Crumbs! Biscoff-ing a Saucepan Cake!

You won't be at all surprised to know that I love a bit of nostalgia. It's not news in any shape or form. However I love the way that my rambling recollections spark other people to remember food of old fondly, and not just think 'what the heck' at the array of colours and shapes Fanny enjoyed so very much. I love those comments too of course! All comments are more than rate fully received, I may just be a feedback junkie. When I recently started this Christmas partwork, a lovely Twitter-er, Dame Chlorella, asked if she'd missed Fannys Viennese Saucepan Cake, or Wiener Pfann-Kuchen (too many innuendos to contemplate including) as that was one her Mum made each year. I'd never heard of it, but it made me smile to see it in the pages that were to come... So a trip down memory lane for some and a waddle up a brand new street for others.

I've got a feeling that Fanny wouldn't like me updating her recipe, but I'm doing it anyway. I fear this is where I would've gone wrong had I been cooking alongside Fanny herself. It's a really simple one, but one of her poor assistants clearly got it all wrong. So my changes are an attempt to avoid any killer glowers and public put-downs from Fanny. We know the poor un-named assistant (my guess it was Young Sally) did wrong because instead of glossing over it, Fanny photographed it for the partwork along side one that she prepared 'properly' by herself. To further reinforce the mistakes the quivering assistant has made, she notes, or actually gleefully states, just for fun you understand, each and every error. The saucepan cake only has four ingredients - butter, syrup, chocolate and biscuits, so what on earth could go so badly wrong? 

Well, anyone with Fannys experience will be able to recognise immediately that the cake on the left is the wrong one, right? Look at those shameful lumps of biscuit! Imagine biting into those at a sophisticated party! Everyone would think it's one of those new-fangked Rocky Road things. Without Fanny even pointing it out even I can see that they've had the heat too high in the saucepan and that strategically placed wooden spoon has barely been used. However, look at the smooth and glossy one on the right which has been treated gently in heat terms, but obviously bashed into oblivion thereafter. Much more acceptable for any Christmas Buffet table, especially if tiddled up with some whipped cream lightly flavoured with Kirsch. 

For the 'cake' butter, golden syrup and cooking chocolate (especially for hardcore nostalgia fans) are heated very, very gently together until they become one. Fanny says to then crumble in some plain biscuits 'fairly finely' and beat it until it comes together. Remember her warning of the assistant-done-wrong here. Or, do as I have done, and take this opportunity to switch things up a bit and add ready blitzed up biscuits in the form of Lotus Biscoff spread. 

I'd never tried it before, but was intrigued after seeing others rave about it on Twitter. Maybe I'm spending too much time on Twitter. It's dead sweet and has the texture of peanut butter (a little), but tastes just like the little biscuits you get with your coffee. It comes in Smooth or Crunchy, but I'm using the Crunchy one for this, after all Fanny did say 'fairly fine' didn't she? I mean, I'm happy to update things to some extent, but I'm not going to go absolutely bloomin' crazy am I? The finished mixture looks glossy and thick as its poured into an oiled flan ring. Fanny suggests smoothing off the top with the cut side of half a lemon. It's not a trick I'd heard of before, but it does seem to work. I'm hoping the smooth appearance of the cooled cake would please not only Fanny but also Dame Chlorella. I hope the ones her Mum made weren't the same as Fannys assistants attempts... I'll be checking on Twitter for the answer, although I promise not to name and shame. Possibly. Maybe. 

Soup of the Day, which is Tuesday

After all those potato dishes, what's needed is a wholesome and fresh Bill of Fare to bring this part to a close, and thankfully Fanny doesn't disappoint (as if). As ever the dinner party menu suggestions bear no relation whatsoever to what we've been learning, but it's no bad thing here as Fanny suggests a simple Spinach soup - or Velouté d'Epinards for the followers of French - and some stuffed baked Apples - Pommes Farcies. The soup looks very quick to make and as usual I am (pleasantly) surprised by the method. 

Fanny suggests cooking the spinach and passing it through a sieve. This seems a little strange to me, or dows it just sound like hard work? Either way, I revert to the 'wilt and chop' method I am comfortable with, I've had enough of that ordinary kitchen sieve for all those potatoes lately. I always find my wok the best spinach wilter. Mmm, it's so green, and naturally so too! 

