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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.