Bonkers Conkers

This time of year always makes me think of conkers. I long to spend days throwing sticks up into the tall trees in the hope that a spiny capsule will come tumbling down, soon to be prised open to reveal a mahogany prize. Dried out for a while, never soaked in vinegar nor baked in the oven (cheating was not on my agenda, even as a child), nailed through the centre and strung on a long piece of twine. Ready for battle. I wasn't a violent child, or particularly competitive. However, I had to be conker champion.

Fanny seems to have indulged in the same pastime as myself. Skipping through her garden, collecting chestnuts in a wicker basket. Wearing gingham ribbons. Singing a happy tune. No doubt. Or, more likely, sending someone out in the howling rain to scarper round furiously shoving the fallen jewels into their pockets while she barks at them from the kitchen door. Either way, she ended up with quite a collection of chestnuts that would not be strung nor whacked to pieces in the name of a playground game.

Fanny's prized nuts were far too delicious to be wasted on leisure pursuits. She plunged them into slightly smoking hot oil in the deep fat fryer, causing the oil to seethe up madly. Just as she herself did when the garden haul was less than bountiful. Fanny's chestnuts split not with heavy strikes, but with the heat and tension. Once things have cooled down a little, they are shelled and skinned, boiled and drained, wiped and rubbed, through a sieve. Perhaps Fanny would be seething at me, as I bought some ready cooked and vacuum packed. And a food processor.

Fanny has a grand plan for these little wonders. Mont Blanc, or Chestnut and Meringue Cream. She whips up an Italian Meringue, whipping egg whites with hot sugar syrup to cook them. She blows the syrup through  slotted spoon until bubbles appear to know that it is hot enough. I've never been to Mont Blanc (although I have seen it from the skies as we flew over) so have no real concept of what it looks like but Fanny suggests colouring the meringue before piping it, so who am I to disagree? Ignoring the name as the major clue, I wade in with a delightful shade of teal. She builds a meringue case with elaborate pipes and borders. It feels perhaps more like '70s Toilet-Roll Holder Lady' than 'Highest Peak in the Alps', but I'd never tell her.

Fanny adds a splash of sherry, some vanilla, icing sugar and whipped double cream to the whizzed up chestnuts to make a very Christmassy (too early?) tasting paste. Fanny then pipes it using a 'writing pipe' nozzle into a mound of squiggles over and up on the inside of the meringue case. Squiggles. Squiggles? This must be what the Great White Mountain looks like up close. Only one thing left to do. Just like my younger days. Decide on tactics. Take aim. Smash the chestnut mound swiftly, cracking the meringue and, in a departure from the playground pranks, shovel into your mouth as quickly as possible. Conker Champion once again.

Gotta Oughta Ricotta

The joy of Fanny has to be in the unexpected. I try not to look too far ahead to see what is coming next. I just love the element of surprise, delight and from time-to-time surprisingly delightful horror, that are contained within the technicolour pages of the partwork. It's not worth trying to second guess what Fanny has in mind, it's rarely what you might think, even if you apply previous knowledge of her work and erm, innovation, to your already over-active imagination. Fanny's is in overdrive.

We are still cooking with cheese. I've been hopeful for something savoury and well. cheesy. So far, however, it's all been sweet. Today is no exception as we tackle an Italian Budino di Ricotta, or a plain old cream cheese pudding if like me, you're Italian is ropey. Fanny's Italian was very ropey indeed, so let's hope that Budino does actually translate as pudding...

Fanny begins by beating together the ricotta - or any of her dreamy creamy homemade cheese should you have any left - with ground almonds, icing sugar and a flavouring. Fanny suggests lemon, but I don't have any, so substitute with vanilla. The mix is quite wet. Fanny whips up a lot of egg whites until they are very stiff indeed and gently folds them in, before transferring to a buttered soufflé mould to bake for thirty minutes.

