Drumroll please... My 6th Fannyversary!

Fanny would be raging with me. She may ex-communicate me. This could be it. She'd be spinning in her grave, or whatever the equivalent might be for cremation... Birling under her bush? You thought she was furious when dear Sara tried to tidy away her spatula BEFORE she was finished with it. You've seen her face when the lovely Gwen Troake tried to serve her a humble Bramble. These incidents pale into the background like Johnnie at the very best cocktail party Fanny ever held. I. Forgot. My. Fannyversary.

Yes, can you believe it? Six years have passed since I began this blog, one sunny day late in June. Six years! I have lasted longer than any of Fanny's assistants, and up until now I think she has been pleased with my progress. I have tackled task after task with gusto. I have prepared dish after dish with a smile on my face. I have eaten colour after colour without fear. All the while, with Fanny at my side, I have learnt the Cradock way. As it should be...

However, the Cradock way is not to miss a milestone. The Cradock way is not to let things slip. The Cradock way is not to miss an opportunity to celebrate all things Fanny. I am sorry. So sorry. Sorry to Fanny. More sorry than Sara ever was. More shamefaced than Gwen appeared to be. More apologetic than Johnnie had to be day in and day out. Sorry enough to bake a cake to somehow make up for it. A belated celebration. Will Fanny ever forgive me?

This cake was among the first that Fanny insisted I make with her. One of the first rungs on her culinary ladder. I hope it appeases her, a little. Her famous Cherry Cake, with fruit that never sinks, except they do, sometimes. Fanny has a natty suggestion for decoration too. Not known for keeping quiet, never one to pipe down, barely able to be ignored, Fanny in cake form may be a loud, banging, colourful drum. Wouldn't she?

The past six years have been a hoot. Fanny has taught me so much. I have learnt so much about Fanny too. 2019 is quite a momentous year for Fanny. Or it would have been. Fanny would have been celebrating her 110th birthday, had she still been around. Quite a thought. Fanny died 25 years ago. Part of my reason for blogging is to keep her alive in some small way, fighting for Fanny to be fixed in our minds for years to come. She may just forgive me yet... For I have some super exciting celebrations planned as the year draws to a hold, which will hopefully let the celebration of Fanny continue apace. That's the real reason I 'forgot', I've been busy in the background. Watch this space, as they say...

Fancy a Banquette?

Fanny Cradock is in the mood for a spot of remodelling. In the kitchen that is, where else? And there is simply no-one that she would trust with the job apart from her good self, and Johnnie, to a lesser extent. She would especially not trust an architect or designer, who very probably cannot even fry an egg, to possibly know what is in her mind. How would they understand what she wanted from a kitchen? It's not like she could tell them or anything... Oh...

Fanny feels that her thoughts, working patterns and culinary life are simply beyond the comprehension of mere designers. Having worked 'alongside' Fanny for all these years, I may be inclined to agree. Fanny's pet peeve are kitchens with work surfaces which face the wall. They mean that lighting is inevitably poor, and to cook is wearisome - relying on our experience and 'Housewives Braille'. Presumably housewives would be unable to read the partwork with ease as they prepare dish after dish. That will never do. And don't even think about getting Fanny started on cluttered-up cupboards...

Fannys aim is to ensure that the kitchen is the absolute hub of the home - after all we all spend so much time in there. It should be a place that visitors realise is not simply the room from where 'the grub' comes, or indeed the room where family or friends are inevitably drawn. Fanny thinks her job, in her kitchen, is to keep people out of it, not woo them in. Of course, this may be to avoid the social embarrassment of visitors realising that there are a small army of cheery weary assistants busy preparing all the food that Fanny passes of as her own...

Fanny knows that readers must work within the limits of their incomes, and could not possibly hope to have a kitchen just like her own. However she feels by showing you a DREAM kitchen (as hers is, without question) she can inspire readers to achieve similar things in the much 'smaller units' that they no doubt have. I mean, who needs FOUR cookers like Fanny? Fanny knows that we are all 'suckers' who would like to submit ourselves to collecting useless exhibition type gadgets. They are a menace, and should be scrapped from any kitchen if not used once in any given calendar year. The exception are items purchased directly from Fanny herself, available at a very reasonable cost to readers of the partwork, to help them in their hour of need to set up a DREAM kitchen like Fannys. Also, never (unless you are Fanny) install a seventeenth century knife grinder in your kitchen merely for decoration. A menace.

Fanny provides drawings and plans for an ideal kitchen - in no way 'architect-like' or as if she were herself, or had consulted, a designer. No. Fanny provides inspiration through little touches and flourishes that Johnnie has made himself. Once all the work is done though, you will need an area, should you be fortunate enough to have space, to settle down and enjoy a well-deserved coffee. The must-have for a dreamy DREAM kitchen is naturally a banquette area, complete with 'copper effect' curtains and psychedelic hallucinogenic-inducing accessories. Look how pleased Fanny is with the final results. You too could be like Fanny. Just on a more moderate budget in line with your own income, naturally.

