Wales Floyd on Britain and Ireland

This is the big one. We've been in the kitchen. But this is reality.

Those boys in green, they are mad. They want blood and guts.

It's up to you. You're the man.

You're the number one, you create, you make us good, OK?

'In order to understand the cooking of a foreign country,

'it is necessary to uncover the roots of its culture.

'And where better to start than on the playing fields of Cydweli?'

Come on, boys!

"And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's forgotten mornings,

"when he walked with his mother through the parables of sunlight

"and the legends of green chapels."

That was Dylan Thomas.

It's easy to become influenced by this old strange land.

But without being bogged down by history and poetry,

or a 27-year crash course in Welsh mythology,

it's very hard to sum up the enchantment of this place.

But, here, you can FEEL it.

My old chum, Colin Pressdee, is a kind of professional beach bum.

I mean, well-educated, but his days of happiness

are strolling along the Mumbles coast

looking for winkles and cockles,

digging for crabs and ENJOYING himself.

They seem to be about right. Yes, they're coming to the boil.

Shall we just try one? What exactly have you done with these winkles?

They're boiled in a really good court bouillon

with plenty of favour, onions, carrots, celery,

fresh lovage from the garden

and a few other fresh herbs, plenty of salt and pepper.

You can even boil them in sea water. Would that not be too salty?

No. I always say the water for winkles

should be as salty as the sea. They are jolly good.

We've got problems here, the tide's rushing in, the table is sinking

and I have to cook something really brilliant.

We've collected cockles and mussels

so I'll make a brilliant cockle and mussel chowder,

a soup of potatoes, onions, carrots

and things that you can pick up for nothing.

Do you mind if we let people know

that you can pick up things from this beach?

Are you afraid that hordes, the dreaded perfidious albion,

will descend on your lovely Welsh coast?

Well, the great thing is the beaches here have abundant supplies

of cockles, mussels and winkles.

I wouldn't show you lobster holes or where we catch the bass.

But cockles, mussels, winkles, there are plenty of them. Good.

Anyway, the usual quick spin round the ingredients, close up here,

finely chopped carrots, onions, potatoes cubed like that.

Across to camera left - cockles and mussels,

which we've already boiled in a little water

and kept that water to one side.

We've shelled the cockles and mussels. They're totally fresh.

The next thing we did - back up to me, please, don't linger too long -

into this pot we put some butter.

We melted the butter,

we put in the chopped onions and carrots, let them soften,

then we added the stock from the mussels and the cockles.

We added the potatoes,

let them simmer for about 20 minutes, till they were soft.

Then our next phase was to very simply add some cockles -

a few spoonfuls of these beautiful fresh cockles.

A few of the mussels as well.

I've done that the wrong way round! I hope you're all paying attention.

Then we add a drop of milk.

And it isn't easy, you know, doing these things on the coach...

It's not the coach, is it? "The Day We Went to Bangor"!

The wind's high, the weather's coming in,

the table's sinking and it's very difficult.

We now put some milk in, milk like that.

Some lovely fresh thyme, goes into the pot.

Some fresh thyme, fresh marjoram goes into the pot.

My old chum, Colin, is chopping some parsley. That goes in.

We add a few little chives as well.

This is something you can ALL do on your merry hols, "on the beach".

Remember that awful novel?

Anyway, that goes on. Just one last quick lingering look, Richard.

That goes on for about 20 minutes

and we're going to go and try to catch some bass or a lobster.

Shall we? Let's go and have a try.

Let's spin off into the sunset over the rocky shores.

WATER BUBBLES AND GENTLE MUSIC PLAYS

The sun isn't the only thing that's sinking in the west!

The table has all but disappeared.

But it doesn't matter because our soup is ready.

It looks good. Bubbled up nicely.

Do you want to see that really close, Richard?

I've taken a lot of trouble to make this under difficult circumstances.

My finished soup for the punters, please!