It emerges from the oven as a gloriously risen, well, soufflé, but as it cooled it sank down again. I think Fanny knew it would be looking less than appealing as it was turned out of the mould, so she had an idea up her chiffon sleeve to turn things around. Boudoir Biscuits and coloured icing. She sits the ricotta pud on a sponge base before surrounding it with the biscuits dipped in heavily coloured icing. Of course she does. What else would she do?

It certainly makes it seem cheerier. She's not finished there. Cream piping. Always required. Suddenly this old pudding is looking quite splendid indeed. Unless of course my retro-loving eyes have become tainted by Fanny? Fanny finishes it off with some rose petals, primarily because she had a pretty plate with roses on it. I don't. The smell is lovely though, so shouldn't complain. It's a very unusual pudding, to look at and to taste, light and pillowy, nutty and sweet. As always with Fanny, she delivers something unexpected and slightly wonderful.  And blue.

Fanny Cradock Invites... you to the iPlayer

There's been quite the hullaballoo this week in the press about the 'Return of Fanny Cradock' to the BBC... Every newspaper, every radio show and even some television shows have covered the 'breaking news' story. The BBC are at last adding some classic cooking shows to their iPlayer archive for us all to savour, showcasing the changes from the 'early days' of Fanny and Delia to erm, well, the 'later days' of, erm, Levi Roots and Lorraine Pascale. It's Fanny that has set the headlines alight however - and I'm not just talking about those nasty tabloids who stole my blog photos to illustrate their stories, but that is another tale for another day...

Once again, Fanny will be showing us all how to throw a proper Cheese and Wine Party. She happily invites us into her actual home to do this, and cooks for us in her actual kitchen. She'd actually campaigned fiercely for many years behind the scenes to move cooking programmes out of the dreary studio, to show the housewives of Britain how to cook in ordinary kitchens. She wanted to cook in ordinary housewives homes. The producers were't keen. Fanny cooked up the plan to use her own kitchen instead. We'd all love to see that! Just before we get that exclusive peek of Fanny's kitchen, she, of course, introduces us to her dog, Mademoiselle Lolita Saltina Cradock, who is not yet quite a lady. No more explanation required.

Fanny is sick to death of looking at walls while she cooks at home, so she shows us around her time-saving kitchen where everything faces the camera instead. Which is fortunate. Peter and Sally are on hand, looking terrified, to help out when barked at. We're having a Cheese and Wine party after all, and time is tight. We all have dramas, nothing worse than the doorbell ringing before you are ready, you really should have your frock on by now and the food isn't presented as it should be. Don't worry, just pull in your army of amiable assistants to rummage through your endless cupboards to make the show happen with ease. It's what every ordinary housewife would do.

To celebrate Fanny on the iPlayer, I am making her very special Italian cheesecake with her very special homemade cream cheese, that we very specially made earlier. This one uses a pastry base. The cream cheese is simply mixed together with egg yolks, orange zest, sugar and a little flour. Oh, and fresh grapes and mixed peel. They are funny lot these Italians. This mixture is poured into the raw pastry case. Fanny then covers the surface in unbeaten egg white and a trellis of pastry offcuts. She sprinkles on a few pine-nuts and a dusting of icing sugar, and it's ready to bake.

Her kitchen at home has four ovens, but we only need one for this. Once baked, sit back and enjoy a slice while catching up with Fanny on iPlayer. It's a treat. Sing along to the jaunty theme tune and gawp in amazement at her talents. She never misses a heartbeat as she tours round, whips up several meals, cleans as she goes, fries stuff, forks stuff, fondues stuff, shows off every piece of equipment she owns and gives detailed explanations of the culinary terms involved. She has diplomas you know. All in one take. The camera follows her round the kitchen with ease. You'll be amazed. Of course if you miss the recipes, don't worry, they are all in the booklet. Back where she belongs on the BBC. Enjoy!

Fanny Italia #2 - Do Italians Do It Better?

