Food and Religion Hairy Bikers' Best of British

We believe Britain has the best food in the world.

Our glorious country boasts some fantastic ingredients.

Start eating it, will you?!

It's home to amazing producers...

-My goodness gracious! That is epic.

-Isn't it?

..and innovative chefs.

But our islands also have a fascinating food history.

The fish and chip shops of South Wales are running out of chips.

Yes!

In this series, we're uncovering revealing stories of our rich culinary past...

There is food history on a plate.

..as well as meeting our nation's food heroes

who are keeping this heritage alive.

Let's have them enjoying themselves. It's a short life.

Let's make it a happy one.

And, of course, we'll be cooking up a load of dishes that reveal our foodie evolution.

Spring, summer, autumn or winter, it's brilliant.

BOTH: Quite simply, the best of British!

Feasting to celebrate important religious events

is as old a concept as the gods themselves.

Christmas, Easter, Diwali,

Holi, Passover, Yom Kippur...

..they're all celebrations made brighter by the food that we eat.

I can always remember on Easter morning, just once a year,

-coming down to the smell of hot cross buns, cinnamon and butter.

-Oh, heaven!

It's not just food for the belly, it's also food for the soul.

That's why today's show is dedicated

to celebrating food and religion in the United Kingdom.

-Merry Christmas, mate.

-Merry Christmas.

I have no luck with crackers, me.

-"What did the coral do on January 1st?"

-I don't know.

"He turned over a new reef"!

In Britain, we're lucky enough to live in a society with a multitude of faiths.

There are Christians, Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Pagans,

and all of them bring a unique approach to cooking.

On today's show, we're going to delve into food that's spiritual.

Food that's ceremonial.

Food that's, well, just plain delicious!

Whether it's for a religious celebration

or keeping the faith...

We're going to explore a whole world of holy eating

that's right on our doorstep.

There are almost 2.3 billion Christians in the world today.

It won't surprise you to learn that they don't all celebrate Christmas with turkey and a bag of sprouts!

It's true. Because the Christmas feast

is as diverse as the people that live in our capital city.

Today is January 7th, and that's Christmas Day for Orthodox Christians.

We've been invited to an Ethiopian community centre

-to join in and help prepare their festive feastings.

-We have indeed. I cannot wait.

-Merry Christmas!

-Merry Christmas, mucker! Let's howay.

We've come to the Ethiopian Social Club in Hampstead to meet Ann,

who's preparing Christmas dinner for dozens of guests -

Ethiopian style.

Ann!

-Hello!

-Hello! Merry Christmas!

Thank you! Happy New Year to you!

-It's great to see you.

-Nice to see you.

-Nice to see you.

-Thank you for having us.

-Thank you for coming.

The smells that are coming out of that kitchen are fantastic.

And not a whiff of turkey or stuffing in sight!

-You're going to cook.

-Are we?

-Excellent!

-We'll follow you into the kitchen.

-Please.

Get in!

Ann, how many people have we got coming for Christmas dinner?

Oh, I'm expecting 60...

-60!

-..to 70.

-Oo-er!

It's quite a lot to cook.

-What's on the menu?

-We've got lamb, beef, beef stew,

a type of chicken curry.

-Do you get a bit of everything when you're eating?

-We do.

You're going to see and you're going to cook.

What's first for Dave and I?

I think it's best to start with injera.

This is like a pancake but this is a bigger one.

-Is this like the plate that the food's served on?

-Yes.

-You eat your own crockery!

-That's right.

-Oh, wow!

That's the wonderful thing about this food - it's communal.

Oil this, if you wish...

'Before I get stuck in, Ann shows us how to do it.'

-Here we go.

-Ahh!

'The bread is made up of a simple flour-and-water mix

'that's been fermented for several days.'

-It's the ultimate tear and share.

-It is, mate.

This comes this way...

How many of these will we expect to make, Ann?

We have to make at least 80.

-HE SHUDDERS

-'Someone's got their work cut out.'

-Crack on, mucker.

-You can do it!

Clockwise.

That's not clockwise.

-Clockwise.

-Oh, yes!

I was a backward child!

That is too small. Go for it. Yes!

A bit more. You've done well!

Not really! Can I have a bit more?

THEY LAUGH

-My glasses have gone!

-That's handy!

-Oh, yes!

-Oh, hey! Look at this!

HE CHEERS

-Oh, look at that!

-Dude, that's a belter!

-Well done.

Fantastic.

-Two down...

-BOTH: 78 to go!

-Wow!

-This is belter.

That's it.

Look at this!

'It's more like Shrove Tuesday than Christmas.'

-Wow! Look at that!

-Whey!

-Get it.

-I thank you.

-Speedy Gonzales.

-What's next?

-Next is wat.

-Yeah, yeah.

-Wat, we are going to cook.

-What?

-Wat.

-Eh?

-What's next, though?

-Wat.

'Wat is a type of Ethiopian stew that Ann's making with chicken.'

'While Dave's trusted to chop the onions, I'm left peeling eggs.'

'She's a hard taskmaster, that Ann!'

-I'll give you a hand.

-Thanks very much.

Just like normal Christmas dinner, it is about getting things ready for the table on time

-and all at the same time.

-Oh, yes.

-Ah, yeah!

