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...

Curl Up and Dye

Some retro touches from the past remain exclusively in the olden days. They never get revived. There's no rhyme nor reason for it, just overlooked I suppose. Or forgotten. Perhaps the skills have left us. Perhaps the will has gone. Perhaps the tools were gifted to the local charity shop in haste. Fanny's personal favourite retro touch is of course the garnish, exclusively for presentation. It's the ultimate. So much so that she often sets 'the young ones' to learn the techniques with tables full of basic ingredients to be embellished with the very simplest of tools. If one of the tools missing from your own kitchen drawer is the humble butter curler, you'd best make a dash to that charity shop and retrieve it immediately...

I can't remember the last time I saw curled butter. Fortunately for me, I happen to have a butter curler to hand, from a failed attempt to recreate Fanny's gloriously green Brandy Butter 'tree' for Christmas. I clearly need additional practice. I'm sure Fanny would sit me down at the table and set me to work on an endless mountain of butter crying out to be curled and loved if she could. Fanny being Fanny doesn't settle JUST for curled butter of course. Why would you when you could have curled BUTTERCREAM to lift your cake from the ordinary to the extraordinary in a few gentle strokes?

Fanny says to make a standard batch of her basic buttercream. Version 1. Naturally, she has several variations. Version 1 is butter whipped up all softly and creamily, with twice the amount of icing sugar blended in. Normally she adds an egg yolk too, for good measure and perhaps for a touch of colour. Normally I would add one too. Normally however I would take extra care NOT to drop the yolk, which I had just rescued from the white, down the kitchen sink... Normally it wouldn't be the last egg in my house. Normally I would worry endlessly about this, but nothing about this venture is normal anyway. As is normal with Fanny, icing and cakes, a massive burst of colour is involved anyway...

Fanny splits her buttercream into two and colours each a tasteful shade. Fanny has taught me to go one better in every walk of life, so three colours for me! Once tinted, the buttercream needs to be shaped into, err, well butter shapes and popped back in the fridge to harden up. This is not normal for buttercream. Fanny explains that this is an invention of a nameless Farmer's Wife from the nineteenth century. She made her own butter, and enjoyed shaping it using her butter curlers. She apparently also liked to colour it up and set it on top of her cakes. She didn't have a fridge naturally, but did have a stone slab in the dairy to keep her handiwork cool... Hmmm, I wonder if Fanny is simply just making this story fit her own fiendish plans. Either way, we must salute the anonymously curly Farmer's Wife for her buttery endeavours.

The Farmer's Wife uses her butter curler to scrape curls of buttercream which she then arranges on top of a freshly baked cake in an amusing pattern. Fanny did the same in her honour. I did too, although I used one of the many White Christmas Cakes I made before the festive season using Fanny's fabulous formula. The colourful insides now matches the colourful garnish. The cake has a kind of crocheted feel to it, reminiscent of a tea-cosy. I clearly need more practice with the curler. Surely, however, Fanny would be pleased? Perhaps not. One type of garnish Fanny does NOT subscribe to is that used by Italian pastry cooks. She seems to take issue with all things Italian. For Fanny, nothing is more 'potent for putting you off' your food that all the colours being too bright, especially when they are 'swirled and curled up together'. Make your mind up Fanny. Bright orange, green (luckily I would never use green for icing, always blue) and, god forbid, another colour, makes for a 'horrifying, brash appearance' which is off-putting in the extreme. I feel well and truly 'told off'. Excuse me while I slink off to the corner, curl up and hide... I'm taking a massive slice of cake with me though. Welcome to the New Year...

Boi's II (Married) Men

I think Fanny Cradock was a frustrated wedding planner. She was forever banging on about 'suitable' things to make, and ways to decorate your own home 'simply' for the reception. She was determined to plan it, even if you didn't ask her to. She tells us she had recently decided to give a reception for someone or other which was 'one of those occasions Johnnie and I were driven almost hairless', which doesn't sound like the most glowing of references does it? My dear blogging pal, Cakeyboi, recently got married to Disneyboi on a trip to Canada. They are having their reception soon back home, but sadly I am unable to make it, as I will be away. I'm gutted. Perhaps they'd benefit from some of Fanny's advice instead - no need to thank me Cakey, Disney and anyone else planning a big bash, just call it my wedding gift to you...