In 1964 Fanny and Johnnie published a volume which would safely guide readers all over Europe, but safely outside the Iron Curtain. Their aim was to be extensive but not comprehensive. How could they be after all? All they could do was to impart their considerable knowledge and hope that their readers, who were sending in around ten thousand fan letters a week, would be inspired to try somewhere new. Fanny clearly asks 'Why always go to the Algarve?' as her starting point. I wonder how many of those tens of thousands of 1960s readers were even venturing abroad? How many used the guide to explore beyond the Algarve, perhaps, like myself, into Italy?

Fanny's previous writing almost put me off my upcoming trip to Italy altogether. This book lets me plan my own route, and thankfully that includes flying. Fanny still has words of warning however, for the wary tourist. She claims that 'souvenir hunting' from tourists seems to be a national sport, so it is unwise to leave any items unguarded. And if the Italians aren't stealing all that you own, they are apparently trying to steal your hard earned money. According to Fanny, the tourist is regarded as 'fair game' so it is wise to determine the price of anything you plan to buy, hire or enjoy. Another thing to worry about. Or perhaps not, as Fanny notes it is entirely different in the North, where I will be spending my time. Apparently there is a 'gay friendliness' there which means locals have a tremendous interest in the well-being of tourists, in direct contrast to the 'tourist-piracy' which persists in the 'deep south'. Well, thank goodness for that. Things are looking up.

And then Fanny gets to the food. I've never been to Italy, and am looking forward to tasting all that the nation has to offer, but Fanny has a warning for me. It's limited. Far more limited than the cuisine of her beloved France. She says its 'runs the whole gamut from A to B.' Despite the limitations, there is at least variety, but mostly the food revolves around oil and pasta. Seemingly the Italians also add goat and all manner of feathered objects, all lumped together under the name uccelletti. In my pursuit to avoid thrush, lark, blackbird, bullfinch, quail, woodcock, turtle-dove and the strangely named figpecker (although I like the sound of that one), I shall scour every menu making sure uccelletti and their numerous feathery frames do not feature.

I'm heading to Piedmont, where Fanny says I can look forward to good grazing, flourishing orchards, vineyards and rice fields. So, rather more than the limitations of A to B? Although she points out that dishes will be highly seasoned, I can expect a high incidence of garlic, cream, cream cheese and butter. Doesn't sound too bad, does it? With White Truffles on risottos, polenta, agnelotti, gnocchi, beans, golden peaches, cheese and chestnuts surely I will eat well? I'll skip the wild boar and partridge. Oh and the frogs. But otherwise all sounding good. There is even mention of cakes and chocolate.

You'd imagine that Fanny might be a fan of Italian wine at least? She does concede that they can be very interesting and pleasant, but sadly there will be no 'great ones' for me to sample. The Italians do not lavish the same care and attention on their production as the French you see. The best I will find is Vermouth in Turin, which is perfect for me, and exactly where I will be. Elsewhere in Piedmont, the best I will find is Barolo, or it's less potent and fresher cousin Barbaresco. Perfect. I'm not sure what Fanny is complaining about to be honest. She tells me I can expect to find Asti Spumante, which bears no relation to Champagne. It seems that there is simply nothing which Italy can offer which would make Fanny sparkle. Will I discover something to pop my cork? Will the Italians do it better than Fanny describes? Should I have planned a holiday in the Algarve instead? Let's see...

The Harangued Meringue That Went Wrang

So far in the wonderful journey with Fanny Cradock all has been relatively well. Well, we've laughed together, learnt together and looked at some pretty strange creations, lingered for a second then dived in for each lesson, all together. Fanny has been good to me, mostly, things have worked out well. I may not have always liked a few of the end results but they have emerged pretty much as Fanny intended they would, and indeed has she showed me they would. Until today that is...

Fanny is keen to elevate me up the meringue ladder, stepping up from the very ordinary to embrace the exotically continental Italian version. I'm keen to learn Fanny's ways. I've made Italian Meringue before without her but so far she has surprised me when I've queried her techniques. Never query Fanny. It's helped me to learn and build my own repertoire, helped me to rediscover forgotten ways, forgotten flavours and forgotten presentation styles. It's just as Fanny hoped, with a hefty slant towards always doing things her way. Naturally.

