Cinq or Swim - My 5th Fannyversary

Can you remember what the heck you were doing on this day five long, weary years ago? Sometimes I can barely remember what I was doing five minutes before, but that date in 2013 is etched into my memory. It had been a long time coming, well at least the thought had. I'd become a *little bit* obsessed with Fanny Cradock, especially the Cradock Cookery Programme part-work. I wanted to celebrate it, and her. somehow. I started this blog, hoping that she would be able to teach me some of her tricks. So, five years ago today, I quickly wrote the first post and hit 'publish' before I could think about it too much. So, in the five years since, what exactly has dear old Fanny taught me?

Number One - Fanny is always right. Never argue with her. Never veer from her instructions. Never query her methods. Never skip an ingredient (well, ok, I skipped all the meat, but you know what I mean). Never wonder why. No need to, Fanny is always right. I've published 277 posts in those five years. The recipes have always worked. The results have always been good, if a little surprising. The smile on my face has always been wide. Fanny has always been right. Always.

Number Two - above all, garnish and presentation. Fanny made this her mantra for the part-work. Recipes are one thing. Good ingredients are another. Technique is essential. It's all well and good making a sensational dish that you know people will enjoy, but if it doesn't also look spectacular then no-one will remember it. No-one will talk about it. No-one will rave about you. No-one will say Fanny was right. And she is always right. Garnish and presentation are key. And if that's retro-tastically over the top, more the better. Don't you agree?

Number Three - believe in yourself. Fanny did, extraordinarily so. She created herself to be the most fabulous Bon Viveur, the most celebrated television cook, the most widely published person across different genres. She's taught me to 'go for it'. Write lots, tell people about everything Fanny related. I've written this blog every week for five years. I've written articles, papers and presentations about Fanny. I've written my Masters dissertation about her, and will soon include her in my PhD. I'm writing a book. She'd be delighted (I hope). So am I. I love writing and I love spreading the word about Fanny, just as she always did. I hope you are enjoying reading it.

Number Four - if in any doubt about anything, think What Would Fanny Do (#WWFD)? It will be the best option, hands down. No contest. Remember, she is always right! She has never let me down. Not once. Number Five - if life gives you grapes and wine, squidge them up, make a jelly. Save some for the garnish and presentation. Add food colouring. Present it in a way that only Fanny could. Write about it, let the world know all about Fanny. She did. So do I. And I will, for years to come. I hope you'll still be joining me, and Fanny, for my next Fannyversary. And the next... and next... I *thought* I was obsessed five years ago. Little did I know. Oh dear...

Trio, Trio, I Want A Trio, And I Want One Now

You know what it's like. I'm sure it's happened to us all. At least once. You wait for quite a while for a Fanny Cradock recipe with Greengages to come along. Years go by. Nothing. Not a plum. Then three appear all at the same time. Fanny calls them 'Reines-Claude'. What are the chances? They are all quite different. How do you choose which one to go with. Two are sweet. One is savoury. You've got lots of Greengages as they are bang in season. The supermarket has them on special offer. The timing is perfect. Could not have been better. Apart from the choices. Why choose when the choice is obvious? Make all three! Fanny would surely be delighted with a Reines-Claude Ménage à Trois...

Fanny starts it all off with a jelly. She loves jelly. This one is a sweet version of her classic Aspic. She loves Aspic. Fanny makes it with plums. I make mine with Bramble Jelly, heating and setting it with Agar powder instead of gelatine, of course. It needs to be set in a shallow tin, so that the required circle of it can be 'stamped' out. While it's setting, Fanny halves and poaches some peaches, in a simple sugar syrup. When poached, they are fished out and dried on ordinary kitchen paper. The Greengages are also poached in the syrup, but left whole, otherwise they will lose their shape. When they are done they are not dried off, instead rolled in milled pistachio nuts, ready for assembly. The peach goes on top of the jelly, and the greengage goes on top of the peach. All that goes on top of all that is a little leaf of garnish - and you have Les Reines-Claude Savoyarde. Please warn your guests about the stone.

All this greengaging is new to me, especially using them for a savoury salad. No poaching required. Fanny takes a silver knife and cuts a cross across the top of each greengage, opening each fruit into four petals, without pushing them so far back that they would split. Very carefully, the stone is removed. In it's place a mixture of cream cheese, cream, seasoning and more milled nuts is piped. Then dusted with paprika. Fanny recommends serving these well chilled on a lettuce leaf. Greengage and Chill. She presents for you Hors d'Oeuvre des Reines-Claude.

