Earlier this year, I read a post from Sarah about travelling for work. In it, she lyrically describes missing tomato season at home while she is working in South East Asia.
She happened to post it shortly after I found out that I was going to be travelling a lot for work this Autumn and I thought of that post last night as I sat in my hotel room, eating a bowl of mediocre pasta from room service and watching CNN International.
My parents were here for the weekend. We spent a couple of days sight-seeting, eating at nice restaurants (no work-imposed subsistence allowance to be concerned about) and sitting outside drinking tequila while my mother celebrated the fact that you could still smoke in public in Mexico.
They left yesterday and the joy of having them here, so far from away from home, quickly gave way to a major bout of homesickness. I get to go home (for now) at the end of the week but, last night, that seemed very far away.
The thing is though, Mexico City is a great city. It's vibrant and energetic. The people we are working with are brilliant and making our job as easy as possible. I'm here with a sociable bunch of colleagues from the UK and there is no real reason for me to spend all night moping around in my hotel room.
There are three or four trees in the car park behind our flat. They're taller than our block and must be at least as old, if not older. Over the decades, their roots have caused cracks and bumps in the road, erupting through the tarmac from under the ground.
When we first looked round the flat back in January, the branches were totally bare, stark against the snow-laden sky. By the time we moved in in May, the view from all of the windows was almost totally green. When in bloom, the trees mask the road and the houses on the other side of the street like we're living in our own private tree house.
Autumn in Mexico City does not seem particularly pronounced; the air is heavy and humid and smells tropical. The odd downpour quickly gives way to hazy blue skies. This is such a green city, I imagine almost all year round, and whilst our Mexican colleagues seem to bundled up in winter coats and scarves, it's warm enough for us Brits to forego our coats and jackets.
By the time I get back home, it will be the middle of October and I expect that the leaves on the trees behind my flat will have started to fall. As we walk through the car park every morning, they'll crunch under foot and, hopefully, the pigeons that plague us will have found somewhere else to live for the winter. Halloween and Bonfire Night will be around the corner (not to mention the looming prospect of my 30th birthday in November) and I fully expect that my local supermarket will have started stocking up on mince pies and advent calendars I will have skipped out on a whole season.
When I was briefly back in the UK the week before last, I made some little pies. There is something about the convenience of a fully formed pie that you can bake when needed and devour in one sitting that seems so much more appealing than cutting a slice for yourself.
I used some plums in these; I think plums are just about still available at home but any fruit really will do. They're flavoured with ginger and nutmeg and a touch of cinnamon; in the oven, everything muddles together to become sweet and sticky and spicy.
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Little spiced plum pies
Adapted from Martha Stewart and these balsamic raspberry hand pies
Makes 8 little pies
I liked these even more with the plum filling than with the balsamic raspberry filling - the warmth of the spices works so well with the tender, buttery pastry. Depending on the sweetness of your plums, you may want more or less sugar. I always go for the less sweet option given a choice but it's totally up to you.
For the pastry:
- 150g (1 1/4 cups) white spelt flour
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1 tablespoon demerara sugar
- 115g (1 stick) butter, cold and cut into cubes
- 1 tablespoon sour cream
- 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
- 2 tablespoons ice cold water
For the filling:
- 250g plums (approx. 8), stoned and cut into chunks
- A splash of balsamic vinegar
- 1 – 2 tablespoons of demerara sugar, depending on the sweetness of your plums
- 2 teaspoons corn flour
- 1 teaspoon ground ginger
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
To finish:
- 1 beaten egg
To make the pastry, put the flour, salt and sugar in the bowl of stand mixer. Add the butter and, using the paddle attachment, beat on a low speed for a minute or so until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs and there are pea-sized lumps of butter.
Whisk together the sour cream, vinegar and water and gradually add the liquid mixture to the dry ingredients until the dough starts to clump together.
Flatten the dough and wrap in cling film. You should still be able to see lumps of butter running through it Chill in the fridge for about an hour until just firm.
Roll out the chilled dough on a well-floured piece of parchment paper until it’s bout 3mm thick. Chill the flattened dough for another half an hour or so.
To make the filling, combine the plums, balsamic vinegar, sugar, corn flour and spices in a bowl and leave to macerate while you sort out the dough
Remove the dough from the fridge and using cut out circles about 8cm in diameter; you should get 16. Place a spoonful of the chopped plum mixture in the middle of 8 of the circles. Brush the edges of the circles with beaten egg and place one of the other circles on top. Press down the edges to seal the little pies. Cut a vent in each pie and freeze for an hour or so until firm.
Before baking, preheat the oven to 180C/350F (fan) and brush the top of the pies with beaten egg. Bake for 35 – 40 minutes until golden brown.
This recipe first appeared on the Secret Sales blog.