The base for the soup reminds me more of a white sauce really, and there's no stock involved. Fanny recommends a 'roomy pan' to dissolve the butter in before shooting in the flour and mixing. I am getting very used to 'shooting' in the flour, and I even like saying it. Once cooked out for a minute or two, a pint of milk - I am using Soya for extra taste and because really I am not keen on milk to be honest - is gradually mixed in with some spinach, beating well between each addition. I am getting very used to beating things in too, and also like saying it. I am just shooting and beating all day.

The roux starts off quite thick and pasty, but soon thins down after a few shoots and beats. The final thing is to add some seasoning - salt, pepper and nutmeg, yum - and some grated hard cheese. I've got some Double Gloucester which seems perfect. A quick mix, I mean beat, and that's it. Fanny says if I am feeling WILDLY extravagant I can add a dollop of cream, but does warn that this is an unnecessary addition for everyday occasions. I'm feeling extravagant. The soup is really fresh and tasty, still quite hearty though. The nutmeg kick is the real extravagance here, perfect.

More freshness for pudding, and again simple and quick. Perfect to whip up for a midweek after work supper. Baked Apples. 

I set to coring a couple of cooking apples, and then very carefully as I am sure Fanny would've approved of, I run a small sharp knife around each apple in a very thin meridian line. This causes the skin to contract while baking, Fanny tells me, and thus enables me to 'jack off' the top easily. Erm, ok. 

The missing core is filled with a lucious mixture of chopped glacé cherries, walnuts and golden syrup before baking. Fanny says to bake them 'until tender' so I check and check every now and again, until around 45 minutes later the top skins have jacked off all by themselves. Some the escaped syrupy juice is reunited over the apple. The finished Baked Apples are soft but still have some bite, Fanny describes them as feathery, and just enough sweetness from the syrup and cherries, with a bit of crunch with the walnuts. I'm enjoying this mid week dinner party very much!

The Mysterious Mrs Marshall and the Case of the Curious Potato Pudding

Fanny wants to play a game with us again. She played it herself, supported by Johnnie of course, in 1963 on the corner of Piccadilly Circus. They stopped random passers-by and asked them 'Who was Agnes Bertha Marshall?' but sadly no-one guessed correctly. Did you, blog passers-by? She was of course the greatest woman cook ever known in Britain, a cook who knew everything the great Escoffier knew, a friend of Royalty, a cook taught others to achieve greatness, a cook who had her own food magazine and a cook who when she died her notoriety diminished. Remind you of anyone? Fanny became obsessed with her, and was busy researching her story for a book. Mrs Marshall, Fanny claimed, was everything that Mrs Beeton was not, and she was determined to restore her memory. The book was never completed, as far as I know, but Fanny did resurrect some of her recipes under the disguise of Mrs Hudson in the Sherlock Holmes Cookbook, as well as throughout the partwork. It really all gets rather strange.

In the first of this new partwork dedicated to 'Surprising you with Potatoes' Fanny does exactly that. It's a traditional recipe that Mrs Marshall sent to her which was published in 1917 in the 1637th edition of her own magazine The Table. It's for a potato pudding. That's a sweet pudding made from potato. Various vegetable creations are all the rage these days with cakes made from carrots, courgettes and beetroot, but I'm not sure even my dear blogging friend Veggie Desserts would use a potato for a pudding. The other ingredients are flour, baking powder, lemon juice and rind, golden syrup, an egg and some butter. The cooked pudding is served with a chocolate sauce. Surprise! 

Fanny insists that potatoes are steamed, never boiled. Ever. More on that to come. They then need to be sieved finely to produce a very soft and fluffy mash, just with an ordinary household sieve of course. It does make the potato very fine and pillowy. Add some melted butter, beat in the egg, lemon juice and rind. Add the golden syrup, flour and baking powder. 

The mixture is then turned into a buttered soufflé dish and baked in a moderate oven for an hour, while the sauce is made. It's a fairly simple sauce made by heating  and dissolving golden syrup, cocoa powder and water together. 

As I am making this, I can't help but wonder if it really will be a treat. Fanny tries hard to convince me, saying if it was good enough for Mrs Marshall, and good enough for the shortages of the First World War, then it should please families today. Clearly. Once baked it has risen just like a soufflé but the texture of mashed potato remains. Adding the chocolate sauce only adds to the 'surprise' when tasting - I just can't get the notion that it's 'potato and gravy', as it looks, out my mind. It tastes sweet, lemony and very much still of mashed potato. It certainly was a surprise for me, and I am sure would be a surprise to Holmes and Watson. Perhaps I should take to the streets and surprise people with a taste? Is the real surprise that still no one remembers dear old Mrs Marshall?