It's My Fanny-versary!

Two years. Two whole years that Fanny Cradock has completely taken over enriched my life as I've enhanced taken over her Cookery Programme in this blog. In some ways it feels like I only started yesterday, while in other moments it does feel that I've been recreating weird and wonderful Cradock creations for ever. It has been twenty four months of fun, laughter and at times, let's be honest, horror at some of the things I've been making with Fannys guidance. I wouldn't swap a day of it though, I've enjoyed almost all each and every one of the 1,051,200 minutes.

To celebrate this two year Fanny-versary, Fanny has the perfect Chocolate Sponge Gâteau, which she strangely translates as Biscuit au Chocolat. After one hundred and four weeks together, nothing surprises me, least of all the exclusive questionable French translations. Fanny is part French you know. Fanny refers to it as a 'simple' sponge, made using the genoise method of whipping eggs and sugar together until they are voluminous. Fanny uses her beloved sweetened drinking chocolate to flavour the sponge, sifting it with her equally beloved self-raising flour and gently folding it into the well risen egg and sugar mix.

Fanny adds a little melted butter to the mix, presumably to make it lavish and luxurious. Fanny says it should be softened butter, which might suggest room temperature, but her instructions are to stir it in, so I use my common sense well trained initiative and melt it first. Fanny and I are becoming one and the same horrifically attuned as the months roll past it seems, I can translate her unique strange language and instructions with ease. Mostly. I even manage a little smirk to the imaginary camera while I cook and wrinkle my nose softly while giving any assistant brave enough to come close an almighty wallop.

Fanny bakes her special sponge in a square six inch tin. I don't have a square one that small, so substitute for a perfect serviceable round one, which is six inches diameter. Buttered with a greaseproof circle in the base and floured, naturally. The cake bakes for only 35 minutes before emerging all light and springy from the oven. For everyday situations, Fanny recommends her most lazy favourite of servings - a simple dusting of icing sugar, very thick. Hides everything. Hang on though, this is a very special occasion, so what does Fanny suggest to mark seven hundred and thirty long happy days together?

The answer I am sure you are all screaming is Mocha Buttercream, piped into tiny rosettes with a small star nozzle. This is always the answer. Except today, I am switching things up with three flavours of buttercream - rose, chocolate and vanilla - hey, it's my Fanny-versary and I'll vary if I want to. Fanny completes her decoration with chocolate leaves, dredged through pickings from her rose bush in the garden. Mine are pre-dredged and perfectly formed from Coco, I am sure Fanny would be raging wouldn't mind a shortcut. She better hadn't as we have a long way to go on our journey up the culinary ladder together. Two years has brought us only a quarter of the way, I do hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have so far? Will you be joining me for the remaining six years (gulp) up the giddy heights of the Cradock Cookery Programme? I have to warn you however that things get even more weird and wonderful spectacular as we progress...

Layer upon Layer

Fanny's family apparently called this 'squashed cake', which I doubt the Viennese 'hausfrau' that Fanny describes as wrangling over the split-hair niceties of their treasured family recipes would've approved of. They call it Dobostorte, or Austrian Layer Cake. Fanny speaks very highly of the Viennese, as they are marvellous pâtissiers who are reverent about fine food, fairly casual about wines and quite certain that no-one except their aunts and grandmothers ever knew how any single thing should be done properly. As we know, Fanny insists on things being done properly. She recounts a story of seeing two passionate, eye-blazing, well bosomed women 'shaking their black curls in fury' at each other over whether it was okay to pipe the edge of a 'Dobos' with buttercream, or not. Fanny gives nothing away at this stage, so let's see what the 'proper' answer is.

Fanny shows me another sponge technique with this one. The aim is to make several very thin layers of sponge which are then assembled into one cake. Just three ingredients for the sponge - eggs, flour and icing sugar. The egg whites are beaten within an inch of their lives, and the icing sugar added. Then, mix the egg yolks with a fork and beat them in, and blend the flour gently.

Fanny warns that I may be surprised at this stage and wonder if the very small amount of mixture will indeed stretch to several layers of cake. Well, five layers to be precise. This is what Fanny says I should aim for although she admits it was only after several practice attempts that she managed it herself. She says not to be too disappointed if I only manage 4. Ah-ha a challenge! The whipped mix goes into a small cake tin, just greased and lined, with only enough mix to cover the base. It takes 10 minutes to bake each layer, although Fanny suggests if you have five tins and many ovens you can make them all at the same time. Presumably Fanny has, but I don't. Fanny reassures me though that the mix will not spoil while I wait. Proudly, I made SIX little layers of sponge - take that Fanny!

When cool, the layers of sponge are assembled back in the tin, with layers of greaseproof paper in between, then heavy weights are placed on top overnight. I used jars of marmalade. This'll be the 'squashed' part. Next day it's time to make the buttercream filling, with chocolate chips, butter, icing sugar and egg yolks. It's basically beat the butter, add the sugar, beat again, add the melted chocolate and finally the yolks. It makes a glossy and thick buttercream, with a consistency of Nutella. Yum. All ready to spread I between each layer of sponge.

