Fanny Italia #3 - Common Market Cookery - Italy

We know that Fanny Cradock was no fan of Italian cuisine. We know that she felt it was inferior to her beloved French. We know she described it as running the gamut of 'A to B' compared to the 'A to Zee' of France. We also know however that this did not stop her writing about it all the time. Italian cookery was featured throughout the partwork, and even graced two distinct books written by Fanny. In 1974 she published her Common Market Cookery book on Italy, based on her jaunts to the continent for BBC TV's Nationwide programme, followed by the Bon Viveur book of Pasta Cookery in 1975, in partnership with the British Pasta Information Bureau. Not bad for someone who really wasn't fond of the grub.

With Pasta Cookery, Fanny was aiming to concentrate on inexpensive dishes for family meals, or entertaining friends, using varieties of pasta which lend themselves to the 'incorporation of left-overs' such as cannelloni, spaghetti or lasagne. Indeed Fanny says they are 'purse-stretchers at the table', only without the inclusion of the astronomically priced at the time Parmesan Cheese. Fanny's main advice is that pasta should never resemble stewed knitting, nor be flabby. Always al dente, slightly firm to the teeth. You would never eat your knitting, would you?

I'm heading to Turin and Piedmont while in Italy, and as Fanny has already established, these areas are more gastronomic than most. She's still no fan of course, despite, or perhaps as a result of, the skill of Italian chefs of being past masters at conjuring up delicacies from their limited arc of raw materials. Polenta that resembles a bath sponge is one example. Made in a blackened pot, stirred with a vine twig and poured onto a scrubbed wooden table, the Italian family will gather round with their forks ready to eat it. Only on 'high days and holidays' will a little meat or dried fruits be added. You get the impression that Fanny hasn't had a good experience while in Italy, although this book is supposed to be a celebration and an encouragement to visit and recreate the dishes.

Fanny recounts all her travels across Italy, and details the food, and regional specialities that she has found. More than enough for a book. All in about 150 recipes. Not just pasta, but hors d'oeuvres, soups, pizzas, rice, fish, poultry, meat, vegetables, eggs, cheese, sauces, salads, puddings and ice-creams. All showing what a limited diet those poor Italians have. It's not their fault, they just don't have access to the ingredients. They are limited. And poor. Not Fanny's favourites at all.

And don't get her started on the breakfasts. I'll need to watch out for the Italian businessmen, and women in particular, as well as students of both sexes, standing around in slit-alleys of minute cafés gulping coffee, dunking their buns with reverberating sucks. It sounds dodgy. I shall take Fanny's warning, and order large cups of coffee with additional jugs of hot water. I'm sure no-one will be offended. So, I think I am ready to make my way to Italy now and enjoy all that it has to offer. Which Fanny says is not much. Thanks Fanny. All that remains is for me to learn the names of all the pasta shapes. If I do them alphabetically it will be easier I think. All I need to do is learn A and B. Italy here I, somewhat nervously, come.

Lankee Noodle Dandy

Fanny Cradock calls this partwork 'Everyday Puddings and Pies', proudly telling us that we will be keeping our culinary toes very firmly on the ground as we add to our currently limited collection of 'pastes' with an infinite variety of new ones. Never miss an opportunity to remind us of our position. Fanny warns us that if we wish to be very fine cooks we will need to have many types at our disposal - our current repertoire of bought puff paste, sweet and savoury short pastes, ravioli paste (which I assume is pasta), basic suet paste and raised pie paste are simply not sufficient. Her aim is to prepare us for the holy grail in a future part that we can tackle together - homemade puff paste - but meanwhile we must confine ourselves to easy and simple ones.

It is somewhat of a surprise therefore to discover that this particular 'pie' has no pastry whatsoever. Fanny says we must leave the shores of this fine land and travel to France for a pie that is so very special it doesn't even have a name in English. Defying translation, we must tackle the Timbale. Fanny describes it as an economical main course 'dish' (so it's not a pie?) which is steamed in an overcoat of blanched macaroni. Maybe this is a steamed pudding then rather than a pie? Hang on, did she say Macaroni? A Macaroni Pie?

