Every Saturday morning my sister and I would go to our local swimming baths. We both learned to swim there. I still remember my lovely orange arm bands with the navy blue writing on them. I would kick my little legs furiously in an effort to propell myself from one side of the pool to the other, completely knackered from my efforts once I had reached my destination.
When we arrived the overpowering stench of chlorine would greet us at the door accompanied by the giddy screams of children already splashing about. We would hand over our money at the hatch in return for a monster plastic crate to fill with our belongings. Under the weight of enormous said crate we would stagger to the freezing cold changing rooms to don are no doubt fabulous swim suit, arm band, rubber hat ensmble. Suitably attired we did the 4 minute mile back to the hatch on our tippy toes(seriously, this place used to be fu reezin), to hand over our now full and heavier crates in exchange for a blue rubber wrist band. Now the only thing between us and the pool was the dreaded wall of ice cold water. It didn't matter how small you tried to make yourself in an attempt to squeeze through the gaps, it ALWAYS drenched you.
Drenched and colder still there was nothing left but to plunge into the pool in an attempt to regain a smidgen of lost heat. And there we would stay, a blissful hour submerged until the siren heralded the end of our fun and we two little prunes sploshed back to retrace our steps. Cold, shrivelled and with dripping hair we would emerge from the echoey confines for the 5 minute walk home. A little stop of at the shop on the way to spend the few pence we had been gifted before leaving home would yield a bar of chocolate for me and a chester slice for my sister. Every week the same routine.
With 10p she would become the proud owner of a thick, fragrant hunk of ebony cake, carefully ensconced within a brown paper bag, protected by a small square of plastic wrap. I can't remember what she bought with her change because I was always fascinated by the cake. I have never been a fan of dried fruit so wouldn't taste it but I remember how good it smelled. Warm spices giving a little nod to winter and Christmas even on a warm summers day. I remember it with a very thin layer of dark chocolate on top but she disagrees with me and says it was merely the dark contents within staining the outer pastry layer to give the illusion of such luxuries.
Fast forward 20 years or so and I recounted this story to my husband, and he maintains he did exactly the same thing with his sister. I'm not sure if this is a coincidence or some sort of Irish childhood ritual, maybe you lovely people can shed some light on this one for me. He also fondly remembers weekly trips to his local swimming pool and on the way home he would stop with his sister for a chester slice from Mannings bakery. He agrees with me about the chocolate topping because he says it is the only reason he bought them. Did you have chester slice cakes when you were little? Did they have chocolate or is my memory playing tricks on me? I'd love to know so leave me a little comment. Go on.
Chester Slice(Gur Cake)
Having done a little investimagating it would seem that a Chester Slice and Gur Cake are one and the same. I think someone somewhere along the way must have renamed it in an attempt to make it sound more appealing. You see a Gur Cake is essentially a poor mans cake, the scraps of bread in a bakery mixed up with some dried fruit and sandwiched between 2 sheets of pastry. In our house going on Gur would mean to do without, the only luxury being a piece of Gur Cake. If you were on Gur you really didn't have much going for you, either the cupboards were bare or maybe you were out of favour with your loved one and wouldn't receive much in the line of sustinence or other *cough*. I would love to know the meaning of the word Gur for others though, so again, please leave me a lovely little comment.
This is my version of a Chester Slice or Gur Cake. It is really open to being tinkered with as the recipe would change from day to day in the bakery depending on what scraps were available so please feel free to adapt the recipe to your own taste.
2 Sheets Ready Roll Short Crust Pastry
110g/4oz Plain Flour
1tsp Baking Powder
1tsp Ground Ginger
1/2 a stale Madeira Cake, crumbled (I used half a 1lb madeira loaf)
2 generous handfuls of Mixed Dried Fruit
60g/2oz Granulated Sugar
6tbsp Treacle
1 Egg Beaten
2tbsp Milk
100g Plain Chocolate
1. Preheat the oven to 200C/400F/Gas Mark 6.
2. Line the bottom of a brownie pan with 1 sheet of pastry and trim the excess
3. Sieve the flour, baking powder and ground ginger into a bowl.
4. Add the cake crumbs, mixed fruit, sugar and treacle and mix. It will be quite a stiff, dense mixture.
5. Spread this evenly over the pastry sheet in the pan.
6. Lay the second pastry sheet over the top and trim the excess.
7. Brush with the beaten egg mixed with the milk.
8. Mark out squares with a sharp knife and place in the preheated oven for 20 minutes.
9. Remove from the oven and place on a wire rack to cool.
10.Once cool cut into the marked squares.
11.Melt the chocolate in a heat proof bowl set over a pot of simmering water.
12.Dip the top of each square into the melted chocolate to coat evenly and allow to set.