This is spectacular, it has cost us nothing to make,

apart from a few potatoes, a drop of milk, a bit of onion, etc.

The rest we have pillaged from the sea. Indeed.

Here it is, from the seashore itself. Tell me about this soup.

Mmm.

As I would say, "Le gout de la mer", the flavour of the sea.

The French would go mad over it and here it is on our shores.

You don't have to go to France...

THUNDER ROARS ...it's all on the shores of Wales,

and beautifully cooked, I must compliment you.

Wonderful flavour. I love this style of soup.

It's something which really gives that wonderful flavour of the sea.

THUNDER ROARS There's the thunder again.

One of the big problems we have is - THEY can't taste this.

You lot can't taste it. TRY to explain.

Imagine you were a wine critic or something.

Well, the colour is superb.

Look at that mixture of colours

the cockles, the mussels,

the chives and the milk and those little dots of butter.

Then, just the aromam it is of the sea -

cockles, mussels and herbs mixed together.

Is this Wales on a plate? This is to ME what it's all about.

I was brought up on the seashore and I love it.

This is the flavour of the seashore.

Do you really want to go back to work?

I think we can do something else.

Work is a very hard thing to do

when you can enjoy this for nothing, here on the seashore.

Here we are, Bill and Ben, the Flowerpot Men, on the coast,

from Swansea, good night.

Not really good night, we're going back in a second!

These programmes ought to be renamed "Gullible's Travels".

I keep meeting fishermen who shoot me a line.

They tell me their river or stretch of coast is heaving with fish!

I'd set my heart on a plump bass

but I returned home with a bucket of seaweed, known here as laverbread.

I was going to open this section of the programme with Welsh rabbit

but I couldn't be bothered, because when I came into Colin's wine bar

here in the Mumbles - and the Mumbles mean things like that -

I was impressed by the fact that great artists used to come here -

Wynford Vaughan-Thomas came here.

He wrote to me once because he had trouble with his pollacks.

I replied and told him how to cook them properly.

Kingsley Amis wrote one of his books in the Mumbles.

It became the film "Only Two Can Play".

Remember, those bloody stags on the walls,

and Peter Sellars and all that stuff.

Anyway, we've come here for something very special, cockles.

Richard, right in on the cockles.

Not things in jars of vinegar that have been packed in Holland

and left stewing on a supermarket shelf for ten years.

These have been picked...

What are you doing there? You didn't do that right! Back on here.

These were picked by caring people.

They're not salted or vinegared. They're fresh. They're delicious.

The other brilliant thing from the Mumbles is laverbread.

Look at this, Richard. You've seen how we do this already.

This has been cooked for about six hours. It's like slimy spinach. It's very nice - and good for you.

Colin here makes a fabulous gratin of cockles and laverbread.

It's very easy to do.

The ingredients are some poached cockles, fresh breadcrumbs with Welsh cheese grated into it,

some laverbread and garlic butter.

Can you look at me a bit? We're having a lot of trouble with Richard today!

Put a bit of laverbread into a little gratin dish.

Then put lots of lovely, fresh cockles on, like that.

We sprinkle our breadcrumbs and cheese over the top.

A little bit of garlic butter and - up to me again, Richard - we pop that under the grill...

for 3 or four minutes till it's golden brown, crunchy and delicious.

Meanwhile, have a look at this. It's...really interesting. Do pay attention.

Now to the gentle art of cockling.

Well, it SHOULD be the gentle art.

All you need is a humble rake, a plastic bucket to fill,

a vast expanse of unpolluted shore and an idea where they're hiding.

But I didn't know that you also needed a licence.

I think it's a bit mean of the white fish authorities to call up the cocklebusters

to drive people from the beaches.

One of the important things about us, you know, when we are

making a television programme, we don't interrupt their business

by closing it down for three days. Customers must come in, life must carry on. That's right, yes!