Fanny starts the meringue by beating the egg whites until they are very stiff indeed. Nothing strange there. She says if doing this by hand to leave plenty of time in your day or get someone to do it for you. Or if by machine to flick the switch and busy yourself with making a sugar syrup. Fanny adds sugar and water to her favourite roomy pan, allowing every grain of sugar to gently dissolve without touching or stirring once. Once dissolved, the heat is increased to boiling for 3 or 4 minutes. To test if the syrup is ready Fanny dips in a perforated spoon and blows bubbles through the holes. If no bubbles appear, further boiling is required. Once bubbles form however it's tipped into the whipped egg whites and beaten again until glossy. The beaters must not stop for a second. Again, nothing strange so far.

However now is the time that I start to doubt Fanny, but of course quickly dismiss my disloyal thoughts and persist with her. She makes a thick circle of meringue on greaseproof paper (first drawing a circle with pencil on the underside), leaves it exposed to 'set' and then pipes a tall border of 'simple over and over rope' around the edge. I admit, I must practice my piping more, my 'over and over rope' is more freestyle than technical. Fanny says that the meringue should be left out again, exposed, to dry in a dust-free, warm area. "It requires no cooking" she instructs us gleefully. So, I leave it out overnight, switching the no-longer required oven off...

In the morning my meringue has a slight skin forming but really is still wobbly, pliable and pretty much as I left it the night before. Fanny's looks crisp and crunchy. What have I done wrong? Surely it is me, and not Fanny to blame here? After reading and re-reading the instructions I am sure I've followed them to the T. Undeterred, I follow Fanny in filling the precarious case with custard, topping it with a range of tinned peaches, pears and pineapple rings just as she shows me. Then I pipe in some hand-beaten Chantilly Cream between, giving it a final flourish of blueberries and sprinkles. It does look pretty, but it's in danger of collapse, along with my faith in Fanny. It tastes great, but... Maybe I should've baked it? Maybe Fannys' house is much warmer than mine? Maybe I've not been paying as much attention as I thought? Maybe, just maybe, Fanny has gone wrong?

Birra, Pizza, Pasta - a few-a Ma Favorita things...

I was called a name this week. It wasn't by those nasty neighbours who I've never really liked that much who sneered and jeered as I sauntered by in full get up. It wasn't behind my back by the new intake of freshly whipped assistants keen to impress in the kitchen. It wasn't by dear old Johnnie when he discovered that I'd used the last of his vintage Chianti to oomph up todays experimental lunchtime soufflé. No, it was by young, Hull-born, Italian chef and London-based restauranteur Joe Hurd. He called me a Mangia Foglia. It turns out he wasn't being offensive at all, it's just an Italian term for Vegetarian, seemingly. I'm a Leaf Eater.

I was invited to eat leaves while experiencing a Pizza and Pasta Masterclass with La Favorita and Birra Moretti ahead of the Gran Tour pop-up beer and street food festival, popping up at Summerhall from the 9th -12th July. We were in the experienced hands of the lovely Manuel from La Favorita and Joe, who showed us to spin, stretch, slap, slide and hand-crank our way to Italian perfection. It might sound like we were breakdancing, but we were cooking, learning and laughing, honest. All with a cold beer in our hands.

Although Fanny was often critical of the range and diversity found in Italian cuisine, she did her very best to promote it. Back in the 1970's when most of us were only just getting to grips with Spaghetti Bolognese, sprinkling dried parmesan from our storecupboard tubs or going 'wild' with Lasagne, Fanny was publishing her Common Market Cookery book focused on Italy. Fanny's version of Italian food you understand, but mostly fairly authentic. Ish.

She sashayed round Italy for the Nationwide programme on the BBC and encouraged us to delve deeper to rediscover the regional Renaissance recipes using a whirlwind of polenta, pomodoro and parmesan. What on earth would she have made of todays trends for Italian street food, wonderful gelato and beers? No doubt get her food colourings out to create a special pizza for La Favorita - perhaps based on the colours of Il Tricolore?

