Fanny Takes The Biscuit

Fanny Cradock just loves tiddling things up. She can't leave anything alone. Nothing is safe from her nimble fingers, cunning plans and decorating box of tricks. Plain old things bore her to tears. The nasty neighbours would talk about you over the fence if you served them something basic, or even if they spied it on your plate... Why on earth would you have something 'ordinary' when you could transform it into 'extraordinary' in a flash? 'Stripped down' and 'modest' were not in Fanny's vocabulary.

Even the simplest of biscuits could be tiddled up from basic to fancy. Shortbread is often thought of as a simple biscuit, but in Fanny's world this needn't be the case. Fanny is not suggesting that we all spend hours and hours in the kitchen creating ridiculous showstoppers (ahem, biscuit Chandelier anyone?), however with a little bit of imagination and some store cupboard essentials, the nasty neighbours may just be, reluctantly, voting you as Star Baker when the pop round for afternoon tea.

Fanny's shortbread is made from a mix of ordinary flour and Rice flour (for a crunch), butter and caster sugar. The butter is beaten with the sugar, and then the mix of flours gently added in to combine. The mixture resembles breadcrumbs really, but should clump together between your hands if you give it a good squeeze. Think of this nasty neighbours and cackle loudly as you do it.

Fanny then rolls out the crumbly mix and begins the transformation from unvarnished to embellished. A third of the dough is cut cleverly into leaf shapes. Fanny does this freehand, so do I. I don't have any leaf cutter, but you may do. A third are cut into simple rounds with a very ordinary cutter. The final third are also cut into rounds, with the centre of half of those cut with a piping nozzle to make rings. All from the same austere mixture. The simple rounds are to be glazed with egg white and scattered with almond flakes. Leave the rest bare and bake for around eight or nine minutes. Just time to lean over the fence and gloat to those neighbours.

Let the tiddling begin! The almond rounds are already tiddled, so set them on a rack to cook. Carefully, they will be soft until they do. The rounds with holes become like Jammie Dodgers, filled with jam. I have used Rhubarb and Gin jam for mine. Gin helps everything. This is not enough tiddling for Fanny however. Slice a coloured glacé cherry in half, plonk it in the centre and add a sprig of cut Angelica. There is no explanation of why, but tiddle away and ask no questions. The leaves are tiddled with melted chocolate chips, covering only half the leaf. Tiddling done, the nasty neighbours will think you've been at it for hours...

Dont boak, it's only Gwen Troake!

Fanny Cradock never cooked with Gwen Troake, not surprising after judging her nauseating banquet menu so harshly, claiming her ideas were 'too rich' and just plainly not suitable for presentation at a professional level. For Fanny, the end of a long career on TV, for Gwen it resulted in her first, and only cookbook, endorsed by Esther Rantzen. Esther said that the nation became either pro-Troake or pro-Cradock following the showdown, but my guess is that the only winner was the book publisher, who presumably shifted a fair few copies of plainly unprofessional Gwen's Country Cookbook.

The main ingredient that made Fanny pull faces as if she was holding back a substantial slew of slurried spew was the humble Bramble. Fanny claimed on TV not to even know what one was, and continued her bile-laden disgust at Gwen for even suggesting that it would make a suitable sauce to be served with Duck at the banquet the Big Time show was built around. Game old Gwen simply chuckled at Fanny's vitriolic vomit and carried on regardless. No-one else really seemed to like her recipes, but somehow they made it into her book. This must've made Fanny retch even more.

The Bramble Sauce recipe is a peculiar one indeed. Gwen simmered Brambles in plain water for around 15 minutes before straining and pushing them through a sieve. The pulp was discarded, and the juice thickened first of all with that staple of all 70's sauces, cornflour, and then with a very un-Fanny ingredient. Shop bought lemon jelly. Fanny would heave. Gwen adds sugar to make it even sweeter, a little salt and a splash of red wine, presumably for refinement. I can see why Fanny remained on the point of gagging. Especially as an accompaniment for a savoury main course. Perhaps it was meant to be regurgitated for dessert?

In her quest to extend our rice repertoire, Fanny makes some sweet fritters and suggests serving them with 'your favourite jam sauce'. Hmmm. I bet she never thought anyone would dare to recreate Gwens creation though. I'm wicked. I know. Shoot me. Fanny binds together cold, cooked rice with an egg, some ground almonds, sugar and a generous sprinkling of cinnamon. She shapes them into little rissoles and fries them very gently in olive oil (from the chemist) until they are a nice brown colour. They don't really look like a dessert, more of a chicken nugget type of a thing, or dare I say a duck-nugget should such a thing even exist?

