A Cupboard Staple: Baking with Camp Coffee & the Comfort of Inherited Recipes

There are certain bottles that have, presumably, always lived at the back of a British kitchen cupboard. I had the pleasure of growing up living with my Grandma and, whenever baking, we’d often reach for Camp Coffee essence. The iconic glass bottle from back then did get a tad sticky, but it hardly mattered, and it deserves pride of place in my pantry today because it holds such distinctively cherished memories from my childhood...

A trusty bottle of Camp Coffee has belonged to stalwart householders for centuries. You may have clocked mentions of it on handwritten recipe cards, or heard of its use by the 'glug' or 'splash', because no one ever measured it precisely. I’m especially generous with my pours of coffee essence, often totting in an extra swig to any recipe that calls for it. Camp's Heritage Week, observed in honour of Camp’s lasting legacy, provided an excellent opportunity to think about what it means to cook, and to write, from your own personal history.

Camp Coffee essence has been part of British kitchens since the late nineteenth century. Created in Scotland, it was originally intended as a convenient way to prepare coffee when brewing fresh beans was impractical. Over time, however, it found a second life, not simply in cups, but in cakes. The taste of Camp Coffee is distinctive when taken neat on a teaspoon from the bottle: with the addition of chicory, it is dark, slightly treacly, and with a flavour that is rounded rather than sharp. For baking, it’s most certainly a variation of coffee that lends itself beautifully to sponge mixtures and buttercream.

Well-deserving the accolade of cupboard stable, if you grew up in Britain, you likely encountered it in church or school fête cakes and traybakes, or perhaps even stirred into hot milk as an afternoon restorative. These days, more adventure calls when you consider serving it cold for an iced latte style drink, or experimenting in the kitchen with an old favourite.

During the Second World War, Camp Coffee became a trusted companion to daily life under rationing. With fresh coffee scarce, its shelf stability and concentrated flavour made it an invaluable substitute for households across Britain. Among its particular merits, mothers stirred it into hot milk to provide a small comfort to children at breakfast and families added it to sponge cakes and traybakes, lending an adult-like richness that hinted at normality in a world disrupted by air raids and ration books. Its adaptability meant it could stretch flavour further than the scant rations of the time, turning a modest cake or pudding into something unexpectedly indulgent.

Even in the forces, Camp Coffee found its way into mess tins and canteens, providing a taste of home to soldiers abroad. A spoonful could transform hot water into a cup of warmth; offering a brief reprieve from the cold and uncertainty of wartime life.

In this way, Camp Coffee was not simply a flavouring, but a thread of continuity; a reassuring presence in kitchens and homes under unthinkable pressure. In many ways, the traditions of home life often arise from necessity, and the small, steadfast items on a kitchen shelf can carry stories of resilience across generations.

Camp Coffee is wonderfully versatile. Beyond the obvious loaf cake, it can be used to:

• Flavour buttercream or glacé icing
• Deepen the richness of chocolate cake
• Add warmth to brownies
• Stir into whipped cream for a coffee syllabub
• Blend into milkshakes
• Add depth to gravies or savoury stews (a trick some grandmothers swear by)

For this article, I thought we could look at something simple and my go-to for a quick and satisfying bake on the weekend: a coffee loaf cake. The joy of a loaf cake is that it can be stored in a tin and enjoyed throughout the week if you choose to treat yourself to a slice on a weekday afternoon. Keeping well in a tin, the coffee flavour develops and tastes even better on the second day or so.

Recipe for a Simple Camp Coffee Loaf Cake

A satisfying, coffee-flavoured loaf; just the ticket for slicing generously, with lashings of buttercream.

You will need:

• 175g Stork butter (my preference is always for Stork, but any soft butter could be substituted)
• 175g soft brown or caster sugar
• 3 medium eggs
• 175g self-raising flour
• 1½–2 tablespoons Camp Coffee essence
• 1 tablespoon milk

For a buttercream* (combine):

• Heaped tablespoons of Stork butter
• 1–2 teaspoons Camp Coffee
• A splash of milk (more can be added if needed)
• Icing sugar by eye

*Originally this would have been a simple glaze, but over time it evolved into a soft buttercream. I make it by taste and texture rather than exact measurements, as generations of bakers before me would have done.

Method

1. Preheat your oven to 170°C (fan) and line a 2lb loaf tin.
2. Cream together the butter and sugar until pale and soft.
3. Beat in the eggs one at a time.
4. Fold in the flour gently.
5. Stir the Camp Coffee into the milk, then fold into the mixture. Add walnuts if using.
6. Spoon into the tin and level the top.
7. Bake for 45–55 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean.
8. Cool in the tin for ten minutes before transferring to a wire rack, lavish on the buttercream to taste and preference.

Reaching for a familiar bottle in the cupboard and stirring in spoonfuls of Camp Coffee can be deeply comforting, adding to whatever mixture you fancy, and knowing that generations before us did the very same. Baking with it can connect you to the past, keep domestic traditions alive, and serve as a reminder that even the humblest cupboard staple can carry history, warmth, and a touch of sweetness into the present.

Whether enjoyed as a loaf cake on a rainy afternoon, a traybake at a fête, or added into a special drink, Camp Coffee stirs through memory, comfort, and heritage. In choosing to bake with it today, there’s so much enrichment to be found in sharing what you’re able to produce.

So, the next time you lift that sticky glass bottle from the back of the cupboard, take a moment to appreciate its history, its resilience, and its generosity. Because in that simple act, in baking, stirring, tasting, sharing, we are connected to the past, nourished in the present, and keeping a small, delicious piece of heritage alive for the future.

Happy baking, and may your cupboard staples bring you as much comfort as they do me,

Chloe

(Noted by Chloe)