Random Recipes: Panna cotta

I'm taking a little break from the leftover turkey today, and the accompanying turkey sweats, to tuck into these Christmas Panna Cottas (Cottas? Cotties? What's the plural please?) in aid of Belleau Kitchen's Random Recipe Challenge.

This month Dom has surpassed himself with the most charitable, yet festive of themes. Summing up what Christmas is all about (kindness towards others, generosity and thoughtfulness as opposed to, say, turkey sweats) the theme is: Make Space for Some Christmas Charity. Dom has asked us to randomly select a recipe from a cookbook we never use which we are then donate to charity.

As I love all my cookbooks, and treasure them as though they are my children (yep, all 35 of 'em), the giving-away-thing was going to be a bit tricky. However, following some negotiation with the lovely Dom it was agreed that I can still enter as I explained I'd just donated to the Guardian Christmas Appeal. 

And this recipe comes from a book I happily snapped up earlier this year from a charity shop. Brilliant.

Christmas Panna Cotta

(adapted from the Hairy Biker's 12 Days of Christmas; makes 3)

2 gelatine sheets

250ml double cream

2 tbsps caster sugar

half a tsp ginger

1 tsp mixed spice

1 tbsp raisins

1 tbsp dark rum

1. Leave the raisins to soak in the rum for half an hour. And have a good glug of the rum yourself; it is afterall Christmas

2. Soak the gelatine according to the packet instructions until soft

3. In a small pan bring the cream, sugar and spices to the boil then simmer for 2-3 mins, gently whisking the whole time until the sugar is dissolved

4. Squeeze out the excess water from the gelatine, then dissolve in a cream mixture while off the heat

5. Drain the raisins, add to the mixture

6. Share out the mixture between three ramekins or moulds and leave to cool completely before placing in the fridge to set

Baker's notes...

• Serve with some seasonal berries for extra festive joy
• Best eaten on the day of making, but these are perfect prepare-ahead desserts while you slump on the sofa in a blissful tipsy state, half an eye on the telly, leisurely searching for the last Purple Triangle in the almost empty tin of Roses