Johnnies' Jugs of Joe

Fanny noted that back in the 1970's more and more people in Britain were becoming converted to coffee and those that weren't simply hadn't had the fortune to taste the real thing. If all you'd had was the 'boiled soot or beige dill water' which average catering establishments substitute for 'real coffee' then how could you possibly be expected to savour the flavour? And isn't it very complicated to make?  Are you scared off from tackling coffee in the first place by 'so called experts' waffling on about it? Perhaps you don't have a coffee making pot? What if that expert was no other than Johnnie himself showing how to make perfect coffee everytime, without much fancy equipment, in a pic-strip? Perfect!

Fanny and Johnnie don't want to recommend any particular type of coffee, but do stipulate a few basic rules to ensure that we can all enjoy a perfect cup. Never economise on the amount of coffee you use, the flavour will only suffer. If you buy ground coffee instead of freshly ground beans you will end up with an inferior flavour. Coffee, back in the 70's, was a luxury item, ideal for this time of year, and basically you need to splash out to justify your expenditure. Johnnie says it's common sense.

I feel like I'm recreating a scene from Trainspotting as Johnnie insists I lay out a small jug, some tin foil and a spoon in readiness for my 'real' coffee experience. According to Johnnie, this is the method used to make coffee in France, so it must be the best. The instructions are simple - place the coffee in the jug and pour over just boiled water, stir thoroughly and cover with the foil as a lid. Leave it alone for 3 or 4 minutes, before pouring it through a sieve into a coffee pot. Drink, with extreme pleasure.

It's quite a ceremony really. The finished coffee tasted weak to me, perhaps I've scrimped on the quantity of beans I've ground? It tastes good, I'm surprised, but no punch. But wait, this is everyday coffee, Johnnie has a few more tricks up his sleeve to help me enjoy a stronger brew.

The first is a perfect after dinner coffee. First pour just boiled water over ground coffee in a small pan. Johnnie specifies a copper pan, but sadly no such thing of beauty appeared under my tree this Christmas. Turn up the heat until the mixture seethes to the rim. Remove from the heat until it subsides, them repeat this three times. Once entirely seethed (presumably the coffee and not me) turn off the heat and (if you are being economical) add 1 or 2 drops of ice cold water to drive the grounds to the base of the pan. If however you are striving for perfection, add 3 or 4 drops of rose water. Well, Johnnie promised the perfect coffee, so it had to be rose water for me. We are not finished there though. While the coffee cools completely, a vanilla pod is popped in. Once cool, that is removed and the coffee sieved and heated up again, to just about boiling. Never boiling, just below. And voila, the perfect after dinner coffee. It's a little stronger, and the rose and vanilla give a good taste. Presumably your guests will have given up waiting by this time of course and may have gone home.

If you fancy hanging on your guests you could always serve them the most extravagant and luxurious coffee in the world. Quite a claim! It's a Café Brûlot, and Johnnie says is highly impressive after-dinner, quickly and easily made. Phew! In a flame proof vessel, place sugar, orange rind and a vanilla pod. Muddle them together. Gently heat some brandy (always the least expensive available to you), pour it over and set it alight. Oooh, pretty blue flames. It's tempting to just look at the flames for a while, and I assume dinner guests would be ooh-ing and aah-ing too, but really they should be put out by pouring piping hot coffee on them. Strain and serve the coffee as it is - NEVER with sugar or cream. It's lovely actually, really strongly flavoured and a kick of brandy. Perfect.

So there we go, three ways to make a perfect coffee at home. Simple, impressive and extravagant. The final recommendation from the Cradocks despite what they said is to invest in a coffee making pot, which they just happen to be selling to you as a special offer in this issue. It's proper Italian and includes full instructions on how to use it, so you could just ignore all Johnnies advice really. Fanny obviously does. My heads buzzing from all the coffee and jiggery-pokery. Happy New Year everyone, hope that 2015 is a good one. 

