Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} TV Dinners In Search of Exciting Home Cooking by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall TV Dinners: In Search of Exciting Home Cooking by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. Has dinner had its chips? Traditional dinner - the preserve of special occasions? There is a familiar menu of food on television. In fact it seems to be a staple diet, with starters of Ainsley, main course of Delia, and pudding of Fearnley-Whittingstall. And yet Oxo is dropping its typical family dinner advertisements after 16 years, because "family life is changing". In other words, in an uncannily ironic twist, families are not sitting down together to have dinner, they are too busy watching adverts on the telly. Not all food takes all day to cook The "mother" of the campaign over the years, Lynda Bellingham, lamented the changes that have led to the demise of her screen role: "The whole family set-up has changed socially in the last 10 years. "I think people buy pre-cooked meals and I don't actually think it is realistic, people cooking gravy." People should be encouraged to sit down together at the table, she said, adding that she made her two children do it. When historians have some perspective on the 20th Century, the name Gerry Thomas might become better known than it currently is. For it was Thomas who invented the TV dinner, and thus helped forge the shape of family life for generations to come. The first TV dinner, in 1953, came in an aluminium tray, and consisted of turkey, buttered peas, and sweet potatoes. And - sadly for Oxo - it came with gravy supplied. Microwaves have their attractions And while he might have done for home cooking, Thomas's contribution to television has been huge. Earlier this year he was asked to add his handprints to the cemented line-up of stars in Hollywood who have gone before him. But it is not just in the US that his effect has been felt. A poll in 1997 found that two-thirds of British families had given up traditional dinner time for eating in front of the television. One analyst said of the poll: "We really are a nation of grazers and snackers." And a survey conducted earlier this year found that one in 20 UK families only eat together on special occasions, such as Christmas Day. At least one historian has warned against romanticising the traditional family dinner, saying it relied too much on the isolation of the wife who cooked it. Delia Smith's influence only reaches so far But Annabel Karmel, author of The Family Meal Planner, said it was a fallacy to think that just because food was fresh it would take all day to prepare. And she thinks that setting aside some time for dinner can do familes - and children - a lot of good. "There are so so many things you can do which are really quick.You can make the most fantastic stir fries which take 10 or 15 minutes. You can even buy cut up vegetables from the supermarket," she said. She was convinced of the value of sitting down together to eat. "I think children follow examples: if you're eating good food and your children see you, they're much more likely to follow your example. "And if you're prepared to sacrifice the time, even once a week, to sit down for Sunday lunch or Friday night, and you talk about what you've been doing during the week, you can stop communication getting lost between families." Disclaimer: The BBC will put up as many of your comments as possible but we cannot guarantee that all e-mails will be published. The BBC reserves the right to edit comments that are published. How to cook perfect coronation chicken. H ow the mighty have fallen. From royal favourite to sadly soggy sandwich-filling in a single reign, coronation chicken has experienced a decline in fortunes that would give even Fergie's accountant cause for concern. But then this 50s favourite has never been quite as posh as it seems. Created by the founder of Le Cordon Bleu cookery school, Rosemary Hume – rather than her better-known business partner, celebrity florist Constance Spry, as is often claimed – poulet reine Elizabeth , as it was originally known, was a deliberate and tactful compromise between the luxurious and the thrifty for a country still under the dreary yoke of postwar rationing. When I used my assembled family as (strangely carnivorous) guinea pigs over the Easter weekend, my father recalled how in his postwar childhood chicken was a Christmas treat and curry nothing but a vaguely bohemian rumour in his part of south London. So he was as surprised as anyone to hear that, according to cultural historian Joe Moran, coronation chicken was "designed as Britain's first 'TV dinner'". Hume knew that