The resulting modern day 'collaboration' between Fanny and Gwen is a slightly more convivial combination. The crunchy, slightly sweetly spicy but otherwise plain rice 'fritters' are given a new lease of life with the overly sweet, citrusy Bramble jam sauce, which is thick and gloopy. I find myself dipping the fritters into it as if it were ketchup (not that I've ever actually eaten ketchup, the thought of it truly makes me heave) in a way that would probably increase Fannys revulsion. Perhaps they should've written a cookbook together, partly for professionals and partly for the public, instead of bickering their way into the history books. Gwen's Brambles may not have appealed to Fanny, and may have never appeared again in such a form on any table - professional banquet or otherwise. Fanny's guidance may have provoked less of a joke, croaking more a masterstroke than a choke, and revoked both their futures from hurtling towards broke. That's all folks...

Fannys Firenze Frenzy

Fanny was a very well respected (at least that's what she said) travel correspondent before she transformed herself into a cookery writer and TV Chef. She'd scribble about anything if she got paid in reality, but she loved gadding about, dashing off columns and banging out books mainly about aspirational but perhaps achievable European travel from 1950's onwards. With Johnnie by her side, she selfishly packed up her trunk and toured round for the Bon Viveur Guide to Holidays in Europe. It was the TripAdvisor of its time. She invented it - they were the original Judith Chalmers and Michael Palin. Fanny just loved to get away, especially to Italy and in particular to Florence.

Notwithstanding, Fanny warned that Florence, despite it's 'gay friendliness', explosion of floral displays and people who were 'incredibly interested in your well-being' (did she mean overly nosey?), had 'climatic conditions' which produced heat that even the Romans considered intense. Well-to-do Italians flocked there for the winter. The travel guide, like many today, gives average temperatures year round, but Fanny introduces a new comparison to give her untravelled readers an idea of what these temperatures would be like. She compares and contrasts the average temperature in Eastbourne. So in July while it would be an imaginable 60F on Englands' coastline, in Florence it would be tropical at 81F. Strange how the Eastbourne Scale didn't catch on...

If you can bear the heat, Fanny recommends lots to do while in Florence. The most important of which is to shop for straw goods in the aptly named Straw Market. She couldn't get enough straw. In addition to shopping Fanny recounts the delights of the Firenze Golf Club, the Winter Opera Season (December and January), a wealth of Art and Architecture and in summertime you can watch the locals play football in funny costumes. What more could you want from a forgiven jaunt? It all sounds so perfectly civilised.

Except the food, which Fanny describes as 'running the gamut from A to B' using the adjective 'limited' as a harsh warning. She then, of course, goes on to list a huge variety of food that you can get, and better still that you should bring home with you. Exotic items like Aubergines and her beloved Pimentos. She lets readers and possible travellers know to expect an excessive use of cheese, far too much frying, out of proportion tomato sauces, inordinate amounts of pastas and for everything to be served with an abundance of oil, which Fanny notes is disastrous for the 'untrained stomachs.' Don't ask how she knows, but Johnnie looks sheepish.

Fanny does recommend Florence for sweet little biscuits however, and recreates her version of a Florentine in the partwork. She melts butter with sugar, adding in chopped almonds, flaked almonds, chopped glacé cherries (Il Tricolore if you please) and a little cream. Fanny leaves this mixture to cool before blobbing teaspoons-full onto trays and baking them for 12 minutes. They spread a lot (did she miss out the flour?), and emerge like super thin shards of brown glass, ready for their characteristic chocolate bases, swirled with forks into wavy patterns. They sum up Fannys review of Florence - gay and colourful, baked in heat unknown in Eastbourne, cultured and exotic, crisp and sweet, although a little greasy with copious amounts of butter. Presumably by the time you return from Florence your stomach has been trained to cope.

