Be Kind To Your Vegetables

Fanny Cradock has rules. Not guidelines. Commands. Laws. She insists that readers follow her every move, chapter and verse. No deviation. As per regulation. Especially when it comes to simple things. Like vegetables. Fanny grows her own produce, wherever possible, so she knows exactly what produces the best and worst results. Her fundamental formula for success is fairly well documented. Fanny liked to water her own garden with, erm, her own water. Madam's Tonic. Yes. A natural sprinkler system. It produced the best results.

However her criteria for vegetables need not to stretch to us modelling that. Her ruling is that, like her, we are simply able to recognise on sight the 'duds' that some shops sell. Fanny's maxim is that even at the worst greengrocers, it is hard to find leathery spinach, overgrown rhubarb and giant new potatoes. Vegetables are gorgeous in spring and early summer, Fanny says, and her only prescription for success, apart from her natural fertiliser, is that they should be cooked with kindness. Never boiled. That is a ruling. That would be cruel.

She sets a precedent with spinach, for example. It should be flung in a hot pan and wilted. The job should be done in eight minutes, by decree of Fanny. Just enough to draw out the natural water content, of which there will be much. A panful of spinach juices will run free, leaving only the smallest amount of spinach when Fanny's direction is followed. Perhaps you might want to cook it slightly longer if you picked your spinach from Fanny's garden.

Fanny serves her spinach by statute too, either 'en branche', in full leaf, or 'en purée' which is simply rubbed through a sieve. It is raised to great heights though with the addition of some cheese and a little cream, often served as a separate course by the French. They simply would not make a course from boiled vegetables, not with their palates. The French collect the juices from the spinach, as they recognise that they will contain the highest flavour. If boiled, this would mean slinging the best away. As in Fanny's bathroom regimen, presumably. Although, it may be more sanitary to boil in Fanny's case.

Fanny knows that she is always ramming French edicts down our throats. Her best guide for vegetables is English however. The Steamer. She claims it is a virtuous pastime, and valuable too if you can stack it correctly. The French may call this 'trucs' but we would simply know it as a 'tricks'. Like boiling rice in the pan, and having carrots steaming above, with cabbage leaves above that. The carrots should be mashed up and served simply, ruffled up with a fork, with a blob of cream added. The cabbage leaves will be happiest stuffed with the rice and a simple sprinkle of, erm, paprika. You were worried there, weren't you? Stick to Fanny's rules in the kitchen, if not the garden, and be kind to your vegetables.

Slim, Trim & Brimming with Vim

Fanny Cradock actually had a curious relationship with food. She delighted in it, but she feared it at the same time. At least she did once her TV career began - she said that the camera piled on extra pounds, even commenting after the war that both her and Johnnie were such a size that there was no way they'd both fit on the TV screen at the same time. She kept to a very strict diet to help keep herself trim, even taking her own 'slimline' food when invited round for dinner, while encouraging the rest of us to cook, eat and be ample. It's the same deal with TV cooks today really. She was ahead of the curves, shunning the 5:2 diet for a more extreme 6:1 version, all washed down with a few chemical helpers if the rumours are to be believed.

For her own 'slimming diet', she stuck to a fortnight of nothing more than lemon juice in hot water and perhaps a small grapefruit or 'slimming soup' to kickstart her into shape. Allegedly. For the Cookery Programme she recommends a Raw Carrot Salad as an hors d'oeuvre for slimmers. Fanny herself says it is nothing more complicated than topped, tailed, scraped and peeled carrots cut into juliennes strips on the mandoline, as used in professional kitchens in France. I have some lovely, knobbly, gnarly, dirty carrots from the market which badly need some love. Todays TV cooks might do the same, but spiralised I suppose, which makes me shudder. Surely there must be more to this salad than raw carrot?

While we ponder, Fanny has some crucial information about choosing a few other vegetables which may be used in hors d'oeuvres, which you could employ as if you were an expert. Thanks Fanny. She gives no clues what to do with them once you've chosen them. Presumably they are not for slimmers. And certainly not for bargain hunters. As Esoffier said, 'In the matter of provisions the cheapest is the dearest in the end'! So shall we have a little quiz together to guess which vegetables she is educating us about?

First up, something which should be shiny skinned, blackish purple in colour and as hard as a policeman's truncheon? It can leave a bitter taste in your mouth, but this can be easily drawn from the flesh with salt once exposed. Of course... aubergines. Next, something which should feel tight as drums as you hold them in your hands and should handle hard but with paper-thin skins. Soft spongy ones are worthless, Fanny warns. That's right... onions. Lastly, something which should be small and hard - the bigger, more impressive ones will not have a good taste, a bit like boiled turnips, so only the very tips should be devoured. You got it... radishes, naturally.

Now that is all clear, we can turn our attention back to the dubious diet, and back to the carrots. There is no way Fanny would simply serve shredded carrots to a slimmer. If like me, you are hoping for the addition of another flavour, look away. No, she also cuts ribbons of carrot, rolls them up into little curls, secures them with a cocktail stick and decorates the edge of the 'salad' with them. Not even a poppyseed. I think perhaps she has been spending too much time fondling her other 'vegetables' and knocking back her little friends if I'm perfectly honest. I do love carrots, and raw is bang on trend right now, but those so-called healthy, clean fads are not for me. I enjoy food too much, just like Fanny, but without the miniature helpers. Maybe I should take her advice after all?

Seventies Salad

I'm going to ask you to close your eyes in a moment. Just warning you. However you'll need to read on just for a little bit to find out why on earth I would ask you to do so. Don't worry, I'm not going to flash up a photo of yet another crazy creation from Fanny Cradock, well not just yet. No, I want you to shut your peepers and think of your childhood salad. Oh dear, I should've said that once you've thought of it you need to open them again and continue reading. I do hope you've worked that bit out all for yourselves...

