The Spirit of July

At this time of year, we're all constantly thinking about the summer ahead, filling our minds full of eternal sunshine, endless days of fun, food and frolics in the park and packing our bags ready to jet off for our uninterrupted, precious, dearly-held holidays. Fanny is no different. She is forever telling us about the glorious 'foreign' recipes she has collected on her travels, and that we should be presenting to our guests, encouraging us to always refer to our creations with their French names. Except today. It's all about the wonderful world of the all-natural, all-British ingredients. Almost.

Fanny says they are indisputably (and, be honest, would you argue with her?) the very best in the world. She always maintains that 'this island' grows the finest fruit and vegetables of all. However, when she's in a particularly 'wry' mood she is compelled, for honesty's sake, to add "they just suffer a little when they reach some English doors!" Presumably she isn't talking about us, her dearly devoted followers? After all she is showing us the correct way to ensure that no produce suffers in our hands. Unless aspic is involved.

With summer in mind, and feeling a little nostalgic for the sunny days of youth, Fanny wants to revive an adult-only version of a childhood staple - a whipped fruit cream dessert. I was obsessed with Angel Delight when I was young, loving almost every flavour (even banana). So easy to buy, so easy to make, so easy to enjoy. Fanny has grander ideas of course, making good use of British strawberries, especially those which may not be perfect enough (yet) to simply enjoy with cream. She brings us the throughly British Spirit of July. or L'Espirit de Juillet, for those that simply cannot resist.

It's not only the desserts that are making Fanny reminisce. She's caught sight of herself in the mirror, in-between frantic cooking sessions. It must be hot in the kitchen and she's tired. Her face is burning up (only a little) and is looking a little, erm, shall we say, saggy. Before getting stuck into her Spirit of July, she reaches for an un-skinned and completely un-continental cucumber. She quickly tops and tails it, and rubs the pieces you'd normally throw away over her face for an 'instant' face-lift. Her clammy flesh muscles tighten and her face cools instantly, she tells us. She doesn't forget her sticky, sweaty neck or back either, for maximum cooling down possibilities. I am so glad she felt the need to share.

If we haven't lost our appetites, and to distract ourselves from Fanny's flushed face, we should throw ourselves into whipping up egg whites, whipping in whipped cream, whipping together Maraschino, Kirsch and icing sugar, and whipping through blitzed strawberries. The resulting whip is light and fluffy, and must, Fanny insists, be served in old-fashioned champagne glasses topped with a single, fresh, presumably acceptable looking, strawberry. This must be the all-British way. I was lucky if my Angel Delight made it beyond the mixing bowl in reality. Guaranteed to whip you back in time, or straight ahead into summer, whichever you desire. That's the spirit...

Don't Be A Tosser!

Fanny is very serious about all things pancake, and tries her utmost to pass that gravity on to all her readers. She is on a mission to educate and eradicate any frippery. She does not understand at all why we in Great Britain continue to associate pancakes only with Shrove Tuesday. It makes her flipping mad to think about those 'coarse wash-leather chaps' which people pass for pancakes but which she thinks would be splendid only for cleaning the car with. It's all about being professional you see. Who has ever heard of a great chef laying down instructions that in order to eat pancakes you must first tear along the road like a 'blue-based fly' chucking the poor wretched things in the air trying to catch them? It makes no sense to Fanny at all.

We can heave a sigh of relief however, Fanny is here to propel us all towards the professional way. So if you are tempted to hurl your pancakes high and enjoy a little bit of heritage hilarity, be prepared to sling your batter now. Pancakes are one of the best ways Fanny knows of eking out left-overs and thrilling guests, but in order to please your guests to maximum effect you must be able to lob your pancakes out at speed and without getting hot and flushed in the kitchen as you do so. The key is preparation and preservation. And of course making super thin professional style pancakes in the first place. If your pancakes are thick enough to toss, Fanny says, there is only one place to toss them - into the dustbin.

Fanny discusses many, many variations for pancakes from the very basic higher and higher up her favourite 'culinary ladder' to the summit. The method for making and using them remains the same, but each step up a rung provides a slightly more 'dreamy' result for ever increasing special occasions. For Fanny, no proper pancake batter is capable of holding a smooth consistency when made very runny (the key to thinness) - the consistency of single cream - unless it is made with olive oil. So this becomes the basis for the basic French recipe and all that follow. The basic recipe is flour, eggs, olive oil and enough milk to reduce it to the consistency of single cream.

The more dreamier versions start by bunging in icing sugar, a touch of salt and either some brandy, rum or kirsch. Then they add white wine instead of liqueurs, and then actual single cream instead of milk. For really splendid savoury versions, the icing sugar is slung altogether. I'm going dreamy with mine, but switching it up a little by sticking with kirsch and adding cream. Once mixed up together to the required consistency, Fanny details how to make the pancakes. First step is to lay out a sheet of oiled greaseproof paper for the finished pancakes. Heat your pan and brush it lightly with oil. Pour a little batter in to the side of the pan as you hold it at an angle and twirl to swirl it to completely cover the base. If you pour the batter into the centre of the pan, you will have a lump in the middle. Be warned. As soon as the mixture is set, flip it over for a moment or two with a spatula.

When it's cooked on both sides, launch the wafer thin pancake onto your greaseproof and set to on the next one. When they are all done, it is perfectly easy to snip round each one and assemble them in a pile with greaseproof paper remaining in between. None should have headed bin-wards. Then fold them over with kitchen foil and they'll keep in the fridge for a week, ready to thrill at a moments notice. Clearly Fanny's Personal Assistant, Alison Leach, was not so thrilled as she asked Fanny one day over luncheon, 'why can't you create chocolate pancakes?' So Fanny did, just by adding powdered drinking chocolate to the mix. Her own invention. The only trouble Fanny found was that the more she created, the more some people ate. I can understand it - they tasted great! Some people had been known to eat 48 at one sitting. Fanny doesn't explicitly say it was Alison, but, you know...

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...