A cup of tea and a cwtch
Traditional Bara Brith Recipe
I was playing ‘either-or’ recently with some friends, and they posed me the toughest question (or so they thought): "If you could only drink tea or red wine for the rest of your life, which would it be?". There are some who believe my middle names to be "vino tinto" due to my love of the red stuff, and yet, for all the joy I get from a sip of Rioja, I would happily give it up in a flash for a good cuppa. I survive on tea, probably averaging about 10 cups a day. The problem (not really a problem) is, it's useful in all situations. Someone needs a chat? I'll pop the kettle on. Feeling a bit hungover? I'll make you a cup of tea to settle your stomach. Want to have a good natter about what Sandra in Finance got up to at the Christmas party? I'll meet you by the tea urn in the kitchen. Tea is one of those stereotypes that the world reels off for Brits, and yet I'm happy to embrace that stereotype.
I wonder if I get my love of tea from Nanna Lena. She could drink cup after cup as long as there was someone to chat to and my granddad Poppa was in the kitchen to make it. As I think I’ve mentioned before, Nanna’s house was always busy with people – mainly family but not always – popping in for a natter, to let the kids run up and down the grassy bank outside until they were tired, or to get diagnosed by Doctor Lena, who despite never having had any medical training, could tell you your ailment, who in the family had suffered with it before, and how to cure it – usually not sleeping in a draught, no sitting on cold steps, wearing a scarf to bed or a vest in the day, or having a good cuppa to warm you through or cool you down.
As soon as you walked in the door, you’d hear Nanna call from the front room “Yoohoo, Typhoo!” and then once you’d sat down on the settee, she’s call out to Poppa in the kitchen to stick the kettle on. One of our favourite songs to sing with Nanna as kids was Nice Cup of Tea, which she taught us, and we’d sing and ‘play’ back of the settee like a piano.
I’m not sure if it’s a Welsh thing, but Nanna would often tip the tea into the saucer to give to the younger kids, and we’d often dip our toast (cut into triangles and scraped with margarine) into our morning tea. This sounds odd to me now, but then there is a thing known as Shepherd’s Tea in Wales, which is essentially a recipe of bread or toast soaked in hot tea and eaten as a breakfast.
I think for me, tea has that nourishing quality that I spoke about in the very first newsletter. It soothes, it warms, it comforts. It’s like a cwtch in a cup.
Of course, that brings up the idea of a cwtch – which I’m going to try to explain for any of the uninitiated. I guess the closest word in English is ‘cuddle’, but a Welsh cwtch is more than a simple cuddle, it has emotional, almost guttural effects.
It’s that lingering extra-tight embrace from your nan, holding you close in case she never sees you again. It’s the tingling relaxation feeling when hugging your parents – something I still get every time I go home and they meet me off the train. It’s the warming comfort of cuddling on the sofa under a blanket when it’s cold. It’s the wet kiss and slightly suffocating hug from an aunty at Christmas. And it’s that emotional security from a friend or family member when you’re feeling down or unwell. Perhaps it’s a hug that says you are safe, you are loved.
Besides my mum and dad, Nannie Gwen gave the best cwtches growing up. I can still feel them now, sitting on her lap cradling you in tight and warm, feeling like nothing could touch you. Although they’re a distant memory now, the thought of them still gives me comfort. I get that tingle of safety and love just at the thought. A virtual comfort blanket – now that’s my cup of tea.
The Recipe
Traditional Bara Brith
This week we have a classic Welsh recipe: bara brith. There are two common types of this speckled bread. One is a yeasted bread and the other a tea loaf cake. This version is the traditional version with yeast. It’s said that the dish came about when bread ovens were lit once a week, and as the last of the loaves was put in – as the oven started to lose heat – people would throw a handful of dried fruit into the last batch. I’m not sure how true that is, but I like the sentiment. This recipe does take a bit of time compared with the tea loaf version, so it’s best to plan ahead and soak the fruit the night before.
Ingredients (makes 1 loaf)
200g dried mixed fruit (or a mix of raisins, currants, sultanas)
50g dried mixed peel
350ml strong tea (no milk)
1 tbsp black treacle
500g plain flour (or strong white bread flour)
14g quick-action dried yeast
50g soft brown sugar
½ tsp salt
1 tsp mixed spice (apple pie/pumpkin spice)
50g softened butter
Drop of milk
Oil for greasing
Method
Firstly, dissolve the black treacle in the hot tea and then pour the mix over the dried fruit and mixed peel. Soak for at least 1.5 hours but ideally overnight until the fruit is plump and juicy.
In a large mixing bowl, tip in all the dry ingredients and stir to combine. Dot in the butter in small bits.
Drain the now fruit and reserve the liquid (you should be left with about 250ml). Cover the bowl of fruit with a plate to keep moist until later. Warm the reserved liquid slightly and add to the mixing bowl of dry ingredients.
Combine using a wooden spoon until a dough starts to form and add a little milk if it seems a bit dry.
When it’s come together, tip it onto a well-floured surface and knead for around 10 minutes until the dough is elastic and smooth. It’s a bit of a sticky job but bear with it.
Put the dough into a clean bowl greased with oil and cover with a damp tea towel. Leave to prove for 1.5 hours until the dough has doubled in size.
Tip the dough onto a lightly floured surface and tip the fruit into the centre. Knead the dough gently until the fruit is evenly distributed though. Shape into a rectangular loaf and place in a non-stick loaf tin (or a well-greased one), cover with the damp tea towel and leave to rise for another 1.5 hours.
Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F/Gas Mark 6. The dough should have risen again by now and filled the tin nicely. Place in the centre of the oven for 15 minutes. Then, turn down the heat to 160°C/320°F/Gas Mark 3 and cook for about another 40 minutes. If the top starts to brown too quickly, cover with foil.
You’ll know if the bara brith is done if when you tip it out of the tin and tap on the bottom, it sounds hollow. Leave to cool completely before carving into slices and slathering with salty butter.
I think it’s better after a day or two, and the loaf will keep for up to about a fortnight, when it’s good toasted. Sliced thinly, it’s a great as an accompaniment for cheese.
If you try the recipe out, don’t forget to tag any photos with #mywelshkitchen.
The Playlist
To me, cooking and music go hand in hand, whether that’s singing at the top of your voice using a wooden spoon as a microphone while waiting for pasta to boil, or dancing around with the oven gloves on as the oven timer counts down. Here are this week’s ideas for your Welsh Kitchen playlist.
First up this week is Donald Peers from Ammanford. A big star of the late 1940s and 50s, Peers had a major hit in 1944 – after being invalided out of the war on D-Day – with this song. Second up is a song originally by Hogia'r Wyddfa that always brings a tear to eye and gets my blood pumping, and I think would be a great back-up national anthem if ever we needed it! The rough translation of part of the rousing chorus says, “Together we stand united, for our language, for our land, for our people, for our children. Together we stand united”. I love the original version but there’s something about the power of the combined voices of a choir singing it that really gets you in the heart.
In A Shady Nook (By A Babbling Brook) by Donald Peers
Safwn Yn Y Bwlch by Côr Unedig Clybiau Rygbi De Cymru
The Pantry
Good food is nothing without good ingredients and thankfully there are plenty of fantastic Welsh products on the market. Here is where you’ll find recommendations to stock up your cupboard, fridge or fruit bowl.
Selwyn’s Seaweed snacks
You might know Selwyn’s for their laverbread, but they also produce a fantastic range of seaweed snacks. These salt and vinegar laverbread crisps are wonderfully savoury – and only 11 calories per pack (if you’re counting). Ideal with a cool, crisp glass of white wine, dry sherry or a beer.