Skools Out 4 Eva

I just can't imagine Fanny Cradock at school. Can you? I can't imagine her being a child at all. She has so expertly crafted her persona and image for our enjoyment, that is hard to picture her in any other way. Especially as a 'nipper'. I can't imagine her impatiently shoving her hand in the air to answer a teachers question. I can't imagine her playing hopscotch in the school yard at break time. I can't imagine her sitting with other children and enjoying a meal at lunchtime. Perhaps she was born a fully formed adult?

I know it's not popular to admit it, but I was simply never a fan of school dinners. I'm not someone to look back fondly on the seemingly strange creations that were served up to keep our little minds active and stimulated throughout the day. I just wanted to get them over and done with. Except if there was pink custard. Everything is different with pink custard. It was probably a result of eating well at home, and cooking and baking from an early age too. The school canteen just held no pleasure.

It seems that Fanny and I shared this view. She wants to re-educate us all, starting with semolina. Before we all panic and make horrid faces, she is very clear that this will version will bear no resemblance to any school or canteen semolina that we would know. She goes further, chalking up in big letters on her imaginary blackboard the words THIS IS A SEMOLINA PUDDING WHICH YOU WILL NOT FIND REPELLENT.

She underlines this by calling this pudding 'Delicious French Version of Semolina' which she translates as 'Flamri de Semoule'. Perhaps she didn't pay much attention in French lessons either. Fanny brings some water to the boil, shoots in icing sugar, stirs, then adds the semolina. Her instruction is to stir it continuously, which I do, until the spoon will stand erect in it alone, which it does. Off the heat, she beats in an egg and when completely blended, some stiffly whipped egg white. This mixture is then transferred to an oiled pudding bowl ready to be steamed. Luckily I always have one at hand, ready.

Two hours later, it's ready to be unfolded. Fanny warns that if you take a premature peek the pudding is liable to collapse. She includes a photo of one, made by one of her naughty assistants who peeked, to hammer home the message. It's flat. It tasted fine, apparently. Fanny says to always remember that you can salvage any mistakes, but of course it is best to not make them in the first place. I take the instruction and leave mine. It's not flat. Fanny demands that it is served with fresh raspberries and raspberries sieved to make a juice. She tells us that no-one will complain if a little gently whipped double cream is also added. So I do. No-one complained. This pudding shares nothing with my memories of semolina, and is indeed delicious. Every day is a school day with Fanny.

Would You Adam and Eve It?

Fashions for cookbooks continue to change all the time - whether it be the authors, the content or the design. Fanny herself devised an amazing array of over 40 cookbooks, and she rode every imaginable craze going.  She blooming well invented them too. The main direction she wanted us to go was backwards, of course not in our skills, in time. She wanted to 'bring back' good, old fashioned British cooking, with more than an 'Allo 'Allo to the French way of doing things. By that she meant mainly Victorian-style gastronomy, but more suited to the garish orange fabric of life for the modern housewife of the 60's and 70's who wasn't fortunate enough to have 'help'. So, everything had to be easy to achieve (which meant following Fanny to the letter), in super quick time (which was before your husband returned from work with his new boss for dinner) and without straining the  purse (which had taken rather a battering in recent years).

You see Fanny loved a pudding. Ye Olde ones mainly. She often called them Puddens. Savoury or sweet, mostly steamed but sometimes baked. Sometimes frozen or 'set'. All sorts of ingredients could be mixed up, transferred to one of the many pudding moulds from the dazzling display of designs that lined the kitchen shelves and simmered on the stove, or in a bain-marie in the oven, for a good few hours. Sometimes stodgy. Sometimes solid. Sometimes substantial. Always a filling, old-fashioned addition to any meal. Fanny wrote about them throughout all her cookbooks, and usually managed to slip in a pudding to her Bill of Fare, despite them slipping in and out of fashion.

I am delighted, as I'm sure Fanny would be too, that they may be coming back into vogue, thanks to a wonderfully glorious new cookbook just about to be released. I managed to snap up a sly copy ahead of release thanks to my local Waterstones being somewhat 'fluid' on dates and seemingly popping books on the shelves as they arrive in store. Naughty but nice. The wonderfully titled Pride and Pudding from Regula Ysewlin (Miss Foodwise if you please) is the most luxurious romp back through the centuries of puddings, savoury and sweet. Not only immaculately researched, but each recipe, in both original and updated form, is presented with a thoroughly ravishing set of photographs to boot. Regula is a talented photographer and graphic designer. Drool. The book is all wrapped together with a suitably elaborate and engaging design, thanks to Regula's husband and illustrator Bruno. Regula has Bruno. Fanny had Johnnie.