Enough Is Un Oeuf (I Can't Go On, No More, No)

Do you remember a few years back there was a trend for creating mahoosive versions of smaller, much-loved things? Everyone seemed to be baking giant Bourbon Biscuits, or jumbo-sized doughnuts. You couldn't move for monstrous versions of Jammie Dodgers, or hulking great Snickers bars (they will always be Marathons to me) so huge that they had to be sliced with a chain-saw. Fanny wasn't one for extreme snacking, and thank-goodness she didn't wield a chain-saw, but it's no surprise that she too had a soft spot for gigantic foodstuffs.

It's not enormous sweet treats that catch Fanny's eye, much as I'd love to see a colossal packet of Spangles or a larger than life sherbert-y Flying Saucer. No, it's the savoury side of life that Fanny thinks will impress more. Specifically Eggs. Giant Eggs. She's not completely bonkers. She's not gone shopping to the local Ostrich Farm. She's looking closer to home, for something economical and simple to create. With the ethos of humungous creativity in her mind, Fanny suggests creating a Giant Egg, from, erm, eggs.

Fanny begins her colossal creation by separating eight eggs, very carefully. The yolks are beaten together lightly with a fork. To make eight perfectly fine but little egg yolks into one large yolk, Fanny pops them into a fairly large polythene bag. Seasoned first of course. The bag is then held delicately in a large pan of well-filled bubbling, boiling water until the yolks, or rather yolk, sets. Fanny warns not to let the bottom of the bag touch the base of the pan, or the shape will be lost. When creating Giant Eggs, appearance is everything.

The remaining egg whites need to be whisked up together until they are very stiff. Fanny seasons them before gently folding through a small amount of finely grated hard cheese. Second to appearance, taste is important. Fanny places half of the whipped-up mixture onto a square of oiled foil, on an ordinarily sized baking sheet. Yes, for this is no ordinary Giant Egg, it's a Giant Baked Egg.

The cooled Giant Egg Yolk is placed into the centre of the Giant Egg White, then completed enclosed in the remaining mixture. It needs to be smoothed out as best you can, so that it resembles, well, a Giant Egg. Once it bakes for 20 or 25 minutes, until golden, it is ready to be transferred to a serving dish. Salad trimmings or mayonnaise pipings can be added if required. Fanny assures us that the effect is dramatic when we serve a person a huge slice from the Giant Egg, either as a buffet luncheon or a first course. Presumably followed by the biggest Fish Finger you've ever seen, and one enormous pea.

Feeling Fruity for my Fourth Fanniversary

Do you remember what you were doing four years ago? It's not something I generally spend a lot of time wondering. Mostly it would just be an ordinary day, doing ordinary things, in ordinary ways. However, I remember very clearly what happened four years ago for me. It was no ordinary day, and no ordinary day has occurred ever since. It changed my life. Four years ago, I wrote my first blog post.

I have no idea what I expected to happen on that day, other than I would sit down, type my thoughts down about dear old Fanny and hit 'publish'. For me, it was always about having fun, celebrating Fanny and making myself giggle. If anyone else read it that'd be a bonus. Well, four years on, it's been, and continues to be, all those things and so much more. I've loved every minute, hour, and day since then. I think I've grown to love Fanny even more too. I find myself sticking up for her a lot, we've become firm friends. I mean, I've yet to whack an assistant or pee in my plant pots, but, well, I think she's mostly great.

Whether you've read all two hundred and fifty two of these posts, or this is your first, I totally appreciate it and hope that you enjoy it as much as I do. Thanks! Readers, tweeters and bloggers have come and gone and come back again. Some have disappeared forever. Where did they go? I miss them! It's been a whirlwind of harmless green vegetable food colouring and aspic, but you know what, everything so far has worked out. People tell me all the time 'oh yeah, but Fanny couldn't cook' or 'gawd, her recipes are terrible, inedible, aren't they?'... I've just found them to be incredible. Well, not especially the Eggs in Aspic, but more often than not!

Her signature 'thing' seems to be taking something which is not very much and making it seem like it's something really special. That can't be bad can it? Like taking an egg or two, a few plums, some milk and a dash of caster sugar and creating a dessert to make you smile? It's one of Fanny's favourites, meringue. She suggests making it in a 'complicated' shape for which she gives 'complicated' instructions which just seems too 'complicated' for me. Her shape is basically four circles joined together. I think after four years together I can go a bit freeform with mine, and dare I say it it, 'better'?

Instead of circles I whip up the meringues following Fanny's technique, and fashion a suitable 4-shaped design on baking parchment. If Fanny has taught me anything over the years, it's to pipe, pipe, pipe, so I do. Fanny says it might look as if it demands skill from the cook, but it doesn't. The meringue case bakes in around an hour, and emerges looking somewhat tanned. Fanny's meringues always do, I don't know why. Someone will. Fanny fills her case with confectioners custard made from the yolks, and then tops with poached plum halves. It feels like a fitting celebration of our four years together. In wedding anniversary terms, four years is Fruit, apparently. Will you join me and Fanny for four more? I do hope so - there is so much more Fanny Fun to come!

