Which is not to say that the Moiderer's weren't good too, but these were better.
So good actually, that we've already made them twice.
Amy's recipe this time:
340g Demerara sugar
4 tablespoons golden syrup (Amy says heaped, but the first time I didn't read that bit and actually I thought they were slightly better like that - the more syrupy version were a bit too gooey. Which I never thought possible.)
Melt that lot, gently.
Then add the secret ingredient:
Yup. Condensed milk. Half a can. Small child's hair an optional extra.
Stir into your (500g of) oats.
Now this is where I might not have been entirely fair. Because the oats were different this time.
It's B's fault. I sent him to the supermarket without explicit instructions, so instead of getting generic own-brand, probably value, mushed up porridge oats, he came back with super duper hand rolled organic ones that were probably harvested at moonlight by flapjack-making-fairies.
The difference is noticeable:
In a spirit of fairness, I did use the rubbish ones I had left too, but there weren't enough (500g is quite a lot) so about half of that was lovely ones. How much that is responsible for the quality of the finished flapjack I can't say. Or not yet anyway. Further experiments may follow.
Anyway, mix it in,ignoring the slightly concerning greenish colour,
put it in a (larger than last time) tin. Stick in oven (160) for half an hour or so until golden brown.
Leave a good ten minutes (the Moiderer's tip there and she's absolutely right) before slicing. Then leave to cool fully (ideally overnight) before attempting to remove or the squidge will out-squidge you and they'll collapse. I say this from experience, although they do squidge back together again quite nicely in extremis. They are, as I may have already mentioned, pretty squidgy.
This week's guest depressed rugby fan was called Stuart. He was jolly impressed. He's less effusive than Hamish by nature so he limited himself to:
"They're good. Actually, they're very good".
But he ate four, so I'm taking that as a good sign. Not to mention the fact that he carefully decanted the leftovers into a tin before giving me my empty box back...
You're left, of course, with half a tin of condensed milk sitting in your fridge. So I had a second attempt. This lot I took to a playgroup with a bunch of dieting women.
They might now all hate me. But they want the recipe, so it's not entirely bad news. And they reckon the search is over.
I'm not so sure. I've got at least one more recipe (and and idea) to try. Reports to follow...