Absolutely true. Anyway, you've enjoyed the cockle beds,

you've enjoyed all of that, and I have to tell you,

when I first came to Swansea, I quite frankly thought

that the Mumbles was a television puppet show!

Anyway, we must now go back to the very important thing - laverbread.

Imagine, like the guy who first tasted an oyster,

who was the first man to eat a piece of laverbread,

and why did he do it? Anyway, enough of that,

you'll find the answer on page 94, as usual.

We've stewed the laver bread for about six hours.

It's been rinsed in water, and I put it into a little gratin dish

with the cockles on top, the breadcrumbs, the wine-grown cheese on top,

garlic butter, and now, about five minutes later,

and four or five bottles later, it is in fact ready. Right.

And the proof of all of this... Ow!

Burnt my fingers again.

Close-up on that, Richard, I really want them to see it sizzling.

Look, it's beautiful, delicious, it's golden, it's crunchy,

and I'm going to have some. Now you can look at me,

because they really love me eating, these people.

Great, isn't it, ladies? Yes. Absolutely supreme. Oh, boy. Mmm.

Anyway...

That's really good. These are my new friends.

Television's a great way to pull birds.

On to the next sequence for you. I'm going to enjoy myself.

Anyway, what are we going to do tonight...?

And so to the ubiquitous architecture sketch, and Swansea town centre.

Inspired by the Normans, the town planners ran amok.

The influence was right, the execution, nearly right.

On balance, continuing the sporting theme, I'd say the final score was

in extra time, Normans 153, Swansea Planners 21,

all their points coming from penalties, of course.

They didn't overlook the needs of the inner man. This market is full of fresh local produce.

This farmhouse salted bacon.

Something I haven't seen for ages, Welsh lamb wrapped in a cream stole of caul.

But I'm here to cook so it's one for the money, two for the show,

let's buy the leeks and go, man, go!

That is a leek, Richard, OK? Very important in Wales.

When the gilt-edged invitation card tumbled on to my leather-topped desk, I was intrigued.

What would I cook for these gentle folk who live in the sleepy village of Cydweli?

What piece of gastronomic poetry would tickle the taste-buds of such sensitive and delicate souls?

For some strange reason, I've never met the man who's going to help me cook today on the field of play!

The English selectors never invited me to take part at Twickenham or Cardiff Arms Park

so I've had to learn how to cook and to make television programmes in order to meet Ray Gravell,

the world's most famous centre. Thank you, Keith.

You're looking exceptionally well in this Cydweli rugby kit.

I'm very impressed with the legs.

They must be worth a million.

And I've just realised, we've had it wrong for the last hundred years.

We've been kicking goals with rugby boots. We should have worn clogs!

Anyway, this is a cookery programme and we're going to cook Cawl,

which is the Welsh national dish, like Irish Stew is to the Irish.

It's the kind of thing big, real rugby players need after they've beaten the English. True.

Quick bilingual spin round the ingredients.

This is bacon. Cig moch. This is lamb. Cig oen.

These are leeks. Cenhin. These are potatoes. Tatws.

These are onions. In South Wales, we call them wynwyns.

In North Wales, they say nionod.

They are slightly different.

Carrots. Moron. Swedes. Erfin.

Lard. Lard is lard in any language.

Brilliant!

And some stewing beef. Cig eidion.

Those are the basic ingredients.

Now, Ray there's one for you.

Dear, dear erfin! What's the English for erfin? That's a swede.

Do I kick this or chop it up? You chop it. Right, knife. Chop it into fairly small bits.

You've all seen this chopping process SO many times,

so while we do this, you're going to see Ray Gravell's only try against Scotland in...? 1978.

I was a "creative" centre - I knocked the living daylights out of my opposite number!

I did score one try for Wales in '78 against Scotland.

I was so happy in scoring -

I accepted a pass from Gareth Edwards -

I hit the Scottish guy over the line, not in anger but in glee.