Fanny insisted that she catered the wedding without any hired help whatsoever. It simply wouldn't be fair to those of us that cannot hire any help for her to do so. So she didn't. She only had the help of her army of assistants, who were already on board I imagine. No need to hire any more. Fanny's wedding plans are all based around Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed and Something Blue. I do hope Cakey and Disney are paying attention to this. Don't hire any help. There are more detailed suggestions to come.

For something old, Fanny insisted an old tradition be revived. A Receiving Arch. Presumably to be received under. Essential for a wedding. She gives detailed instructions on it's construction. Diagrams and plans. For something new, it's an idea to have two cakes - a three-tiered one and a fancy nancy French one, a Croquembouche. Fanny borrows an idea in the shape of making a third cake, or set of cakes, for the Bridesmaids. Seemingly it's a good trick, as they too will become brides one day and will remember your kindness by asking you to cater their wedding too. The gift that keeps on giving. The something blue is a homemade ice-bucket for the champagne, made by filling a plastic bucket with water, coloured blue, frozen (if you can find a freezer large enough), removed from the bucket, hollowed out ready for the bottle to be inserted. And then melts all over your impressive table, presumably?

Fanny is full of helpful advice that I am sure Cakey and Disney will be pleased to have. 'Continue whipping until very stiff' are excellent words of encouragement in themselves for newly-weds, but Fanny also suggests that you 'neaten off your blobs and stud them with glacé cherries' just to be sure. Fanny continues with her words of wisdom. 'Just line them all up, and go down the line and PUSH, PUSH, PUSH' and if need be 'spread all over and right down to the base of each side, before you slip them in.' Fanny reassures us that 'when it comes to filling and clapping together in pairs' that there is nothing to it really, 'no skill, just patience and a steady hand'. Indeed Johnnie 'always steadies his hand with the other and supports his elbow on the table.' So fear not Cakey and Disney, all will be well.

This advice may not suit all however, especially those challenged by temperature control. Fanny says 'if by any chance you suffer from hot, moist hands' you can forget about doing it yourself. The 'excessive palm moisture will penetrate' seemingly and everything will just stick. No-one wants that, especially at a wedding. So there we have it Cakey and Disney, all the advice you will ever need for a perfect wedding reception. Fanny does warn though that 'after a while the skin on your finger-tips will become hard', so take extra care won't you? She's talking about the Croquembouche, clearly. You knew that though, right? Enjoy the reception!

A Whack of Leather - Our Third Fanny-versary!

Three really is a magic number, but sometimes it feels a little overlooked. I mean everyone likes a 'first' don't they? Nothing better. The Winner! The Original! The Pioneer! Second feels like a real achievement, having kept going and 'done it again', still pretty good compared to first. Third though, it's a bit like, okay, that's great. A kind of 'well done' but also a 'what's for tea' kind of celebration really. So, it may just be me, but today I am shouting it loud and cheering (for myself) as Fanny and I celebrate a terrific three years together. Aw. That's 'leather' in anniversary terms... Oh. Best move on.

Three years! You may not have been reading along from the very beginning (erm, but now I think of it, what not?), but that's a lot of weird and whacky recipes, a lot food colouring and a lot of mentions of poor, down-trodden assistants getting into hot water for not following instructions. That's probably where the leather comes in - a quick whack with a belt? It's also three years of learning new techniques, uncovering new flavour combinations and generally having a real laugh. Every day. That's not bad going is it? With Fanny watching over me. Every day. I don't think I've done anything deserving of a good belting. Yet.

I must distract Fanny's mind from leather. Fortunately Fanny has just the thing in mind for 'our' celebration - a three tired cake. Okay, so she's got her celebrations a little mixed up, but it's the thought that counts isn't it? She remembered! Her idea is to make a three tiered wedding cake, perfect for a June bride. She did love a good wedding, whether in June or not. She even had a fake one or two along the way, often more than one at the same time, and never really much clarity on who was married to whom, but we're not being judge-y today of all days, it's a day to celebrate.