So how do todays Italian offerings compare? At La Favorita, Manuel wow'd us with expertly made (our own creations magically disappeared, I imagine the staff thought they were so good they ate them...) hand-stretched, wood-fired pizzas, fresh and inspiring toppings, even a melting, flavoursome vegan cheese made an appearance. To go with the freshly made pasta Joe created a simple Salsa di Pomidoro by sweating the finest tomatoes, garlic, chilli, shallots, olive oil and basil before our very eyes. According to Joe, we just won't accept the 70's style of Italian food anymore, why would we when we can all easily travel to Italy and we all know more about the ingredients, flavours and dishes.

As we settled down to munch on our own work (ok, I'm pretending we made these spectacular pizzas now), eat more leaves (for me) and throw back another beer, we were reflecting on all that we had learned throughout the Masterclass. Poor Joe though, he clearly hadn't learnt enough himself. He was keen to swot up and learn from the real deal - Fanny herself. I've got a new name for him in return, Fanatico di Fanny. I wonder what tips he picked up, will he change his recipes and embrace the 1970's once more? We'll find out at the Gran Tour on Thursday. No doubt he'll squeeze a last minute Fanny Cradock Italian Masterclass into the programme? See you there?

I was invited along to the La Favorita Masterclass by Chris from Cow PR and will be enjoying more Italian fare and masterclasses at the pop-up food and beer festival, the Birra Moretti Gran Tour in Edinburgh at Summerhall from Thursday 9th July. Advance tickets are priced at £10 plus a £1 booking fee. This allows you to enjoy two Birra Moretti, two dishes from any vendor and a gelato.

A Little Piece

Fanny certainly loved a party. Any excuse to invite a few select people she never really liked that much from the bad old days to gasp in wonder at the heaving buffet table she'd flung together seemingly effortlessly. And no better opportunity to show off her extensive knowledge of all things European than a soirée for Eurovision surely? Having been a contestant herself (albeit not singing) she would have plenty to crow about as she gave her guests a tour round her geographically inspired spread, laden with all kinds of everything. Additionally, any opportunity to showcase her Crêpes skills sending those attending into euphoria would be perfect. Perfectly creative continental canapés that is, but Fanny warns they are only for ambitious cooks who are prepared to spend a little more time.

Fanny makes very small canapé size crêpes in a normal size pan by simply placing dessertspoonfuls of ordinary pancake mixture onto the hot surface and running them into neat circles with the back of a spoon. I have a mini-frying pan that does the trick nicely, no need for spooning from me.  I love the little things. Fanny suggests that for special occasions such as this that we make very fine pancakes. This involves making the batter as usual, I'm using my lovely Wrights flour again, but then straining it through some nylon stockings before use. Erm, I think my Eurovision party guests can do without this additional one step further, don't you? 

As it is a very special Eurovision Party, four very special canapés are required. The crowning glory, rising like a phoenix from the display, takes the longest to assemble, so is tackled first. It's a sweet, steamed pudding made from crêpes smeared with jelly and filled with custard. Perfect to represent France - Fanny names them 'Pouding des Crêpes en Vapeur'. Eh, Parlez vous Français, Fanny? I have some homemade Bramble and Elderflower Edinburgh Gin Jelly left which should work well, even if Fanny claims to not know what a bramble is. Better the devil you know I say, we are amongst professionals now.

Individual moulds are greased and lined with the jammy crêpes, filled with extra thick custard and topped with more crêpes ready for steaming. Fanny says we will be surprised when they are steamed that they pop out of their little moulds perfectly, as she was apparently the first time she made them. To get them ready for their performance, more warmed jelly should be poured over. The steamed custard thickens and allows the moulded crêpes to hold their shape. As a canapé they are a big bite-size but a great 'congratulations' at the end of the buffet, but to get there we need savouries first! Time for making our minds up on fillings.