I can't take my eyes of the book, it's my current bedtime read. I'm not getting much sleep. I even started to leaf through the stunning pages while walking along the street heading home after excitedly, and sneakily it seems, buying it. This is the book Fanny wishes she could've written, telling the story not only of the British pudding, but also the cooks, writers and moments in history that helped to shape them. Many of them women. Fanny's all-time favourite Mrs A.B. Marshall features in the Ices and Jellies section. It had been Fanny's lifelong desire to reintroduce Mrs Marshall to the gastronomic world. Perhaps if Johnnie had been able to able to be more help than blethering on about booze she may have succeeded.

Fanny revives an Apple Pudding for us in the Easter partwork in the guise of Adam and Eve, mixing up her biblical references delightfully. It's a simple pudding made from breadcrumbs, moistened with milk, suet, sugar, lemon zest, raisins, egg and chopped apples added. I've used vegetable suet, naturally, and lovely Pink Lady Apples. Fanny doesn't specify. Mixed together and rammed into mini buttered moulds they simply steam for an hour or so, served still steaming away with a small dollop of cream. Fanny showcased them in her own very particular style back in the 1970's, already fading from fashion by then, but I love it. She would've been so very jealous of Pride and Pudding, but suitably proud and passionate too. I'm delighted to have both in my life - there is always room for pudding, whatever the fashion, whatever the mould and whatever the design. 

Pudding on the Brits

I don't know about with you, but it's been snowing here in Edinburgh this weekend, so something totally warming, perhaps stodgy and oh-so comforting is required. Quick as a flash, Fanny flies in with her long-forgotten solution, native to these isles and once found on almost all kitchen tables - the steamed pudding. A savoury one to boot. She claims it's one of her very favourites, as it has cheese in the crust, but of course she puts her own special twist on it to help with the presentation...

Fanny says she's flicked through all the cookery books she owns (which I imagine are simply the ones she has written herself) and despite all her furious research, she has been unable to find anything even remotely similar to this, ever, in history. She's not claiming to have invented this one, she does recognise that she may have seen it somewhere, she is just not sure where or when. This does not stop dear old Fanny from unveiling it to the world.

Fanny's savoury crust of course uses proper, everyday, honest to goodness suet. No-one would ever need to explain it, or indeed have any consideration that you may not be happy to eat it. Thank heavens for a vegetarian version courtesy of Atora snuggling away in my cupboard waiting for such a weekend as this. Once nestled in with the flour (self-raising as Fanny always insists), some additional baking powder, a little seasoning, a whole load of cheese and 'enough' cold water to make a good stiff dough no-one would ever be able to tell anyway. I love a suet dough, it's so manageable and as I've used bright red cheese in this one, you can really see the flecks as your roll it. I'm feeling warm and cheery already.

Fanny fills her pudding with beef. pork or veal, so I swap that for some frozen vegetables. It seems appropriate for this oh-so freezing weekend. Fanny herself was a fan of the freezer too, so I'm not going to feel too badly. All seems fine. I fling the spinach and butternut squash into pans (separate ones) and cook them down. The squash goes all squishy, but that's fine as I want a very rough purée, honest. To both I add a touch of seasoning and a grind of fresh nutmeg. Oh and egg yolks, just like Fanny does to her meat. I wonder of she made hers look like google eyes too? Actually, probably.

Any normal suet pudding, even a savoury one, Fanny notes, would start off with the pastry lining the well buttered bowl. Not here. Oh no. Fanny builds up layers in stripes of cheesy suet crust and filling, cutting suet discs in every increasing circles to fit the bowl. Fanny steams the pudding for two and a half hours before unmoulding. She does warn that these puddings are not for the faint hearted or those nervous of turning them out in front of guests. If you fall into these categories, Fanny recommends that you serve it just from the bowl, with a clean napkin wrapped around it, or revert back to an old fashioned style pudding, with the bowl lined and filling inside. I think in giving such an instruction most readers would quiver and cave in. But why would you pass the opportunity to slice into this striped beauty and wow your guests, not only with the taste but with the style too. Please don't be a pudden and allow suet puddings to remain forgotten, they really are so very perfect for a winters treat.