Fanny suggests her tried and tested Christmas Cake (is it too early to mention?) for the three tiered triumph. We've made it before, together of course, but never in triplicate. Fanny informs us that the base layer is to be cut and eaten on the wedding day. The second layer should be stored away to celebrate the First Anniversary, or if we are more ambitious, and have blooming good storage, the Silver Wedding Anniversary. The Third and final tier is intended to celebrate the birth of the first child. I fear that Fanny may be waiting quite some time for that particular celebration. Maybe a sacrificial leathering is the best option after all.

So, it's a spicy, fruity, slightly boozy cake fest in June. Once all three cakes are mixed up and baked, Fanny urges us to move swiftly onto the decoration. Almond Paste followed by Royal Icing is essential as a starting point. She advises that it is best to practice decoration on an entirely irrelevant cake that you just happen to have lying around. This is what she makes Johnnie do. Poor Johnnie, it keeps him occupied. He decorates the bottom layer with stars. I, on the other hand, do not have any irrelevant cakes, or indeed any that hang about too long, but I am always applying the knowledge that wise old Fanny gives me. So I know cakes should be blue. Mix the two together and surely this is the ultimate Third Fanny-versary cake? The big question is, will we still be together for the next five years of Fanny Fun required to compete the Cookery Programme? Our next Fanny-versary is the much more suitable Fruit and Flowers, so don't be scared...

Coping with the Cradocks at Christmas + Vintage Book Giveaway!

Oh my Fanny Cradock, it's blooming December already - how on earth did that happen? Fanny would be thoroughly ashamed of me as I really haven't had time to prepare for Christmas yet. She always makes a very prompt start in, erm, January, so I can't even decide if I'm late or just a little bit ahead by thinking about it now. Perhaps I've missed a whole year somewhere? Fanny laid out her blueprint for a perfect Christmas first of all in her much-sought-after book Coping with Christmas in 1968 - the book that supposedly 'let's you relax at Christmas', but ironically sent the housewife of the sixties into a severe seasonal spin. Nigella references it in her Christmas book too. I am hoping to inspire some of you to follow in Fanny's rather imposing footsteps by giving away a copy of this essential reading - read on to find out how! It's my Christmas gift to you (wrinkles nose and smiles to camera).

Firstly though, just incase I am not alone and we are all in a flap, we needn't worry too much - Fanny will soon be appearing on a TV near you thanks to the guys at Food Network UK (scheduled to begin on December 7th, set to record NOW) running through all her handy hints for festive fun. I've already had a head start in previous years as I cooked my way through the many 'Treats de Noël' that she shoehorned in to share on the show... Let's take a wee trip and skip back through the joys that are an Essential Cradock Christmas. Fanny was very fond of Choux Paste as we know, and it is her first 'must make' for guests this Christmas.

Best to make plenty of those to keep your tupperware boxes full to keep your guests filled up, they may not be as keen on the Royal Mincemeat creations. In fairness Fanny's mincemeat is delicious, and it is put to good use making Mince Pies, Mincemeat Pancakes and even a Mincemeat Swiss Roll if you really fancy it. If you must. However I defy anyone to make and ENJOY the infamous Mincemeat Omelette. Served wet, of course, with a very thick dusting of icing sugar. It only makes it taste even worse, but you'll definitely want to hide it as best you can.

Quickly grab a bottle of booze and take a swig after tasting that, that's the only advice I can possibly give. While it's in your hand, slosh some into a small pan, heat gently and fling it over your lovingly created Christmas Pudding and waggle it gently as you set fire to it. Keep wiggling as you take it through to wow your guests, and hope that they forget the wuggly omelette.

If anyone still has room, and doesn't fancy another quickly prepared omelette (Poor Sarah is on hand if you've acquired a taste) the Christmas Cake is the perfect crowning glory... You really should've made it well before now of course, Fanny will be cross with you (and me), but perhaps we could make them together now ready for next year and just keep them 'lively' with the odd splash of booze, which by now we all understand, is constantly in hand.

