Pinky & Perky

I always take Fanny Cradock's advice. Well, more often than not. Okay, sometimes. I certainly abide by one of her favourite recommendations, which is to scour the 'thrift' shops for hidden treasures. She's forever popping in to see if she can pick up an unusual dish, a discarded ornament or if she's lucky a delightful mould in which to present her food at it's very best. I can't resist a rummage myself. From time to time I pick something up though that I wonder 'when will I ever use that?' The vintage mould I bought last year is one such item...

Fanny's guidance is to make her Apricot Snow, or La Délice des Abricots, in an old fashioned pyramid mould. It's round and resembles a pyramid only in the way it reaches for the sky with each circular step slightly smaller than the previous one. A bit more like a pointy hat than a pyramid. Well, if only I had one. I am often envious of Fanny's moulds, and she knows it. She practically thrives on being the first to bag the bargains. I had thought I'd have to improvise wildly on this dish, when I suddenly remembered the mould I'd bought and tucked away at the back of the cupboard, waiting for it's perfect time to shine. The relief!

The recipe itself is a variation on the by-now-familiar blancmange theme. With the addition of cold tea. Fanny uses small, stoned, ripe apricots for her Délice, but they aren't really in season at the moment, so I grab a tin I had snuggled away next to the mould at the back of my long-forgotten kitchen cupboard. No shame in that, remember. Fanny cooks hers in a low oven, swimming in the cold tea and then rubs them through a sieve while they are still hot, to emulsify. I whizz mine up in the food processor. Perfectly pulsed purée.

Fanny whisks up a couple of egg whites, adds some single cream, mixes through the cold tea and folds in the purée. And so do I. I know when to strike out on my own, and this isn't the time. Fanny dissolves gelatine in a little extra cold tea. As I'm using my veggie-friendly Agar, I need to dissolve it in the tea, and bring it up to they boil to activate it. Once done, it's swirled into the mix. It looks light and fluffy, just like freshly drifted snow, as Fanny hoped, ready for the mould.

It's only now that I have rescued the mould from the dark recesses of my cupboard that I remember why I tucked it away in the first place. Yes, it makes a decent substitute for a pyramid, but it's, well, there's no escaping this, very booby. I'm really not sure when it would be acceptable to use it, or indeed what it's original purpose actually was. I should've made two perhaps. It's not like I'll be using the mould regularly, or even again for a while. It'll just nestle back into the back of the cupboard and be forgotten again more than likely. Maybe I need to donate it back to the charity shop? I'd have to hide it in something else, or try to disguise it? Would they accept it I wonder?

You Must Be Yolking

More often than not dear old Fanny is deadly serious when it comes to her discussion of food, her directions for preparation and her dissections for garnish. It is a serious business after all, and she wants us to take it equally seriously. However from time to time she just feels likes throwing it all up in air to have a chuckle. Clowning around isn't a normal way of things in the Cradock Kitchen, as you can imagine, but when she feels a little prank coming on, she frolics in and can barely contain herself. If the pun is a visual one, it would seem, more the better, and best of all if she can (wise)crack with an eggs-capade or two, the yolk is wonderfully complete. I'll try and contain myself...

Observable one-liners are very much en vogue at the moment, with the likes of the ever-inventive Frances Quinn and her amazing showstoppers on Great British Bake Off. Fannys stunts don't strive for the same standard of shenanigans, they are not quite as elaborate, but she does try to trick our eyes as we tuck in. Here, she wants us to believe we are making Poached Eggs. Sweet ones. Worry not, it's NOT like her beloved omelettes. There's nothing more to it than some droll sponge, quirky cream and apricot cups full of jest... The joke's on you if you think all cooking is complicated.

Fanny takes her ordinary 'fresh' sponge (you'll see that I freshly purchased a Madeira Cake but you may interpret her directions as you will) and slices it into squares, *spoiler*, as if to resemble slices of toast. You can probably guess the punchline to this one. My Madeira was a little thick and much as I like a doorstep sandwich, I neatly sliced it down the centre before beginning. The slices were still fairly hefty, so you could do the same again. Or you could just eat a huge wad of cake, like I did.