Blowing Hot and Cold

Sometimes, not often but certainly sometimes, even I think Fanny has gone bonkers. I wouldn't say so to her face of course, and I'm only saying it now from a safe distance. People around her back in the day must've thought it too, but I bet they wouldn't have dared to say anything. She made you feel that she was right all the time, crazy as it seemed and so far in this wonderful journey through her mind and kitchen I have just gone with it. She has been wonderful and wonderfully strange in equal measure. I've certainly been full of wonder, and tried my best to celebrate that, recreate it and pass it on. However, I'm really not sure about this latest recipe suggestion. Has Fanny lost it? I mean it's totally bonkers is it not to deep-fry ice cream?

I know that being Scottish most people think we will merrily deep fry almost anything. We munch on deep-fried Mars bars regularly, right? Nope. Don't get me wrong, I love a little bit of deep fried goodness from time to time, but only when it adds something. Only when it makes sense. Only when it's appropriate and frankly only when it's worth the effort. Just reading the recipe for deep-fried ice cream parcels, or Petits Paquets en Surprise, I can't say I'm convinced. Fanny has won me round before though, perhaps I am just feeling uncharacteristically negative and in need of a wallop with the back of Fannys spatula.

Everything is frozen with this recipe. Fannys beloved pancakes have been nestling in the deep freeze wrapped and stacked just as they were in the fridge. They only need to come to room temperature before being used. Proper Chefs always do this. Fanny cannot imagine them attempting to make 'Crêpe Suzette' or indeed 'Crêpe This That or the Other' (which perhaps features in a future part) during the limited hours of restaurant service if they hadn't. Imagine if they'd put deep-fried ice cream pancake parcels on their menu and had to begin an order by freshly making some pancakes? Bonkers. Preparation is key.

Fanny uses a block of ice cream, which must be cut into portions and then returned to the deep freeze until 'rock hard'. I was pleasantly surprised to see that supermarkets still sold these nostalgic bricks from my childhood, and in Neapolitan too! Clearly I'm not on Fannys wavelength here though, I just wanted to slice it up and eat it, perhaps with a wafer or two. Maybe some Ice Magic if I was feeling fancy, but Fanny had other ideas. She wraps the rock hard wedge in a pancake, folding it up like a parcel before dredging it through beaten egg and rolling it carefully in ground almonds.

Fanny at this point drops it straight into smoking hot oil, but I could feel my package was a little bit squidgy, so I popped it back into the freezer to firm up. Limp packages will never do. While I wait for it to harden I canelle some oranges, which Fanny recommends as the garnish, making pretty flowers. There is no escape though, with my oil bubbling and my package rock hard I fire it in until it becomes golden brown. Fanny presents it just as it is, with the orange canelles and suggests that I do too. She does not cut one open. I do and unsurprisingly molten ice cream runs free. I'm left with a slightly empty creamy package that is partly crunchy and partly sludgy. I think they might've been successful with another filling, just not ice cream. Ice cream doesn't need to be deep-fried, does it? It's bonkers!

Wee Blind Mice

Fanny and Johnnie liked to think that they captured the imagination of everyone interested in cooking, even children. They appeared on Children's TV programmes as early as 1958 in a show called Lucky Dip. Apparently this led to 'record-breaking fan-mail' from their young audience and further slots on a show called Tuesday Rendezvous (which was also shown on Fridays, obviously) and even a series of cookbooks for children. The Cradocks love affair with children is brought into question with the books' titles though. Would you purchase a set of books for your wee dears called 'Happy Cooking Children'?

For Fanny, Children's Cookery had to have all the excitement and colour found in the great classical writings (we can presume she means her own here), but with added WHY's and HOW's for the young fans. She believed in 'safety first' to protect the smallest readers from any chance mishaps. Especially for garnish. Fanny recognised that young cooks loved to arrange and decorate, so she made sure that she provided stimulating ideas with 'only simple, inexpensive, edible trimmings' to be used by small chefs.

The weekly partwork always had something for the 'small fry' to try. They didn't often make a great deal of sense, but it was Fannys attempt to inspire. Who wouldn't be inspired by chocolate mice nibbling cheese? These little mischiefs are made from meringues, one of Fannys starter recipes, so perfect for wee ones. Once whisked up, they simply need to be shaped 'like mice' by doming them between two oiled dessertspoons and dried out in a low oven. Fanny's Top Tip - Try to make sure they are flat bottomed, broad in the behind and narrow to the nose. Easier said than done, for beginners. As she is keeping it simple for the children, she refrains from saying 'quenelle' but that's what she means.