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.

Talk of the Steamie

Cooking along with Fanny Cradock regularly leads me to reminisce about foods from my own past, as well as foods that have somehow sadly become neglected in the midst of time. Sometimes Fanny is cooking things I remember we ate, or using an ingredient that I haven't seen for a while. Sometimes she is looking back on a dish that we used to eat a lot, maybe not prepared in the same way. When I see Steamed Chocolate Pudding I think of a tin from Heinz bubbling away on a stove long after the meal was finished with some dazzling bright custard waiting as patiently as we were. Of course Steamed Pudding à la Cradock, revived from history, does not involve any nasty tins, everything is prepared from scratch and prepared for a very special occasion.

You'll recall Fanny teased us with this recipe over a year ago, while she was showing us a steamed suet pudding. This time she introduces it without fanfare, after all that waiting. This is the famous pudding she created especially for the writer W Somerset Maugham. In 1981, around a decade after the partwork was published, Fanny and Johnnie were clearly more keen to recollect, publishing a book musing over their memories through the years. Actually, 'Time to Remember' was more like an early edition of Hello magazine, as they gossiped and dropped names on almost every page as they harked back to review the rich and famous folk who had enjoyed their cooking through the years.

As Fanny tells it, W Somerset Maugham, in his nineties at the time, was a man who really knew his food. Unfortunately Annette, who Fanny admits was one of the 'finest woman cooks' in France and who worked for the writer, was simply no good with 'nursery puddings' and in particular those faffy English ones. Fanny lists some of the recipes that Annette could make successfully, including Crème Maire-Louise, fish pie and a 'peasant' omelette, and also some of the well-to-do folks that had enjoyed them, including Winston Churchill, the Duchess of Windsor and the Aga Khan. But her steamed puddings were 'a disaster'.

Clearly then when W Somerset Maugham was to come to luncheon it would be a show-off affair with a showstopping steamed pudding to finish. Fanny provided a choice of two desserts but dear old 'Willie' (they were so close) exclaimed, after just one mouthful of the chocolate pudding, 'Ignore the other, take the pudding. It is truly admirable, extremely light... oh yes...!' before polishing off three portions. The pudding itself was made simply by creaming butter, adding sugar, flour and ordinary drinking chocolate with eggs and a little milk. Then steamed for three hours in a thickly buttered basin covered with buttered papers. Don't tell Annette.

Fanny served her hard-to-resist and hard-to-replicate (if you are a French cook or don't happen to have Fannys own instructions) pudding with a chocolate pouring sauce made by softening chocolate in a small pot with brown sugar and a little water. Flakes of butter are then beaten in with slosh of brandy. As ever. I'm using a Mint Puddle Chocolate from Dairy Milk, simply because it was calling to me as I stood in the supermarket checkout queue (it was on offer), and I thought it'd make a particularly good sauce. It did. The pudding is indeed light and moist. It as indeed reminiscent of those puddings I had in tins when I was young, but 'oh yes', so much better. My memories have indeed been replaced. I can't quite manage thirds, but will enjoy it at several points throughout the day, which is surely the same thing?

Impromptu Popeye Pudding

Fanny Cradock was a great believer in making the most of food, and not wasting anything. The endless books and booklets she produced were designed to allow the 'ordinary housewife' to budget effectively and prepare sensational dishes that would leave everyone else feeling a little put out by just how fantastic they were. In 1970, at the same time as the Cradock Cookery Programme weekly part works were in publication, Fanny treated us all to her wisdom when entertaining, with a thirteen part TV show called 'Fanny Cradock Invites...'. Of course, there was an accompanying booklet chock full of plans, tips and suggested menus for almost every social occasion. A Cheese and Wine Party to dazzle your husbands bosses, a Cold Sunday Brunch Buffet for 'compulsive party givers who work through the week' (I wonder who she was thinking of?) - even a Teenagers Party complete with the essentials - Sangria, Mulled Wine and cigarettes... I held my own party this weekend for a few friends to come together and watch Eurovision. Fanny had a chapter for a Television Party and suggested a heated trolley which could be wheeled as close to the semi circle of seats as possible, to ensure your lovingly prepared hot items didn't spoil. Why didn't I have one of those! One thing she never suggests though, is what to do with the leftovers. Perhaps this would imply that Fanny never had any, who would dare to leave anything if you found yourself at her party with the luxury trolley approaching? But I had some...