Which is why we're peeling 1,400 dozen eggs!

-It's easier than peeling chestnuts.

-You're not wrong.

'While Ann and Dave crack on with the wat,

'I'm having a little salty snack.

'But Ann's got other ideas.'

Better than salt. Get another one. DAVE LAUGHS

Let me put it there.

-You can taste it and let me know.

-Oh!

Mm.

It's not hot, is it? SHE LAUGHS

-This is called mitmita.

-Mitmita.

The hottest chilli...

..on land! THEY LAUGH

That is how we eat eggs.

-Whoa! Big 'uns?

-Yes.

-Yes?

-The onion shows, which means there's not enough chilli.

-Hey-hey!

-More chilli.

-More chilli? By 'eck!

-Another big one?

-Yeah, look! It's not covered.

A bit more, eh?

'She certainly not stingy with the chilli!'

-This is ghee.

-How much?

I'll say when.

So, we're not worried about the fat in this?

-Oh, no. This is Christmas.

-Yes.

Just change it up high.

'This is only one of the dozen or so dishes,

'so the pressure's on.'

-Right, well, the guests are arriving and I think we're bang on time.

-Yes.

Don't chuck them in! You'll break them!

They're eggs. They bounce.

-You know the guests have arrived?

-I know.

-Would you like to try this?

-Is it a present?

-Yes!

-Hooray!

-Thank you! How lovely. Can we open them now?

-Merry Christmas! Happy New Year!

-Thank you.

BOTH: Oh!

Fabulous!

Thank you.

Now I feel I'm part of the family.

-Hey, it's nice!

-It is!

Room for expansion.

I cannot help thinking you look Greek.

I look Ethiopian.

GUESTS CHATTER

Ethiopian food is all about communal eating.

Well, when there's some to tuck into anyway...

Ann's cracking her whip.

Everybody's waiting! We are late!

-Don't... I'm... Yes.

-You're trying your best.

You see, normally at Christmas, at this time,

I've had about six sherries and I don't care,

but Ann...

That'll be it. She'll have your guts for garters.

Is there any sherry? Sherry?

-Ann, have you got any sherry?

-Sherry?

Normally, you know, I'd have a sherry.

-What, a drink?

-Yes.

-Before we serve?

You haven't even finished. You don't deserve it!

While I'm working, that layabout is being spoiled rotten!

-This is a glass?

-Yeah!

-This is brilliant.

This is my type of place, this! It's great.

'Ah, that's better!'

'Within no time, the feast is ready.

'There's an amazing array of goodies for the lucky guests.'

Everything's ready. But it gets served Ethiopian Christmas-style.

That's it. Now, injera please.

The finest...

-That's it.

-Who needs a tablecloth when you're going to eat it?

This is kitfo.

-That's the raw beef.

-Raw beef.

-Yummy.

'Before we serve it, we better taste it.

'In Ethiopia, it's traditional to feed those close to you first.'

It's like trying to juggle a jellyfish. 'Open wide.'

It is like the most wonderful meze, isn't it?

It's tasty.

BOTH: Ohh!

-That's good.

-Beautiful, sweet...

'It's now time for me to play Santa,

'delivering the gift of food.'

'Am I the elf, then?'

-Merry Christmas.

-Thank you.

-We hope you enjoy it.

-Thank you.

What a lovely Christmas. It's funny, when religion and food come together,

it's kind of synonymous with celebration and festivities

and forget any undercurrents, it's about having a good time,

breaking bread together, sharing round the table.

-And the food is phenomenal.

-Isn't it? Ethiopian food, it's really clever.

-What a cook Ann is, isn't she?

-She's brilliant.

-She's fantastic.

-We should go and see our entourage.

-We should.

-Fancy a dance after?

-If you're asking, I'm dancing, dude.

Ahh!

The time of the year that us Brits pull out all the culinary stops

is Christmas.

After all, it is the day the term "all the trimmings" was invented for.

'It's part of the Christmas ritual

'that the spread should be lavish, the hospitality profuse.

'The plates are heaped until they overflow.'

Conspicuous consumption at this time of year

dates way back beyond Christian times, though.

It's been around since Roman and Pagan times.

As a largely rural population,

the midwinter festival was always an important feature of the calendar.

'Yule was a time for stuffing yourself against the lean January ahead.

'You ate and drank as much as you could manage.'

An abundance of fine food was central to the celebration.

But as years went by, the threat of starvation come February

seemed less and less likely.

To stop us feeling like we were just pigging out,

we developed rituals to make it feel more justified.

And our Christmas dinner is packed with them,

traditions that have become almost sacrosanct.

-There's mince pies...

-The cake.

-..and the mulled wine.

But without doubt, the most iconic feature of the Christmas table

has to be a big old bird.

# Come on, let's turkey trot

# Shoo-shoo, gobble-gobble Diddle-ip. #

We start with the most important of all, the turkey,

which is, after all, the British national bird.

You see, turkey, let's face it, traditional as it is, is a very dry bird.

Whether we like it or not, turkey is now the bird of choice when it comes to Christmas dinner.

We Brits consume around ten million over the festive season.

But it hasn't always been that way.

Throughout most of our history,

the festive bird of choice was a goose.

'This family don't buy their Christmas dinner, they rear it,

'a tradition dating back in these parts to the 13th century.