Strawberry Meals Forever

Fanny Cradock is always inspired by the seasons as to what to whip up for us to enjoy. She's just a little bit ahead of herself here though as she urges us to prepare for splendid days of Summer. She's planted some lovely strawberry plants, carefully selected for both flavour and flower, in every nook and cranny of her, she would claim, modest garden, and is keen to make the most of them while the season is here. I am all for pretending that it is already summery strawberry season. We all need a little sunshine in our life don't we?

I am not using home-grown strawberries. Even it were the correct season, I have nowhere to grow them. No nooks or crannies. Fanny would be sad for me. She does enter, a little unusually I feel, into a prayer for those who have home-growing abilities though. Fanny's prayer is for their health. She prays that they are using all natural compost in their gardens, and are totally bereft of artificial sprays and fertilisers, so that at the very least the little strawberries arrive at their doors safe and pure. We would all say Amen to that.

Fanny considers a range of special treats that would be enhanced by chemical-free strawberries. Perhaps a Strawberry and Cream Choux Paste Gateaux is what you are dreaming of? Maybe you'd prefer Choux Paste Strawberry Swans? Possibly a Strawberry Mille Feuille is more your thing? Or a simple Sponge Sandwich with Strawberries? Whichever it is, Fanny rustles them all up. She claims they are perfect if you want to make something gorgeous even if you can't cook. Awkward. Presumably they are good too, even if you can. They all involve simply filling the chosen sponge or pastry with strawberries and cream. Sometimes custard too. My prayers have been answered.

I'm in the mood for Strawberry Shortbread. Fanny gives it the usual French translation to fancy it up - Gâteau Biscuit Anglais aux Fraises Chantilly - but when you get down to it, it's shortbread, strawberries and cream. Fanny makes her shortbread with butter, sugar, self-raising flour (which she is sure will horrify the Scots, but she insists on using it for everything) and also rice flour. She creams the butter and sugar together, folds in the flours and presses them into suitably buttered and floured moulds for baking. Simple. A moderate oven will suffice.

While one shortbread circle is cooling, Fanny suggests cutting the other in half ready for presentation.  When both are fully cool, she piles in sliced, hulled and heavenly strawberries, pops the two halves on top as 'wings' or a lid, and adds generous amounts of piped cream. I'm not sure where this traditional display originates, but it does make a very pleasing offering. The shortbread is crumbly and buttery. The strawberries sweet and juicy. The cream light and fluffy. Next time I need a little sunshine in my days, this will be my go-to brightener. Let's pray for all those that are burdened by chemically treated fruits while we are feeling so worthy.

Petite Pyramid Power

From time to time, Fanny Cradock just wants to make something easy. Basic. Manageable. She often labels them 'for beginners' but she equally could say they were 'simple' or 'quick, store cupboard treats'. From time to time, that's exactly what I want to make too. This week was certainly one of those times. I've been away on holiday for a few weeks (did you miss me?) and each day since my return has been a struggle with jet-lag, not aided by the additional time changes back home. A perfect time to keep things simple.

Fanny urges that on weeks just like this, I reach for the comfort of coconut. Desiccated of course. It's something I always seem to have in the cupboard, although I'm never really very sure when I've bought it, or what I've used it for. What is it used for? It may have been nestled in there next to the tins of treacle for ever and ever, it's best not to look at the best before date at times like this, just get on wth the job in hand.

For Fanny, even the most simple of things must be elevated, and discarded coconut is no different. She suggests transforming them into Pyramids, or Les Petites Pyramides, to give them a necessary boost to their self-esteem. She adds caster sugar, vanilla and a choice of eggs to the lonely coconut. To help create the majestic pyramid shape, she adds eggs or egg whites, depending on the texture you prefer in the finished product. Whole eggs, beaten, for a close texture, and unbeaten egg whites if you like it loose and more melting.

Well, I don't know what I prefer in coconut pyramids, but it seems a shame to waste an egg yolk unnecessarily, so I go 'whole'. It's really just a case of mixing it all together. Simple. Straightforward. Uncomplicated. Well, Fanny takes it to another level as you'd imagine by adding some harmless vegetable colouring. Fanny suggests pink, or carmine to be exact, but I'm in the mood for blue, or teal to be exact, and orange personally. I blame the jet-lag. So the mixture is halved and coloured.

Fanny says you can buy 'rather comical' moulds to make the pyramids, but she scoffs at those when your very own hands are more than able to fashion a simple cone shape all by themselves. Besides, you'll only end up spending more time banging them out of the moulds afterwards than you'd ever do in making them by hand. Silly. Ludicrous. Ridiculous. Once you're happy with the shape, pop them into an oven at 350F for 15 minutes and before your very eyes, Les Petits Pyramides will appear and delight. They smell like a long-forgotten childhood memory, and taste simply stunning. So, that must be what coconut is for after all...

As the colours are an almost perfect match for the logo, coincidentally, I'm adding these to this months Treat Petite hosted by Cakeyboi and Baking Explorer. Check out the other treats here and by searching for #TreatPetite across social media.