Without a blink of an eye, it's back to the poaching. More greengages are submerged in extremely gently heated sugar syrup, whole again. This time they are bashed a bit to release the stone when they have collapsed, and the flesh is pulped in a blender. One of my very favourite phrases follows. Add custard. Whip them together and turn them into 'snow' by adding whipped egg whites. Fanny then piles the mixture into glasses and tops with 'spirals' of cream. That's piped by the way. Les Reines-Claude en Neige could not be otherwise.

What if, unlike me, you don't happen to have a steady supply of greengages at exactly the right time when Fanny decides to feature them? She has purposely kept the recipes simple so that alternatives can be substituted. Fanny says to start thinking about Plums. Go on. Start. Maybe Apricots? How about Damsons? Have you considered Mirabelles, or Cherry Plums to you and I? Even white or black grapes would do, if you are really stuck. Fanny has one last suggestion though, which she's borrowed from X. Marcel Boulestin, who was the very first television celebrity chef on the BBC. Or as Fanny refers to him, 'that great amateur chef.' Green tomatoes were his idea. He loved them in jams, chutneys, pickles and, surprisingly, omelettes too. Fanny says they would be perfect in all these recipes des Reines-Claude. Yes, including the splendid flurry of Snow...

Bright and Breezy, it's Cheesy à la Zizi

Fanny clearly feels that her own creations may not be entirely eccentric enough, so introduces us to the creator of 'à la Zizi' for our next lesson in 'making it jell'. Fanny says we can learn a great deal from the whimsicality of Alexis Soyer, who was a one time chef at London's great Reform Club. Some say he was the very first celebrity chef. For Fanny to recognise outlandishness in someone else must've meant he was REALLY out there, which no doubt sealed his celebrity. He was seemingly obsessed with everything being 'at the slant' - Fanny notes that his ties, waistcoats and hats were all 'à la Zizi', either slanting in pattern or cut or being worn at an angle. Food presentation was not immune. Fanny says his lesson to us is to create 'charming and unusual vari-coloured sweet or savoury moulds' to match his diagonal obsession, so let's get our slant on!

Fanny recommends this treatment for any and all jellies or aspics, be they sweet or savoury, but notes that the effect is especially charming in creamy creations. She suggests savoury creamed mousses filled with chicken, salmon, cod or shrimp. Not for me. Her own pic-strip and example is a savoury cheese tower in pastel shades of pink, orange and green surrounded by Scottish Oatcakes. It feels only right for me to recreate it just as is, no tweaks, no tiddling, just as Fanny intended. No slant on the original ;-)

The base of the savoury mousse is a custard of egg yolks and milk. I use Almond Milk for mine, I'm really not a fan of large amounts of cows milk in anything, and I imagine it will give an even more savoury, nutty flavour to the finished dish. Fanny whisks the eggs, milk and seasoning together over a double boiler before adding the grated cheese. Fanny waits until the mix is thick to add her gelatine, but as I'm using Agar Agar it goes in while the mixture is cold and heats up and dissolves with everything else. The final additions are single cream (Fanny says you can use coffee cream if you can't get single, but that's not something I've ever seen) and whipped up egg whites. The cheesy mix is really thick and quite stringy to mix, but tastes great - ok I'd admit it I dipped my fingers in. Fanny does recommend tasting for seasoning though at this stage, so I'm only doing as I'm told. 

Fannys trick to present the moulded mousse 'at the slant' is to rest the mould, in my case (following Fanny) a simple wetted - I'm learning - Pyrex bowl, on a wooden spoon while pouring in the first slanted layer. Fannys first layer is pink, therefore so is mine. Once set, the bowl is slanted in the other direction and a green layer added, followed by a purple one and finally an orange one. The cheesy mousse takes the colour well - I use Wilton Gels and only a very small dot is required. Fanny doesn't give any tips for doing this successfully to allow each layer to set without the rest of the mix also setting meantime. The benefit of using Agar is that the mixture can be reheated and liquified when required, poured on and left to set again, but this wouldn't be possible with gelatine. When the mousse is unmoulded it's very firm - probably due to the Agar Agar which seems to turn everything the same solid structure - but tastes good. It's hard to see past the slants of colour and rubbery feel that trick your brain into thinking it's sweet. (Slanted) hats off to Chef Soyer though, it most definitely an eccentric presentation for cheese. It's very savoury, certainly 'à la Zizi', but if I'm honest leaves me feeling a little queasy. 

