Stick a Feather in His Cap

Fanny Cradock is planning her summer holiday, and is hoping you are too. She knows that you will not be anywhere nearly as well travelled as she. She knows that you will not be as well informed on the best places to go. She knows that if going 'abroad' is comparatively unfamiliar to you, and your experience is limited Jersey, Knokke or Dieppe, she has somewhere in mind which will get you using all five of your senses in a manner to which you will very probably have been unaccustomed. So that's us put firmly in our place. I need a holiday.

Where is this paradise for the senses that she has in mind? It's a country of strong, clear, brilliant light which gives an almost theatrical performance at sunrise and sunset. It has white, cubic houses where people wear brilliant costumes among the breathtaking architecture. They have hills. They have beaches. They have unfamiliar smells. Where else but the fair isles of Greece. It would seem that they also have Macaroni Pies.

It's no standard Macaroni Pie of course, this is a Pallas Athene's Macaroni Pie. Fanny seems to have picked this one up on one of her jaunts. She reckons in Greece if you happen across a little Taverna, you are welcome to just trot into the kitchen as a matter of course, lift the lids on the pots, sniff the contents and either say 'thank-you' and go away, or order and go and sit down in the restaurant. I suppose it reduces the need for the gay, colourful Taverna hosts she recalls, who have roles more akin to a performance rather than to serve and receive, to have waiting staff.

This pie is less performance and more pleasure. Simply cook the macaroni, add some dried herbs, grated cheese, blobs of cottage cheese and a good splash of single cream before baking in a moderate oven. I'm not spotting any of the glorious Greek produce that Fanny practically insists you bring back from your Greek holiday. As well as textiles and pottery, Fanny's list of priorities are Halva, Turkish Delight, Olives and Oktapodaki. That's tinned Baby Octopus. Perhaps it's best that she saves that for a more suitably tentacle-icious pie.

Fanny does think that Greece is exciting. Fanny does think that you will need to take pains to 'tune in' to a different way of living. Fanny does think you will need to get accustomed to drinking endless amounts of Ouzo. Greek people, you see, use a lot of oil and resin in their food and wine, neither of which Fanny notes are suited to the rather conservative stomachs of British people. Or other British people, as I assume she means. This must be why she keeps this pie thoroughly suitable for British stomachs, with the absence of all whiffs of Greece. Fanny says you will return from Greece uncomprehending, a little dazed and feeling drunk. This seems to be the case with this pie. Fanny says it makes a filling and suitable adjunct to the overload of meats on offer. Vegetarians rejoice! Fanny cannot resist however mentioning that this particular dish would be greatly improved by the addition of a huge chunk of barbecued meat. So, stick that in your cap and call it Macaroni.

Smashing Plates of Food - a Greek Feast

Fanny encourages us to 'Go Greek' for the final Bill of Fare in this part, but it's not really clear if she's a fan of the cuisine herself, or of the people. She tells us that 'we all know' that the Greeks have a word for many things (although I don't know what that word is, and Fanny doesn't tell us) but when it comes to cookery, a vast number of 'their' dishes are 'far too oily for the people of this island'. Maybe tastes have changed, or maybe Fanny just had some bad food when she visited, but the Mediterranean diet rich in olive oil is certainly celebrated now. Strangely, Fanny celebrates it too more often than not, but clearly either Greece or the Greeks have upset her. I am sure she was utterly charming to them...

Fanny starts her Greek menu with a 'simple and amusing' salad known as Pallas Athene's Salad. Fanny doesn't seem amused recounting the time this was served to her by a famous cook in private service on the Island of Corfu. Fanny claims the 'cook' was bad tempered and needed to be flattered to 'bursting point' otherwise she would not bring her confections to them and her employer for 'picnics on the sands'. Fanny exclaims that this cook ONLY had to walk across the road to do so. Fanny is obviously not used to people who will not jump when she clicked her fingers, and was presumably missing Poor Sarah, Peter or any of her faithful unquestioning assistants while on holiday. At any rate, the salad is indeed simple - chopped tomatoes, green peppers, herbs and olives. Oh did I mention I can't BEAR olives? I replace them with little roasted capsicum antipasti. Drizzle with cottage cheese and sour cream and serve. Simple, although the amusement is a little lost on me.

The main course is a moulded Moussaka which Fanny makes with minced mutton. Try saying that quickly. I happen to have a lovely vegetarian Haggis from Macsweens left over from Burns night which seems to be a perfectly spicy substitute here. The aubergines are sliced in half and fried gently on the cut side until their skins wrinkle. The flesh is then scooped out and mixed with the haggis, a chopped tomato and an onion, some herbs and an egg. The aubergine skins are used to line a soufflé mould, and the mixture packed in and steamed for an hour. The finished Moussaka, but not as we know it, is served turned out with a tomato coulis. It cuts really well, and tastes smashing.

The coulis is made from chopped, skinned tomatoes, herbs, garlic, salt and pepper which is gently heated with a little water and simmered until 'collapse' (the tomatoes not me). The strained juices are mixed with a little of that nasty olive oil Fanny was complaining about. Just not too much, ok?

For this Greek feast, Fanny gives a dessert recipe which doesn't sound Greek at all, but she calls it Solines. They are basically chocolate Mini-Rolls, who knew they were Greek? I make a thin Swiss roll, cut it into squares and cut squares of greaseproof paper to match. Melted chocolate chips are spread onto each sheet of greaseproof, and just as they start to 'lose their gloss' without becoming set, Fanny instructs that the little sponge squares be spread with whipped cream and rolled up in the chocolate papers. Once completely set, the paper is easily peeled off to reveal the, well, chocolate mini-rolls. They do peel well.

Whether Fanny was a fan herself or not, this menu is a lovely taste of Greece, and I managed to prepare it all by myself with no bad tempered cooks helping. Well, apart from Fanny Cradock herself of course.

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?