What did you see? I'd hazard a guess if you saw a boiled egg on your plate that you, like me, are a child of the seventies, or before. No salad was complete in our house without one. A little bit of lettuce, maybe some cucumber for special occasions, some pickled beetroot from a jar (which I never touched), perhaps a spring onion but always a hard boiled egg. Fanny too thinks that eggs are ideal for a summertime salad. She lived in a time before 'salad' meant pre-packed pillows of Frisee, Radicchio and Wild Rocket.

Fanny, years before dearly beloved Delia, first of all ensures that we know how to boil an egg. She brings a small pan of very ordinary domestic tap water to a fairly fast boil. Eggs should then be lowered in on a tablespoon to avoid cracking and cooked for eggsactly (sorry) seven minutes. Drain down the sink (just incase you had other ideas). Fanny then turns on the cold tap and runs it over the boiled eggs still in the pan until they themselves are cold. Tap the eggs very gently all around against the side of the sink to peel away the shells in seconds without 'unsightly fingernail marks.' Quite.

This technique from Fanny also means that the yolk will not be black against the white inside, which, Fanny says, frequently results from not chilling the egg instantly. Check it for yourself, slice the eggs in half lengthways and arrange them in the centre of the plate to begin the salad. No black. Fanny first surrounds the eggs with a 'ring of carrots' which can be either cut by hand laboriously or with ease and speed with a mandoline. Fanny always gives unbiased choices. Fingers must be kept out the way when using the mandoline. I have a guard on mine. Fanny had assistants.

Fanny shreds some white cabbage for an additional ring and skins tomatoes to make petal shapes for added decoration. For maximum appeal, Fanny flavours some mayonnaise with the juice of an orange and pipes it into rosettes in-between. Fanny does say that this is only when she is feeling grand and leisurely, otherwise she'd just plonk the mayonnaise down in a bowl separately. It's essentially a deconstructed coleslaw with a boiled egg, but Fanny makes it seem much grander, in a leisurely way. Using the mandolin keeps the carrots crisp and crunchy, and the whole salad is quite lovely. Did you have hard boiled eggs in your salad? Oh I do hope you've opened your eyes again ready to enjoy the full effect.

Stuff that Judge!

Fanny doesn't like to judge (much *cough*) but she doesn't like vegetable racks. You know the layered ones that lurk around the kitchen. She goes as far as calling them 'beastly things' that are no more than a 'tiered sieve which silts dirt onto nice clean floors or shelves'. Have a quick glance into your own kitchen, is there one there? If so, you may be one of the happy but uneducated band of housewives who are new to housekeeping and may need Fanny's help in how to judge your vegetables. Fanny is an authority and is keen as ever to critique your shopping basket and appraise the vegetables you've shamefully returned with. You clearly need help.

Cabbages should be crisp and hard to the touch - Fanny says limp leaves and pliable centres are 'eloquent of old age'. Cauliflowers too should be crisp and hard, with each floret white and tightly snuggled up to its neighbour. Celery should snap when you bend it - if it bends, move on! Please do not buy Brussel Sprouts that look like 'over-blown cabbages for Borrowers'. Fanny appears to be blushing slightly, or maybe it's me, as she discusses Brussels. She knows the French have a vulgar name for them, but she simply won't share it with us. All she will say, delicately, is that it refers to them being firm, tight and tiny. Oh my, Fanny!

Fanny likes her carrots hard, crisp, thick and stumpy. Never as long, tapering things which are inedible. Quite. Jerusalem Artichokes should not be like tired waiters' feet, just in case that was your preferred point of reference. If they are all bunions and knobbles, they are not suitable for munching on. The artichokes that is, not the waiters' feet, that is entirely your own preference. Fanny prefers hers with only tiny knobbles, which are easier to groom instead of full-on knobbles which are murder for both time and hands. Again, this applies to artichokes and not waiters. Maybe.

To prepare a range of 'crisp and hard' vegetables for the judging bench, Fanny suggests a dazzling array of canapés. Sure to impress even the fiercest of critics. Brush a mushroom with olive oil and bake it for ten minutes, before topping with carefully wilted and sieved spinach mixed with cheese, butter and seasoning. It can look fairly plain, so of course, top it jauntily with an almond. Steam a baby marrow (also known as courgette, Fanny helpfully points out), split it lengthways and scoop out the insides. Mash them and mix them up with breadcrumbs, cheese, garlic, butter and seasoning, stuff it all back into the baby marrow and bake. While the oven is on, you may as well make the most of it so scoop out a tomato and stuff it with breadcrumbs, cheese and herbs and pop it in there too.

If no only-slightly-knobbly artichokes are available, a tin will suffice. Drain them, top them with a thick cheese sauce and bubble them under the grill. A sliver of tomato is all that is required to transform your presentation. Again, jaunty is best. For the final canapé, Fanny reaches into her handbag and reveals the tool of all true professionals - the boat shaped tin. Bake scraps of pastry in them, and fill with steamed carrots chopped finely and mixed with cream and a mere 'gooseberry' of butter. Fanny judges these to be the bees-knees of canapés, little did she know in only a few years her judgements would mean the end to her career on the BBC. Just ask poor Gwen Troake who was 'judged' by Fanny to be a rank amateur. These days an online petition would call for Fanny to be reinstated à la Clarkson, but poor Fanny had to slink back to her rack-free, silt-less kitchen and convince herself that she was right, she was always right, it's the way of professionals.