With safety first in mind, Fanny suggests melting the chocolate to coat them by taking a packet of chocolate chips, plonking them in a bowl and whacking it on the bottom of the low oven until a wooden spoon can make them a bit squidgy. Then, beat them 'very hard' until they are smooth. Just as well to introduce the super keen young ones to Fannys favourite techniques at an early age. I opt for both milk and white chocolate chips, just to be fancy. The cooked meringues are them 'wiggled' in the chocolate and their 'overcoats' left to dry on greaseproof paper.

To complete the illusion of mice, small slivers of almond are added for ears, and I've added sugar balls for eyes. Fanny is always one for realism though - so mice must have tails. She suggests cutting small lengths of string, dipping them in the melted chocolate and attaching them. So bang goes the 'safety first' message. How many poor wee inspired souls choked on the string tails I wonder? Fanny justifies this veering from the rules by pointing out that Sugar Mice you buy in shops have string tails, so that's OK then. Authenticity. To delight the little ones' parents to the point of no return, the completed mice should be displayed a top a large chunk of big holed Emmental Cheese. Fanny warns us not to be fooled by our sneaky cheesemonger keen to sell us the more expensive and smaller holed Gruyère. I say set the chocolate mice on him should he try...

I'm entering this into the new challenge linky thing from Belleau Kitchen, Simply Eggcellent, which celebrates all things eggs, check out all the other ideas so far! 

Going Dutch in the Oven

Sometimes Fanny Cradock makes suggestions that are widely applicable to a range of different situations. She'll say that such and such a cake is suitable for rustling up quickly perhaps when so and so just happen to pop round unexpectedly. Other menus are carefully crafted to stun the neighbours that you never really liked very much, convince uncertain bosses that promotion is the best option or to dazzle old chums on a heaving buffet table when entertaining. From time to time though she suggests something that's just so specific it's hard to imagine anyone thinking 'oh yes, that's just what I've been waiting for.' The final 'bread' in this partwork is just that - apparently it's simply perfect for when you are entertaining Dutch friends at Easter and are struggling to think what to serve them for breakfast. Always a dilemma.

The answer is Dutch Easterbread. or Oesterbröd. There can't really be many perfect choices for this situation. It's fortunate that Fanny herself happened to be in Amsterdam one Easter Sunday to taste this. Fanny doesn't disclose if any other traditional Dutch delicacies were taken on that particular trip. She does admit to having an 'overwhelming compulsion' to eat almond paste and crystallised fruits though, so was naturally drawn to this traditional Dutch bread which is filled with a fruity marzipan-y concoction. In Fannys mind, it would be too shameful to serve something from our own fair isle I imagine.

This recipe starts off with a standard batch of white bread dough. While it's proving, get to work whipping up some butter until it is 'creamily soft'. In Fanny's favourite kitchen implement, a roomy bowl, mix together ground almonds, icing sugar (sifted of course), glacé cherries (I've got some lovely retro-tastic multi-coloured ones), raisins and finely diced candied Angelica. It's all Fannys favourite things. Angelica has such an unusual taste, I love it. It's a favourite botanical in gin, which is probably why I love it so much! It's long overdue for a comeback in it's own right though I reckon. This nostalgic mix is bound together with an egg white to make a fairly firm paste.

Once proved, Fanny says to roll the dough out to a rectangular shape and spread it with the softened whipped butter. Fanny forms her fruity paste into a 'sausage' and rolls it up so that it's inside the dough. Fanny is very particular about the decoration, I'm guessing you wouldn't want your Easter breakfast guests from the Netherlands to be sniggering behind your back at your lack of authentic detail. So, I do as I am told and score the top of the loaf with 'slanty' cuts about 1/4 inch apart all the way down. A quick egg wash and a sprinkle with bashed up loaf sugar (or just ready bashed caster sugar) and it's ready to bake. Just 'until it's ready' - Fanny clearly thinks I'm now able to judge when this will be.