Glögg, Glögg, Glögg

I should've had more faith in Fanny, she does have some favourite alcoholic cocktails to share for Christmas after all. Poor old Johnnie isn't a fan however. Despite teaching Fanny 'all she knows' about wine, he defines a cocktail as 'a number of good ingredients ruined by being mixed together.' Fanny is keen to surprise him though, and reaches into the depths of history to uncover some long forgotten, erm, classics, as well as some new wonders borrowed from around the world. Fanny must've picked up that I'm feeling a little under the weather this week, as most of the festive favourite are hot, hot, hot! I've been supping on some Galloway Chilli Jam Hot Toddies to try and scare the bugs off, but I'm willing to try some of Fannys specialities too. It might help. It's kind of research.

Before I get to the hot cocktails though, Fanny suggests a cold one. Made with milk. Stored for a few weeks before drinking. I dare say if I wasn't feeling too hot already, this would surely finish me off, but it's worth a go isn't it? For the Cold Milk Punch (which Fanny also calls Old Milk Punch, I can't work out if it's a typo or not) I need to soak lemon peel in rum for 24 hours, before adding brandy, the lemon juice, cinnamon, nutmeg and sugar. After a quick stir to dissolve the sugar, Fanny gets me adding boiled milk. She does warn that the mixture will curdle, and it does. I'm glad I did this in advance whilst feeling brighter. Adding some boiling water doesn't help. Fanny recommends leaving it for 24 hours covered with a cloth before straining and bottling and leaving it somewhere safe for a few weeks. I wish I'd forgotten where I'd stored it in all honesty, not even the rum, brandy and spices couldn't save me from 'old milk'.

In need of something warm and soothing I'm pleased not see that Fanny recommends a Churchwarden. Much more like it. It's a mix of lemon, cloves, red wine and tea. Perfect for this time of year and a real tonic after weeks-old milk. Fanny stabs cloves into a lemon and pops it into a cool oven until the lemon turns light brown. The smell is amazing, certainly clearing my poor sinuses. While the lemon is baking, heat the wine and get ready some scalding hot tea. Fanny says ideally should be green and from Mr Laity's shop in St Ives, Cornwall. This seems very specific to me (does it even still exist?), and quite a trip, so I reach for a TeaPigs instead. The roasted lemon is immersed in the hot wine, and hot tea poured on top with a little sugar. Yahoo for the Churchwarden, it's lovely. I expect it'd be even lovelier if I had the  right tea. Sorry Fanny. Sorry St Ives.

My cold isn't quite lifting yet, so I'd better bash on with more 'remedies'... Fanny has a richly sweet one for me next, it's called a Negus. Unusually Fanny doesn't give any explanation why, it just is. It's a classic. It's made with Port, although Fanny does say you can substitute Red Wine if wishing to be more economical. This is no time for economy though, what could be more import at than my health? The port is heated, but not boiled, and added to a jug with sugar, lemon rind, lemon juice and grated nutmeg. Again, it's a treat for my nasal passages. Fanny says I should stand the jug near a fire, I don't think she had my radiators in mind, and pour on some boiling water. The mixture then needs to be stirred for 30 minutes while keeping it warm before serving up. It really is lovely, but without the benefit of a roaring hearth I had to reheat it before swigging it back.

Finally for today, Fanny wants to introduce a traditional recipe she has 'borrowed' from Sweden, which she says is traditionally made with Sherry but she finds a red wine works equally well. Its Glögg but Fanny says it's sort of pronounced Glurg. It's also got brandy, so can't be wrong can it? The brandy is warmed gently with sugar, cloves, cinnamon sticks, almonds and raisins until it's too hot to touch comfortably. The only way to test this is to keep sticking your finger in until it hurts. Ouch. Then I wonder if Fanny is losing it. She sets light to it. This is a fire hazard, and I already have Casualty on speed dial after the finger-scalding test. Once the flames die down, phew, it's added to the gently warming red wine, stirred and served. It's stunning, a real winner for me. The almonds and raisins add so much. I do wonder if essentially burning off the brandy alcohol was necessary though. I reckon several of these will shift my lungs no problem. Oh hang on, Fanny suggests bottling left-overs to be reheated for next time. Left-overs?