fun!

Butterbeer and Firewhisky

Well, I've sampled a few mouthwatering (and one or two revolting) dishes, so it's time now to find some thirst quenchers to wash it down with. For this, we'll head over to the Three Broomsticks Inn, the friendly bar in the wizarding village of Hogsmeade.

Run by the warm and welcoming witch Madam Rosmerta, the tavern offers a variety of beverages ranging from traditional British pub favourites to experimental magical concoctions, including mulled mead and gillywater (made from the magical plant 'gillyweed').

Butterbeer is the drink of choice for most students as they seek shelter in the Three Broomsticks and warm themselves up. Harry's first taste of butterbeer comes on that chilly day in December when he had sneaked into Hogsmeade through the secret passage to Honeydukes. 

"“Tell you what,” said Ron, his teeth chattering, “shall we go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?”
Harry was more than willing; the wind was fierce and his hands were freezing, so they crossed the road, and in a few minutes were entering the tiny inn.
It was extremely crowded, noisy, warm, and smoky. A curvy sort of woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar.
“That’s Madam Rosmerta,” said Ron. “I’ll get the drinks, shall I?” he added, going slightly red.
Harry and Hermione made their way to the back of the room, where there was a small, vacant table between the window and a handsome Christmas tree, which stood next to the fireplace. Ron came back five minutes later, carrying three foaming tankards of hot butterbeer.
“Merry Christmas!” he said happily, raising his tankard.
Harry drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted and seemed to heat every bit of him from the inside."

(Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Chapter Ten - The Marauder's Map)

The thought of butterbeer actually makes my mouth water, so I couldn't wait to make this one. I really liked the Revolting Recipes book that I used last time, so I used the recipe for 'Butterscotch' from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. 

After melting sugar, butter and golden syrup in a pan, I whisked it up with milk and natural yoghurt.

Then I left it to chill in the fridge for a few hours and returned to thick, frothy, butterscotch tasting milk.

Although it wasn't physically warm, like in the books, it was satisfyingly sweet and something you could definitely drink on a cold day. I'm sure it could be heated before drinking instead of chilled.

Wizards and muggles alike take part in the age old tradition of toasting to someone's memory, which is how Harry gets his first shot of Firewhisky. After a fierce battle with the Deatheaters, Mad-Eye Moody is killed, leaving the rest of the group in shock.

"Bill walked over to the sideboard and pulled out a bottle of firewhisky and some glasses.
“Here,” he said, and with a wave of his wand he sent twelve full classes soaring through the room to each of them, holding the thirteenth aloft. “Mad-Eye,”
“Mad-Eye,” they all said, and drank.
“Mad-Eye,” echoed Hagrid, a little late, with a hiccup.
The firewhisky seared Harry’s throat. It seemed to burn feeling back into him, dispelling the numbness and sense of unreality, filling him with something that was like courage."

(Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter Five - Fallen Warrior)

Making firewhisky was a simple process: one shot of bourbon with two drops of Tabasco sauce.

Drinking it, however, was not so simple. It definitely seared my throat and filled me with something, but that something certainly wasn't courage...

I really was burning up afterwards; this is definitely not a drink that I'd recommend you try at home!

Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party

Not all food in the Harry Potter world in appetizing. We find various grizzly and gruesome creations peppering the series, which I think appeal particularly to the child's imagination. I still find the grotesque immensely pleasurable to read, but it seems to me, in terms of food anyway, to be a phenomenon found almost exclusively in children's literature. Rowling, however, finds clever ways to make revolting food a guilty reading pleasure for both children and adults, which is especially evident in the example of Nearly Headless Nick's 'deathday party'.

Nick, who is flawlessly played by John Cleese in the films, is Gryffindor House's bumbling resident ghost. Not scary in the slightest, he is generally a laughing stock, mocked by both the students and other ghosts. It is the humour that Rowling injects into this character's plight that makes it so enjoyable to read, and his party so entertaining for both adults and children.

The hilarity ensues with Nearly Headless Nick being informed that he can't take part in the 'Headless Horseman's Hunt' because his head is still attached (the clue's in the name). Nick, rather deflated, shows his guests into the dungeon where the party is being held where they are confronted by the party food buffet...