Having helped us to make several Cradock-style loaves now, Fanny is concerned about storage. She thinks it's vitally important, especially if you are new to the job. For busy women (and presumably men) there is 'no mortal use' in caring sufficiently about your families health (or perhaps your Dutch overnight guests) to create 'crusty crusts and an edible crumb with an absolute absence of artificial bleaching agents', unless the resulting beautiful loaves last several days. Fanny's recommendation is simple, once cooled wrap them tightly in ordinary kitchen foil. Then, even if your Dutch guests outstay their welcome and are still popping up for breakfast 2, 3, 4 or even 5 days after Easter, you will be serving them perfectly edible bread on each occasion. If you really want to see them 'rejoice' when they spy their breakfast tray, the trick is to serve this loaf not only with wheels of butter, but slices of cheese and ham rolled up. Oh, they'll be thrilled! Do let me know if you ever have guests from Holland over Easter and you try this. Or if like me, you don't, but simply love a massive slice of fruity, sweet almond bread.

Crumb Fry With Me

Fanny clearly wants to make the most of having the fryer on, either that or she's completely obsessed with deep frying cheese. I'm hoping it's an obsession. Either way I'm delighted, I've still not been converted by the mahoosive amount of diet and detox suggestions flying around at this time of year. Practically anything that's leftover can be deep fried it seems. This time it's Fannys' Cheese Balls. Like Fanny, I shall skirt over any obvious innuendos, but she does say that her Cheese Balls are extremely popular at 'teenage parties'. Particularly if served with a 'dunking' sauce. For others, they seem perfect when settling down in front of the TV to watch something special - presumably a Fanny Cradock cooking show - if stuffed into a French Bread sandwich. I don't tend to host teenage parties you'll be glad to learn, so it's a Frenchie in front of the TV all the way for me.

Fanny is still using leftover cheese here, which isn't something I tend to have a lot of really. I'm a dedicated cheese fiend, so I'm happy to keep buying more and more. Fanny recommends a mix of strong cheeses here, Parmesan and Gruyère. I KNOW that Parmesan isn't vegetarian, please don't write me nasty letters, just switch it up a little bit with your own preference. I'm not a perfect veggie. I even wear leather shoes. I realise this may all be a bit shocking for you, but focus - we are talking fried cheese again.

To make Fannys' cheesy balls, simply mix the grated cheeses together with some seasoning and fold in gradually a stiffly beaten egg white. At first it doesn't seem at all like they will mix together, but with a bit of a beating I soon have a paste, just as Fanny says. Once well blended, either with a wooden spoon or a small knife, the paste can be rolled into small balls.

I can be a bit overly accurate with some things, and slap-dash with others. Don't judge me. I decide to weigh out the cheese balls into 16g portions before rolling them. It makes me happy. The given mix gives me 13 balls. I like odd numbers. Each one is rolled lightly between my fingers and quickly becomes fairly firm. Fanny says to run your little balls through beaten egg and coat them thickly in fine breadcrumbs. Well, indeed. Nothing can be finer than Ruskoline surely?

Now we are ready to fry! Well, almost. Fanny doesn't recommend this, but I do... Another one of my funny things. I run my little balls through the egg and crumb twice to make sure that the coating is 'safe' and not about to explode in the hot oil spilling molten cheese everywhere. It doesn't take long and much better safe than sorry. They only take around 30 seconds to colour up in the oil. Fanny presents hers in a split French Bread, but its not so clear if that's just a garnish or not. She spears them  individually with cocktail sticks which would confuse me - do I pick one up and munch, or pick the sticks out and gobble the whole sandwich? Guess which one I go for? Fannys' Cheese Balls are so tasty, crunchy on the outside and gooey and salty inside.

While the fryer is still on the go, Fanny has another top tip, which is especially helpful if you have any leftover Christmas Pudding lurking in the back of my cupboard like I do. Fanny had insisted that I hide them there to mature when I made some mini ones from her recipe last year. She was positive that they would be perfectly fine a year later, and probably even better. It's time to discover if they were! They look ok, is that a worry or a good thing? Simply re-steam, roll into balls and dredge in egg and, this time, ground almonds before frying. Fanny calls these her 'Christmas Snowballs', which must be covered with a heavy dusting of icing sugar and topped with glacé cherry 'flames' to serve. They are good, the crunchy fried almond coating is a great twist! I wonder what else I can pop into fry...?