Fanny makes hers with smoked haddock, duchess potatoes (presumably green), tomatoes and boiled eggs, which seem to be appearing in everything these days. I'm switching mine up Scottish-style with vegetarian haggis, neeps and, erm, sweet potatoes. But first the so-called 'macaroni'. Fanny says to use the 'thick' kind which in her picture looks extremely long. I search high and low for long and thick, believe me. My local Italian deli comes to the rescue with Mezzo Ziti which I think is the right thing.

Fanny recommends cooking it in a roomy pan of boiling water, slipping it in very slowly so that it softens as it goes and does not break up. If it does, Fanny insists we must start again. It becomes clear why soon enough. Simmer for a mere five minutes before immediately removing, draining and immersing it into a bowl of very cold water. It should be just pliable. Fanny has ready a buttered soufflé mould and begins to coil the macaroni around the bottom, and then up around the sides. Ah-ha, broken bits will never do. It sticks well to the butter and to it's neighbouring strand of pasta while still 'just cooked'. Then layer up the filling - I start with the sweet potatoes, then the haggis and finally the neeps.

Fanny then covers the whole dish with buttered papers and steams it for around 35-40 minutes. The covering needs to be removed and the dish allowed to settle for 3 or maybe 4 minutes. Fanny warns it will be piping hot, just incase you weren't sure, so don't touch it. Lay a serving dish on the top, quickly invert it and give it a gentle shake - it should slide out well, providing you have buttered your soufflé dish thoroughly. Thankfully I have. It looks quite impressive actually, just like Fanny's own picture, adding a little flair and winter carbs to my usual haggis presentation. To add a wee Scottish kick, I serve with some Scottish Chilli Rocks from Galloway Chillies, which I bought on a recent trip to the lovely named Kirkcudbright, made with Scottish Gin from Rock Rose. Perfect combination. It does collapse a little (but only a little, honest) when you cut it, but the stripes of filling are appealing. The only thing I forgot was to stick a feather in it, but let's still call it a somewhat different, somewhat special, somewhat not-everyday, Scottish (maybe French, maybe Italian) Macaroni Pie.

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.

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?

Is Fanny the Pasta Master after all?

Fanny likens most of the pasta served in 'our little island home' in the 1970's as 'stewed knitting'. Her aim in the Pasta Partwork is to eliminate this from our future diets and show us all how great the pastas of Italy can truly be. Did she succeed? We certainly embrace the wonders of pasta warmly these days. Can Fanny really take the credit? We could mostly, no doubt, name the 39 pasta shapes Fanny collects together for us as an education. She bought them all in a lovely little shop in Soho, but gives an address to write to a very helpful man in St Albans who will advise if you tell him what you have been unable to obtain, should you not be fortunate enough to shop in Soho. I wonder if he was flooded with requests?

Continuing her education, Fanny gives a culinary history of Italian fare, comparing it to her beloved French Cuisine. She notes that where French Cookery is divided into four groupings - La Cuisine Régionale, La Cuisine Familiale, La Cuisine Bourgeoise (modest but good) and Haute Cuisine Française (the crowning glory) - Italian is a collection of regional cookery featuring infinite variations of pasta throughout. But how did it cross over to our unadventurous little island? Fanny reckons its all to do with returning soldiers heading home after the Second World War.

Hordes of fighting forces folk apparently headed home from Italy clamouring for pasta, only to be offered English horrors boiled until flabby and tasting like boiled jumpers. So they rebelled, insisting that their 'womenfolk' discovered the proper way to cook pasta. Thanks Heavens Fanny was there to help, who knows what might've happened if not. Fanny comments that it was a reverse of normal culinary history too, where men were usually a stumbling block to their women experimenting. New dishes and cuisines would traditionally be given a repugnant look and a mutter "Why can't I have my food plain the way my mother made it?" Fanny reckons their Italian military service was a tremendous 'boon' ending irritating eruptions from 'menfolk' taking the pleasure out of any special dish.

But what if we don't know how to cook pasta, or worse still, how to eat it properly? Fanny to the rescue! Cooking is simple - lots of boiling water and seasoned well, over salted is essential. As for eating, its probably best if Fanny shows you. The correct way is to press spaghetti with a fork against a spoon, turning the fork round to form a neat mouthful. Then, shove it in, with a certain amount of decency. The incorrect way is of course just to heave it all up on fork requiring a friendly assistant, in this case René, to come to your rescue with scissors.