Fanny carefully whips some cream, by hand of course, until it is thick but not too firm, and spreads a little on each slice of 'toast' in as neat a not-quite-circular egg-shape as you can manage. Fanny suggests some grown-up supervision may be required, these are really for the little people to make you see. The final witty step is to glibly open a tin of apricot halves (or cups as Fanny correctly refers to them). An adult is definitely required for this, especially if like me your tin is the old-fashioned type without a ring-pull. I'm all for authenticity you see...

Dry off a 'cup' and plonk it onto the cream, a little off centre if you are pernickety about detail like moi, and voilà, there you have Fanny's Sweet Poached Eggs on Toast. Don't mention to Fanny they more closely resemble Fried Eggs, she won't laugh along. Everyone will be mightily fooled, everyone will laugh heartily, everyone will revel enviously in your whimsical repartee. They are, quite incidentally, fairly tasty too - a sweet, cakey, creamy, fruity treat. Farcical Fanny has also worked on a suitable joke *clears throat*, ahem, to share as you serve them, just to build on the theme. I'm just copying it out as she has written it okay? Alternatively, supply your own egg-based humour... "Do you know what the hen said to the dish of scrambled egg? Gee, you poor, crazy, mixed up kids!"

Poor old Dom at Belleau Kitchen may end up with egg on his face this month, as I'm sneakily entering these 'Sweet Poached Eggs' into his Simply Eggcellent blogger link-up thingy... The theme this month is Anything Goes, I do hope Dom is a good egg and accepts Fannys Funny Frolic in the good spirit it is intended... Pop over and share a 'yolk' or two with him...

A Cup O' Tea & A Slice O' Cake

Fanny stretches her definitions in the Home-Made Bread part to include a Simple Tea Loaf. Not that I'm complaining, much as her bread has been grand so far, it's nice to have a much 'kneaded' break and a wee slice of cake is very welcome indeed to balance it all out. And well, it's a loaf, so all is well. Fanny says that this particular recipe is the ONLY one in her whole LIFE she has ever found in a leaflet that has been worth making more than once to find out it's quality. Presumably she's not talking about her own leaflets? Which are booklets really, and sometimes contain so many high quality recipes they are more like small books...

Fanny suggests using any mixture of dried fruit for this recipe, just whatever is bulging out of your kitchen cupboards and crying out to be used at the time. I've got a selection of raisins, dried cherries and dried apricots which would seem to fit the bill. I'm lucky that my local fruit and veg shop, Tattie Shaws, sells a great selection of almost everything, including dried fruits. It's like a wee treasure trove in there. It's hard to resist adding some Glacé Cherries into the mix too, no cake of Fannys would be complete without them.

Fanny doesn't specify the tea to be used either. I think I'm being trusted to make more and more decisions all by myself these days. I think I can just about cope in choosing a tea-bag for a loaf. Or can I? Giving myself a shake I head to the kitchen and decisively make a selection. My choice is from TeaPigs, and is a Liquorice and Peppermint, which I hope gives a slightly different flavour to the fruity cake. Fanny would probably raise her considerable eye-brows and remind me that I am among professionals now, and professionals only use blah-de-blah tea but I'm feeling a little rebellious. Also, it's all I have in my cupboard. So kind of rebellious and entirely practical.

The instructions are relatively simple, which is just as well after all these edgy and exhausting decisions. I chop up the apricots and halve the glacé cherries so that all the fruits are almost the same size. Sitting down with a delicate china cup of tea to munch on a gob-full of dried fruit just wouldn't do. A fair amount of brown sugar is mixed in, so much so that I'm questioning Fannys accuracy here, but I plough on. The cold tea is poured on top, and the (self raising) flour, a little salt and one solitary egg is worked in. Very economical. Fanny says the mixture will be very loose, and it is. Reading ahead, I had buttered and floured a loaf tin, so once combined it all gets poured in and baked in a moderate oven for a whole hour.