I didn't follow Fanny's plans for a Television Party menu, but did try and incorporate a European theme. Fanny herself released a few books on Euro Food - or Common Market Cookery as she referred to it then. I had some Spinach Purée that I had used to make Spanakopita Pies and also some Scandinavian Beetroot Bread that I had baked leftover. My guests thankfully ate most of the mountains of food I had prepared, but there's always something lurking about afterwards isn't there? So, I was delighted to see the next recipe in the Cookery Programme collection of steamed delights was a Savoury Steamed Spinach Pudding which happened to be made with all my leftovers. 

For this recipe, the bread needed to be whizzed up to make breadcrumbs and added to the Spinach Purée, with some soured cream, Parmesan or similar cheese, some egg yolks and seasoning. Fanny suggests the classic partner of nutmeg as well as salt and pepper. I'd already added some to my purée so didn't add more at this stage. Fanny, I'm ahead of you! 

Fanny says to blend all the ingredients together well. I assume she means in a mix and not whizzed in a blender, but I can't be sure. Gut instincts intact, that's what I do, before adding the final ingredients of melted butter and stiffly whisked egg whites folded gently in.

The final mixture is quite wet and gloopy, and falls into the well-buttered pudding basin easily. It's a wonderful mix of colours with the green spinach and pink Beetroot bread flecks - I'm sure Fanny would be pleased. My breadcrumbs were quite large and noticeable in the mix, rustic looking I'd say. The final instruction was to steam for two hours. The pudding emerged looking glorious and puffed up, just like I remember Popeye's muscles looking as he squeezed open a can of spinach as a child. It cut well, and had a deep earthy taste, the spinach and beetroot combined well. Fanny proclaims this as a perfect vegetarian main course, and I wouldn't disagree, but it also happens to be a perfect way to use up my party leftovers, transforming them into a whole new dish. Fanny has infiltrated my mind though and I am thinking a heated trolley would actually be perfect for the next party...

Fanny Cradock goes nuts for an Austrian Nusspudding!

If you haven't guessed it yet, Fanny Cradock loves steamers. For those that haven't quite picked up the hint yet, she quotes herself in the partwork saying "A steamer is to a good cook what a pressure cooker is to an ignorant one". Fanny doesn't like pressure cookers. Her evidence is based on rigorous testing of course, putting them through their paces with a delicate spring chicken. No jokes required. The poor bird emerged from it's pressurised time tasting like a bath sponge. Presumably Fanny tested those too. No moisture was the main complaint - the concentrated flavour of the bird had been 'purged out by pressure'. Fanny says 'stick to your steamer and you will never go wrong" - you might, like me, expect her to follow on with a chicken recipe but the poor spring chicken isn't mentioned again. We just have to take Fannys word for it I suppose. Instead Fanny takes us on an adventure to Austria.

Fanny describes this steamed Nusspudding - or Nut Pudding of course - as a very delicate and really rather super pudding which can be made with any kind of nuts. Fanny recommends hazelnuts or perhaps walnuts but simply can't resist adding in an option 'if you happen to be a millionaire' - pistachios. You just know that Fanny and Johnnie would use pistachios, and feeling like maybe I could aspire to be well-to-do myself that's what I opt for. 

This Austrain delight is made using fine, soft, white breadcrumbs and quite a lot of them. I don't have any fresh, or even nearly fresh, bread to hand, but I do have a ginormous bag of Panko breadcrumbs that I picked up at my local Chinese Supermarket. They were a bargain, hopefully Fanny would approve, especially given the carefree way I went straight to the millionaires choice of pistachios. I reckon they will work here as step one is to cover them in cold water and wring them out in a clean, dry cloth. 

The breadcrumbs really form the base of the pudding, there's no added flour after that. Fanny gets me to 'set to' beating up the butter until it's fluffy, creaming in some caster sugar and then adding in separated egg yolks and spoonfuls of soaked crumbs in small quantities. After they've all been beaten in well, add the freshly 'milled' pistachios. I whizzed mine up in the food processor. The last addition is the egg whites whisked to very stiff peaks and gently folded in. It's actually looking and feeling like a soufflé at this stage.