Flying the flag for the United Kingdom, and to keep things seasonal, Asparagus is perfect. Simply grilled and rolled in a mini-crêpe, secured with a cocktail stick. Think Eurovision and like me you probably think ABBA, so to represent Sweden I have some Quorn Meatballs. Fanny suggests rolling the mini-crêpes into cones for these, secured with a cocktail stick. ABBA would be so proud. Finally, representing Italy is a 'Tricolore' of mozzarella, tomato and basil, folded over into crescent shapes and lightly grilled before being secured with a cocktail stick. You get the idea. Fanny has one final reminder for any successful Eurovision canapé party - the essential provision of napkins. Please do not forget. Fanny prefers proper table napkins, but doesn't mind if others have to use those 'rather nasty paper ones'. Make your selection carefully however, your guests will be looking for any excuse to knock a few points off before they say 'Ne partez pas sans moi' to each other. You don't want nul points when the jury calls. Beg steal or borrow the correct linen and boom bang a bang, before the party's over you will undoubtedly be scoring douze points. 

To celebrate all things Eurovision, I am entering these party canapés into this months Treat Petite, hosted by Mr Cakeyboi and The Baking Explorer, check out the other Euro-tastic entries!

Johnnies Dash of Bitterness

Johnnie has a harsh warning that he may have to resort to violence. He wants to make this point very clear for us all before we move on. What's about to tip him over the edge? Is his rampage because Fanny relegates him to one measly feature in each partwork exploring wines of the world? Did Fanny provoke the attack by using the last of his favourite Marsala in her Zabaglione last night? Was he brutally offered a cheeky glass of sweetish, sparkling Asti Spumanti by an uneducated wine drinker? No, it was simply the thought of someone adding either ice, soda water or ginger ale to cognac that started the ruckus. Unless it was Italian Brandy. Johnnie thinks that Italian 'cognac', which obviously legally cannot be called 'cognac', is obviously only suitable for mixing with ice, soda water or ginger ale, which Johnnie says you would be sure to agree if you tasted it. All clear? Don't make him ferocious again.

Johnnie calms down just long enough to tell us that he is a fan of the aperitif and dessert wines from Italy that others maybe aren't too sure about. Fanny may be adamant in insisting that Marsala and Sherry are only 'pudding wines', but Johnnie thinks she is wrong. Asti may be cheap and cheerful, or as he puts it 'sweet and jolly' and not at all suitable for serious wine drinkers, but it is popular. Johnnie especially embraces the bitterness though, and wants to accentuate the astringent advantages of the aperitif.

I enjoy bitter tastes too, but I've never really thought too much about why or indeed why some people don't. Never until this past weekend that is. The Edinburgh Science Festival is in town, with a very welcome menu of GastroFest events to tempt geeks and gastronauts alike. As a slight caustic GastroGeek I was tempted by the Late Lab Molecular Mastery event held in the sinister dissection room of the former Royal (Dick) School of Veterinary Studies, now the much less sniggery but no less sharp Summerhall. The session was led by Max and Zoe from The Drink Factory in London, who set out to demonstrate how the art of cocktail making has become a science, showing some tricks of the trade to help experimenting at home. Phew, I can call it experimentation now.

Johnnie would've been very pleased to note that they began by exploring bitterness, championing the sometimes harsh and sometimes tart tastes of his beloved Italian aperitifs, Campari and Martini, which he says are best served with soda water, ice and a slice of lemon. They really haven't changed in appearance at all through the years. Classics. As we were welcomed to the group experiment, we were encouraged to taste a ready mixed cocktail waiting at our tables for us. Max explained it was an Americano, not the coffee but a simple, sharp, sour mix of Campari, Martini Rosso and Soda Water. No lemon slice, but thank heavens for Max it wasn't Cognac. 'Go on, take a sip' we were told. You don't need to ask me twice, it's an 'experiment' after all. What did we think of the taste? Are we fans of bitter?