anyone who had access to a set would be glued to it all day – hence, to be a success, her dish had to be easy both to prepare in advance and to eat with a fork. So practical was her creation that it proved an instant hit with the fashionable hostesses of the decade: "Not since Escoffier invented peach melba has a dish so fast become so famous," Prue Leith has observed. It may be more retro than regal these days, but those same qualities make coronation chicken a useful party standby some 60 years on – whether you're celebrating the royal wedding or International Workers' Day. The original. Rosemary Hume's original recipe Photograph: Felicity Cloake for the Guardian. Rosemary Hume's original recipe contains a few surprises. For a start, instead of just chucking in any old bit of leftover poultry, I'm instructed to poach a chicken specially with parsley, thyme and bay, plus peppercorns and carrot, and allow it to cool in the liquid before pulling the meat off the bone. The dressing, meanwhile, is more complicated than the modern mess of mayo and curry powder would have one believe. After softening some onion in oil, I stir in curry powder, tomato puree and half a glass each of red wine and water, bringing it all to the boil before seasoning with salt, sugar, pepper and lemon juice and letting the mixture simmer for 10 minutes. Once cooled, I fold it through mayonnaise and add 1 tbsp apricot puree, made from soaked and boiled dried apricots. It's finished with 2 tbsp whipped cream, and then just enough of this mixture is added to "coat the chicken lightly". No luridly oozing sandwiches here. It's paler and pinker than the stuff we're used to, and unexpectedly delicate in flavour. "I think this would have tasted more exotic in 1953," my brother suggests, while my sister-in-law thinks the mayonnaise overpowers the spice. I quite like the combination of sweet fruit and tangy lemon juice, but it still lacks oomph to the modern palate. The fancy. Telegraph food guru Xanthe Clay has kindly prepared the ground for me on this occasion: in a piece last summer, she came to the conclusion that a "modern and sassy" recipe from reader Simon Scutt was the queen bee's knees of coronation chicken, though "it takes a bit of effort", she admits – and the lady's not kidding. After roasting my chicken with orange, cinnamon and bay leaves, I strip the carcass and use it to make a spicy stock with onion, garlic, white wine, fenugreek, coriander, cumin, curry powder and dried red chilli. While this is reducing, I make a saffron, turmeric, milk, white wine and mango chutney marinade (keeping up?) and stir in fresh coriander, sultanas and chopped dried apricot. After waiting for both to cool, I mix them together and stir them into the chicken, then put it all in the fridge overnight where it sets to a day-glo yellow jelly. Just before serving (phew) I fold through toasted curry powder and ground coriander, creme fraiche and mayonnaise, which dilute the dish to a pleasant sunshine shade – everyone's very eager to try this one. Some reckon the roasted chicken has a better flavour than the poached stuff, though the latter is undeniably juicier; the sauce has a less enthusiastic reaction – "it's a bit bland and liquid", my sister-in-law says, while my brother reckons it's the buffet equivalent of a chicken korma: "Some people go into restaurants and order it, and they like it – but it's not exactly exciting." I'm disappointed that, after all the effort, it's so underwhelming. Sorry Simon and Xanthe, but no crown for this one. The cheat's version. A quickie alternative, courtesy of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. My previous attempts at coronation chicken have always involved Sunday's leftovers, so I'm back on familiar ground with Hugh Fearnley- Whittingstall's recipe for cold cooked chicken. The dressing is simplicity itself: 2 tbsp "good spicy fruit chutney" (I use mango, in keeping with the Anglo-Indian theme), mixed with 1 tbsp "good Madras curry powder" and equal parts Greek yoghurt and mayonnaise and tossed through the meat, which is then left to marinate for a couple of hours and finally garnished with toasted almonds and chopped coriander. The sandy colour looks the part to our modern eyes, and the assertively fruity, spicy flavour wins fans too – everyone loves it, although my mum points out quite rightly that the raw curry powder adds a harsh note to the dressing. The yoghurt stops the mayonnaise from taking over the dish, without imparting the slightly buttery flavour of creme fraiche. A solid, crowd-pleasing recipe for anyone in a hurry – and I love the crunch of the nuts. The healthy take. The National Dining Rooms' lighter affair. The