The finished 'loaf' comes out of the tin very well - that buttering and flouring technique is a good top tip of Fannys. Fanny says if you and your family are able to exercise some self control the loaf can be covered in foil once cooled and left for 24 hours before cutting. My self control is out of control so I take the other option of slathering over some icing glaze, decorating it with more glacé cherries, slicing and getting stuck in. Fanny says if you follow her techniques the fruit will 'stay where you put it' and not sink to the bottom of the cake. Unlike the weather in Edinburgh today though, it is quite dry and a little crunchy (maybe there was too much sugar after all?), but with a cup of tea it is lovely. With butter smothered on it I am sure it'll be even better. If only I'd been able to leave it for a day! Fanny is certainly right (again) - this is one recipe worth hanging on to the leaflet for and making again! I'm sure she meant one recipe not of hers though, undeniably they are well used, aren't they?

Taking Stock - insulating the Tarte Du Jour (ou de la Maison) against sog

"No Frenchman would take kindly to a damp and soggy flan"

Fanny pauses slightly to explain how to construct basic flans using the techniques she has already outlined, but ensuring perfect results whatever the fruit you use. Fanny indicates that the French use Fresh Fruit in their flans, seldom the tinned, bottled or frozen that we lean far too heavily on in this country, apparently. Fantastic, I love fresh fruit and seldom use tinned. Fanny also answers one of my previous queries here - when to cook pastry blind and when to fill it raw. It's almost as if she's been reading my blog and I've slightly irritated her by asking. The method, she proclaims, is constant. Note, do not deviate from this, ever. If the fruit needs to be cooked - apples, gooseberries, cherries, plums, damsons - the one selected needs cooking, dusted with sugar and then glazed when hot. If using fruit that need no cooking - raspberries, strawberries or loganberries - bake the case blind and fill. This ensures, Fanny says, that the moisture from the fruit is insulated from the raw or cooked base by the confectioners custard which should be used in both techniques. All clear? The nation needs to be taught these sog-proof methods if they are to compete with the French, Swiss, Danish and Austrians who provide an array of flans daily. Let the competition commence! 

Today's Tarte du Jour is Apricot. A favourite of mine, in season now and perfect for Fanny. She does concede that if I wish to make this in winter I could use a tin of apricots, but with these fresh lovelies how could I resist. Plus, a new method to learn - poaching the fresh apricots in stock sugar syrup. Oh hang on, I assumed as they needed to be cooked I'd be using the method above, but no... I dissolve my sugar cubes in water over a low heat without stirring or boiling, then 'level it off' to a simmer for three minutes. That's it - ready to use, or store in jars for future use. 

Fanny tells me to stone my fruit, and place unskinned halves in a wide shallow pan and cover with the stock syrup. Pop in a vanilla pod, and poach very gently over a very low heat. When they are ready (no clues how long - mine took about 15 minutes) remove and wipe the vanilla pod for storage, drain the apricots on a clean cloth and strain the remaining syrup into a jar for future use. Easy.

Listening to Fanny I realise that I need to bake a sweet flan case blind for this Tarte du Jour, using the recipes and techniques used before. Once it is cool I half fill it with some confectioners custard. It's almost as if I am continental now, I just do it. Next I need to arrange the poached apricots on top, very closely together, dome-side uppermost. Fanny asks me to glaze the flan with redcurrant jelly, but I've run out. I do have a very nostalgic jar of Bramble Jelly lurking about, so this should do the trick. As instructed, I make sure it fills all the empty spaces between fruits too.

Fanny now gives me a recipe for Chantilly Cream, which I should make and pipe round the flan and in between the apricots if I like. I'd never known what made cream 'Chantilly' but it seems to be double cream, whipped until it hangs loosely from the whisk, with 'some' teaspoons of icing sugar added to taste. I add two. Not stopping there, Fanny encourages me to add a few drops of liqueur of my choice, I choose Cherry Brandy - not really considering if Apricots, Brambles and Cherries are really the next combination (as it turns out they are!). Then I add a whisked egg white which has been stiffly whipped, and blend with the cream until it is smooth. When I do this, it looks a little runny, perhaps I added way too much liqueur. Perhaps you understand, only perhaps. So I give it another whisk, maybe a little too vigorously, before the piping commences onto today's Tarte...