'The main course has just waddled through the gate.'

My mother always kept geese, ever since I was tiny.

They take quite a lot of feed.

About six weeks before, we start to feed them all they'll eat.

Otherwise, if you don't give them food,

there's no fat attached, and if there's no fat, there's no flavour.

'The goose goes in the oven at 6am. All morning, the aroma fills the house.

It's a long and mouth-watering wait.

THEY CHEER

But it was the Victorians who finally knocked the goose off its festive perch.

Its desirability was puffed up by the queen of good taste Mrs Beeton

when she declared it would hardly be a Christmas dinner without a turkey.

And the period's most famous writer Charles Dickens

compounded its reputation in A Christmas Carol

when Scrooge makes up for all his meanness

by buying the Cratchits a turkey that's "even bigger than Tiny Tim!".

And there lay the secret of the turkey's power.

Most of us would agree it couldn't have been the taste alone.

It was also its size.

And on the one day of the year we can eat anything we want,

funnily enough, it seems our gastronomic patriotism

is more powerful than ever.

# The most magical time

# Of the year #

Of course, it's not just Christmas that involves great food.

There are plenty of events in the Christian calendar that provide the perfect opportunity

for some indulgent eating.

As Brits, we love a cake for celebrations,

and one of the finest around is an Easter favourite.

You know, simnel cake, it's a right old-fashioned thing.

-It is.

-It wasn't around much when I was a kid, though. I think it was a bit posh.

It's having a bit of a resurgence, though, isn't it?

It is. And supermarkets have reported a boom in the sales of simnel cakes.

So we're thinking, "We'd better get our heads around how to make a belter!"

Well, exactly! And we are going to do said belter today.

Simnel cake is a delicious and indulgent treat that was traditionally wheeled out

to show off at Easter or Mothering Sunday.

There are sweet, fruity flavours galore in here

and not one but two layers of tasty marzipan.

On top are 11 marzipan balls that represent the Apostles.

First off, I'm going to make marzipan.

None of that blocks of plastic explosive, this is the real thing -

the synthesis of almonds, almond extract, eggs, spice,

good stuff.

To start this heavenly recipe, finely grate the zest of an unwaxed lemon.

Get the unwaxed bit wrong and you'll know about it when you take a bite at the end.

The star of the simnel cake is marzipan.

Start by sifting 225 grams of icing sugar into a bowl.

Simnel cake sounds pious, though, doesn't it?

-You could almost imagine there being a Saint Simnel.

-Patron saint of the glace cherry!

Next, add 175 grams of caster sugar

and 315 grams of ground almonds.

Crack two large eggs into a separate bowl.

Now, I've got almond extract here, not essence.

Essence is chemical, extract is good.

This is to up the almond content of the marzipan.

HE SIGHS WISTFULLY

Add in a teaspoon of freshly squeezed lemon juice for a bit of extra zing

and beat it all together.

Juice a well-scrubbed orange and lemon and add it into a mixing bowl.

Also going in there are 500 grams of mixed fruit

and 100 grams of halved glace cherries.

Stir all that sweet loveliness together.

It might be a religious-themed cake, but it's dead naughty!

Now for the marzipan...

I'm going to combine the egg mixture with the sifted sugar.

Stir it in and then you can get your hands dirty.

Whoa!

So, Dave, was Easter a big thing in your house, then?

Yeah! I mean, Easter eggs, obviously, were kind of up there because I was a gluttonous child.

Every kid in the street lived in a terraced house

and we used to put our eggs in the window

and the more you put in the window, the better you felt.

Then there was a heatwave... Hm.

There was rivers of chocolate going down onto the lino.

Dust your work surface with a bit more sifted icing sugar,

then knead the marzipan until it's gone smooth.

Pop it into a bowl and cover with Clingfilm.

Whilst you leave it for an hour or two, the almonds will absorb all the moisture.

Simmer the fruity cake mix over a medium heat and keep stirring until the liquid's all gone.

See that, mate? Look.

That's lovely. That's super-charged fruit, isn't it?

It's a really good and quick way of making sure

that you get really nice plump fruit in your cake.

Leave the fruit to cool for ten minutes.

Now mix 175 grams of light muscovado sugar

and 175 grams of softened butter.

While Si's doing that, I'm going to add two teaspoons of delicious mixed spice

into 225 grams of self-raising flour.

It's the smell of the mixed spice...

-Ah!

-..it's so reminiscent of hot cross buns,

which, again, was something else I use to love at Easter!

'Crack three large eggs into a bowl. Beat them together.' Give them a whisk.

'Add them into the mixer a little at a time. You have to be careful with this part.'

You've got to watch it doesn't split.

If it does,

just put in a spoonful of flour and it'll come back together again.

'Patience is key with this one.

'Add half the flour a bit at a time,

'slowly beating it in as you go.'

# It's beginning to look a bit like Ca-ake! #

And stop the blade and just push...

..any bits that you see that's kind of not mixed in yet

and then start it again.

And resist the temptation to lick your spatula.

-Yes! You saw that written all over my face, didn't you?

-I did.

I could see you reflexing!

'Get the second half of the flour going the same way.

'Then add in the mixed fruit...

'..lemon zest and orange zest.'