National Dining Rooms at London's National Gallery ought to know a thing or two about British cookery, and their recipe intrigues me. Like Hugh's it uses a mixture of yoghurt and mayonnaise, but adds apricot conserve, fresh ginger and Worcestershire sauce to the curry powder. Other rogue elements include peas, sherry-soaked raisins and fresh parsley and coriander, folded into a rice salad with peppers and spring onions. The peas and raisins remind me forcefully of school curries of the 1980s and I think the jam is too sweet, but I like the tang of the Worcestershire sauce and the lightness of the dressing. For a buffet, it's more elegant to serve the rice and salad separately too. The maverick. Nigella's republican chicken. Nigella Lawson is not apparently a lady to kowtow to royalty, and her take on the dish – renamed, perhaps wisely, golden jubilee chicken – is characteristically irreverent. ("Believe me," she insists in her introduction, "no political affiliations are thereby intended".) I mix cubes of fresh mango with finely chopped spring onion and red chilli, and spritz the whole lot with lime juice before adding chunks of cooked chicken, shredded little- gem lettuce and a handful of chopped coriander. Instead of mayonnaise there are groundnut and sesame oils. It's fresh and zingy, but this is a dish that curtsies to south-east Asian rather than Anglo-Indian cuisine, and on a practical note I'm not sure how long it would be happy to sit around on the buffet table. Perfect coronation chicken. Monarch of the hen . perfect coronation chicken. Coronation chicken is a dish begging to be rescued from the retirement home of the chiller cabinet and given the respect it deserves: as Simon Hopkinson tartly observes, "those cowboys who continue to think that bottled curry paste mixed with Hellmann's is in any way a reasonable substitute here need a good slap with a cold chapatti". Like the monarchy itself, it's evolved in the last 60 years. The modern palate demands more spice and a lighter, fresher flavour – and these days, with the kingdom of herb and spices available to us, it's easy to update Rosemary Hume's recipe to make a dish fit for a 21st-century queen (and the rest of us too). Serves 6. 1 chicken, about 1.5kg 1 cinnamon stick 5 black peppercorns Pinch of saffron 1 tsp salt 4cm piece of fresh ginger Bay leaf 5 tbsp good quality mango chutney (I swear by Geeta's ) 50g ready-to-eat dried apricots, finely chopped 2 tbsp good curry powder 2 tsp Worcestershire sauce 200ml homemade mayonnaise 200ml Greek yoghurt 50g flaked almonds, toasted Small bunch fresh coriander, chopped Green salad and basmati rice, to serve. 1. Put the chicken, breast-side up, in a large pan along with the cinnamon, peppercorns, saffron, salt, the bay leaf and half of the ginger and fill with cold water until only the top of the breast is exposed. Cover with a lid and bring to a simmer, then turn down the heat so only the occasional bubble rises to the surface. Cook gently for about one and a half hours until the juices run clear. Take out of the pan and set aside to cool, then remove the meat in bite-sized pieces while lukewarm. Finely chop the rest of the ginger. 2. Put the mango chutney and apricots into a large bowl. Toast the curry powder in a dry frying pan until fragrant, then add the chopped ginger and stir both into the bowl, followed by the Worcestershire sauce, then the mayonnaise and yoghurt. Season to taste. 3. Once the chicken is cold, fold it through the dressing and refrigerate for at least a couple of hours before folding through most of the coriander and serving topped with the almonds, with a green salad and basmati rice. So – is curried chicken salad a party must-have in your house, or a dish best left in the 1950s? How do you make it or did you last have it in a soggy sandwich? Top 10 Celebrity TV chefs. Making this choice was surprisingly tough. I could have picked the obvious candidates: the populist, telegenic ratings-winners who shift supermarket products by the barrel-load and influence the cooking habits of the nation. But I decided to be perverse and award top marks to cooks who, primarily, understand and exploit the medium. Which is why Delia doesn't make it to the top. Watching Ms Smith whisk her way briskly through a TV dinner is up there with the study of drying paint. Instead I chose those with a combination of expertise and passion (not to be confused with mere sauciness, mind) plus the ability to make the viewer drool to the point where they are propelled into the kitchen. Kind of 'Can't Cook, Will Cook'. This is a Pavlovian list, then. TV chefs should make us feel we can smell the food, and then have a primal urge to replicate