A Veggie Mighty Sandwich

Everybody loves a Birthday Cake, don't they? I think we all secretly hope that someone will bake that 'certain cake' that is our very favourite for our special day, but even when it turns out to be chocolate instead of sponge, we are still thrilled. Even when no-one has baked for us, we are often overly overjoyed to bake our own, or pop to the shops and get an off-the-shelf sickly sweet one to share and say to everyone 'ta-dah, it's my birthday!' But what about those 'tiresome menfolk' that Fanny mentions, you know the type. They say that they aren't bothered about cake, and even worse they mean it. What on earth do you make to celebrate their special day?

Fanny, as ever, has the solution. She never does say, but I imagine that dear old Johnnie is the annoying man in question here, who, bizarrely but absolutely does not like cake. Well, a sweet cake at any rate. Fanny reckons that a savoury version is the way forward - namely her Savoury Gateau, which she translates into French as Gâteaux Savoureux, just to avoid any confusion. What man could resist a multi-layered, many flavoured, varicoloured, erm, sandwich disguised as a sweet celebration.

Fanny starts with a humble loaf. Her preference is a cottage style one, or a specially baked brioche. That seems like a lot of bother to go to for an unappreciative bloke, so I make do with a hipster faux-sourdough from the supermarket. It looks like a brick, but with Fanny's advice it's soon trimmed down to fit neatly into a 6-inch cake tin. Off-cuts are blitzed to breadcrumbs and frozen, nothing goes to waste. Fanny practically insists that I slice it 'parallel to the table' into a bare minimum of five slices. She also insists I cut paper-thin slices with ease, and without a serrated-edged 'euphemism' of a bread knife. I need to go to work with a perfectly ordinary, well-sharpened. smooth-edged French knife, seemingly.

I like my bread knife, but Fanny says I must throw it away. Don't tell her, but I can't bear to. I am already paying the price however, as I only manage the cut the loaf into four parallel slices. I am ashamed. It's too late for me to test out if a French knife would've been more successful, but if you try it, let me know. I do take Fanny's advice on slicing technique though - she again insists that I do not grip the loaf while I slice it for fear that it will develop a 'pressed-in waistline' producing the most peculiar-shaped slices. Thank goodness I've done something right. Fanny is only trying to make sure I obtain first-class results with the easiest of methods after all.

Fanny stuffs the layers with all sorts of fillings - fish, if we feel like ringing in the changes; cream cheese if we feel like playing it safe. Either way, each layer should be different, with the addition of other cheeses, eggs, cream, nuts and the all important food colouring to make the biggest impact. Oh dear, Fanny will not be pleased, again, as I opt for colourful beetroots and avocados to obtain the same pink and green layers she does. No artificial colours, this time. I use a mix of quark and cream cheese, whizzing them up in a food processor to make a mousse with my chosen accompaniments. Another layer is just a mix of cheeses. Layers of bread and filling are alternated back into the tin, then the finished cake, once chilled, is 'iced' with mayonnaise and left over filling, before being decorated with piped filing and walnuts. What tiresome man wouldn't be delighted with this, served with a sherry or a beer. I think in future I will opt for both sweet and savoury!

Back in the USSR - a Revolutionary Russian Repast

Fanny travels behind the Iron Curtain for her first Bill of Fare in this part, and conjurs up a traditional Russian meal using simple and colourful ingredients. It's maybe just me, but I always think of Boney M when I think of Russia, so I pop on a bit of Rasputin as I head into the kitchen and set of work on the starter of Borstch - or Bortch as Fanny refers to it. In between some nifty cossack moves I get the ingredients prepared.

Fanny requires the Beetroot and onion to be finely grated. Can I say that I've always found Beetroot to be really scary, I am properly terrified of touching it, but I love the taste. I've found some gorgeous candy stripe beets to use here, which don't worry me so much, but I still use my food processor to do the grating. No touching required. After heating some oil and butter, Fanny encourages me to fling in the grated vegetables with chopped celery, leek, cabbage and a splash of red wine vinegar and fry them for 8 minutes over a low heat, before adding the other ingredients. 

This just now need to come to the boil and simmer gently for two whole hours, which gives me plenty of time to perfect my dance moves. Fanny suggests straining it before serving and adding a dollop of soured cream, but it seems a pity to lose all those lovely vegetables, so I defiantly don't strain! The colour is more subdued perhaps than if I'd used 'proper' Beetroot, but I like it and it tastes really deep and earthy. The revolution has started! 

Fanny recommends a Beef Stroganoff for a delightful main, but of course I skip over this in favour of pudding. Fanny refers to this as an 'unusual' Russian Cheese Pudding, and the main ingredient, cottage cheese, doesn't immediately scream 'dessert' to me either. Am I ready for this type of unusual? However the oranges seem reassuringly pud to me, and I've found some lovely blood oranges which seem very fitting for the revolution theme. 

Fanny guides me to cream some butter until it is 'white and very loose' then add some caster sugar, creaming again, before adding half the amount of cottage cheese and a whole egg. Beating thoroughly, I add some mixed peel, juice from the blood orange - which turns everything a lovely pink - some orange flower water and then the remaining cottage cheese. Next in Fannys list is to to pop it into a muslin lined cheese mould and drain it over night. I don't have one (does anyone?) so improvise with a small sieve and just keep my fingers crossed.

The mixture is quite wet at first, but sure enough by the next day most of the moisture has drained off leaving a firm, rich 'cake' which smells so orange-y. Fanny says herself that a little goes a long way of this 'quick-to-assemble-pudding-without-cooking' and is perfect served with those 'irrestible biscuits known as vanilla sticks'. I'm not sure as ever what they are, but this very unusual cheese pudding is tasty indeed with a plain digestive biscuit. Hard to believe it's made from cottage cheese. Now, what's next on my Boney M playlist?