Have you ever tried jam roly poly? Am I the only child of British parents who has not had this pleasure? Because it sure feels like it. Whenever I confess my jam-roly-poly-free existence, I get greeted by looks of semi-wrought disgust and mutterings of 'What's wrong with you?' Even from Matthew who generally takes it as read that my upbringing was weird and unnatural and Canadian. And everyone but everyone has stories of it being served up at school dinners. Everyone also seems to harbour a secret liking for it, which was mildly amusing at first and now the subject of a three-year culinary psychology degree.
The whole thing with jam roly poly came after spotting a (dairy and egg-free) recipe for it in an old issue of the Guardian Weekend, and man did it look good. It started up a level of cravings my premenstrual body didn't know was possible. So, after a brief investigation, I decided I needed it.
ingredients:
250 g self-rising flour
125 g (vegetable) suet
pinch of salt
200 ml water
4 tbsp jam
method:
Mix together flour, suet and salt. Stir in the water, a little at a time, kneading carefully, until you can form a ball. Lightly flour a surface, roll the dough out to a one-centimetre thick rectangle. Spoon the jam into the centre and spread it like you would tomato on a pizza base. Bear in mind, the edges are not important -- they can be as messy as you like, so long as you leave a two-centimetre border around edge when you apply your jam. Apply thin layer of water along one of the long edges, then grasp the opposite edge and begin rolling into a log (the watered edge serves as a seal). Then put the roll on a greased baking tray, seam-side down. You can, if you like, brush a drizzle of (soy) milk over the top so that it browns nicely. Or dust lightly with brown sugar so that a crunchy top forms.
Bake in the oven for 40 minutes, gas mark 4/200 C.
By most people's standards, it wasn't a great success. The oven was set to the wrong temperature (because we have 9 gas marks instead of the standard 6) and then, after working out what that was, forgot about it until the fire alarm starting bleeping nervously. Matthew decided it was finished with he could rap on it solidly. But even though it was more like a large chewy jam biscuit than a cakey roll, it was jammy and covered in custard and delicious.
The downside to making jam roly poly, as I discovered, was experiencing what I think a lot of new mothers go through when they first return to work. As, when I settled into my desk, I looked down and saw a large patch of off-white stuff encrusted in the folds of my uber-trendy knitted tunic dress thing. Three small, slightly flaky patches could be found on the sleeve of my not at all trendy, very ancient terry hoodie and one on the pocket.
Though I'm not really the mirror-looking kind, but even I draw the line at mystery crud. I scratched at it tentatively, and cursed my premenstrual attempts to multi-task, as a quiet voice in the back of my mind whispered, 'Next time, try wearing an apron, and finish putting the laundry away before you start baking.'
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