it. 1 Rick Stein For me he is the non-pareil telly chef because he always makes me drool like a slobberhound. He enthuses the viewer with his passion and expertise but also makes us want something we didn't think we wanted until we saw him making us want it, turning even the eating of Welsh seaweed into a 'mmm, must-do!' experience. Perhaps he is also unfairly blessed among his TV peers by having such a telegenic backdrop right on his Cornish doorstep, so he lives, breathes and possibly even sweats fish. Stein is like a plateful of smoked haddock, poached egg and mashed potatoes, a combination that is both unbeatably satisfying and fun. 2 Two Fat Ladies: Clarissa Dickson Wright and the late Jennifer Paterson The Ladies make it to No 2 for providing a compelling (if guilt-inducing) antidote to foody political correctness and for being the best TV chef double-act since Fanny and Johnny. A bit like Hear'Say (in as much as they probably weighed the same as Kym, Suzanne, Myleene, Danny and Noel put together), the Ladies were a fabulous and plausible TV construct: you could imagine them tooling around the country on Jennifer's Triumph Thunderbird and popping into convents to cook calorie-busting Christmas dinners for nuns - whether the cameras were with them or not. As such robust reminders of the effects of unfettered gastro-hedonism, they really should have made us want to cook nothing but a a braised rice cake with a side order of seared muesli, but until the Ladies revved onto the screens, fat hadn't looked like so much fun since Rubens plied his trade. 3 Graham Kerr: The Galloping Gourmet I know, I know - you couldn't possibly agree, but Kerr is here for old times' sake, for nostalgic and sentimental reasons. In the 1970s, when Fanny Craddock was still confidently terrorising cringing domestic chefs into constructing meals of elaborate horridness, I loved watching the charmingly cheesy, laid-back Canadian - the Roger Moore of the frying pan. Not only was this the first time telly cookery hadn't been presented like a chemistry lesson, but it was also the first time a TV chef had dished up food, chat and flirtation in front of a live studio audience. He always picked a patently thrilled member of the audience to share the meal, and though I can't remember a single thing he cooked (it was mostly lavishly calorific) it really doesn't matter - the show was the thing. For his sins, Kerr was the obvious forerunner of the popular daytime TV cooks, though I don't hold that against him. He's still at it, though after his wife had a heart attack in the mid 1980s he became a swift convert to a healthier cooking style. 4 Madhur Jaffrey She may not make love to the camera in order to grab the biggest ratings, but Madhur 'Posh Spice' Jaffrey has, almost singlehandedly, shifted British TV viewers' perceptions of Indian cookery by showing us that the national Friday night fetish can become a home- cooked thing of subtle beauty and a delicate joy. Though not a vegetarian herself, she's easily the finest exponent of imaginative and utterly seductive veg dishes, and her delivery is a delight: part Julie Burchill girlie squeakiness, part highly authoritative teacher taking you on exotic voyages through a series of ingredients you can practically smell. The only excuse not to instantly want to cook a mean dhal after watching her is a lack of lentils. And I'm not sure that's a good enough excuse. 5 Jamie Oliver Say what you like about the Naked Chef but the boy done good. It is one thing to preach to the converted, quite another to shift sheaves of coriander to a generation for whom 'cooking' consists in reheating yesterday's Lean Cuisine leftovers. Famously plucked from the kitchens of the River Caf? by a smart talent scout, Jamie was a deliciously appetising ready-meal for TV: simply add liberal quantities of groovy tunes, whirling yoof camerawork, scooters, 'mates' and cheery mockney geezer chat, and serve, piping hot, to a slavering audience. Marriage to the lovely Jools didn't hurt much either. You can condemn the shows as 'lifestyle' telly at its most unashamedly aspirational, but they work because Oliver is passionate about his calling, and I defy all but the most cack-handed not to be able to replicate his recipes. 