So that's how Fanny copes with Christmas. Easy. Except these are only the very basics you see. Tune in to her jolly Christmas shows to see more, and do enter my giveaway below to win your very own copy of Coping with Christmas, which contains many more ideas and recipes than she even managed to squeeze into the specially made-for-TV Booklet (this book is not that, just to be clear). If you win, we can start together in January and be so very prepared for Christmas 2016, and not shamefully caught out again, like this year. Go on, enter now*, you'll be surprised how much of a perfect Cradock Christmas you've coped without doing before.

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* If you are the lucky winner chosen by Rafflecopter I will send you this lovely book, which is a duplicate from my own collection - it's a used, vintage paperback printed in 1968 but is in really great condition and is a HOOT to read!

Kugelhopf We Go Again

Fanny strives to set some definitions straight before we go any further, although it's not at all clear why she has waited until this moment to do so. You might be forgiven for thinking it is terms she uses to describe her treatment of the poor old assistants, but no, it is useful terminology for 'yeast work'. So when she talks about scaling, pinning out, proving, knocking back, slapping, kneading and glazing - no enthusiastic helpers have been harmed. Well, we cannot guarantee this 100% of course, but in terms of defining 'yeast work' we can feel slightly reassured.

Mostly the terminology is self explanatory - but that does not deter Fanny from providing clarification. Scale is a 'technical term', Fanny says, for weighing out portions of dough into 'given uniform quantities'. Just in case you wondered. Fanny gets a bit more feisty though with Knock Back... this means to slap down with palms of slightly floured hands on lightly floured surfaces until 'it' (remember she is chatting 'dough' not 'assistant') subsides to about one quarter. You can then Slap and Knead alternately, or as Fanny describes - slip, slap, slip, slap with the palm of one hand and then the other across a minimum 'length' of 12 inches for around a minute. I think we are still chatting dough, but even I'm not sure now.

Fanny puts our newly defined knowledge to good use to make a German, or maybe Austrian, or perhaps Swiss, speciality. In English it doesn't sound so appealing - Yeast Cake - but saying it in German, Austrian or Swiss-ish is so much fun. The Kugelhopf. I imagine the pronunciation is Rose Nylund style. Since Fannys day they have been rebranded as Bundts, but only if you use a tin from a certain producer, which I don't have, so I'll stick with the K-word instead. I'm not sure many of the B-folks make yeasted cakes in theirs though?

Fanny whips up the usual yeast and flour mixture in a warm bowl, adding sugar, salt, vanilla powder (I have a grinder, get me), flaked almonds, lemon zest and raisins. Oh raisins. I don't have any. I do however have glacé cherries, of course I do. So in they go, along with some dried sour cherry powder for extra oomph. Then Fanny adds eggs gradually, and some gently warmed milk to bring it together to a dough. Fanny then leaves it to prove (for which she gives two definitions - one for domestic and one for professional use - which do I choose? Thankfully professionals, we discover, use a proving oven - has she been watching Bake Off? - so that's not an option for me...) for 2 hours to double 'in bulk'. This is a technical term.

Once bulky, all that remains is for it to be shaped - or rather Pinned Out to use the correct term for 'rolling'. Not to mean as you might expect 'against the kitchen cupboards' as in treatment of assistants. Into the Kugelhopf pan, covered and left to prove for one more hour before baking. It. Smells. Amazing. However Fanny has one last technical term to ram home before you rush to get the icing sugar and garnish ready... Hands Off. Fanny insists that you do NOT cut into it until the following day... It's more tortuous than her treatment of any assistant, but worth the wait. The Kuglehopf is a bready cakey joy wherever it hails from, whatever the definition of the pan it's baked in, and however you eat it. Slathered with butter for me. With extra green cherries.

It's My Fanny-versary!