Pineapple Packs A Punch

Fanny is planning a very special party, which requires some very special jellied creations and I am very pleased to report a very special punch. For this little soirée Fanny is desperate to hang on to the very last of any summer sunshine by transporting us to the Caribbean, which she is sure will dazzle any party guests. The party does require a lot of pre-planning though, anything from a week to 3 months of preparation, but Fanny says this is a boon to the busy housewife. Nothing worse than running around like mad as guests arrive. Parties should appear effortless. Even if they take three months of work. The main plan for this party seems to be to get all the guests completely sloshed, which sounds like such a terrible idea to me... Well, no, actually it sounds like a fabulous idea. 

Fanny gets stuck straight in to the hard stuff. The Planters' Punch requires the most preparation, as the flavour intensifies over the months of steeping. Good old Fanny suggests using a whole bottle of the very finest Barbados Rum here, all muddled in with totally tropical tastes. I have a bottle of Captain Morgans Spiced Gold which seems right for the job to me. To the rum, Fanny adds some strained orange and lemon juice, thinly sliced cucumber, a sliced peach, orange segments, sliced pineapple, Angostura Bitters, nutmeg and some slightly syrupy water. Fanny does suggest substituting the syrupy water with a quarter bottle of Falernum if you have it. I couldn't find any, but it does sound worth tracking down for authentic spicy Caribbean-ness. I need more than three months to prepare for this party clearly!

I could quite happily sit down with a jug of this straight away, but Fanny insists not only that I share it, but I pop a lid on it and store it for months. Spoilsport Fanny. To keep my mind off it meantime, Fanny gets me whipping up a heavenly creamy jelly with more than a hint of Hawaii. This can be made well in advance too, keeping perfectly well in ordinary domestic refrigeration for a week. It's a slightly different style again, as ever Fanny is teaching me I need to remember, which has thick confectioners custard as the base. To this, I add a tub (it could easily be a tin) of strained and whizzed up pineapple, and double cream. It's already looking fairly thick, but for this set delight it's in with some Vege-Gel from Dr Oetker this time, the whole mix heated up and poured into my mould. Oiled, naturally. And a cat, plainly.

Fanny hates to waste anything, so sets me to making an additional jelly from the strained pineapple juice, which will also add to the 'fun' of the presentation. Fanny says it can forked-up into a foam, or cut into shapes, or set into an actual pineapple. I suppose the options are endless. I opt to add some harmless yellow food colouring to mine and cut them into little cat shapes. Just for fun Fanny. The finished Bavarois d'Ananas as Fanny called it tastes just as you'd expect - like set pineapple custard, it's quite pleasant but the texture a little strange. Perhaps I added too much Vege-Gel? There isn't much wibble-wobble. In all the preparation for this fantastic party I've completely forgotten to invite any friends to join me. Oops. Can I wait any longer? Will the sun stick around? There's nothing for it, I'm going to have to crack open the spice-laden fruity Punch and have a party for one. In the name of research you understand. If it's good I can always make another batch for 'friends'. Cheers Fanny!

My Cherry Amour

Fanny Cradock probably never had Jelly Fluff, she probably never even heard of it, but for me that's the only childhood memory of creamy jellies I have. I'm not sure I ever had cream that wasn't in a tin or a squirty can now that I think of it. Not real cream anyway, I'm not sure when I first had real cream! Jelly Fluff was made in my house anyway with a packet of brightly coloured jelly and a tin of Carnation Evaporated Milk, then served with maybe a digestive biscuit or two. It wasn't even a favourite, in secret I couldn't stand the evaporated milk at all. At least in Jelly Fluff it was slightly more bearable than the other dessert option, which was just digestive biscuits with a tin of everything-tastes-the-same Fruit Cocktail and the dreaded evaporated milk poured on top. My favourite 'fruit' from the tin was the hard to find bright pink cherry half - there was usually just the one! Probably just as well Fanny wasn't party to any of this, she'd give it a withering look sure to make it curdle.

Fannys version is a much fancier affair, naturally. A lovingly set mixture of cherry juice and cream. Fanny does say that a tin of cherries may be considered here, but only if out of season. It never occurred to me when I was young that there might be a whole can of those bright pink cherry halves available! Fanny was a big supporter of canning and packing her own produce, so she probably had a few tins or jars of cherries squirrelled away, and never had to resort to the Del Monte. Luckily for me, cherries are bang in season and I found some gorgeous dark black ones to use in this dessert.

