I never thought a fig roll would nearly make me cry, but here we are. It's like an  ambush in the British aisle of Coles. You never thought you'd miss them, but here we are.
If you grew up in the UK , you'll know the fig roll. Not glamorous. Not the biscuit anyone fought over in the tin. That honour went to the chocolate digestives, and even then only if you asked. Mum always bought the plain chocolate ones, and because none of us liked dark chocolate, they were safe in the tin for days. The fig rolls never needed asking for. Nobody was fighting over those. But it was always there, wasn't it? Mum's biscuit barrel, the school tuck shop, the bottom of a lunchbox next to a slightly squashed sandwich. Unassuming, a bit old-fashioned, and somehow exactly what you wanted when nothing else would do.

I've been making my own fig jam for a while now, low and slow, the kind of thing that makes the whole kitchen smell like someone's granny is cooking. And the other day I stood there with a jar of it and thought, that's a fig roll. That's just a fig roll waiting to happen.
So I turned it into a blondie.

If the jam sounds familiar, it's because it's the same one in the cookbook, Merry Figgin' Christmas Jam, page 29. Figs from the tree in my garden, honey from our own bees, a bit of cinnamon and clove to warm it up. Proper old-fashioned, the way my mum always did it. I've just found a new home for it.

Fig Roll Blondie. A buttery, golden blondie base, ribboned through with my own fig jam, baked until it's just set enough to hold together and just gooey enough to fall apart when you cut it. It tastes like the biscuit tin. It tastes like being small and sat on someone's kitchen floor waiting for the oven timer to go off.
This is what I love about baking the food I miss. You take something small and slightly forgotten, something nobody ever really wrote home about, and you give it a proper moment. The fig roll never asked to be the star. But it's earned it.
You'll find these in The Cake Shed as soon as they're ready, but I know a lot of you like to bake along at home too, so here's how I make them.
 
FIG ROLL BLONDIES
​Time: 50 minutes, plus cooling  |  Makes: 12 chunky bars  |  Tin: 20 cm square
Blondie

• 170 g unsalted butter, melted
• 170 g light brown sugar
• 80 g caster sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 1 tspn vanilla extract
• 180 g plain flour
• 1 tbspn cornflour
• ½ tspn baking powder
• ¼ tspn salt
• 120 g white chocolate, roughly chopped
• 100 g Fig Rolls, roughly chopped

Fig Filling

• 160 g fig jam

Topping

• 150 g white chocolate
• 60 g Fig Rolls, roughly chopped
• 1 tbspn finely chopped dried figs, optional

Method
1. Heat the oven to 170°C conventional or 160°C fan. Line a 20 cm square tin with baking paper.
2. Whisk the melted butter, brown sugar and caster sugar until smooth.
3. Add the eggs and vanilla and whisk until glossy.
4. Sift in the flour, cornflour, baking powder and salt. Fold until just combined.
5. Fold through the white chocolate and chopped Fig Rolls.
6. Spread half the mixture into the tin.
7. Warm the fig jam very slightly so it's easy to spread. Spoon it over the blondie, leaving about 1 cm clear around the edge.
8. Carefully spread the remaining blondie mixture over the top. Flatten spoonfuls of dough between your fingers before placing them over the jam if needed.
9. Bake for 27 to 30 minutes, until golden around the edges but still slightly soft in the centre.
10. Leave to cool completely in the tin.
11. Melt the white chocolate and spread it over the top. Scatter with the chopped Fig Rolls and dried figs, if using.
12. Chill until the chocolate has set, then cut into 12 chunky bars.
​
My tip: keep the fig jam as a pocket through the centre rather than swirling it all the way through. When you cut the bar, you get a lovely stripe of fig right through the middle. Looks proper too.
If you'd rather skip the oven altogether, these will be landing in The Cake Shed soon. I'll post when they're in, but if you're one of the fig roll faithful (and I know there are more of you than admit to it in public), keep an eye out.

This jam is taken from my cookbook, Pork Pies & the Perfect Pickle, 260 pages of the British comfort food we grew up with, now available to order online and on Amazon.
Order your copy here 

Leigh x

There's a story doing the rounds this week that's got a lot of UK bakers talking. A baker in the UK built himself a massive following online, took thousands of pounds in pre-orders for mystery boxes, and now people are waiting six, seven months for cakes that never turn up. Some never will. Refunds are being refused. It's a proper mess, and it's made me think about something I care about a lot more than I probably let on most days.


