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Emily Tellwright

Author, Artist, Publisher

Category: Food and cooking

  • The Fawlty Towers Spanish Omelette

    The Fawlty Towers Spanish Omelette

    Valentine’s Day is fast approaching, but having written about love at some length in my last post, I thought about food. Festivals and special days like Valentine’s Day are celebrated the world over by feasts of special dishes, and archaeology suggests that has been a feature human societies for a long time. In our house this year it will some wonderful cheese from The Courtyard Dairy, and a Nigella’s Devil’s Food Cake.

    There’s plenty of food and cooking in Ghost Train (“I skipped those bits,” said JB – my partner and fellow Castle Sefton Press author John Blake – who isn’t at all interested in culinary matters.) and I’d had the idea of sharing the recipes of some of Clyde and Zeno’s kitchen creations. Why not start with the humble omelette, which is the first thing that Clyde cooks in the book? (Chapter 3, p40 for readers of the paperback edition).

    First a word about Omelette Arnold Bennett. If you’re writing about omelettes and the most famous fellow author from your home town, one of whose eponymous heroines shares your unusual surname (Anna of the Five Towns), has an omelette named after him, then it would be rude not to at least mention it. Actually, I’ve never tried it, though Delia’s simplified recipe looks very good, with the characteristic richness of Edwardian cookery.

    There is a message in this recipe: not everyone gets dishes named after them at The Savoy, which is where this omelette was created; Bennett was a very famous writer and an influential public figure, and it is tragic if his omelette is all we remember him for. The best of his writing is very good indeed and I encourage you to explore it. I also recommend Patrick Donovan’s excellent biography Lost Icon even if you haven’t read Bennett’s work, as he was a fascinating and enigmatic character deeply embedded in early twentieth century society.

    Back to Clyde’s omelette. Ghost Train doesn’t specify what kind of omelette he makes, but I think the clue is a few pages earlier (p36 in the paperback), when he brings some tomatoes home for this very same meal. It’s a 1970s English Spanish Omelette, the one that Mr Hutchinson (Bernard Cribbins) rejects in Fawlty Towers, Series 1, Episode 4, The Hotel Inspectors (about 9.15 minutes in).

    Exotic British food in the 1970s, as far as I remember, consisted largely of a lot of bizarre concoctions based on ignorance and misunderstanding named erroneously after classic dishes from the cuisines of other cultures. The Fawlty Towers Spanish Omelette, as I shall now call it, was one such as it bares no relation, as far as I know, to anything ever eaten in Spain. But – and this did sometimes happen with these recipes – it is nevertheless a very tasty, nutritious and economical dish. I am going to tell you how to make it.

    A folded omelette on a pale blue and white plate.

    This a folded French-style omelette. Delia explains how to make a folded omelette perfectly if you are not familiar with the technique. Or you could watch the redoubtable Fanny Cradock demonstrating in a recently discovered film clip. (I believe you will be able to see it on TPTV Encore very soon, in the 9/2 episode of The Footage Detectives). Like Clyde, you will probably find it takes a bit of practice.

    Before you start your omelette, prepare the filling. For one omelette, you will need:

    My mother often made this recipe for me when I was a child, and we still enjoy it today. It’s quick, filling and the ingredients are things you would usually have in. Don’t leave out the peas, though, even if they are frozen, because as Mr Hutchinson wisely remarks, “I always feel that the peas are an integral part of the overall flavour.”

  • What will you carry through to the New Year?

    It is once more the time of short, dark days, warm glows and twinkly lights, hearty meals and inward pleasures. Like Clyde in Ghost Train, I have prepared the dark, rich foods of the heart of winter: mincemeat, fruit cake and a round splodge of a Christmas pudding. The first mince pies, a delight enhanced by their long absence, have been baked and eaten, I have rooted out my plastic apron with the holly pattern, and the artwork for this year’s Christmas cards is completed. Outside, the garden has been subdued by the touch of frost and snow.

    The equinox seasons – autumn and spring – inspire work and energy, whilst the solstice ones – winter and summer – demand leisure and indulgence. There is no more welcome feeling I know than the anticipation of Christmas; there is no celebration that is, in our society, so widespread, and no better time than the shortest, darkest days to eat, drink and be merry with friends. Our shopping streets, like Ridgeley’s in Ghost Train, may be scrappy remnants of what they once were, and our excitement may be a mere shadow of that felt in the innocence of a childhood in simpler times, but there remains something life-affirming about that small flame of enthusiasm that flickers into being inside us in December at the thought of the occasion to come. Just a few months ago, the thought of it all stirred nothing except a slightly weary remembrance of all the work involved, and yet now the small spring of seasonal delight is bubbling away. It is a kind of magic.

    There is also the wonder of the stillness of Christmas morning. If you have excited children, visiting family, presents to open and dinner to cook you may find that fanciful, but all that energy and activity sits on top of the peace of a morning when more of us than at any other time have ceased our regular activities. If you have just the space of one breath to pause, you will feel that peace, the quiet as of a landscape muffled in fresh snow; it’s as if the Earth itself had stopped spinning before setting off in a new direction.

    I have no idea what this Christmas will bring to me or to the world. There are trials and suffering all around and I don’t know if more troubles or some relief are coming. But my question is, whatever is coming, what will you carry through it? What is so much a part of you that you will still feel or believe it whatever happens? As we pass through Christmas, the full stop of the year, what things about ourselves will still be with us for the start of 2025? The things that survive will be the things that form our identity, that make us who we are during our life on this planet.

    If you’re interested in how ideas change over time, what we believe and then leave behind and how society changes as a result, you will enjoy my new novel Ghost Train, which is coming out on 13th December. There are also spooky happenings to be explained, some comedy and delicious food along the way, and of course mysterious trains. What could be better entertainment for this time of year?

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