Those of us born in 1965, like me, will remember the '70s and all that this era had to offer in terms of gastronomy, making home entertaining seem so glamorous. Pretty gruesome, some of it, if you think of the astonishingly gaudy spectacles that the scary TV chef Fanny Craddock used to produce, with vast mounds of piped, frilly whipped cream and hideous adornings of radioactive angelica and cherries. Yes, you could tell even on a black and white telly. It was hilarious when contestants on the Generation Game tried - badly of course - to emulate her creations, but given the chance I'd have had a go! Then there was lovely Graham Kerr, the Galloping Gourmet. His recipes were undeniably rich, lots of cream and butter I remember, but somehow he seemed so much classier in his presentation techniques than Ms Craddock and his sunny temperament made him eminently watchable. In our house we were glued to both shows and didn't answer the phone when they were on!
TV shows aside, this was around the time that my mother was running a small catering business with her friend Barbara. They never really made any money cos they didn't charge enough but the quality was tip-top and they got loads of work. They used to cater for weddings, christenings, bar mitzvahs and garden parties and I used to help enthusiastically both in preparing the food and waitressing at the dos. I was only about 9, 10, 11 at the most and loved every minute of it, all the excitement of getting a booking, recipe-researching, budgeting and shopping at the cash and carry and getting to lick the beaters a lot. Not to mention the extra pocket money and it made a nice change from ironing Dad's shirts and washing the car! Our kitchen was far from state-of-the-art when we first moved in 1975 and there were sometimes 100 or more guests to cater for, but it all got done somehow. We were glad of the extra fridge and freezer in the outhouse, however!
Salmon koulibiaca I remember thinking was beyond the realms of anything I'd ever seen before - it seemed so exotic. Lovely buttery puff pastry (home-made back then and I got to decorate the top) encasing a moist filling of juicy flakes of salmon, cooked rice, herbs and lemon that was delicious hot or cold. Cool cucumber salad made with the thinnest slices of peeled and seeded cucumber, marinated in sugar, white wine vinegar and freshly chopped dill. Coronation chicken in huge bowls with toasted almonds on top. Garlic bread (I was in charge of making the garlic and parsley butter). Strange things called Leberknoedel (German-style liver dumplings) cropped up occasionally and I have to say they weren't my favourite things! And there was a delicious dip called Liptauer with cream cheese, sour cream, paprika, shallots, capers and I think caraway seeds to have with pretzels or bread which I could quite happily have eaten straight out of the bowl with a spoon ... and frequently did. Happy days!
At home, our young and trendy parents had lovely dinner parties on Saturday nights. We weren't posh by any means, but home entertaining was a big thing in those days. I can remember being very young and being so excited about these events, helping with the preparations during the day (tasting copiously as I went of course), polishing the teak, the silver and wine glasses, making the table look beautiful, putting the baby sister to bed, then waiting for the magical hour when the guests would arrive. With the help of the Cordon Bleu Cookery Course, its slim collectable volumes housed in dark blue plastic box files, Robert Carrier, Elizabeth David and Larousse amongst others we delved deep into the art of haute cuisine and managed to knock up plenty of delicious concoctions.
Baths would be run and the aroma of Badedas would fill the house. Mum would slide into on an evening dress or a cheesecloth top and bellbottoms, her funky orange Charles Jourdain slingbacks and backcomb her hair when the Carmen rollers were removed; Dad would polish his short-back-and-sides, slap on the Givenchy Gentleman and slip on crisp slacks and a polo neck. Bach's B Minor Mass or a Brahms symphony might be put on the record player - but if we were lucky the Best of the Carpenters or Simon & Garfunkel (or Demis Roussos perhaps!) My other sister (as opposed to the aforementioned baby one) and I would brush our hair till it shone, put on our best dresses - velvet or broderie anglaise probably, though we had a matching pair of long flowery frocks with a fetching lace trim for special occasions, which we thought were all the rage - and were allowed to stay up late and greet the guests and chat about school and music lessons. We would take the coats, throw them on mum and dad's bed and then come down to pass round the drinks and nibbles (there were always drinks and nibbles, I loved that bit of the evening and still do). Stuffed olives, pistachio nuts, cheese straws and - very classy this - smoked oysters or mussels. John West still do them and I always have some in the larder. I became dab hand at making the perfect G&Ts, Whisky and Gingers and things with Maraschino cherries in (lots of these would be eaten in the process, lovely). Sometimes there'd be a sing-song (German lieder, barber shop quartets or madrigals rather than rock and roll!) Everyone smoked in those days, so the grown-up and intoxicating aromas of alcohol and Dunhill International were mixed with whatever delicious cooking smells wafted through from the kitchen. At this point if we weren't eating with the adults, sister and I would disappear upstairs to play Ratrace or Jackstraws, but would often creep down later to the half-landing to eavesdrop on conversations, nick food from the kitchen and try and catch a glimpse of them eating and laughing in the dining room.
Typical dishes for one of these fabulous "soirees" might have been a starter of prawn cocktail (I loved making the Marie Rose sauce - mayonnaise, double cream, lemon juice, tomato ketchup, tabasco and a dash of dry sherry or brandy), or the lightest of salmon mousses which had been chilled in - and then divested of - its fish-shaped copper mould, decorated with cucumber slices and served on a scalloped stainless steel platter. Then maybe a delicious Steak Diane, or something Veronique or Boeuf Bourgignon (all garnished with curly parsley) or a fantastic meat fondue with lots of yummy dips to go with it (I was the dip meister). Puddings were absolutely divine - Gateau Diane with its gorgeous curls of dark chocolate "caraque" (that was Dad's speciality); chewy, crisp hazelnut meringue with cream and raspberries, lemon syllabub, chocolate mousse, Danish apple pudding (chilled layers of pureed apple with butter-fried crisp breadcrumbs and toasted almonds with whipped cream on top). Then there was Creme Caramel and something called Spanish Chocolate Pudding that involved soaking boudoir biscuits in lashings of Grand Marnier to line the serving dish and filling it up with a mixture of butter, Bourneville, more Grand Marnier, sugar, egg yolks and goodness knows what else. Soooooo yummy and rich. But the piece de resistance would be Crepes Suzette, flambeed at the table to much oohing and ahing. Then if anyone had any room there would be cheese and biscuits - perhaps a slice of runny Brie, some Danish Blue, Boursin and one of those logs of creamy cheese flavoured with orange and rolled in slivers of almond. Afterwards, to strains of "I'm so full I can't move" there was a mass exodus to the lounge to play bridge. The coffee percolator would go on, the Remy Martin and port would come out, cigarettes would be lit and sister and I would sneak down to the dining room once they were safely ensconced to hoover up any leftovers then peer through the gap in the door to watch them at the green baize table, the smoke hanging in a visible layer below the ceiling.
The reciprocal dinner parties at other people's houses were also great fun because we used to tag along in our pyjamas, do the drinks/nibbles/sing-song ritual and then be sent upstairs, but we were of course too excited to sleep being in a strange bed so would play drawing on each other's backs and read Little House on the Prairie till we eventually dozed off. I have hazy recollections of being carried down to the car in the early hours, wrapped in blankets, half asleep.
Those were the days! I vowed from then on to carry on the traditions of entertaining at home and have had quite a few successful evenings over the years but nothing will ever seem as sophisticated as those spectacular and atmospheric 1970s dinner parties that Mum and Dad used to have. To this day the smell of Meths and Goddard's silver polish takes me right back to those times and I am proud to say that I still have a lovely orange Le Creuset fondue set which gets a good airing now and then ...
Happy cooking!
AMT
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