Dont boak, it's only Gwen Troake!

Fanny Cradock never cooked with Gwen Troake, not surprising after judging her nauseating banquet menu so harshly, claiming her ideas were 'too rich' and just plainly not suitable for presentation at a professional level. For Fanny, the end of a long career on TV, for Gwen it resulted in her first, and only cookbook, endorsed by Esther Rantzen. Esther said that the nation became either pro-Troake or pro-Cradock following the showdown, but my guess is that the only winner was the book publisher, who presumably shifted a fair few copies of plainly unprofessional Gwen's Country Cookbook.

The main ingredient that made Fanny pull faces as if she was holding back a substantial slew of slurried spew was the humble Bramble. Fanny claimed on TV not to even know what one was, and continued her bile-laden disgust at Gwen for even suggesting that it would make a suitable sauce to be served with Duck at the banquet the Big Time show was built around. Game old Gwen simply chuckled at Fanny's vitriolic vomit and carried on regardless. No-one else really seemed to like her recipes, but somehow they made it into her book. This must've made Fanny retch even more.

The Bramble Sauce recipe is a peculiar one indeed. Gwen simmered Brambles in plain water for around 15 minutes before straining and pushing them through a sieve. The pulp was discarded, and the juice thickened first of all with that staple of all 70's sauces, cornflour, and then with a very un-Fanny ingredient. Shop bought lemon jelly. Fanny would heave. Gwen adds sugar to make it even sweeter, a little salt and a splash of red wine, presumably for refinement. I can see why Fanny remained on the point of gagging. Especially as an accompaniment for a savoury main course. Perhaps it was meant to be regurgitated for dessert?

In her quest to extend our rice repertoire, Fanny makes some sweet fritters and suggests serving them with 'your favourite jam sauce'. Hmmm. I bet she never thought anyone would dare to recreate Gwens creation though. I'm wicked. I know. Shoot me. Fanny binds together cold, cooked rice with an egg, some ground almonds, sugar and a generous sprinkling of cinnamon. She shapes them into little rissoles and fries them very gently in olive oil (from the chemist) until they are a nice brown colour. They don't really look like a dessert, more of a chicken nugget type of a thing, or dare I say a duck-nugget should such a thing even exist?

The resulting modern day 'collaboration' between Fanny and Gwen is a slightly more convivial combination. The crunchy, slightly sweetly spicy but otherwise plain rice 'fritters' are given a new lease of life with the overly sweet, citrusy Bramble jam sauce, which is thick and gloopy. I find myself dipping the fritters into it as if it were ketchup (not that I've ever actually eaten ketchup, the thought of it truly makes me heave) in a way that would probably increase Fannys revulsion. Perhaps they should've written a cookbook together, partly for professionals and partly for the public, instead of bickering their way into the history books. Gwen's Brambles may not have appealed to Fanny, and may have never appeared again in such a form on any table - professional banquet or otherwise. Fanny's guidance may have provoked less of a joke, croaking more a masterstroke than a choke, and revoked both their futures from hurtling towards broke. That's all folks...

Glögg, Glögg, Glögg

I should've had more faith in Fanny, she does have some favourite alcoholic cocktails to share for Christmas after all. Poor old Johnnie isn't a fan however. Despite teaching Fanny 'all she knows' about wine, he defines a cocktail as 'a number of good ingredients ruined by being mixed together.' Fanny is keen to surprise him though, and reaches into the depths of history to uncover some long forgotten, erm, classics, as well as some new wonders borrowed from around the world. Fanny must've picked up that I'm feeling a little under the weather this week, as most of the festive favourite are hot, hot, hot! I've been supping on some Galloway Chilli Jam Hot Toddies to try and scare the bugs off, but I'm willing to try some of Fannys specialities too. It might help. It's kind of research.