I was one of the few hands that shot up, yes I am! Some liked it, but not much. Some hated it. Max and Zoe were ready to astound us with a scientific change to our cocktail, transforming the bitter drink to sweet. They had some pre-mixed solutions on the tables for us to add, but not what we thought. Well, not what I expected at any rate. Would we be adding sugar? Not at all, it was a 10% salt solution, and we added around 10ml to our glass, so just one 1g of salt. After a quick swirl, our Americano's now tasted sweet. Our bitter taste receptors had been blocked by the salt you see. We went on to complete further fascinating absinthal experiments involving distillation, maceration and louching. I learnt a lot, I will be conducting many more experiments at home. The lasting lesson of the day though is that dear old acidic Johnnie needn't be bitter any more. If Fanny is in danger of his murderous thoughts a quick sprinkle of salt is all that is required. Or a cocktail. Or better still, both.

Wine Without Fears

Fanny tends to leave the wine choices to Johnnie, he's the vino expert. Well, they are both experts of course, but Fanny concedes that Johnnie is more expert than her. Well, what she actually says is that he's more 'decorated' that her with wine qualifications. She is by contrast more 'decorated' with culinary awards, so it balances out, right? So, Fanny always defers to Johnnie for wine choices, handing him the meal plan when entertaining and letting him work his magic. Besides, he needs to have a leading role - they work so closely together in every other aspect of life and always divide their tasks. When travelling, Johnnie does the planning. When filming, he's the cameraman. Fanny is always the centrepiece, naturellement.

Fanny and Johnnie have written about wine almost as much as they have about food. In the beginnings of their Bon Viveur days the wines they drank were of as much interest as the meals they ate and the places the visited. They published a book in 1954, 'An ABC of Wine Drinking' to share their knowledge. Subtitled 'Wine Without Fears', their aim was not to inform the informed, but for those who knew nothing but desired to know more, protecting readers from exploitation, and protecting wines from misuse. Quite. Some of the illustrations suggest otherwise though. I'd say by the time the 1970's came along most readers were still novices where wine was concerned, or was that just my house? Blue Nun? Black Tower? Lambrusco? Not a mention by these two. They do however start with a word about the Italian Asti Spumanti. Don't.

In 1975, when Fanny was busy writing again herself, Johnnie updated their wine bible with a much expanded edition, Wine for Today. Fanny wrote the foreword, and indeed admits that she had little to do with the original book, it was all Johnnies own work she proudly tells us. For Fanny, wine is one of the only 'pleasures of the table' which a man (or woman) may indulge in three times a day every day of their lives. I've got a lot of catching up to do. Three times a day! No mention of units, or calories, or taking it easy, the Cradock way is to go for it full tilt. Fanny says that wine 'irons out the creases in our daily lives' and I have to say I agree. I love ironing.

In the partworks, different wines are considered each week, neatly matched to the foods Fanny is preparing and urging us to prepare. Johnnie has been handed the plan, and has the best selection to hand. Best not to get too excited about Italian wines though as Johnnie is quick to point out that they hang on to the best stuff, rarely exporting their best reds. How inconvenient. Johnnie says best not to 'ask too much' of any Italian Red really, but does have a few recommendations for the brave.

If you do travel regularly to Italy, like the Cradocks themselves, you'll already know to resist the local delicacy of Barolo served with Quinine, I can only imagine, but instead to look up a Sparkly Red called Lombardo which does not travel well. Even with cheese. Chianti is a safe Italian choice, although Johnnie feels it's a rough, claret-like quaff in comparison to other continents. And there is so much Government interference. French is best. If you do buy it, purchase only from a reputable seller and remember basic Chianti comes in whicker bottles, while Reserva is best.

Barolo should be the top Italian choice, with its floral bouquet lacking in nearly all the others, unless you can source the super Sicilian Corvo Rossi. So, it sounds like Fanny has done the right thing leaving the wine advice to Johnnie - his choices still stack up today among the over-crowded supermarket shelves. We all love wine now, although we may not be 'decorated' with qualifications on it, and don't all indulge in it three times a day. I'm working on it, plenty of 'ironing' to do. Can the Cradocks take the credit? Fanny certainly would, but Johnnie is slightly more modest. He reckons that you should take or leave his thoughts... After all, what he likes, or does not like, is of 'no importance' when what 'pleases you is the right choice, for you.' So, if you enjoy it, drink it, even if you are wrong. Maybe they are not so different old Johnnie and Fanny?