"“Look, food!” said Ron.
On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered in black velvet. They approached it eagerly but next moment had stopped in their tracks, horrified. The smell was quite disgusting.
Large, rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal-black, were heaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mould and, in pride of place, an enormous grey cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words,

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington 

died 31st October, 1492 

Harry watched, amazed, as a portly ghost approached the table, crouched low, and walked through it, his mouth held wide so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.
“Can you taste it if you walk through it?” Harry asked him.
“Almost,” said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away.
“I expect they’ve let it rot to give it a stronger flavor,” said Hermione knowledgeably, pinching her nose and leaning closer to look at the putrid haggis.
“Can we move? I feel sick,” said Ron.
They had barely turned around, however, when a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and came to a halt in midair before them.
“Hello, Peeves,” said Harry cautiously.
Unlike the ghosts around them, Peeves the Poltergeist was the very reverse of pale and transparent. He was wearing a bright orange party hat, a revolving bow tie, and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face.
“Nibbles?” he said sweetly, offering them a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus."

(Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Chapter Eight - The Deathday Party)

Ron's excitement at the food is short lived as they get closer to the putrid dishes which, had they have been fresh, would surely have been an impressive feast in anyone's book. The classic dinner party food (Hogwarts is in Scotland, so the haggis would have been less out of place than we might imagine) is turned into something quite disgusting, but it's quite amusing to think of ghosts still trying to impress with a fine spread. The spread, of course, is pointless, as the portly ghost tells us. The image of Peeves offering them peanuts, like any well behaved host, is made really quite funny when we find out that they're covered in mould.

I found out that there is a traditional Swedish dish of rotting fish called Surstromming which consists of fermented Baltic Herring, but I don't think my culinary skills stretch far enough to attempt this (nor my ability to handle strong smells). So, I decided to use Roald Dahl and Gary Rhodes' Revolting Recipes to find something that any respectable guest would be proud to bring along to such an event. Revolting Recipes is a great book for any budding cook, young or old, to really enjoy making the foul food found in children's literature.

I settled for 'Stink Bugs' Eggs' from James and the Giant Peach. I hard boiled some eggs, cooled in them in cold water, then smashed the shells with the back of a spoon. I then left them overnight in a bowl of water with a tablespoon of food colouring mixed in.

The next morning, I carefully removed the shells, which was extremely fiddly for my clumsy fingers. Somehow, the green food colouring had stained the eggs blue, but I still think it's quite a good effect.

I think they'd look great slotted in between the rotting salmon and the maggoty haggis. 

Hagrid's Rock Cakes

J.K. Rowling has a wonderful knack for details and consistency. Everything that happens and everything that is said adds more, perfectly, to each character, and you get the impression that she has extensive lists of back stories and details that will never make it onto the page. (If you're interested, I found this: a collection of Rowling's own sketches and handwritten lists of Hogwarts students with her own codes signifying various traits). Hagrid, the lovable, loyal oaf with a habit of putting his foot in it, is a perfect example of Rowling's attention to detail and fine character crafting.

Hagrid is a wild beast at heart, half-giant and totally comfortable with nature. He's also incredibly kind and always strives to make Harry feel at home. Rowling ensure's that Hagrid's relationship with food perfectly reflects both sides of his character, be it through his home cooked beef casserole containing a suspicious looking talon or treacle toffee which Hagrid eats with ease but ends up cementing Harry's jaws together. His culinary mishaps mirror his tendency to slip up in conversations, which result in his trademark, heavily west-countried accented catchphrase, 'I should not have said that...'. 

Hagrid offers Harry his infamous rock cakes, with somewhat predictable results...

"The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their
teeth, but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told
Hagrid all about their first -lessons
[...]
As Harry and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets
weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry
thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much
to think about as tea with Hagrid."

(Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter Eight - The Potions Master)

I wanted to make rock cakes and knew exactly where to get the recipe from - The Hairy Bikers. 

The recipe I used came from the 'Mum's Know Best Series', which are a number of recipes submitted by viewers that have been passed down from their mums. I thought this appropriate for Hagrid inspired cakes as although homely, there was a slight element of danger here as the recipes were not all tried and tested by professional chefs.

Following the instructions and using a bit of my own Hagrid-esque flair, I mixed flour, salt, mixed spice and butter using a 'rubbing in' method. Then, I stirred in sugar and sultanas.

After making a well in the centre of the of the mixture, I stirred in a beaten egg and some milk. It was still far too dry so I followed my instinct and added more (perhaps just a little too much) milk. Luckily mum was on hand to supervise and jump in when necessary (those cookery classes paid off!). I placed in rough heaps on a greased baking tray and left to bake for 15 minutes.

