Sections of Resurrection Confection

Fanny Cradock loves a festivity. None more than the feast following the fast for the faithful, frazzled, dedicated lenters that is Easter. The Easter partwork is a fanfare for the eyes too as Fanny goes into overdrive with the props, staging, colours and teeny tiny fluffy chicks. It's been a long lent of, well, mostly vegetables and eggs so who can blame her for a fabulous facelift of fanciness? Fanny the fashionista even has a springy new hairdo for the season, very froufrou. Incidentally, and somewhat flippantly, she does have huge hands doesn't she?

Fanny puts her feisty new do and mahoosive flapping hands to perfect use in a glorious pic-strip to show us how to 'play together' as we make our own chocolate Easter Eggs. At a fraction of the cost of shop bought naturally. She is sure that any famished youngsters in the house will 'squeal with delight' on Easter Day to receive one of her highly decorated fancily-finished Easter eggs. But first things first, we need to make them... Although Fanny claims these Eggs are easier on the hard-stretched purse than those to be found in the shops, you do need to shell out for a few bits and bobs to get going. Flim flam. The most expensive is possibly the egg mould.

Fanny recommends an array of fiddly old-fashioned metal moulds (both in plain and 'crocodile' pattern) together with the easier-to-work-with modern plastic versions. I have a super-modern polycarbonate mould. Fanny demands that we set about burnishing the moulds ferociously with a little liquid paraffin, which Fanny finds much better than oil. Just a tiny drop, and rub, rub, rub as hard as you can until they are as slippery as glass, and you are fatigued. The eggs will flip out as if shelling peas seemingly. Fanny tries to reassure me that the fractional amount of paraffin would not upset the stomach of the faintest canary, but I'm still a little sceptical. The polycarbonate moulds really don't need it anyway...

Before Fanny can get cross with me, I turn my careful attention to the chocolate chips, or couverture, which must be softened to a creamy consistency without letting them get hot. Fanny does hers in the warming drawer of her oven overnight to avoid a fiasco. I don't have one, so it's the trusty bowl-over-a-pan-of-simmering-water to avoid failure for me. I do hope Fanny would approve of my chips, they are gloriously and most fortunately green and flavoured with sweet garden mint from Guittard. I bought them in San Francisco. They may not *actually* be chocolate. They are described as 'baking chips'. They are definitely confectionary though, not McCains, for those easily confused.

Once the chips are softened, beaten and cooled, Fanny ladles spoonfuls into the burnished moulds and very slowly tips and turns it to cover the surface. When set, she re-coats and 'if you don't mind using a lot of chocolate' Fanny says, do it again. 'The thicker it is, the less tricky it becomes' she tells us, presumably still talking about the chocolate. Once fully cool and set they should just pop-out without fracture. Mine do, despite the lack of paraffin-enabled moulds. Fanny uses a little softened chocolate as glue to 'clap' two halves together before decoration. Just simple for now, we shall deal with more 'glamorous' ideas next time. Together, of course. Inadvertently, the fluffy chicks look a little disappointed.

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.

Nuts, all Hazelnuts!

Fanny was often thought of as 'kooky' to say the least, but her culinary mission was simply to show us all how to make the most delicious things to eat and share using the most straightforward, most economical ingredients available. She imagined we would be insane to not follow in her footsteps, creating weird dish after wonderful dish, but sometimes she focused on uncomplicated techniques instead. Here, she introduces us to her Noisettes au Chocolat or Chocolate Hazelnut Rectangles. They are Hazelnuts with chocolate, shaped into rectangles. Nothing wacky, nothing bonkers, just that.

The hazelnuts need to be freed from their skins first of all. Fanny places hers on a dry baking sheet and pops into a warm oven, lowest shelf, for a few minutes until the skins rub off easily. To make it even easier, I am not daft, I pop them in a small plastic bag once they are baked and rub them together. The skins fall off, the hazelnuts can be picked out and the messy skins remain in the bag. Clearing up those flaky coverings would drive anyone round the bend.

Fanny hasn't really discussed sugar work all that much so far in the partwork, but for these rectangles she binds together the nuts with a light caramel. Fanny uses exactly 32 pieces (of equal size) loaf sugar dissolved and gently heated on a low flame. Never sure what loaf sugar is, I did some research and it seems unrefined golden granulated sugar is a good alternative. It was driving me berserk trying to find out what size the pieces should be, so I just guessed a measurement. Not worth going out of one's mind for. Fanny instructs not to touch the sugar until every grain is dissolved, then to turn the heat up to a soft rolling boil until the syrup turns to a pale straw colour. Or, if you are like me, leave it a little longer still (oops) and it will be a darker caramel. Fanny would've flipped out.