'Once it's rested,

'divide your marzipan up into three equal chunks.

'Dust a bit of sifted icing sugar onto some baking parchment and roll it out.'

Take care because marzipan is... it can be a fickle mistress.

'It's a simple but good tip, this -

'to get the marzipan the right size, use the cake tin to make a circle!'

We want to cut a disc of marzipan...

..about one centimetre bigger than your cake tin.

Using that imprint there as a guideline,

it's really quite simple.

'Spoon half the cake mix into a parchment-lined cake tin

'and add the large marzipan circle,

'making sure it reaches the sides all round.'

'Add the rest of the cake mix on top and smooth it over.

'Then into a fan oven at 150 degrees for about one hour 20 minutes.'

-Oh, yes!

-Let's have a look.

Look at that.

Clean as a whistle.

Yep!

'While Si heats the two tablespoons of apricot jam,

'I'm rolling out another chunk of marzipan and sizing it up with a cake tin.

'This time you can cut straight round.'

It's hard to do this and keep your tongue in.

'Now it's time for 11 Apostles,

'represented by balls of lovely marzipan.'

I need 11 balls.

-Do you not need 12?

-No.

-There's 12 Apostles.

-There's 11. We don't do one for Judas. It's tradition

What a bummer, being Judas.

You haven't got a good rep, have you, in history?

'Turn the cake upside down and brush the surface with the warm apricot jam.

'Cover it with the second marzipan circle

'and score in a criss-cross pattern on top.'

'Pinch the marzipan all the way around the edges and add the Apostles.'

Oops!

And there we have it.

'Place your cakey masterpiece under a hot pre-heated grill

'for a couple of minutes until it's lightly toasted,

'but be careful not to burn it.'

-Just grilled on top...

-Beautiful.

-..and...

-Aw, how lush!

'As this is a special cake to mark an important occasion in the Christian calendar,

'we're finishing off the decoration with a ribbon.'

This Easter, make your own simnel cake.

It's lovely, isn't it?

And without a fluffy chicken in sight!

Simnel cake - it's an oldie but it's a goody!

Whether Easter or Mothering Sunday are part of your faith or not,

Christianity has inspired a dish that everyone can take to their hearts.

There is, in our confectionary repertoire, another little delicacy

that, like the simnel cake, has traditionally been eaten at Easter.

Well, I'm quite sure you'll recognise what these are.

Of course, they're hot cross buns.

And I'm quite sure also that you'll know the very famous rhyme...

"Hot cross buns! Hot cross buns!

"One-a-penny, two-a-penny, hot cross buns!

"Give them to your daughters, give them to your sons."

They're a spicy and fruity BUN-dle of joy.

First of all, you'll need three cupfuls of flour.

Then a level teaspoonful of salt,

two level teaspoonfuls of mixed spice...

The recipe might be simple, but it's laden with symbolism,

and that's mainly down to the iconic cross

that marks it out from lesser buns.

Mark the cross on them. And the other way.

And get your mother to put them on the top shelf of very hot oven

and bake for 15 minutes.

'Them is the softest buns I has ever done had!'

It's so deeply embedded in British folklore that no-one really knows

how and why it came into being, but there are many theories.

Traditionally, we only ate this Easter treat on Good Friday.

And for long time,

it's been closely associated with the Christian church.

The cross makes that connection obvious,

but it's believed that they date much further back than that,

to pagan times.

The Saxons would bake bread slashed with crosses to honour Eostre,

their goddess of spring and fertility,

and the source of our word, Easter.

Over the centuries,

these humble baked goods became the stuff of legend and superstition.

One of the more curious being

that a bun baked on Good Friday would never go mouldy.

It's lasted 108 years like that. But it's incredible,

because there were no preservatives or anything 108 years ago.

It's still intact, really, isn't it?

It is, apart from the fruit, really.

And you can still see the cross on the top of the hot cross bun.

Alas, there's proof to the contrary, in The Widow's Son

pub in London, where, for over 150 years,

buns in various stages of decay have hung behind the bar,

Thanks to a long-held tradition.

Mr Proud, how did this all begin?

Well, at one time, there was a house built on this place,

and the widow that was here

was waiting for her son to come back on Good Friday.

-He went to sea, did he?

-He went to sea, yes.

Well, he never showed up on the Good Friday, so she saved the bun.

And it was carried on ever since by saving these buns.

Every Good Friday, there's a bun saved.

How do you pick your saviour?

We sometimes advertise for them, if we can't get a local boy.

-Well, they might not be immortal...

-But they're ever so tasty,

and they'll always have a place.

# Hot cross buns! Hot cross buns!

# One-a-penny, two-a-penny, hot cross buns! #

-Do you know any songs about simnel cake?

-No.

Food has a central place in religion, and it's easy to see why.

Obviously, it's fundamental to our survival,

but it also provides comfort and enjoyment.

So many religions give both praise and thanks for what we've got,

along with pleas for more of the same in the future.

In the West, with modern technology and farming methods,

we are far less likely to starve,

or have a glut of food in summer and shortages in winter.

But for our forefathers, belief and ritual

could mean the difference between survival and despair.

Paganism has a particularly direct relationship with the earth.

Food plays a key role in pagan beliefs.