After Burns

Fanny tells us that the Italians are experts at making 'delicious, often unusual and frequently distinguished dishes at very little expense' using a variety of pasta. Whether that be 'tiny hats, frilly ribbons, shells, cork-screws, wheels or bows' pasta can make any meal money-saving and memorable. For Fanny, all pasta is essentially the same thing really, just a change of shape and a change of name. 'You pays your money and you takes your choice.' Fanny prefers it served simply with melted butter and grated cheese serving 'double duty' as either a first course or a change from potatoes, but she also gives us some suggestions for main courses all on their own, sometimes making the most of leftovers. I've got some leftover Macsweens Veggie Haggis from last nights Burns Supper that I am sure will be perfect in Fannys' Big Bulging Cannelloni (her description, not mine).

Fanny does give a word of warning about using leftovers, kindly passing on the thoughts of Elizabeth David, who Fanny notes is a 'very fine cookery writer.' Elizabeth warns that Cannelloni often found on menus outside of Italy are merely stuffed pancakes coarsely filled with old scraps of meat. She thinks Cannelloni should be as it is in the homeland - fresh and delicate. I'm not sure Fanny agrees, perhaps a clash between cookery writer and cook, but she adds that cold, cooked leftovers can be used carefully for quality results. I trust Fanny to guide me carefully, so my wonderful Haggis won't go to waste.

Fanny herself uses veal to stuff hers, but I am sure the spicy, earthy Veggie Haggis will work a treat. Fanny suggests either buying Cannelloni (if you happen to live in Soho and are able to study her pictorial guide to be sure that you are buying the correct thing) or make your own. She makes sheets of Lasagne Verde for hers. Just as I am reaching for the (self raising) flour (I should just get over it, it worked!) and butter as in her ravioli I notice she is making a fresh egg pasta here. Oh Fanny, you are a contradiction. She sifts self-raising flour onto a work surface, adds salt, puréed spinach and eggs and chops it all together to a paste with two knives. I'm out of fresh spinach, but luckily I have some Spinach Powder that I bought from the gorgeous Spice Mountain on my last trip to Borough Market that I hope will work well in pasta. It smells so intense and is so green! Only a teaspoon required here.

Once it comes together in a ball, Fanny says to knead it like bread dough for a full ten minutes until its has 'considerable elasticity' so that's what I do! No need to reach for my pasta machine this time either - Fanny rolls her dough with a humble pin until it is thin and firm enough to fold up without fear of splitting or cracking. It's like a lovely sheet of leather by the time I'm finished. I know as a vegetarian I really shouldn't say that, but... For the Cannelloni I cut it into squares and toss it in plenty of boiling salted water for 5 minutes to cook.

Once drained and while still slightly wet and warm, I pop some Veggie Haggis along the centre and roll them up into stuffed cigars. They seal well with the moisture and heat. Clever Fanny. Fanny guides me that a quality pasta dish is all about the sauce. She makes a Spinach Sauce, which again inspires me to reach for my powder. Simply mix in another teaspoon with some cream and grated cheese and pour over the Big Bulging Cannelloni. Fanny should've trademarked that name. Use sautéed spinach if you aren't lucky enough to have the powder. Bake and serve. Simple. It really is a memorable meal, the Haggis is so tasty with the spinach, cheese and cream, and Fannys pasta is good. And so green. Ok, it's a little thicker and puffier than normal, but its good. I think I'll give Fannys suggestion for dessert a miss though... She cooks pasta up in SUGARED instead of salted water and mixes in some jam or jelly once drained and still warm. Apparently it's perfect for 'nursery folks' or adults who do not need to watch their waistlines. Let me know if you try it, won't you?