Fanny flings her nuts into the caramel and forks them around for a few moments until the syrup becomes slightly tacky. She has at hand a ready oiled tray and pours them out immediately into a big nutty lump. But fear not, she also has a cut lemon at the ready to shape the rough lump into a large rectangle. You may think dear old Fanny is as mad as a March hare, but the lemon actually works really well, doesn't stick or pull the sugar at all. Once in a large rectangle, Fanny uses a sharp knife dipped in boiling water to cut into smaller rectangles. There are enough rectangles in this recipe to drive you round the bend.

Once cooled, the smaller rectangles are dipped in softened chocolate chips, just enough to cover the base and sides. I've also added an extra-special double-dipping with hundreds and thousands. I know, I'm unbalanced, a culinary psycho. Fanny lets the small oblongs set back on a lightly oiled surface. The finished rectangles are crunchy, nutty and simply sweet, perfect for any Mad Hatters Tea Party, or perfectly sane persons afternoon snack. Nothing batty, nothing potty, nothing cuckoo, just sugar-coated, full-flavoured cheap and cheerful specialities from Fanny.

Mocha Choca 'Lette Blah Blah

Fanny starts Part 21 with a riddle, of sorts, to tease the subject we will be tackling together next. She says it's like the ones you will find in crackers at parties. 'What is it that is so fraught with problems for home cooks yet almost everyone adores?' Fanny asks. What could the answer to this mystery be? Fanny doesn't keep us guessing for too long thankfully, the answer is, of course, Chocolate! She ponders another riddle too, this time involving men at buffet parties who declare 'I'm not really fond of sweet things and hardly ever eat them' but then come 'roaring back' for thirds when a chocolate pudding is plonked on the table. The third riddle for me is why on earth has Fanny decided to begin a partwork choc full of sweet cacao with, erm, a Mocha Chocolate Soufflé Omelette? Is it to teach those pesky men a lesson?

Fanny does love her sweet omelettes, but I've yet to find anyone else who does, and I've yet to be converted myself. They just seem so wrong, a complex culinary conundrum, but Fanny keeps right at them. Together we've already made mincemeat versions for Christmas, jam ones for everyday puddings and I may have glossed over an apple one once. Don't shout at me. Something about them just turns my stomach. There, I've said it. I love omelettes, with cheese or mushrooms, maybe an onion or even from time to time a tomato if I'm feeling crazy. But I've never come to the end of a meal and thought 'if only I had a coffee flavoured chocolate omelette to finish off this feast I'd be happy', have you?

Fanny uses chocolate chips in all her chocolate recipes. She says they are an excellent alternative for the housewife to proper chocolate 'couverture' which was only available wholesale when Fanny was writing. She says the proper stuff is somewhat beyond the average housekeeping budget's strained resources at any rate. As a result of this quandary, she embraces the chips, only if they are treated well. Apparently they respond to kindness, are otherwise fairly easy going and merely resent being overheated. This is fatal. If you do, your finished chocolate masterpieces will be sad and grey looking, like those chocolate figurines you've probably seen in south facing, unprotected sweetshop windows during hot weather. It's a very specific comparison. No dilemma really, just be kind.

To avoid any sad and grey complications, Fanny recommends that chocolate chips are softened in a bowl placed in a low oven with the door slightly ajar. Then beat the 'living daylights' out of them. To make it Mocha, Fanny simply adds a tablespoon or two of coffee. The final piece of this puzzling pudding is the omelette itself. No escaping it. While a dry pan is heating on a very low flame, the egg yolks are stirred into the softened mocha choc mix and the egg whites are whipped to a very stiff peak. They are then blended together. It makes a kind of mousse-like concoction, all ready to be cooked. Whether you want to or not.

Fanny adds a walnut of butter to the pan, turns up the heat a fraction and swirls the butter to coat the entire surface. In goes the mixture. Fanny is adamant that you should not touch it until you see big bubbles breaking on the surface. Then, and only then, do you slide a spatula underneath and fold the omelette into thirds like a letter, and out on to a waiting plate. Serve with pride, and a dusting of icing sugar as ever. It is still soft in the middle of course, as with all of Fannys' omelettes, served 'baveuse'. What a treat - a moist, slightly undercooked, puffed up, sweet, chocolatey, eggy omelette. It tastes unmysteriously like it sounds, but does have a brain-teasing consistency somewhere between a swiss roll and mousse. I don't think Fanny needs to worry herself with any more riddles, the enigmatic menfolk won't be returning for seconds, never mind thirds.

I'm linking up this lovely Omelette to the Simply Eggcellent bloggers link up for June hosted by Dom from Belleau Kitchen - it's important to share the weird and wonderful ways of Fanny Cradock...