Two years. Two whole years that Fanny Cradock has completely taken over enriched my life as I've enhanced taken over her Cookery Programme in this blog. In some ways it feels like I only started yesterday, while in other moments it does feel that I've been recreating weird and wonderful Cradock creations for ever. It has been twenty four months of fun, laughter and at times, let's be honest, horror at some of the things I've been making with Fannys guidance. I wouldn't swap a day of it though, I've enjoyed almost all each and every one of the 1,051,200 minutes.

To celebrate this two year Fanny-versary, Fanny has the perfect Chocolate Sponge Gâteau, which she strangely translates as Biscuit au Chocolat. After one hundred and four weeks together, nothing surprises me, least of all the exclusive questionable French translations. Fanny is part French you know. Fanny refers to it as a 'simple' sponge, made using the genoise method of whipping eggs and sugar together until they are voluminous. Fanny uses her beloved sweetened drinking chocolate to flavour the sponge, sifting it with her equally beloved self-raising flour and gently folding it into the well risen egg and sugar mix.

Fanny adds a little melted butter to the mix, presumably to make it lavish and luxurious. Fanny says it should be softened butter, which might suggest room temperature, but her instructions are to stir it in, so I use my common sense well trained initiative and melt it first. Fanny and I are becoming one and the same horrifically attuned as the months roll past it seems, I can translate her unique strange language and instructions with ease. Mostly. I even manage a little smirk to the imaginary camera while I cook and wrinkle my nose softly while giving any assistant brave enough to come close an almighty wallop.

Fanny bakes her special sponge in a square six inch tin. I don't have a square one that small, so substitute for a perfect serviceable round one, which is six inches diameter. Buttered with a greaseproof circle in the base and floured, naturally. The cake bakes for only 35 minutes before emerging all light and springy from the oven. For everyday situations, Fanny recommends her most lazy favourite of servings - a simple dusting of icing sugar, very thick. Hides everything. Hang on though, this is a very special occasion, so what does Fanny suggest to mark seven hundred and thirty long happy days together?

The answer I am sure you are all screaming is Mocha Buttercream, piped into tiny rosettes with a small star nozzle. This is always the answer. Except today, I am switching things up with three flavours of buttercream - rose, chocolate and vanilla - hey, it's my Fanny-versary and I'll vary if I want to. Fanny completes her decoration with chocolate leaves, dredged through pickings from her rose bush in the garden. Mine are pre-dredged and perfectly formed from Coco, I am sure Fanny would be raging wouldn't mind a shortcut. She better hadn't as we have a long way to go on our journey up the culinary ladder together. Two years has brought us only a quarter of the way, I do hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have so far? Will you be joining me for the remaining six years (gulp) up the giddy heights of the Cradock Cookery Programme? I have to warn you however that things get even more weird and wonderful spectacular as we progress...

Taking The Pistachio

Fanny reckons that she has the home cook completely sussed. She knows how to make them vulnerable. According to Fanny they are already susceptible enough when it comes to chocolate recipes, so her plan is to make them (or hang on a cotton-picking minute, does she mean me?) doubly defenceless. Fanny can always spot a chocolate obsessed home cook you see, they will tend to read, ponder over and generally sort out any other kind of recipe, but give them an absolute dud with chocolate and they will rush to try it. The solution is of course to give them a good one, one of Fanny's! Fanny says there is not one 'woman in a thousand' who will fail to betray her slimming diet with 'just a slice', 'only one' or 'just a very small portion'. No duds here.

I'm not on a slimming diet, but the flavour combination that makes me go weak is chocolate and pistachio. I just love it. Fanny uses pistachios from time to time, but warns that in the 1970's they were hard to find, and way beyond the already stretched purse for many. I'm not tightening any belts just yet though and was thrilled to find the Lindt Pistachio Delight on sale in my local supermarket - I'd previously discovered it in Paris and fell in love... Chocolate with a pistachio filling, what's not to adore? Perfect for a twist on Fanny's Moist Chocolate Cake, non?