I was so pleased with the try, it was a gesture of endearment,

a tap on the head after scoring,

if my memory...serves me well. Get on with the chopping.

Oh, my fingers! Am I doing well? You're doing brilliantly.

'Edwards to Windsor to Edwards.

'Gravell of Llanelli.

'And Gravell is there!

'The whole of Llanelli will be simply thrilled

'because Ray Gravell hasn't previously scored in a major international.

'That's a great moment for him.'

A brilliant try but there's more to life than rugby, there's cooking.

We're here making the Cawl.

We've both got identical pots, we've melted lard into each one, added onions, the lamb and beef.

They're sizzling away splendidly, nicely sealed. Not seasoned yet.

Next we've got to add the onions... I beg your pardon, the CARROTS and the swedes.

Where does this dish come from?

It goes back over the centuries to two of our great bards, the first time that Welsh was written

in the sixth century, Aneurin and Taliesin.

Cawl was called bwyd y beirdd, the food of the bards. It fed their imagination.

A glass or two of mead helped too.

Then in the fourteenth century Dafydd of Gwynedd was a great bard, poet, scholar, and a lover,

that's where the mead comes into it.

But these guys were the high echelon of Welsh society and they ate well.

And I'm sure that the boys today are going to eat as well as those old guys did in the sixth century.

I hope so. The meat is browned off. In go our swedes and carrots.

OK?

Pop those in as fast as we can. Right.

Whoops...sorry. Get rid of that.

Then we cover that with water. We all know what water looks like.

As my father said, water is all right if taken with the right spirit.

Cig moch. Two pieces of smoked bacon into each one. Let's look at this.

The bacon goes in. You've got your lamb, your beef, your bacon, your swedes, your carrots, etc.

Finally, a couple of bay leaves, a few peppercorns and two cloves.

That also goes into Ray's. Ray, tip your water in.

Ooh, heavy too! I'll get the lids.

That will simmer away for about two hours...

Don't forget, we've got 25 rugby players waiting to eat this later.

They're in the bar building up an appetite, but now, another try.

'A great scrummage thrust by England. From Davies, to Edwards to Bennett to Fenwick.

'John Williams, the full back, JJ. This is John Williams now. Can John Williams score his third try?'

Brilliant!

And the important thing is that you let it simmer for an hour and a half.

Add the potatoes for 20 minutes. Then add the chopped leeks.

If I'm looking a bit bedraggled, it's not surprising after that classic run.

A brilliant try and, of course, a conversion by myself. Barry John, eat your heart out!

Those animals on the pitch, the ones I handed off, are out there singing.

They've been putting the pints down and they want their lunch!

This is it. We simmered the meat in the water for an hour and a half.

Just before the end, we added the potatoes to cook them,

then the thing that makes Welsh cuisine and Welsh rugby so good is raw chopped leek. Cenhin. Cenhin.

What do we do with the cenhin? We sprinkle it all over the food.

This is all part of the ritual - the pre-match build-up, the game, but this is the biggie - the food.

This is what we all look forward to.

I've watched your programmes, "Floyd on Fish". I've got a new one, "Keith on Cawl"! That's brilliant.

Let's take this to the lads. This'll kill 'em if the game didn't!

LOUD CHEER

SHUT UP!

You're not getting a morsel of this until you sing us a little song.

A little Cydweli song, or you'll starve.

THEY SING IN WELSH

THEY CHANT IN WELSH

DRUM ROLL

A-h-h!

The floor is quite clean. We shall pick it up and serve it.

I've always said the legs have finally gone!

And now the sensible bit.

Here at the village of Llandybie, where Margaret Reece

has cooked me a wonderful dish -

a plump farmyard duck, which has been salted for about 24 hours

and then gently simmered.

A legacy of traditional Welsh cooking

from before the days of the deep freeze.

I've got to lift this heavy spot off the stove

but quite frankly, you're looking at a wounded Floyd today.