Trust.


At the Morrissey Blinds and Interiors showroom in Perth, I've got a hub and a shed. Alright, it's really more of a cupboard, but "shed" stuck and nobody's arguing with me about it now. I painted it myself, not particularly well, and I fill it Tuesday to Saturday with cake. There's a sign right there with a QR code, an honesty box in spirit if not quite in form. No app, no pre-order, no queue number. You take what you want, you pay what it costs, on your way, and if you're a bit short that day, well, I trust you'll sort me out next time.


It works. It's worked for years. Not because people are perfect, but because most people are decent, and decent people don't need watching.


I think about that a lot when I see stories like this one, and I know a lot of us British expats in Australia feel the same pull, wanting that bit of home, that proper British food, and wanting to know the people behind it can actually be trusted. Big followings and slick videos can build hype fast, but hype was never what fed anyone. What feeds people is knowing the cake you paid for is actually going to turn up, and if it doesn't, someone picks up the phone and sorts it, not disappears.
That's the whole of it, really. No mystery boxes here. Just a shed at the showroom (a cupboard, fine, technically), some cake, and a QR code that's never once let me down.
​

Coronation Chicken (My Way)There's a bit of a story behind this one.
I was having a nosy online recently to see what M&S had on, as you do, when I spotted a link for Brit Superstore. Well, of course I had to have a look. Ended up with a whole basket filled, tea, biscuits, all sorts. And tucked in there was a bottle of Coronation sauce, which properly tickled me, because I've always just made mine from scratch. Never occurred to me you could buy it ready done in a bottle.
Got to checkout, saw the shipping cost, and the whole basket got abandoned rather sharpish. Off I trotted to the local IGA instead, and came home with a bag of Walkers Cheese & Onion, Quavers and Hula Hoops. Not exactly a hardship, all things considered.
But seeing that bottled version did get me thinking about the flavour again, so here's my proper homemade Coronation Chicken, straight from the cookbook.
A little history
Coronation Chicken was dreamt up in 1953 for Queen Elizabeth II's coronation, the brainchild of Le Cordon Bleu chefs Constance Spry and Rosemary Hume. They needed something regal enough for the occasion, but practical enough to serve cold to hundreds of guests without losing its shine. What they came up with was tender chicken in a creamy, lightly spiced sauce with just a hint of sweetness. British comfort with a touch of the exotic.
It didn't stay in the palace for long. It found its way into sandwich shops and family kitchens up and down the country, and it's just as happy in a lunchbox as it is at a proper spread. Sweet, tangy, gently spiced, and still wearing its crown well.

​What you'll need
Makes: approx. 6 servings Prep time: 10 minutes Storage: keeps up to 5 days in the fridge

• 500g shredded chicken breast, cooked
• 1 jar mango chutney
• 2 tsp lemon juice
• 1 tbsp curry powder
• 250g whole egg mayonnaise
• 1 tbsp Dijon mustard

Method

1. In a bowl, mix together the mayonnaise, mango chutney, lemon juice, curry powder and Dijon mustard until smooth.
2. Add the shredded chicken and stir until evenly coated.
3. Cover and store in the fridge until needed.

Make it your own

• Lighter version: swap half the mayo for Greek yoghurt for a tangy, lighter option
• Spice it up: add extra curry powder, a pinch of cayenne, or chopped fresh chilli for a kick
• No mango chutney? apricot jam, honey, or finely chopped dried apricots work just as well for the sweetness
• No lemon juice? a splash of apple cider vinegar gives a similar tang
• Too thick? loosen with a splash of milk, cream, or coconut milk
• Gluten-free? this recipe is naturally gluten-free, just check your chutney for additives
• Dairy-free? use a vegan mayo to keep it dairy-free
• Not a chicken fan? swap in cooked turkey, prawns, or flaked salmon
• Vegetarian? chickpeas, roasted cauliflower or firm tofu all work beautifully

How to serve it

• Sandwiches & wraps — buttery soft bread, a bagel, or a tortilla wrap
• Salad topper — spooned over mixed greens for a quick, protein-packed lunch
• Jacket potato filling — a warm, fluffy baked potato and Coronation chicken is perfection
• Crusty baguette — piled high with lettuce and sliced cucumber for extra crunch

Fancy more like this? This recipe features in my cookbook, Pork Pies & The Perfect Pickle. Have a peek [here], or come say hello over on the Facebook group.
Leigh xx