The kitchen did resemble a crime scene from Dexter once I'd pitted the cherries mind you. I wonder what the splatter analysis would show? Fanny uses the fresh cherries for a garnish on the finished dessert, so just need to be 'flicked' with a little Kirsch at this stage. To make the very cherry cream Fanny suggests juicing up some cherries, or using the juice from the can. I found some lovely natural cherry syrup in my local Polish deli recently, so that's good enough for me!

The usual jelling rules apply here, add the vegetarian alternative to cold liquid and bring to the boil. For Fanny, it's the same with her gelatine powder. I'm using Agar flakes this time instead of powder, which take a little longer to dissolve and are a little harder to measure accurately. The packet suggests a tablespoon per 250ml of liquid. After the diluted cherry syrup reaches boiling point, it simmers for a few minutes before the tub of whipping cream is plunged in. Quickly, Fanny insists, it should be whipped together. I never really use whipping cream, even for whipping. It's a mystery to me really. 

Remembering Fannys sage advice for jellies I oil my mould well in preparation, with a spray oil which gets into all the nooks and crannys. Oil for cream, wet for not. It's a glorious deep pink colour, and sets really well at room temperature in about an hour. It looks like it has a good wibble wobble as I take my deep breath and turn it out. It slips out of the mould perfectly. Phew! Some whipped double cream and those kirsch soaked cherries finish things off nicely. Maybe I should've added some more agar flakes though, it begins to crack a little under the weight of the fruit, which is good enough reason for me to eat it VERY quickly. It thankfully tastes nothing like the Jelly Fluff of old, not that I had that with alcoholic cherries of course. It's smooth, sharp and creamy, like a thicker cheery cherry mousse. Ever the nostalgic though, I'm really wishing I'd bought some digestives to have with it...

We Cannae Call Her Fanny - Irn Bru Jelly

Fanny Cradock wasn't her real name. She chose it, or maybe it chose her. Whichever way, it was a master stroke in ensuring that she was never forgotten. Would her career ever have taken off if she'd remained Phyllis Nan Sortain Pechey? It would be so easy to forget plain, pedestrian Phyllis wouldn't it? Fanny was born into a grandiose world where names were all important, but sadly wasn't given a memorable one herself. Her mother was Bijou (a name she hated 'Like some damned Pekingese') and her father had a variety of pseudonyms, most notably Valentine. So I guess choosing more elaborate and appropriate names was second nature. Fanny chose several. In various guises she was Frances Dale, Phyllis Cradock, Nan Sortain, Elsa Frances, Susan Leigh and even Philip Essex. Friends called her Phyl. Her brother insisted she was Phatti. Johnnie's pet name for her was Jill. She really had a different name for each occasion, and for each part of her very varied career. Fanny was the one that stuck.

Today, it's really a bit of a joke name, or, to some, even an insult to call someone a 'Fanny'. Fanny herself seemed to carry it off with style and grace, it's hard to imagine her as anything BUT Fanny. She WAS Fanny. I wonder if she'd laugh at the Irn Bru adverts which resulted in bottles appearing all over Scotland emblazoned with her name in direct response to the Coca-Cola 'personalised' version. The adverts had everyone talking about the name 'Fanny'. I think she'd find it a hoot. As long as people were talking about her, and she'd believe they were, she'd be delighted. That's what her name has given her, and I reckon she knew it would. It's almost impossible to mention the name Fanny without sniggering and without thinking of Mrs Cradock. Perfect.

Working in jelly allowed Fanny an opportunity to shine. Her aim was to bring a little of the Victorian splendour of enormous jelly structures to the modern dinner table, without the hours of work and the kitchen full of maids. For Fanny, it was an everyday dessert of suspended fruit, and she favoured mandarin segments seemingly floating in an orange cloud. For this one I'm substituting orange juice for Irn Bru. Well why not, they go together like Fanny and Johnnie.

To make the jelly vegetarian, I am again using an agar based powder. The difference with this to regular gelatine is that it needs to be added to cold liquids, dissolved and brought to the boil before leaving to set. There go all the lovely bubbles of fizz in the Bru...

No 1970's dessert would be complete without a tin of mandarin segments, and they are still easy enough to find in the supermarket. Adding some lovely fresh, in season Scottish raspberries for a splash of colour, taste and to add a flourish to the final presentation. I don't think Fanny would've, but maybe Jill or maybe even Frances might've.