Fanny starts this cake by preparing the tin, naturally. She uses a perfectly ordinary 8" Victoria Sponge tin, buttered, lined with a disc of greaseproof paper, buttered again and then floured. It may seem like a faff, but I find it quite therapeutic really and the cakes always pop out well at the other end. This sponge is genoise in style. Fanny says to whisk up whole eggs and an extra yolk, with caster sugar in a bowl over another bowl of boiling water. Not that I want to cheat or anything, but I've seen recently that using a stand mixer on high speed produces the same results, and is less finicky. After all that tin preparation I need a short cut! Poor Sarah, my mixing assistant, makes light work of it, whipping it up until it is thick, risen and pale in colour. Fanny warns that if you cut down on the whipping you will spoil the cake! Thankfully Poor Sarah just keeps going and going.

This sponge only has a small amount of flour, but it needs to be added carefully so as to not take all the air out of the risen mix. Fanny folds hers in with a plastic spatula before adding softened chocolate chips, which I'm swapping for my pistachio chocolate. The mix is really thick and sticky, so takes a fair bit of folding to incorporate the flour and chocolate before pouring into the prepared tin. Fanny bakes hers for the very exact timing of 24 minutes, but I found mine needed much longer - probably another 20 minutes. Maybe it's because I didn't whisk it over the boiling water which presumably would've started the cooking process? Or maybe Fanny made a mistake? Surely not.

Fanny hides the inevitable crusty cracked top of the cake by flipping it over, then covering it with homemade almond paste. To keep with the pistachio theme, I experiment, switching the almonds for pistachios. I whizz up some gorgeously green and purple nuts and blend them with an egg white, orange blossom water, rose water and icing sugar. Just a quick knead and it's ready to roll. Fanny glues hers on with warmed apricot jelly, but I am using some homemade marmalade, which seems to work well. The pistachio paste is a great colour, natural for once, and covers the bouncy chocolate cake well. Fanny makes chocolate shavings to top hers, I chop up some more pistachio chocolate. You can never have too much. I'm ready to be exposed to a slice or two, it tastes nutty, not too sweet and very light. Surely not too calorific, it must be mostly air. I'll leave the small portions for those vulnerable slenderising home cooks, Fanny is training me in her professional ways, which I am taking to mean eat well, eat often, eat lots. That's my kind of diet.

Bier, Bundt und Butter

Fanny is decidedly determined to include a Deutchsland cake in her Christmas tea-time treats, in honour of Prince Albert, consort to Queen Victoria. Fanny says this is only right as 'they', being the Royals, the Germans, the Saxe Coburgs, 'brought Christmas to our Island' and without them we would have very different Christmas traditions. The Christmas Beer Cake, or Bierkuche, doesn't seem to have become a firm favourite for Brits, but we do seem to have adopted the entire month of Oktober to celebrate German ales so perhaps it is appropriate after all? It's another cake, or perhaps a sweet bread - she can't decide - which Fanny says improves with age, and yet again one which will have your waistline twitching in preparation for the winter ahead. Fanny insists its made in a ring shaped tin, for Germanic tradition presumably and not as an homage to Prince Alberts most famous piece of jewellery? Anything is possible with Fanny though, and she may have her tongue tucked firmly in her cheek with this one.

The flavours are full-on festive, packed with spice - cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves - all mixed in with a deep, dark German Ale. I'm using Erdinger Dunkel simply because I like it, but Fanny recommends using 'any old ale'. She mixes up her measurements for this one, using oz's for flour and butter and the more American-preferred 'cups' for the Black Treacle and Raisins. I'm working on the conversion of 1 cup to be 8 oz, so let's keep our fingers crossed! Fanny from time to time in other recipes specifies teacups, or breakfast cups, but for this one it's just 'cups'. 

This cake, or sweet bread, starts with the beer being gently heated with some butter and Black Treacle, quite a lot of treacle, until the butter melts. Off the heat, it's time to add the raisins and leave it to cool down to 'blood temperature' for all that lovely stuff to fatten up the fruit. Meanwhile the self-raising flour (remember Fanny never uses anything else!) is sifted with an incredible three teaspoons of baking powder, some salt and the spices. There are no eggs in this cake/bread at all, so presumably all that baking powder is required to lift it?