Fanny must've been thinking the same, as she suggests steaming this one in a soufflé dish. Usual steaming rules apply - oiled papers first then cover with foil. I am taking Fannys advice here too and making a 'strap' out of foil to allow me to easily remove it once steamed. I'm improvising a little here and just using a large saucepan with a wee terracotta dish in the bottom as my steamer. The covered soufflé dish sits on the dish surrounded by gently steaming water, perfect. Fanny gives two top tips - do not peek at it once it's in or it will result in a hollow pud, and don't for some reason bang the steamer down on the kitchen table once done, or it will all go wrong. I'm guessing either one of the assistants did this, or some poor soul who wrote in to tell Fanny her recipe failed. So, advice noted and some three hours later - Fanny never pretended steaming is quick - I lift the pudding out, unwrap it and carefully turn it out. It looks glorious, cuts well and tastes great! If your purse will still stretch to it, Fanny says to serve it with a rich hot chocolate sauce. Mmm, those Austrians know a thing or two about puddings.

Steam in a Teacup

Fanny is always encouraging us to get 'one up' on the neighbours by serving up something a little out of the ordinary. She clearly thinks that the neighbours are all beavering away baking - and I guess with the ever rising popularity of the Great British Bake Offf she is probably more right now than ever. Fanny is on a mission however, and that is to establish with us that there are nearly as many steamed cakes as baked ones that we could be showing off with. Not only that, but of course if you have a good sponge mixture you can easily make a variety of sensational offerings from it. Fanny says that she whips a large batch each time to make not only a large, traditional steamed pudding but several smaller ones. One thing that irks her however are those people who dedicate their lives to crocheting little bags with handles in string in order to use them as pudding holders. Why burn your fingers (the string handles are just as hot as the pudding) when you can use a strap of tin foil underneath the during bowl? Let's hope there is not a new TV show in development, the Great British Crochet Off would NOT please Fanny.

The Fanny Cradock basic sponge mix is flour, eggs, sugar and a little butter. She suggests a technique I haven't used before though, involving two bowls and boiling water. I'm intrigued. It seems a bit like making a Genoise Sponge to me. I'm here to learn, so here goes. Eggs and sugar in a small bowl, and then pop that into a larger bowl which is a third filled with boiling water. Whisk together until the mixture becomes thick and foamy. It's lovely to watch the science happening infront of your eyes, as the mix changes colour, consistency and character. Foamy it is.

The flour then needs to be folded in very gently, and Fanny says this MUST be done with a rubber spatula. Of course she doesn't explain why, but does put in bold letters DO NOT BEAT, so I don't. Fanny suggests adding lemon zest here, but I haven't any so add some Vanilla Paste instead. There's always one thing! The next stage confuses me a little, again just because of the lack of explanation. Fanny says I should add 'softened' butter which is not oil. Her explanation of what that means says that I should 'soften the butter without oiling it'. My brain hurts and all I can think to do is melt it, almost. So decision made that's what I do, and fold it in gently again as instructed.

At this stage, Fanny says I can turn it into a pudding bowl, or for more fun spoon it into individual tea cups for steaming. I always find it hard to pass up the extra fun option, so teacups it is! Butter them as you would a bowl, and half fill. The mixture is glossy now with the butter and tastes good - cooks privilege of course of licking that spatula.

The large pudding would need 2 1/2 hours of steaming, but these teacups only need 50 minutes. They are covered in oiled paper and foil as usual. I'm safe in the knowledge that as they are small I can use my tea-towel to pick them up when done, no burnt fingers or nasty crochet required. Fanny shows a photo of her humorous presentation which is basically the sponges removed from the teacups and 'filled' with jam and given an angelica handle. Fanny recommends Apricot Jam, but I'm using Three Berry Preserve from Mackays. I actually found them quite hard to get out of the teacups (despite being well buttered) and probably would've just left them in it. Clearly I am not as much fun as Fanny hoped. The puds themselves are springy and soft, and tasty too. I wonder why angelica isn't as popular as it once was, it's so versatile as a decoration - I'm sure those neighbours who are crocheting furiously would be totally convinced I was about to tuck into an actual teacup... Wouldn't they?