Da Doo Macaron Ron, Da Doo Macaroon

The whole world of Macarons vs Macaroons is enough of a hot bed of controversy without Fanny Cradock wading in. Not just the endless queries over how to pronounce them properly, but what's in them and what's the best method of making them? Generally it's accepted that Macarons are made with Almonds, and Macaroons with Coconut. It's seems like a very modern day foodie debate, but Fanny was ahead of the batch back in the 70's, well kind of. She gives two recipes for Macaroons, which she translates into French as Macarons of course, not really helping the debate at all. Johnnie insists upon them, but only if they are baked on rice paper. Fannys first recipe is referred to as 'Our Macaroons' or Les Macarons Maison, and are made with ground almonds, icing sugar and egg whites. Sounding familiar so far. The second recipe is for 'French Macaroons', or Macarons au Noix de Coco, made with coconut. Oh dear Fanny, you are really not helping with the confusion...

What Fanny didn't know was that in Scotland, we all get in even MORE of a tizz about Macaroons, as for us they are something very different indeed. I was fortunate enough to meet the Scottish/Italian foodblogger living in California, Christina Conte from Christina's Cucina, at this years BBC Good Food Show, where she shared her wonderful recipe for Scottish Macaroon Bars. She quizzed the audience to see if anyone knew the main ingredients... A few hands darted in the air immediately with the right answer of Potato and Icing Sugar. Yes, potato. I nipped home and tried the recipe for myself, but I kind of switched it up to make it a little more Fanny, using Sweet Potato instead and White Chocolate with Green Matcha Powder added. Pretty Halloween-y, and pretty tasty!

I have to say, Fannys Macaroons resemble the French delicacy a little more, but only a little - the ingredients are the same but the technique isn't as nerve wracking. If you've ever tried to make Macarons, you'll know what I mean, and I took a LOT of practice to eventually get some that I was happy with. 

Fanny doesn't use any colouring at all for her Macarons, which is unusual for her, and unusual for Macarons, even if they are Macaroons. She sifts the icing sugar and almonds together into a bowl, and then instead of making a meringue or adding sugar syrup, she simply works in unbeaten egg whites, with a knife. You don't want to beat them, you never know what might happen. Once the mixture comes together they are rolled into little 1/2 oz balls and popped on the rice paper ready to bake. I couldn't resist a BIT of colour of course, so used some gorgeous blue rice paper! 

For the Coconut version it's the same drill, replacing the almonds with desiccated coconut. Fanny says to press the balls, or little blobs as she calls them, down a little, brush them with cold water and add a blanched almond to the almond-y ones and half a glacé cherry to the coconut-y ones. I used some little candied lemons too. Then leave them sitting somewhere near a warm oven for two hours. Two whole hours. Then, they only need to bake for 10 minutes though. They emerge from the oven looking nothing like the ones in Fannys picture, but also nothing like Macarons or Macaroons. They are good though, chewy and sweet. It's a little bizarre eating the blue paper on the bases I have to admit. Easier to make than posh Macarons, but not as fun as Christinas Scottish ones. They are Gluten Free too. Back in the 70's I'm not sure that was ever mentioned, but surprisingly Fanny did endorse Mrs Crimbles Coconut Macaroons which were launched then, and are still available now in all the best 'free-from' aisles. Maybe it's not that Fanny is wading to the Macarons world as much as she is responsible for them. I'm sure that's what she'd say anyway.

I'm entering these into Treat Petite this month, hosted by Mr CakeyBoi and The Baking Explorer. It's a Trick or Treat Halloween theme, hopefully my Sweet Potato and Green Tea White Chocolate Macaroon Bars are spooky enough to count, and the other Macaroons will fill guisers bags and ensure they don't come back! Head over to see the other treats...

Fannys Fish Cake

If, like me, you've forgotten to sort out a birthday cake for a special someone, Fanny has a solution. Of course. Even better of that special someone doesn't really like birthdays, or cake, but would of course be 'put out' if one didn't appear. Fanny recommends setting your little ones to work with this one, but I don't have any running around, so it's all up to me. Thankfully to make this spectacular centrepiece I just need a few things that are lying around that I can recycle. One of them being an old stale cake. Cake doesn't really last long enough round here to become stale, but I do have some of one of my Christmas cakes lurking about in a tin. Oh and a vintage copper fish mould that I recently snapped up at the local charity shop. Fanny would be proud of me. She paid a pretty penny for hers, but does note that there are many 'less expensive' ones that are avialable. I found one.

First job is to oil the mould very carefully with olive oil, but Fanny notes that it's VERY expensive so reminds me not to make a 'pond' just a thin skin brushed on very vigorously. Times have changed and I have a spray oil which I reckon will do the job perfectly.