For druid, Mark Graham, it's a belief system

that best suits his own view of life.

Paganism is a belief that the earth itself is sacred.

That sense of connectedness with nature has always been

an important part of, I suppose, my religious feelings,

or at least my sense of being connected to the gods and goddesses.

When druidical ritual takes place on autumn equinox.

Bread and mead are particularly important on the day,

and Mark's in charge of making the bread.

Tomorrow's the public ceremony for the autumn equinox,

when we celebrate the tipping point in the year,

when from now on, the nights will be longer than the days.

In all our ceremonies, we share bread and mead.

So it's a symbolic way of thanking the gods and goddesses,

but also a time of preparation.

But it's not your average sliced white loaf you know he'll be making.

What I'm going to do for tomorrow's ceremony

is recreate an Iron Age bread.

A loaf of bread that our ancestors, 2,000 years ago,

would have been using during their autumn equinox celebrations.

Where did he find an Iron Age cookbook?!

It's based loosely on the stomach contents of bog bodies.

These are people who have been preserved for 2,000 years in peat,

in peat bogs.

They've been dug up, their stomach contents have been analysed,

and so we know what they've been eating.

Move over, Nigella!

Here's the latest recipe from Piltdown Man!

They ate a lot wider range of vegetable products than we do today.

A lot of the things that we might consider today

to be a pest in the garden, like nettle,

in fact formed an important part of the diet of our ancestors.

Mark prepares the bread and quite a rich mix it is too,

with poppy, hemp, and flaxseeds.

Next, he mixes it together with spelt flour

and a bit of beer to help it rise.

I'm sure there are bakers holding up their hands in horror

at what might appear to be the rather slapdash fashion

in which I'm making this bread, but I can assure you,

this is just as our pagan ancestors would have made bread.

Before it's baked, Mark rolls out the bread

and pops on a decorative Pagan Arwen symbol.

Now that I've formed the loaf,

I'll leave it for 20 minutes just to rise by the fire.

As this is an Iron Age recipe, once it's risen,

it doesn't go in the fan-assisted often.

Instead, Mark bakes it on an open fire.

Cooking like this, out of doors, is just so much more elemental

than doing it in the kitchen, isn't it?

Where you switch on the gas or whatever.

You're here with the sound of the birds

and you're surrounded by nature.

The honouring of ancestors is incredibly important

within the druid tradition.

We're all connected to our fathers and mothers

grandfathers and grandmothers

in a chain that leads back to the beginning of all time.

HE TAPS BREAD I think it sounds ready.

There's a nice sort of hollow sound there.

So hopefully it's nice and well-risen in the middle. We'll find out.

Along with the bread, the ceremony also calls for mead,

which has been made by fellow druid, Rick Blackett.

Mead has a truly ancient history in Britain, and for Rick,

it's part of our heritage that has been a bit forgotten.

I'd really like to have a lot more people making what is,

after all, and has to be

one of the oldest and most traditional drinks

that there is in the world.

It's just so easy to make.

Once you've got a yeast, all you need is honey for sweetness,

and to feed the yeast, and water,

and you've got an extremely pleasant alcoholic drink within two weeks.

Nothing else works quite as well.

Mead became overshadowed by wine as a symbol of religion,

but there are far more beehives

to be found on our island than vineyards.

-We'll get you some gloves, and then we'll be ready to go.

-Excellent.

Beekeeper, Jay Anderson,

has just started providing Rick

with a regular supply of sweet honey.

Feel the weight of that. That's pretty good.

There's probably about four jars in there.

It's fantastic.

These bees here have actually collected the pollen to make

this honey within visual range of where we're going to be on Sunday.

So you might be wondering exactly how you turn delicious honey

into a drink that makes your head go fuzzy. Over to you, Rick!

Ancient man would have made mead, because it's so simple to make.

And I really do feel that, in the deep, dark winter,

that warming taste of summer will really be have been welcome to them.

And we use it in the same way in paganism.

We will, in the darkest of winter,

reflect back on summer when we're drinking the mead,

because you really can taste the summer in it.

To make this particular batch, Rick adds some nice, wintry spices.

Nutmeg, cloves, ginger, and cinnamon. Go on, Rick!

Then it's just a matter of mixing water, honey, lemon juice

and yeast, which are the key ingredients.

That will sit for about two weeks, and will slowly settle out.

When there's not bubbles coming out of that,

you can just bottle it off.

It's really that easy, and in fact, if we missed all the spices out,

it would have been significantly easier and a lot less complicated.

Water, honey, yeast, and a lemon,

and you've got two large bottles of mead in about three months' time.

Well, that was easy!

Rick made the mead

for the Equinox celebrations over a year ago.

And it's a deep, treacle colour.

That's lovely-looking mead!

DRUMS BEAT

On a Iron Age hillfort in Leicestershire,

local residents, members of the public, and druids

have gathered together, to join an autumn equinox ceremony.

The bread and mead they've made are inspired by types that Iron Age

locals would have known well.

So, let us celebrate in the time-honoured fashion...

The ritual is about the changing of the seasons.

The idea is for those taking part to reflect on their lives,

looking forwards and back.

And the bread and mead play a very important part.

Goddess of plenty, bless this bread.

-I bring you the mead!

-CHEERING

-May you never hunger.