Fanny gives two variations for the top layer - the classic 'Dobos' way and a revised Fany version if I was to think that too complicated. I don't want those big bosomed Viennese women chasing me, so I'm going 'proper' with a caramel topping. This involves melting caster sugar in a small pan until it turns a rich golden brown colour, and then pour it over one of the sponges until it sets. The alternative version is just more buttercream and some milled nuts. Fanny reminds me that sugar can be very hot and not to burn my fingers. Once poured over, I need to score slices into it to avoid a disaster at a later stage. I presume this is a shattering top when cut, but my scoring skills aren't up to it I don't think. My finished Dobostorte is a little wonky, but cuts well and tastes great! I don't think I'll be setting up a Viennese Pâtisserie any day soon, but hopefully there will be no street fights either.

I've linked this blog post to the Cook Blog Share linky challenge by the lovely @supergolden88 

Can my icing skills matcha Fannys?

Fanny is not to know, but I've never been any good at icing and decorating cakes. I'm quite artistic, and love 'creating' things but when it comes to icing I just go to pieces. I can't do modelling, and am only just starting to master piping, thanks to Fannys instructions for potatoes of course. Fanny wants me to learn not only to ice, but to pipe a trellis design on to a cake. Eeek. In the partwork she gets everyone involved, even poor Johnnie is shown trellising away, it so easy apparently. Diligent assistant Dianne does the hard work on the cake though. It looks perfect of course, and Fanny says if I follow suit, so will mine. I am not convinced, just putting it out there. Before I can ice a cake I need to bake one, and Fanny recommends her close textured sponge for the job, which she also calls Recette Fanny, which presumably means it's her own recipe?

It's made using half flour and half cornflour, which is a new one on me, but I'm happy to try. Fanny recommends that the sponge itself be flavoured before baking and suggests coffee, orange, lemon, strawberry or raspberry if it's summertime. Well, it was sunny at the weekend, so for Edinburgh that counts as summer - raspberry it is. Let's not mention that it's been dull again today. Before I begin I have to sift the flour and cornflour onto a square of greaseproof paper, twice. But how much? 

Fanny asks me to weigh the eggs to determine the quantities - I need as much flour and cornflour as weight of eggs, and the same of sugar and butter. Twitter helped me out with this one - I wasn't sure whether to weigh the eggs in their shells or not... Seems it doesn't really matter, but in shells won. So the butter gets creamed, sugar added and creamed again, a small amount of the flour mix flung in and the eggs added one by one. Finally the rest of the flour is beaten in before the chosen flavour is added, or some milk if you fancy it 'plain'. Fanny always give the 'plain' option but makes it sound so dull and ordinary that everyone must leap straight you the flavours. For my raspberry flavour I need to sieve a punnet and add the same amount of juice as would've been milk. It's not as complicated as it sounds, just new to me. The batter is pink. 

The sponge bakes well and comes out the oven fairly flat on top and risen well. Presumably this is why it makes a good sponge for decoration? Fanny makes her buttercream using an egg yolk, which again is not something I've done before, and she adds an appropriate flavouring. Fanny did hers with coffee, but I wonder if some lovely Green Matcha Tea would be a better match with the raspberries? And surely Fanny would approve of the colour? The buttercream is dolloped on the underside which becomes the top (just to ensure it's perfectly smooth), flattened down with a spatula and placed in the fridge to set.

Fanny gives very loose instructions for her glacé icing - basically mix icing sugar with a chosen flavouring until it is the right consistency! It's quite hard when you are hoping to learn what that consistency is... I have some raspberry syrup, so set to mixing it up until it's 'pourable but thick' which is Fannys only clue. Again, Fanny shows how it runs over the cake but needs to be teased a little with a spatula dipped in hot water. I think I made mine too runny, it just won't stop. Fanny finishes her recette with a trellis of icing, and I choose to make this with Matcha powder too, just for fun. Fanny says that 'her way' totally eliminates the danger of picking up any spare cake crumbs when applying the icing. That is true, not a crumb in sight! There is a cake under their I promise, but I think I need a little more practice. Or perhaps ice the cake on a rack first then transfer to a board? 

Fat Free Fanny

Fanny describes this as the Easiest Fatless Jam Sponge... in the world, ever. I added that last bit in. She also calls it the Alpenbuttertorte, which seems slightly wrong to me - wouldn't that be an Alpine Butter Cake, and this particular sponge has not a single scrap of fat. Continuing her aim to introduce as many different types and techniques for sponges as she possibly can, Fanny knows that this is one that we all will simply love to have. The best thing about it, Fanny says, is that if you pinch it, it jumps back. The other great thing about it seems to me that it only has a very few ingredients - eggs, flour and icing sugar. And a little jam, as the purse allows.