I took them out of the oven and was greeted with perfectly golden rock cakes.

Mum and I enjoyed the cakes with a flagon of steaming tea and, I'm pleased to say, suffered no broken teeth, just warm, full tummies.

Mrs. Weasley's Fudge

One of the most beautiful elements of the Harry Potter series is that Harry's life is transformed not only by magic, but also by the people he meets along his journey through the wizarding world. Poor, unloved, orphaned Harry is all but adopted by the Weasley family, with Mrs. Molly Weasley protecting him as if he were one of her own.

Mrs. Weasley strikes the perfect balance between formidable matriarch and motherly homemaker, often administering public telling-offs to her sons but with an unmistakable air of domestic, maternal warmth. When Harry and the Weasley boys dismount their brooms after stealing Harry away from the Dursley's during the night, Mrs. Weasley greets them in her typical fashion;

"“Oh, dear,” said George.

Mrs. Weasley came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her

hips, staring from one guilty face to the next. She was wearing a

flowered apron with a wand sticking out of the pocket.

“So,” she said.

“ ’Morning, Mum,” said George, in what he clearly thought was

a jaunty, winning voice.

“Have you any idea how worried I’ve been?” said Mrs. Weasley

in a deadly whisper.

“Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —”

All three of Mrs. Weasley’s sons were taller than she was, but

they cowered as her rage broke over them.

“Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my

mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I’ve lived —

you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this

from Bill or Charlie or Percy —”

“Perfect Percy,” muttered Fred.

“YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF

PERCY’S BOOK!” yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred’s

chest. “You could have died, you could have been seen, you could

have lost your father his job —”

It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself

hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away.

“I’m very pleased to see you, Harry, dear,” she said. “Come in

and have some breakfast.”"

(Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Chapter Three - The Burrow)

In her flowery apron, fiercely reprimanding the boys, Mrs. Weasley ends her rant by inviting Harry to have some breakfast. Breakfast, like all meals at the Weasley's, is traditional and hearty and seems to serve one main purpose: comfort. For breakfast he is treated to a mountain of sausages and eggs, and throughout the course of the books Harry samples a wealth of Mrs. Weasley's home cooking. Dishes include stews; rhubarb crumble and custard; lunches of sandwiches and cake; chops and potatoes; breakfasts of porridge, muffins, kippers and toast and marmalade; roast chicken, and onion soup, to name but a few examples. Mrs. Weasley can rarely be found outside of the kitchen (except when she is in child protecting, evil wizard fighting mode) and believes that food really does make you feel better. She once remarked to Harry, "You're looking peaky; you need feeding up" (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix), which may well have worked as Harry thinks that Mrs. Weasley "could cook better than anyone he knew" (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince).

Luckily for Harry, Mrs. Weasley's belly-warming cuisine isn't confined to her kitchen. She sends gifts to Hogwarts for Harry and the Weasley clan, which more often than not contain delicious homemade goodies. When spending Christmas at Hogwarts, Harry always receives a generous parcel from Mrs. Weasley, which in his third year consisted of "a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut-brittle" (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), alongside the mandatory hand-knitted jumper. Harry's first Christmas package from Mrs. Weasley contains within it that most satisfyingly sweet of all confectionery - fudge.

I tried my hand at fudge making and thought it appropriate to use my mum's old exercise book full of handwritten recipes that she's picked up over the years (most of which come from a cookery course she attended in the late 70's). Buried between the never-again-attempted 'Apple Normande' and 'Marzipan Roses', I found what I was looking for - 'Simple Fudge'.

I've never made fudge before, nor anything that involves boiling sugar, so needless to say I suffered a few completely avoidable burns. Pro-tip: do not, under any circumstances, taste test the fudge when the mixture is still bubbling.

Following mum's recipe, I put butter, demerara sugar, milk and condensed milk (is this cheating?) in a pan and gently heated until the sugar had dissolved. Then came the utterly terrifying process of boiling the mixture and stirring for a good 20 minutes.

Next, I removed from the heat and stirred for another 15 minutes until the mixture was stiff and my arms aching.

After spooning into a cake tin and leaving to cool and harden, I cut the fudge into rough cubes and enjoyed a few pieces slightly warm, which were absolutely delicious.

                                      

The finished product was something, I think, that Mrs. Weasley, my mum's cookery teacher and I could all be very proud of.