Fanny tells me to use my 'very clean fingers' to crumble up the cake, add a few drops of fruit juice and squeeze it all up to a very firm paste. Oops, I think I added a little too much of the leftover Raspberry Coulis I found in the fridge - it is a recycled cake after all. My paste is quite squidgy as I try to press it into the oiled mould. 

Fanny says I should be able to simply turn it out now onto a flat dish, but the overload of Coulis means it looks stuck. I am deviating from Fannys technique here, and decide to bake the cake for a while, just to firm it up. I think I might've just been quicker whipping up a cake from scratch.

After just 15 minutes in the oven it looks ready to turn out and decorate. My deviation worked. Half a green glacé cherry becomes the eye, with Fanny noting that the other eye is underneath. Thanks for that Fanny. The scales are flaked almonds stuck into the naked cake. Mine are a bit haphazard, a bit childlike, but that seems appropriate. Fanny knows what you are thinking - what about the buttercream icing? Surely no cake is complete without it? Always ready with an alternative, Fanny insists that I make 'waves of a cold green sea' of icing surrounding the fish, naturally. So, ta-dah, Happy recycled Birthday! 

It's All In The Booklet #4 - Christmas Pudding

Fanny has rescued this festive recipe from the vaults of the esteemed French Chef Escoffier, but of course is keen to add in her own twist too. She wants us to revive the perfectly round Christmas Pudding which was the centrepiece of dinner tables everywhere in bygone days. Only one problem, they used to always be made in the old 'coppers' which families boiled up their laundry in, on Mondays. Fanny however doesn't recommend flinging your pudding into the modern day washing machine, so instead turns to modifiying a standard kitchen sieve. I am less concerned with a perfectly round pudding, so I just use a pudding bowl, in truth I decide to make individual puddings in small moulds, please don't tell Fanny. I've never in my life made or tasted a Christmas Pudding, but the ingredients seem lovely - fruits, breadcrumbs, ginger, suet (I use some lovely vegetarian suet from Suma) nuts, alcohol... As ever, Fanny gives detailed instructions in the booklet. 

All the dried ingredients are mixed together, the chopped apples added, followed by the eggs, citrus juices, beer and Brandy. It's really quite boozy. Why have I never had this before? Once combined the loose, floppy mixture is left overnight to rest and become a firmer, thicker mixture as the breadcrumbs expand.

Next day the mixture is pressed into the buttered moulds (or large bowl, or indeed sieve), covered with greased butter papers (please don't do as Fanny does on TV and shamefully show the label) or ordinary squares of oiled greaseproof paper, cover again with foil, secure with string, tie a handle and steam. As mine as individual I am using my electric steamer, which is very rarely used but is perfect here as I can get three layers. Fanny of course uses a steriliser which is very large and deep but any large pot would do.

Fanny steams her pudding for 10 whole hours at first, my smaller ones take just 3, and then they are left to cool, stored away for a few weeks somewhere to mature until the Christmas feast. When they are required, on Christmas Day, they need to be steamed again - the large one for 3 hours, my individual ones just for an hour. Fanny wants us all to have the drama of wow-ing our guests with a flaming pudding, something to upset the neighbours and put their nose out of joint. Her trick is to use a mixture of Brandy and Vodka for the flame to give a longer burn time. This is something she often used when doing her demonstrations at the Royal Albert a Hall and such like, so if it's good enough for that it's grand for me. I have been making some fresh Cranberry Vodka this year, so this seems like the perfect time to crack it open. More booze!

The alcohol needs to be warmed gently, over a mere thread of heat. Fanny suggests until you can just feel the heat with your (spotlessly clean, before anyone thinks of writing in to complain) fingers, ouch. Fanny recommends training a friend to carry the flaming pudding to the table wiggling it all the time, which gives a boost of oxygen and keeps the flames going. I presume Fanny makes poor darling Sarah do this, as she points out on TV she gets VERY nervous in front of the camera and her hands tremble so badly - this sounds perfect. My first ever Christmas Pudding is lovely, very, very boozy and surprisingly light to taste as always with Fanny. Fanny serves hers with green coloured Brandy butter and tiny scraps of angelica and glacé cherry. Of course. Merry Christmas one and all, hic...

I've linked this post up other Fresh Cranberry recipes over at Blue Kitchen Bakes hosted by Jen - pop over for a look http://bluekitchenbakes.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/fresh-cranberry-recipe-link-up.html