Thanks for the Tools of the Trade

Fanny Cradock encourages us to 'take time off from cooking' with the arrival of Part 24 of the Cookery Programme. She's not suggesting we just sit back, kick off our carpet slippers, pour a glass of sherry, watch some TV and order in some take-away you understand, it's time to grab our clipboards and do a stock-take in the kitchen. How do our tools of the trade match up to Fanny's high standards?

Fanny recognises that we won't all have the array of implements that she has in her dream kitchen, but we need things to aspire to naturally. Fanny says she is 90% certain that all her readers started to cook with the most basic of items, as she herself did, including a jam jar for a rolling pin. she doesn't know but I used an empty lemonade bottle, glass of course, for many years. Although Fanny displays page after page of equipment, she knows she can only show a fraction of those that are used by professionals, a grouping to which she includes herself. Otherwise Part 24 would be an extended 20 part catalogue she tells us. Diane lends a hand by showing how to make her own felt roll for her butchery knives, keeping them safe from temptation harm. Wouldn't want any nasty 'accidents' in Fanny's kitchen.

Fanny discusses all kinds of 'gear' - casseroles, stockpots, rings, tins and assorted home baking equipment, jelly moulds, icing equipment and lastly, not as expected, salad bowls. Her own wooden bowl came courtesy of some Australian friends and a 300 year old tree, how does yours measure up? Fanny is well aware that most readers will have come from families who have to make-do in culinary terms through lack of funds. Fanny is keen to make readers aware that both her and Johnnie came from backgrounds of great privilege and had exceptionally spoilt childhoods as a result.

However, in an attempt to connect with the readers, Fanny states that mercifully for both their characters they lost it all and hit rock bottom. It was this devastating loss and brush with poverty that spurned Fanny and Johnnie to success you see. When she began to earn money, without any training whatsoever, except in how to be a debutant, Fanny had her trustee jam jar for a rolling pin, frying pans without handles which other people had thrown away, tea towels made from cotton garments too shabby to wear and a junk shop piece of marble for her pastry work.

She got by though, and hopes that even the poorest of readers will be inspired to do the same, by scrimping, saving and working hard, like she and Johnnie have done, to have such a gorgeous kitchen. Fanny leaves us with a thank-you, as she spends another happy hour looking at all her things she is reminded that if it wasn't for her readers she would have none of it. So, in many ways she believes it really is OUR kitchen too, as we have enabled it. So, no need to buy all the things at all, just pop round and share in Fanny's super-ness. I'm sure she wouldn't mind. Now, back to the cooking, Fanny has more earning to do!

Nice Peas, Dear

Fanny's romp through a few hors d'oeuvres has included some delights and some low lights too, but it's certainly opened my eyes to another world of 'outside the menu'. Fanny does say that although she has helped increase my overall culinary repertoire, she reminds me it remains small. I know my place. To finish things off, for now - there will be more 'advanced' hors d'oeuvres to come we are promised - Fanny tackles a vegetable that I am sure we all take for granted. Peas. I don't really think about them too much, occasionally boil some up as an accompanying after thought, or fling some in with some pasta. Surely I am not alone?

Fanny treats them far more regally and royally, making a Casserole of Cooked Peas, or Petits Pois à la Française. I've seen this dish on different retro and historical cooking shows, normally being scoffed at rather than scoffed speedily though. It's essentially a different way to cook peas, for me at least, which may seem a little extravagant today, but Fanny reckons is the only way to treat such a wonderful vegetable when in season.

Fanny lines a lidded casserole dish with the outside leaves of a well-washed lettuce. Of course she does. I don't have a lidded dish, so use a glass bowl which I can fit with a foil lid. Fanny has taught me to be resourceful. The lettuce is the old-fashioned limp, round kind, no need for an iceberg here, we won't be eating it anyway. Fanny adds perfectly ordinary shelled peas, which have been freshly prepared by one of the assistants. Thankfully the supermarket has done mine for me. I know... Please don't send me nasty letters, it's been a busy week.

To the peas, Fanny adds a mix of good 'bone' stock (I use vegetable bouillon of course), white wine and seasoning before topping it all with yet more lettuce leaves. It seems to be a day for switching, all I have is some Vermouth, always to hand in case an emergency Martini is required, so Noilly Prat is sloshed in. It's only a tablespoon of each, which doesn't seem very much at all. Fanny cooks hers with the ever helpful instruction of 'until they are ready', which for me is around 45 minutes. I assume it is the same for everyone, but you'll know best.

Fanny dredges out the now wilted, grey and pulpy lettuce leaves, which she says look like pond weed (she's not joking) and mixes the cooked peas with a little mayonnaise and the casseroled cooking liquid to serve. The peas themselves are nice and tender - not at all like Fanny warns they might be if cooked incorrectly. If so, they'd be more like the ones Miss Mattie in Cranford swallowed with mouthfuls of water because they were so hard! Not these, the casseroling technique worked well, and the lettuce cushioned them perfectly. Fanny flings her discarded leaves onto the compost heap, so don't be worrying about waste. They do taste great, very, erm, pea-ish and very fresh. Not like bullets, no need for mouthfuls of water. Fanny's final warning is to take a note of what I serve to whom, as my still small (ok, I get it) repertoire could cause resentment to guests if served often. So, for one time only, unless I forget my notebook, peas anyone?

Not rockin' the casseroling

I swithered whether to plough through Part Three of the Cookery Programme using all meat replacements - there's plenty of Quorn, soya and tofu products I could choose from. Almost every meat and fish is available in 'fake' varieties it seems. However, as it's all about the techniques involved for casseroles and treating meat with respect, it seemed a little unnecessary, so I decide to skip over it. Will Fanny forgive me?

This part is rammed full of hints, tips and tricks to successful casseroles as you'd expect. However I am filled with regret at not tackling them, not for the skills or the tastes but as Fanny herself has supplied some of the very best innuendos and puns to go with this collection. I am missing making Fanny's Cod Casserole ('a peak of culinary lunacy'), learning how to make and store faggots (of herbs) and best of all I will never know how to stiffen my prepared meat. 

Fanny clearly loves meat and clearly loves casseroles. She goes to great lengths to encourage readers to love it too. For me, however, this 'before and after' platter of Oxtail with 'amusing presentation' - including a cauliflower to replace the brain - which Fanny claims is copied from the many stalls she has seen in the open markets in Tours, is simply a step too far... I can't see how I could recreate that with soya-based items. What would Linda McCartney think?

In what seems like a minor irritation to Fanny, Johnnie introduces us to the wonders of Beaujolais, both red and white varieties. Johnnie urges us to try some, especially if you are 'passing through the district on your way to the South' where you can try it in its true home. He even supplies a wonderful photo to inspire us to make the trip. I wonder if he was day-dreaming of escaping for a while as he wrote it?

In truthfulness, there are a few recipes I could adapt happily, but they seem a little strange. Sausage and Rice casserole cooked in milk? French Yorkshire Puddings? And the weirdest Irish Stew I have ever seen, in presentation terms at least.

So I am missing out on the world of casseroles and missing out on some world class innuendos, but Fanny also leaves us with some visual puns too. I am not too sure they'd be terrifically pleased in Sweden with her presentation of this Birds Nest of chives, capers, onions, anchovies, potatoes and eggs, delicious with dark rye bread and butter apparently, but it made me smile.