-So may it be.

The food, like the location,

is a direct connection with their ancestors.

And perhaps our tastes haven't changed that much after all.

There's nothing better than sharing the bread and the mead,

to help us connect with each other and connect to our hearts.

And often, we can laugh as we do it, you know?

It's a really lovely thing.

That was a good mead this time.

It went down really well. We went through two bottles,

refilled the horn.

Fantastic mead. Everybody loved it.

The mead was the perfect complement to the bread, I felt.

It was lovely mead. Really fantastic.

Bread and mead. Two of the oldest and tastiest foods around.

The perfect combo to celebrate with, whatever your beliefs.

Now, when it comes to food at the heart of religious celebrations,

there's one faith that goes above and beyond with its culinary duties.

In Britain, we have the second largest Jewish population in Europe,

and fifth largest in the world.

So in the Best of British kitchen, we're going to show you how to

make one of Judaism's finest traditional treats.

We're making the most tender and tasty braised beef brisket,

served up with potato latkes,

a favourite combination during Hanukkah,

the Festival of Light, and it's easy to see why.

Try to get some brisket that's got a bit of marbling in it,

and what we mean by marbling is inter-muscular fat.

So, look, see all this here? That's marbling.

And what you want is you want it like that,

because it ceases to be dry then.

The fat will keep all of that beautiful meat nice and tender.

Season the beef with salt and pepper,

making sure every bit of fat gets involved.

While Dave, thinly slices a couple of onions, I'm going

to brown the beef in a casserole dish with a bit of oil.

'Those lovely beef aromas are going to taunt you for a while yet!'

I love the way the flaked salt and pepper is on there.

and that's going to caramelise into a nice crust.

Do you know where Hanukkah comes from?

It's according to the Talmud, in 168 BC,

the Temple in Jerusalem was desecrated by marauding Syrians,

and they left only enough oil for the lamps to burn for one day.

But, miraculously, the lamps burned for eight days.

So this miracle has been celebrated ever since,

and that's the feast of Hanukkah.

And the symbolism of the oil is that you celebrate by cooking

food that's cooked in oil.

'When it's nicely browned on all sides,

'pick the beef out with some tongs, but don't throw away the juice.'

That residue in the pan are the building blocks for a great dish.

With the onions frying, pop the beef back into the pot

with a few sprigs of thyme and a bay leaf.

While Si's hypnotised by the beef, I'm adding two tablespoons

of tomato puree into 500ml of hot beef stock to pour over the meat.

And lastly, some red wine.

That's 200ml to be exact, and it really is beef's best friend.

That's it. And that's going to become a gravy machine.

Bring the whole lot to a gentle simmer,

and place in the oven for three hours.

While you're waiting, it's time to start the latkes.

The Hanukkah feasting treat!

They're fatty, their fabulous, it's a potato cake by any other way,

but they're lovely, because it's got egg and flour in.

It's more than rosti.

'Oh, aye! Prepare to get teary with any cook's nemesis -

'grating a whole onion!'

Now this is going to make me cry.

Oh!

Whoa! Flimmin' 'eck!

You could, of course, just put this in a food processor.

But then, you wouldn't feel the love,

the sacrifice, your fingertips in your dinner.

There's a lot of grating in this one!

We also need eight grated potatoes.

Cut four peeled carrots into chunks.

Quarter three more onions and chunk up a celery.

You know, in olden days in the Jewish communities

in Russia and Poland, in the winters, times were hard,

and latkes were one way of making a humble grated potato

mixed with a little fat, a little love,

go a long way and provide something tasty and satisfying.

Do you know, I once ate 13 latkes at one go.

How did you eat 13 latkes?

It was a long period of time, and they were free.

Oh, fair enough!

In a pan in true Hanukkah tradition, put some oil...

It's great!

Do you know, I could get into a religious tradition

-that kind of fries everything!

-It's brilliant, isn't it?

-Yeah!

Gather all your grated potato and onion in a tea towel,

and wring out the excess water over a bowl.

Make sure you've mixed the onion and potato thoroughly.

Then, fry up the onions, celery and carrot chunks.

Now, remember, my onions are in here so I need to mix that up.

After an hour-and-a-half in the oven,

get the beef out and turn it over.

See, that makes sense, doesn't it?

Because half of the beef is poaching,

half of the beef's roasting.

So by giving it even, you get the best of both worlds.

And the best of flavours.

Back with the latkes.

Add plenty of seasoning to the potato and onion,

along with a handful of chopped parsley and chives,

then sprinkle on a tablespoon of flour.

Now, just kind of work your dry goods through those damp potatoes.

What's your favourite kind of Jewish delicacy?

There is nothing better than a fresh, warm bagel.

It's just a thing to behold.

Beat one whole egg with an egg yolk.

Add it to the potato and onion, then squash it all together by hand,

and then form into patties.

The latke's a hand-formed creature.

Heat up a glug of sunflower oil over a medium heat and add the patties.

-That looks a good size latke.

-I would say that's a very good size.

Fry them until they're nice and brown on both sides.

Frying!

Since that diet, this is like revisiting that old friend.

It is, isn't it?

-Put them on an oven tray.

-Oh, yes.

I'm excited. So, that's three hours with one... Oh, haven't you shrunk?