Of course with the importation of pasta comes equally exotic ingredients too, like garlic, which may not be to everyones taste. Except certain mystics who have seemingly long employed its benefits against evil forces. Fanny also uses garlic to weave magic spells on people who claim to be fervent haters. The key is to crush it down with a small piece of wood and hide it in every dish at your big buffet parties. Then simply chortle as folk leave 'reeking of it', but thanking you for not giving them any garlic, as you know full well how much they hate it. It's witchcraft alright. Fanny has fooled us all, we now eat pasta AND garlic like it's going out fashion. Little did we realise that is was Fanny herself who made it popular. Making little carts for your toy donkeys to pull around from all your pretty pasta never quite caught on though... Some magic spells will just never work.

Holy Ravioli!

Back in the 1970's when I was wee I didn't really know what 'pasta' was. Sure we had Macaroni from Marshalls and we always had a packet of Spaghetti in the cupboard, although I don't remember ever eating it. It was next to the tub of smelly Parmesan Cheese. We certainly never called it 'pasta'. It certainly wasn't 'fresh'. Anything more exotic was to be found in tins, especially a firm favourite of mine, Ravioli. It may have been thick and claggy, in a radioactive looking tomato sauce, but that was all I knew. At the same time, unbeknown to me, Fanny was on a mission to educate the good folks of 'this island' to the culinary delights that Italy could offer. She was such a fan she even wrote a whole book about it. But, did she really know her Rigatoni from her Tortellini or was it all 'Fanny-ised'?

The first recipe in the Pasta Partwork leaves me wondering if I'm honest. It's Ravioli, but not as I know it. Not even as I knew it. Maybe it's because I regularly make my own pasta, but this recipe is certainly not one that I am familiar with. I was almost tempted to switch things round a bit and use at least the ingredients I know. But I didn't - I've followed Fanny's advice and made my pasta from, deep breath, Self-Raising Flour and Butter. No eggs. It's like no pasta I have ever known.

Fanny starts by sifting the flour (I can still barely believe I am using Self-Raising instead of '00' but I'm going with it) with some salt and rubbing in butter until it's very fine. Then a small amount of cold water to bind it all together, mixed with a small knife. I know what you are thinking, I was thinking the same thing, but just when all we can think about is pastry Fanny says the next step is to knead the dough for 3 minutes. You don't knead pastry. But remember, this isn't pastry. This is so counterintuitive, but what the heck. As I knead, the dough really softens up and becomes very stretchy, even beginning to resemble pasta dough as I know it. Maybe Fanny is not as daft as she seems. Or maybe I'm easily fooled.

Following a wee rest for 30 minutes in the fridge, and a swift lie down for me, the dough is divided into two and rolled out very thinly into two sheets. I really wasn't sure if it would roll out thin enough with an ordinary rolling pin, but you what - it did. It rolled really well. Really well. Fanny suggests a familiar filling of Spinach and Ricotta Cheese, using freshly cooked spinach. Being Fanny of course she suggests piping it onto the 'pasta' sheets which are first brushed with beaten egg.

Fanny employs a very complicated system for ensuring neatness. She marks out a checkerboard of small squares on a sheet of greaseproof paper and places it over the pasta sheet, pricking the centre of each square with a skewer. When the greaseproof paper is removed it's easy to spot the dots and pipe 'blobs' of spinach and ricotta onto them. It's all very neat, and makes the next stage a little easier. The second sheet of 'pasta' is carefully placed on top, pressed down between the blobs of filling and then cut into neat squares of Ravioli. They sit happily in the fridge for another rest, and a cold flannel applied to the head for me, while a large pot of salted water boils for them. 'Pasta is no good in puddles' Fanny reminds us. Only a few minutes until they float to the surface and are ready. Fanny makes a Genoese Sauce - or Pesto - to go with it. Nothing Fanny-ish about this, just yummy. She uses a pestle and mortar to bash it all up, but I whizz it in my processor. The finished Ravioli are actually very good. A little thicker than normal, a little more puffed, a little more gloopy maybe but very tasty. Way better than those tins I remember, and using ingredients readily available at the time. It may all seem odd today, but Fanny was doing her best to get us all pasta-crazy. Mamma Mia it's bonkers, but strangely it works. Just like Fanny herself.