6 Raymond Blanc The Lord of Le Manoir isn't really a telly chef at all, but when he does appear he always provides compelling and intelligent viewing (even when he doesn't cook. And, no, it's not just the accent, though that helps). For example, during the height of the foot-and-mouth crisis, Blanc was a guest on Newsnight and the only member of a panel discussing the future of farming who made perfect sense. As befits a Michelin-starred master of his craft, Blanc brings an extraordinary depth and breadth of knowledge to the screen and though replicating the delicate beauty of a Blanc menu may be a daunting prospect, there's always the remote possibility that a little of the magic may rub off. After all, if TV cameras had followed Michelangelo while he was painting the Sistine Chapel, would viewers have expected to go away and knock off a convincing copy? The only thing that keeps him out of my top five is a daunting reputation ('we are not interested in the good, we are interested in the sublime' he has said of his kitchens) that stops him from being completely viewer- and therefore user-friendly. 7 Keith Floyd It's easy to forget, given the current proliferation of telly cooks, but after he first appeared on our screens in 1985 with Floyd on Fish, for the rest of the decade Keith Floyd was TV cooking, period. Twenty bestselling books and 19 TV series later, he may no longer be in fashion and his profile thus not quite so high, but for a handful of years he was everywhere (literally, the man had wanderlust). The Floyd on Food/France/Britain and Ireland/Oz/ Spain/Italy/Africa series were enormously influential and sold to over 30 countries. And whatever one felt about his occasionally challenging personality, there's no doubt the man had oodles of style and was absolutely made for TV. 8 Nigella Lawson The reason the Domestic Goddess doesn't figure higher up the list is that while I applaud her easy, down-to-earth cooking style, I'm not very keen on the shows. Though Nigella invariably reduces male viewers to gibbering jelly, unfortunately women tend to agree that after half an hour in front of Nigella Bites they emerge suffering varying degrees of plummeting self-esteem. We enjoy and relate to her schizophrenically guilty and utterly feminine pleasure in food (all food, all the time!), but watching her baking muffins before making the kids breakfast simply turns would-be domestic deities into self-flagellating wrecks: 'How can anybody be that perfect?' She isn't, of course, but that's my beef: love the cooking, really dislike the slices of 'lifestyle' and the corny soft-porn camerawork. 9 Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall While Hugh's series - TV Dinners, A Cook on the Wild Side and Escape to River Cottage - were undeniably 'lifestyle TV' (indeed, he's less of a cook than a whole lifestyle), they certainly don't peddle the predictably modern, glossily aspirational, populist sort of cookery that currently dominates our screens, offering something far darker, grungier and more 'indie' instead. The results are always intensely watchable but I doubt many viewers were tempted into their kitchens after the infamous show on interesting ways to cook placenta for six. 10 Delia Smith Delia makes it, but only just. If this were a list of cookery writers, however, it would be a different story because her books - over 10 million sold to date - are a genuine phenomenon. But as a television icon? I'd rather eat placenta than watch 30 minutes of the somnambulant Ms Smith. Mind you, out of all her shows I probably enjoyed How To Cook the most: we are used to seeing chefs pushing out the culinary envelope but there are still very few chefs who would be prepared to demonstrate egg-boiling with such unselfconscious clarity and without patronising the viewer. For this reason alone Delia deserves her place in the list. TV dinners. I can't remember the last time I had a TV dinner. maybe I'll buy some when I run out of turkey. if that ever happens! :LOL: Thread Starter Thread Starter #6. debra myers. TCS Member. Thread starter. sandie. TCS Member. dtolle. TCS Member. airprincess. TCS Member. I do the same thing! Gotta have a back up just in case! debby. TCS Member. Sandie, I have google as my search engine too, it seems to work better for me than the others. :LOL: Thanks for that story, I just went and read the whole thing! It really was interesting! Deb, I know what you mean, the corn in those TV dinners is SO good! Can't say a whole lot for the mashed 'tators though, but I just mix the corn in with them, and it tastes just fine! :laughing: I actually like TV dinners, but hubby wouldn't eat one if his life depended on it (his moma spoiled him. :LOL: ) TV dinners will always remind me of my dad. Forever. After he retired, and mom was pretty much gone (she had strokes, and had something like alzheimers) dad, who never cooked a day in his life, fell in love with TV dinners! My brothers and I were a bit concerned about this, because of the fat content, and it didn't seem very healthy to eat them every single day, but Dad said he just loved them! I even started making "homemade Tv