Before I get to the hot cocktails though, Fanny suggests a cold one. Made with milk. Stored for a few weeks before drinking. I dare say if I wasn't feeling too hot already, this would surely finish me off, but it's worth a go isn't it? For the Cold Milk Punch (which Fanny also calls Old Milk Punch, I can't work out if it's a typo or not) I need to soak lemon peel in rum for 24 hours, before adding brandy, the lemon juice, cinnamon, nutmeg and sugar. After a quick stir to dissolve the sugar, Fanny gets me adding boiled milk. She does warn that the mixture will curdle, and it does. I'm glad I did this in advance whilst feeling brighter. Adding some boiling water doesn't help. Fanny recommends leaving it for 24 hours covered with a cloth before straining and bottling and leaving it somewhere safe for a few weeks. I wish I'd forgotten where I'd stored it in all honesty, not even the rum, brandy and spices couldn't save me from 'old milk'.

In need of something warm and soothing I'm pleased not see that Fanny recommends a Churchwarden. Much more like it. It's a mix of lemon, cloves, red wine and tea. Perfect for this time of year and a real tonic after weeks-old milk. Fanny stabs cloves into a lemon and pops it into a cool oven until the lemon turns light brown. The smell is amazing, certainly clearing my poor sinuses. While the lemon is baking, heat the wine and get ready some scalding hot tea. Fanny says ideally should be green and from Mr Laity's shop in St Ives, Cornwall. This seems very specific to me (does it even still exist?), and quite a trip, so I reach for a TeaPigs instead. The roasted lemon is immersed in the hot wine, and hot tea poured on top with a little sugar. Yahoo for the Churchwarden, it's lovely. I expect it'd be even lovelier if I had the  right tea. Sorry Fanny. Sorry St Ives.

My cold isn't quite lifting yet, so I'd better bash on with more 'remedies'... Fanny has a richly sweet one for me next, it's called a Negus. Unusually Fanny doesn't give any explanation why, it just is. It's a classic. It's made with Port, although Fanny does say you can substitute Red Wine if wishing to be more economical. This is no time for economy though, what could be more import at than my health? The port is heated, but not boiled, and added to a jug with sugar, lemon rind, lemon juice and grated nutmeg. Again, it's a treat for my nasal passages. Fanny says I should stand the jug near a fire, I don't think she had my radiators in mind, and pour on some boiling water. The mixture then needs to be stirred for 30 minutes while keeping it warm before serving up. It really is lovely, but without the benefit of a roaring hearth I had to reheat it before swigging it back.

Finally for today, Fanny wants to introduce a traditional recipe she has 'borrowed' from Sweden, which she says is traditionally made with Sherry but she finds a red wine works equally well. Its Glögg but Fanny says it's sort of pronounced Glurg. It's also got brandy, so can't be wrong can it? The brandy is warmed gently with sugar, cloves, cinnamon sticks, almonds and raisins until it's too hot to touch comfortably. The only way to test this is to keep sticking your finger in until it hurts. Ouch. Then I wonder if Fanny is losing it. She sets light to it. This is a fire hazard, and I already have Casualty on speed dial after the finger-scalding test. Once the flames die down, phew, it's added to the gently warming red wine, stirred and served. It's stunning, a real winner for me. The almonds and raisins add so much. I do wonder if essentially burning off the brandy alcohol was necessary though. I reckon several of these will shift my lungs no problem. Oh hang on, Fanny suggests bottling left-overs to be reheated for next time. Left-overs? 

Don't mock - Will my doughnuts turn out like Fannys?

Whether or not the urban myth is true or a well crafted piece of publicity, it's hard to mention Fanny Cradock without thinking about doughnuts and without sniggering at the famous line. Did the announcer on Nationwide really turn to camera after Fanny had finished her cookery slot and say 'May all your doughnuts turn out like Fannys' (or whatever derivation of the line you've heard)? I don't think any record of it exists, but the fame lingers. So, when I see that next up in my Cradock Cookery Programme is doughnuts I can't help but squeal. Well, they are sort of doughnuts of course, Fanny calls them Mock Doughnuts, Deceitful Doughnuts and also Spanish Torrijas. 