Look at that! Look at that!

Now, what we're going to do...

We're going to nestle these veggies in,

all the way around this lovely bit of brisket.

Put it back in the oven for an hour to two hours...

..or until the beef is tender.

The great thing about latkes is you can simply warm them up

when you need them, making timing dead easy.

-Another 15 on the beef, Kingy.

-Smashing.

-The latkes are in.

Not long now. Tummies are grumbling.

-The smell, mate, isn't it? Yes.

-Fantastic.

-Right, the big reveal.

-Oh, yes.

Now, I'm going to take this brisket out

and then cut the string off and we're going to carve it.

After a few minutes, the latkes are ready to join in too.

The beef is fantastically tender and served up with the gravy,

veg and latkes, it's simply a mouth-watering wonder.

Yay! I suppose what we should say...

-Happy Hanukkah!

-Happy Hanukkah!

Happy Hanukkah!

It would be rude not to try it, really.

That is really good.

That is really good. And the latkes. Crikey.

Do you know, if you want to be British about it,

you could call it kind of beef pot roast with potato cakes

but you know, this has got heritage

and this is boiled brisket with latkes.

Without doubt, this is a meal worth celebrating.

Feasting has long been a significant feature of most religions

but quite often, going without food is just as important.

Fasting was the key to the 40 days of Lent for the Catholic Church.

Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation. Through your goodness

we have this bread to offer, which earth has given and human hands have made.

And it's also at the core of the month of Ramadan in Islam.

For us, the Koran cannot be properly understood

unless we prepare ourselves spiritually for that purpose.

The spiritual preparation is done through this fasting.

This needs a lot of self-control, self-discipline

and fasting is one of those things, a spiritual exercise anyway.

After the month of fasting, this is the way we break our fast

and start this day of thanksgiving.

But ending a period of abstinence with a celebratory meal isn't just

common to our nation's two biggest religions, Christianity and Islam.

It's also practised by one of Britain's most recent.

In Aldenham, there's a gathering to celebrate one such feast

on a scale that's quite remarkable.

Hare Krishnas are well known for their generosity

when it comes to food.

And today's Janmashtami festival in Hertfordshire,

which celebrates the birth of deity Lord Krishna, is no exception.

More than 60,000 people will visit in two days.

That's a lot of mouths to feed.

Bharti Patel is a real food hero.

She's in charge of cooking a celebratory meal, Prasadam,

for all of the festival faithful.

This is religious food on an industrial scale.

We call it Prasadam because whatever we've cooked, we first

of all offer it to our Lord Krishna and then sanctify it, purify it.

Once we've offered to Krishna and he's had his Prasadam,

we mix it with the other food so that all the food becomes Prasadam.

Then it's served to all the devotees and the visitors who've come today.

Now I've got a team of 108 people working.

Most of the ladies have been chopping all day, potatoes,

fruits, capsicums.

Over the two days, we'll be serving almost 60,000, maybe 65,000 people.

We started working at 10 o'clock in the morning,

until midnight we'll still be cooking here.

We make sure that everybody has had Prasadam and then we close off everything.

And clean up and then go home at about two o'clock in the morning.

The Hare Krishna movement was founded in New York in 1965

by his divine grace Swami Prabhupada,

and believers worship the deity Lord Krishna from Hinduism.

It was popularised in Britain thanks to the Beatles,

in particular George Harrison.

He became a lifelong follower in the late '60s.

MUSIC: "My Sweet Lord" by George Harrison

George donated the Bhaktivedanta Manor to the group, where the

festival, which marks the end of the fast, is being held today.

We fast to try to cultivate some austerity but at the same time,

the fast culminates in a feast and that feast can last for three days.

Today, the Prasadam consists of four dishes, samo, which is

a type of grass seed...

Fruit salad, made with cream and rose syrup...

Puri, a kind of fried bread...

And potato sabji, delicious!

Potato sabji is my favourite dish

because in the evening just before 12 o'clock,

I will make a special one for me, for our team,

with slightly more chillis and ginger in it and enjoy it.

Look at the size of that saucepan, Si, could fit you in that!

Don't be daft, man, Hare Krishnas are vegetarians!

This is samo, very similar to rice,

but slightly tangier because we've added yoghurt to it.

Finally, we're making a sweet dish which is the fruit salad.

This is a dish for people who don't tend to eat any food

but just stay on fruits, fasting, so we give them this as a special dish.

The festivities and celebrations continue long into the night with

drama, music, chanting and generally having a thoroughly good time.

And people are enjoying tucking in to the delicious Prasadam food

whilst they celebrate.

I'm actually only having the fruit bit.

I've finished my fast...

I just love all of it. It's delicious. We come here every year

and we really look forward to having this Prasad.

It's very nice and it's very yummy.

The masses certainly look happy with Bharti's work.

Everybody is so tired

but even though we've been told to make extra veggies

because the crowd is still coming, but they're still very keen.

If I ask them to make more, they'll continue making more.

Actually, we're tired but still, at the end of the day,

we feel that we are so grateful that we did something.

It feels so nice to do that.

Five, four, three, two, one...

CHEERING

As the clock strikes 12, the celebrations reach their climax.

And those who have fasted all day get to eat.

I've been fasting for over 24 hours.

It was glorious. It was amazing.