So, the Irn Bru jelly liquid is boiled up and ready to go. Fanny says to dribble a little bit in the base of your wetted mould and then to start setting the fruit into it. When that layer is firm, lay another on top and cover again with jelly. And so on until your mould is full. See, no need for the kitchen maids, perfectly achievable in an ordinary domestic kitchen. The veggie jelly sets in around an hour and, with my fingers well and truly crossed, turns out well. It holds it's shape with a very welcome wibble and wobble. The finished jelly is a little cloudy, which I find happens with Agar, but the colour is vibrant and unmissable... Just like Fanny herself. So, stand back Phyllis, Frances, Nan, Elsa, Susan, Philip, Phyl, Phatti and Jill, this one is for Fanny and all the other Fannys out there. 

Well (veggie) Jel

Many believed that Fanny Cradock may herself have been preserved in Aspic by the time she appeared in full technicolour in the 1970's, such was her outdated yet strangely fascinating style and technique. She brought to mind 'days of old' and labour intensive preparation in the kitchen, when in actual fact her aim (she said) was to save the ordinary housewife the shackles of such things. Even in the 70's the thought of making elaborate jellies and aspics to present to your guests was frowned upon, but not by Fanny. Her feeling was that the fault lay with the home cooks who had a number of 'culinary bogeys', which of course included gelatine, and it was her role to eliminate them! Fanny insisted that if you treated gelatine properly, it would ALWAYS behave as good as gold for you. Who knows what she'd have made of me trying to turn all her gelatine laden dishes vegetarian mind you...

It's always a little frustrating when chefs dream up a delicious dessert using gelatine, as I never quite know how to switch it up to a vegetarian friendly version... What quantity of those funny slippery sheets of slime they use do you substitute for whichever vegetarian version you are lucky enough to find. There are gels, flakes and powders, but no slippery sheets. Fanny provides detailed charts showing how much gelatine to use for each type and quantity of any given liquid. Here's the good news, she's not a fan of slippery sheets and instead uses gelatine powder. Maybe this conversion malarkey won't be so tricky after all?

Fanny insists that we are all firm with ourselves over accuracy. We MUST measure out not only the powder but also the liquids, making sure we give our scales a good prodding before we do so to ensure they behave. I do like to measure things anyway, clearly I am teachers pet in the jelly class. She has not time whatsoever for those women who write to her to moan that there gelatine has sunk to the bottom of their dishes, or has clumped in lumps. Fanny gets down with the kids in her response and can only think of a one word reply... 'punk!' I am pretty sure her exact response may have rhymed with that but was unprintable in the 70's. Her method is to scatter gelatine powder onto the given quantities of cold liquid in the charts, heat and stir over a low flame and then add it to the bulk liquid. The instructions for the Agar powder I am using first (from Experichef) are more or less the same, except I add the powder to the total amount of liquid before heating. It's 1g of powder to 100ml of liquid. Fanny says this is 'POPPYCOCK' but in fairness I don't think she was really referring to Agar...

Fannys' first foray into the land of wibble wobble is entirely decorative. She wants to show us the wonders of jelly by helping us recreate a Victorian table centrepiece for a ball or supper, which of course would have always been homemade. I didn't really imagine they had packet jelly in those days anyway, but I think she's warning us not to dissolve some flavoured cubes from the supermarket here. Fanny says all I need to produce an quick and easy 'elaboration' is some fluted pastry cutters and a sharp knife. As long as I prepare my jelly moulds correctly that is. If my mixture if contains cream they should be oiled, if they don't they should be thoroughly wetted. I'm trying out a range of different moulds for this Victorian sensation, but no cream. Wet it is! 

I am taking my inspiration from Fannys own illustration which shows a colourful plateful of cut jelly stacked high. I whip up a large batch of clear Agar jelly, just until the mixture boils, and decide to colour it in my moulds so I can get more variation. A muffin tin doubles up as a mould, as well as some individual baking trays, and of course some 'real' jelly moulds. They all take well to the gel colours (I like to use Wilton) mixed together with the ends of cocktail sticks) and set well while they cool. The cutters do their job and all there is to manage is the assembly. Fanny uses some pretty a Aspic cutters, and I have a modern day set of small shapes. I feel that I have well and truly eliminated the 'jelly bogey' and am ready to progress to a whole partwork of equally weird and wonderful 'set' creations! Are you ready to join me?