These doughnuts, Fanny suggests, are ideal for when you have nothing in the house for pudding and hungry folk to feed. Well, nothing expect bread, eggs, icing sugar, cinnamon and Sherry that is. Fanny boasts that she has blindfolded people on stage at the Albert Hall and fed them these little beauties, and they have insisted that they are having fresh, hot, spiced doughnuts. Naughty Fanny, one won't enquire why she had a blindfold to hand. 

So, first of all I need to mix some icing sugar with cinnamon, while I heat up some plain and ordinary oil to the required temperature. I am a little nervous about hot oil, so use a thermometer to make sure I don't overheat it. Then I cut circles out of thick slices of bread and toss them through eggs beaten with Sherry. Mmm, it really smells so good already! 

When the oil reached temperature Fanny suggests more tossing - this time the soaked bread into the oil, frying until they are puffed and golden brown. It only takes a few minutes on each side and I'm glad I made sure the temperature was right so they didn't burn.

Finally, when they are ready and still hot, simply dust them in the sugar and cinnamon mix and eat immediately. I really wasn't expecting them to taste like anything other than fried bread, but of course I should have more faith in Fanny by now - if I was blindfolded I'd swear they were fresh doughnuts, with an added and very welcome hit of Sherry! So the question is, did my doughnuts turn out like Fannys? I think so! These are Fannys...

And these are mine... Feel free to snigger.

Madame Fleurette's Flan - Filched by Fanny from France

Fanny rather proudly tells us that she has stolen the recipe for this flan (remember do not call it a 'tart' - unless you add an 'e' and then it's French of course which is perfectly acceptable - Tarte) from a little restaurant in Northern France. I wonder if Madame Fleurette was aware of the theft, and did she mind?  Fanny makes it her Star Dish of the week, perhaps to appease Madame...

The recipe itself is really just a combination of preparation, assembly and technique. Oh and guess work. Perhaps if Fanny had asked to borrow the recipe rather than 'filching' it it would be a little more detailed. My first task is to make a sweet pastry flan case using the same method as for the savoury, again with self raising flour, but this time all butter, with egg yolks, sugar and a small flat teaspoon of powdered cinnamon. Chopping the 'paste' with knives is hard work, I may just blitz it in the food processor next time, sssssh!

Fanny instructs me to make and bake it according to one of her very helpful pic-strips as shown by Peter. I'm aware by now that if its simple, Peter is allowed to demonstrate. The 'paste' (as Fanny always calls it) is again soft and pliable, almost pillowy, and works extremely well. I of course, follow each move that Peter makes. Unfortunately Fanny, or perhaps naughty Peter, leaves out any instruction on how long to bake it for, or any temperature guide. I guess. It smells so good as it comes out the oven, that'll be the cinnamon, and looking golden and crisp. Maybe Fanny left out the instructions to test me, I think I've passed! 

Next up I need to take some of my 'very best home-made plum jam, preferly with lots of skins in'. Oh dear, I don't have any home-made plum jam, skins or not. I've never made plum jam. Fanny hasn't given me a recipe for it. Is this another test? Luckily I've spotted a simple recipe on the fabulous Blue Kitchen Bakes blog via twitter, so I get to work and create my jam, complete with all their skins, hoping that is enough. Fanny would be so proud of me pinching recipes! Thanks Madame Jen! 

Now I need to make some confectioners custard, which Fanny thankfully does give a recipe for, and whip up some double cream. Fanny tells me the custard is an invaluable basic for pastry cooks that we will use in many more ways in recipes to come. Lovely, I've never been able to make good custard, always too thin. I follow every step very carefully, although I don't have a double boiler pan. I improvise. This one does become very thick and looks perfect for a flan filling - Fanny tells me I can thin it down to become 'everyday' custard (but doesn't say with what) or I can flavour it with coffee or chocolate if I like, for other recipes. That's for another day, for now I need to start assembling... Custard in my cooked flan case, topped with the full-of-skins jam, then whipped cream, piped, bien sûr.

Fanny suggests I finish it off with some shavings of chocolate. I decide to use some good old-fashioned cooking chocolate for that authentic 1970's feel. The final filched flan is fetching and fabulous, well worth stealing! Merci beaucoup Madame Fleurette!