You can appreciate every single bite of food.

At one in the morning, after cooking for around 15 hours straight,

Bharti can finally sit down and try out her own food.

I'm feeling extremely happy today because I've had a very, very satisfying day.

I've had an amazing day. All the cooking has been done.

People are still having Prasadam. We've broken our fast.

I will feel great knowing a lot of people have eaten this food

and the food is absolutely amazing. It's very, very tasty as well.

It's quite something to cook for so many people

and she's managed to keep everyone happy.

This has to be one of the largest examples of food being at

the heart of religious ceremonies, in multicultural Britain.

But more than that, Bharti's food has helped make a big day even

more special for her fellow Hare Krishnas.

With most of the major religions, there are instructions

about what you're supposed to eat and avoid eating.

For centuries,

Christians were expected to abstain from eating meat on a Friday,

out of respect for the day that Jesus died.

Instead, people would eat fish so in the Best Of British kitchen,

we've got a recipe that celebrates fish on a Friday in style.

We're making lush salmon, cod and smoked haddock fishcakes in a buttery parsley sauce.

-Who doesn't love a fishcake? It's fish without the hassle.

-It is.

And it makes whatever fish you buy go an awful long way.

It's a good easy eat.

All I've done, cos we need some mash to base our fishcakes around.

I've cut some potatoes into three centimetre chunks,

boiled the daylights out of them and mash them.

There's fish galore in this recipe.

Place a 250g salmon fillet, 250g cod fillet

and 100g smoked haddock fillet into a shallow pan.

Remember, Dave, on a Friday morning, what you'd hear,

is you'd hear a horn go in the street... Honk, honk!

-Fish, fish!

-That was the fish man.

Pour in 500 millilitres of milk,

season...

..then add in a bay leaf and heat up till it starts to bubble.

So, Dave, when is a fish not a fish?

Since medieval times, we've always had a boom on a Friday for fish.

Actually, the rules were relaxed a bit as to what was defined as fish.

Beavers and seals qualified as fish

because they live predominantly in the water.

-Oh!

-That's one way of getting round religion, isn't it?

You can logic your way out of any argument.

When the milk has started to bubble, cover it up

and turn off the heat immediately.

Leave it to stand for 10 minutes, which will cook the fish

and infuse it with flavour.

The spuds should be ready now, so once drained, get mashing.

When it's cooked, take the fish out.

Make sure there are no bones and flake it into a bowl.

So that's the cod, the smoked haddock and the salmon.

Right, I've got my fish there. I'm just going to strain off the milk.

And set this aside, ready to make the parsley sauce.

You get the most wonderful, rich-tasting sauce.

Chop up six spring onions and whack them in the mash,

with a load of salt and a load of pepper.

Add the zest of half an unwaxed lemon.

Once the zest goes in, mix well to combine.

Preparing ahead, put about 25g of flour

and two beaten eggs onto a plate, alongside a bowl of breadcrumbs.

Add the potato mix into the flaked fish and mix it up.

So take a handful of the fishcake mixture

and form into about that size.

That to me... What do you think?

I think that's spot-on. That's a good fishcake.

Heat a glug of oil in a frying pan.

Then coat the fishcakes in the flour.

Roll them in the egg, not forgetting the edges.

And then cover them with the breadcrumbs.

And place them in the frying pan to cook.

That's too much. Can you turn that down, Kingy?

When you've browned on both sides, pop onto some baking parchment.

As my mother used to say, "It should be the size of a hockey puck."

The thing is, I didn't know what a hockey puck was.

I don't think she did either.

Now, you've got to have a sauce with these fishy bundles of loveliness.

Grab a handful of parsley and finely chop it.

You know, Kingy, it's said that parsley grows better

-if it's planted by a woman.

-Really?

It's also said that if a woman plants parsley, soon after,

she'll fall pregnant.

I tell you what, there will be loads of lads getting off their

settee now, saying, "Get out of the garden, get out of the garden!"

I tell you what else as well, if you sprinkle parsley on the head,

it's said to be a cure for baldness, you know?

Why would that be of interest to me?

One couldn't say.

Put the fishcakes in the oven for about 10 minutes to finish them off.

Now back to our luscious parsley sauce.

Melt 25g butter into a saucepan

and sprinkle in 25g of flour,

just like making a basic white sauce, really.

Start to trickle in that strained fish poaching liquor.

This is going to be a lump-free experience.

Add in the parsley and simmer the sauce for three minutes

until it's thickened.

Look at this. As if you put an emerald in a blender.

After 10 minutes, the fishcakes are ready.

Serve them up with a lovely bit of kale and the parsley sauce.

Job done.

Get some of that sauce.

Oh, man. It's a marriage made in heaven.

Well, mate, thank goodness it's Friday.

I tell you what though, this would be great any day of the week.

Friday happiness on a plate and no doubt we've been encouraged to

experiment with recipes like this thanks to fish being

a brilliant alternative to meat in years gone by.

And thankfully, we didn't have to go near a seal.

Whatever your beliefs, there's food made just for you.

In modern Britain, there's spiritual food with great variety

and quality for ceremonies and celebration.

Great tasting traditional dishes that everyone can enjoy.

If you want to find out about any of the recipes from this programme,

log onto our website:

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