dinners " for him, I would save all our leftover homecooked meals, and put them on these plastic plates, that had seperate sections, and cover them in foil, and freeze them, then take them all to him at the end of the week. But the very next week, when I went back, all his store bought TV dinners were gone, and mine were all still there. (and it's not because I'm a horrible cook. :LOL: ) I asked him why and he said that he actually really loved the TV dinners. (go figure, TV dinners over homemade) He would go into an absolute tizzy when the TV dinners at the store were on sale, and have me drive him there, so he could stock up. After he died, a year and 2 months ago, my brothers and I went to clean out his house, and opened his freezer, and I swear all that was in it was ice-cream and a huge stack (about 20) Tv dinners. And don't get me wrong, I had dad over for supper as much as I could, and so did my one brother who lives in this state, but Dad was just addicted to those TV dinners! My chilli. In a survey on meals that Britons could cook from memory chilli-con-carne, along with spaghetti bolognese, topped the list. This isn’t very surprising – it’s one of those dishes that even the most basic of cooks can cook. And it seems that everyone has their own version of chilli-con-carne with often their own twist or special secret ingredient (when I was a teenager mine was tomato ketchup, now it’s dark chocolate). In its worst guise chilli can be awful (think grey fatty mince, stewed peppers, overbearing heat without any flavour) but when made with care it’s one of my favourites and just perfect for a night in front of the TV watching World Cup football. Someone once told me that authentic chilli-con-carne is made with pieces of beef not mince so I started to make it that way and I much prefer it. Since you probably already have your own chilli recipe you may not be fussed about trying another but here’s mine anyway. You may find it interesting even if it’s just to compare it with your own. Chilli-con-carne. 1kg of lean braising or stewing steak. For the marinade. 2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce 2 cloves of garlic, crushed 1 teaspoon of cumin ½ teaspoon of cinnamon A sprig of fresh thyme, stalks removed and chopped ½ – 2 teaspoons chilli flakes (depending on how hot you like it) or you can use 1 or 2 fresh chillies 1 teaspoon of salt 10 twists of the pepper mill 1 tablespoon of tomato puree. 1 onion 400g tomato passata or a tin of chopped tomatoes 1 tin kidney beans, drained 1 Knorr beef stock pot or other concentrated stock 20g good quality dark chocolate (optional) I like to buy my steaks whole so that I can cut them to the size I want and remove any fat. I chop the steak into pieces roughly 3 cm square. Once you’ve cut up your steak put the pieces in a bowl and add all the marinade ingredients. With your hands give everything a good mix massaging the flavour into the meat. Cover with cling film and leave in the fridge overnight. Take the meat out of the fridge and leave to come up to room temperature for half an hour. Heat a little oil in a frying pan on a medium high heat and add the steak pieces. Arrange so that each piece has a centimetre of space around it so that you can get a really good colour on your meat. When the meat is a lovely dark brown colour (this usually takes about 5 minutes) turn each piece over and colour on the other side. You may need to fry the meat in a few batches but don’t rush this part as it is essential for the deep meaty flavour of your chilli. Place the browned meat into a casserole dish with a lid. Now in the same frying pan add a little more oil and fry the onion until soft and a nice golden colour. Add the tomato passata (or tin of tomatoes) and concentrated stock to the pan and when they are bubbling add this mixture to the casserole dish. Give everything a little shake to settle. If the tomato mixture doesn’t completely cover the meat then add some water so that the meat is just covered. Put on the lid and place in an oven heated to 160oC fan for 1 hour. After this time turn the heat down to 140oC and cook for a further 2 hours, or until the meat breaks apart easily with a fork. Check periodically to make sure that the sauce isn’t getting too thick – if it is before the meat is tender then just add a little more water and stir. Add the tin of kidney beans and dark chocolate and give everything a good stir. Cook for a further 10 minutes to heat the beans through. It is also a good idea to test the heat of your chilli at this point so that you can add more chilli flakes if necessary. Serve with rice, a good dollop of sour cream and (if you like it really hot) some extra fresh chilli.