Fanny is adamant that I should learn how to 'treat' my cake tins for perfect bakes. For Fanny, there is only one way to do this. The cake tin should be fitted with a disc of greaseproof paper cut to the correct size, brushed with melted butter, and then covered with a layer of sifted flour. Fanny says that I should roll my buttered cake tin in my flour bin to achieve perfect results, but I don't have a flour bin so just sprinkle some flour in and run it round until it's all covered. Fanny insists that I will see the benefit after baking. I'm not sure with modern tins it's really essential, but of course do it anyway. 

For the basic sponge, I whip two eggs with an extra yolk with some icing sugar until it's very thick and creamy. Fanny makes no apology for insisting it's icing sugar I use - she knows it's more pricey than granulated sugar, but insists I use it not because she is a snob, but because she wants me to have a perfect sponge. That seems fair enough. Fanny says I could make a sponge from the crude, coarse granulated stuff but I will not be able to make a perfect, featherweight sponge like hers. The eggs and icing sugar whisk up really well together, doubling in volume and becoming a lovely pale yellow colour. I sift in some flour and very gently fold it in.

The light, fluffy and fatless mixture goes into my perfectly prepared tin for baking for 30 minutes. My sponge comes out slightly darker than Fannys own, but it's certainly springy. Fanny says to leave it in the tin for one minute ONLY before turning it out. This ensures that it contracts very slightly from the sides of the tin. 

I was worried about turning the finished sponge out of the tin and onto the cooling rack, there just didn't seem to be much 'substance' to it with so little flour I thought it might just collapse. I should've had more faith in Fanny, it didn't. Fanny includes a picture to show Johnnie peeling the paper off the bottom of her sponge, presumably incase anyone is not sure how to do it. I am doing the same. Once cool, the sponge needs to be sliced in half and spread with jam. It cuts well, and is a splendid yellow colour inside. So, this sponge was indeed easy. Additionally if I pinch it it does jump back. Not sure why I would, but it does. It tastes light and would make a quick, last minute cake for a calorie conscious scoffer. Fanny is ashamed of the photograph of this Fatless Wonder that is included in the partwork, mainly because the layer of jam is almost as thick as the sponge itself. She refuses to name and shame the 'lavish' assistant responsible though - the message merely is 'don't disappoint me by making the same mistake'. I hope I haven't.

Baked Bunny

Fanny is sure that we are ready to move up a gear with our omelette making, having mastered the basic technique, sorted out our pans and explored a few fillings. Fanny calls this section 'Into the higher eschelons of the omelette tree' so you can see just how fancy she thinks this is. I had no idea that omelettes had trees, Fanny clearly skipped over that vital piece of information. At first read, I'm wondering if something has gone astray in the partwork, this doesn't look like an omelette to me. I'm sure this is a Baked Alaska, but Fanny is very quick to point out that this 'party pudding' is called this 'wickedly' by the misinformed. It is of course the Omelette Norvègienne, everyone knows that.

For this retro party pleaser, retro ingredients are required - a ready made sponge flan case, tinned fruit cocktail, eggs and ice cream. I tried to go really retro with the ice cream, but I failed to find an old fashioned block in cardboard, so I went 'indulgent' with some lovely Mackies vanilla instead. Fanny says you can either make your own ice cream (but 'surprisingly' she doesn't give a recipe) or you can soften and reshape some bought stuff. This seems perfect for me, and a perfect opportunity for me to reach for my retro rabbit mould which reminds me of puddings and jellies when I was young. Fanny just uses a circular mould, am I going too far?

I spray the mould lightly with oil before filling with the softened ice cream and returning it to the freezer to firm up again. It should be really hard. Fanny says I should trim the sponge to the correct size and moisten it with some juice from the fruit. Then add some of the fruit and place the brick hard ice cream on top.

The final flourish is a topping of piped meringue. Fanny has talked me through this before, and gives a nod in the partwork to say that she hopes I have been paying attention. I have. So, eggs are separated and whites whisked before you know it. Fanny likes to add some sugar and whisk again and then add more sugar folded in at the end. I'm not sure if Fanny would think I'm showing off, but I add some orange food colouring to a wee bit to make some meringue carrots too. Why not?

Fanny gets her poor assistant Peter to pipe the 'masking meringue mixture' over the whole thing, making sure it's all thickly buried in meringue. Fanny warns that we should not 'deny the evidence of our own eyes' and do exactly what Peter does in the pic-strip, which is expert piping and the putting it in a very hot oven. Pesky Peter however does not say how long to leave it in there, but I check it after about 8 minutes and it seems done. I've never made Baked Alaska, ahem I mean Omelette Norvègienne, before so this so exciting. It tastes like a luxurious trifle really, I'm surprised and relieved that the ice cream remained cold. I must've masked it well. More importantly, it looks sensational, especially when I tiddle it up Fanny-style with some extra fruit and the meringue carrots. Wherever the higher eschelons of the omelette tree are, I think I've gone there. But, have I out Fanny'd Fanny?