Fanny insists I butter and flour my Bundt in preparation of the mix. I tend not to use my Bundt tin all that much for fear of the cake getting stuck, but Fanny hasn't let me down so far. The chubby and now blood temperature raisin, beer, butter and treacle mix is folded into the sifted flour and spices with some chopped walnuts before transferring to the floured tin. No looking back. All that baking powder is making it rise up even before it goes into the oven. It bakes for a whopping 50 minutes, but does turn out fantastically well! Phew! The finished cake/bread or whatever it is tastes so wintery. Fanny says there is nothing else to do for the cold season than to cut yourself a huge fat wedge, slap some butter thickly on it, pour yourself a hearty foaming beer, sit back and put weight on. Who am I to disagree with Fanny? Winter waistline here I come - prost! 

I've entered this blogpost into #CookBlogShare hosted by the very lovely Lucy over at SuperGoldenBakes

Zest for Life - Fanny Cradock's Lemon Soufflé Jelly Cake

Fanny says that you can make a jelly out of any fruits you might happen to have lying around the house. She even recommends replacing sweet wine wine for any water when making a jelly, for adults only, I like that. Alcoholic jellies always seem like a naughty treat. For this final creation in the Jelly partwork Fanny gives the humble lemon centre stage. I've been learning a lot about Agar Agar as a replacement for gelatine over the past few weeks as I turn all Fannys jellies vegetarian, and the main thing to learn is that it doesn't mix well with acid, in particular citrus fruits. I wonder though how it would react to that Italian Lemon liqueur, Limoncello, often found lurking at the back of even the most respectable cocktail cabinet. Certainly in mine. So, would an alcoholic Limincello Soufflé Cake be fitting of a finale (for now) for Fannys jellies?

Fanny whips eggs, extra yolks and icing sugar together until they are thick and almost white. Fanny does warn that the mixture needs to be whipped for a VERY long time in a very large bowl. My KitchenAid Mixer, Sarah, comes in super handy for this task. I click my fingers, give her a very fake smile and she sets to work while I get on with the rest of the cake. Well actually, when I say cake I really mean assembly of the cake. Fanny suggests making a sponge, but I've bought a Madeira cake in the supermarket. Shoot me. 

Fanny says that this cake can have two presentation styles - individual or party for very special occasions. I think it might be fun to combine the two and have an 'individual party' - I'm celebrating the last of the jellies after all! So while Sarah works away without complaint, such a dedicated assistant, I exhaust myself by cutting two semi circles from the cake, which will make a full circle base. I really should've bought a bigger cake, or maybe used a smaller cutter, it's all too strenuous. 

Sarah does a marvellous job of whipping the eggs and sugar. Unfortunately I need to prepare the lemon jelly all by myself, but it's all the usual way so I am well rehearsed. The Agar flakes go into cold Limoncello (replacing the lemon juice and grated rind) brought to the boil then simmered for a few minutes until the flakes are all dissolved and mingled in nicely. Sarah continues to assist to whip the mixture as I add the hot lemony jellied Limoncello slowly. Fanny warns that the light mixture will collapse a lot as it combines, and sure enough it does. At this stage some double cream is blended in before heading straight into a pot, which is the same size as my cake base, to set. At least I hope it will.

I needn't have worried, after around an hour the Souffléd Lemon Creamy Jelly is set with still a good quiver evident when it's released from the mould. It comes away easily, as I wetted it before adding the mixture, naturally. Fanny assembles her party cake in layers and pipes cream stars. So do I. Almost apologetically she urges me to rush to the supermarket again to buy some candied lemon slice decorations. She's apologising because she simply doesn't have time to teach me how to make my own just yet, that will be saved for a future partwork. I don't have time to learn either, it's my party and I'll continue to add shop bought ingredients if I want to. The finished cake is really tasty, quite zingy and a more than a little bit naughty. I'm a little bit sad and a little bit happy to be saying goodbye, for now, to the wonderfully wibbly wobbly world of jellies, but this is a great send off.