Yesterday I was stupid enough, at the age of 43,

to play rugby and I was the only English cook to score and convert

a try at Cydweli in South Wales.

Considering that my normal exercise is running for a bar stool,

I think I did quite well.

It might take me a second or two to get this over.

Goodness knows how you manage this, Margaret.

I'm all panicked!

I'm not putting that on.

The BBC don't insure me, they don't care about me.

I'll just lift the lid off.

If you come in close here, there is the stock,

there is the duck, the onions have been sitting in there.

You won't eat this broth or drink it, I should say,

because it is terribly salty.

That has had the effect of taking the salt

out of the duck and leaving the flavour of the spices

that Margaret has used to cook it.

I've got to lift this back out of the way, I suppose.

All we need then, Margaret, I think,

is to try this, don't we?

Can you give me a fork? Right, I can only cut this once

because we've only got one duck.

Look at that, it's pink and beautiful.

My goodness me. Can I have a quick slither of that?

That is brilliant.

That is really superb.

Unlike any other duck I've tasted.

It has a succulent and juicy flavour.

Do you know what you drink salted duck with?

You drink it with Margaret's elderberry champagne.

Elderflower champagne, sorry.

Which is also quite unlike anything else I've ever tasted in my life.

It's brilliant.

This then, the next bit, is my contribution

to vegetarian cookery,

something really close to my heart, get it?!

I can't stand the stuff.

It's a Glamorgan sausage, an ancient Welsh recipe

made from tangy goat's cheese.

Have a good sniff of that.

It's wonderful!

You chop that up. You add it to some chopped onion,

bind it with egg and breadcrumbs

and you end up with some stuff that looks like that, OK?

You form it into sausage-shaped things -

that's why it's called a Glamorgan sausage -

and you roll it in the breadcrumbs.

Margaret tells me she sometimes put chopped nuts around it.

It ends up looking like that.

Come round here, Richard. One of those fluent panning shots,

whatever you call them...

It's a tracking shot, actually.

..which I have greased with a piece of salt bacon,

very important that.

A couple of twizzles like that, get a bit of grease into the hot pan

and then pop these in for about three or four minutes on each side.

"How many sides does a sausage have?" I hear you cry.

Several is the answer.

Anyway, this is a coracle,

the most ancient boat known to mankind.

And here in Wales, they use it late at night.

Two of them, in fact, with a net stretched between them,

to catch the sewin, or the sea trout, or the salmon.

I refuse to go on one of those, so we're not doing that in this programme.

Especially after my wound sustained playing rugby, so in the meantime,

I'm going to have a little slurp of this excellent elderflower champagne

while I get Margaret to come and give me a hand,

because something here has been fascinating me.

Something which she cooked earlier. Look at that.

It's very beautiful, but what is it?

That is one of my latest creations. It's laverbread roulade.

The laverbread, as you probably heard already,

is the seaweed found on the seashores of Wales,

and that is a black mess. It doesn't look all that appetising.

Now, that is combined with eggs and...

just eggs, and made into this cooked sort of souffle,

which is then rolled and filled, in this instance, with low-fat cream cheese,

flavoured with a little orange. Maybe you could put some ham in.

Vary that as you wish, but it's used as a starter.

Or as a nice buffet dish. Absolutely.

Do you mind if I just savage the end a little bit? A little taste.

This laverbread is really good news.

Anyway, have a whizz round here and see how the sausages are getting on.

I think it's time to turn them over.

Yes. Close-up on this, Richard, please, so we can all see

what a little golden brown sausage looks like.

A couple of minutes on each side.

I think it's time for me to taste one.

I think it's time for me to say "diolch yn fawr iawn",

which is Welsh for "thank you very much", to Margaret.

And how do I say goodbye? Goodbye? Prynhawn da.

Prynhawn da. Which is "good afternoon".

That's Irish. That's not Welsh! Thank you very much indeed.

MUSIC: "Peaches" by The Stranglers

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd