Mary Berry My Life on a Plate

'For everyone, there's a taste of food or a smell of cooking that

-'zooms you right back to childhood.'

-It's just like my mum's cake!

'I'm Brian Turner...'

It reminds me of someone I used to know at school.

'..and I'm going to stir up the food

'memories of some much-loved celebrities...'

-Oh!

-Oh!

-Look at that!

'..going back to their early years before they were famous...'

-Mm!

-Oh, my gosh!

'..with recollections of Sunday roasts and school dinners.'

-It's time for something to eat.

-Brilliant!

'I'm celebrating the food their home regions are proud of.'

-Which way would you like to go?

-Er...this way.

'I'll recreate a nostalgic family favourite...'

Mm, you can't beat a crumble.

'..and a tribute dish that puts my guest's life on a plate.'

Magic. Magic!

Today, Mary Berry returns to the city of Bath, where she grew up.

-I was quite naughty.

-She remembers a thrifty childhood...

We made the most of everything.

..and the first time her cooking was noticed by her dad.

-He said that my treacle pudding was as good as mum's.

-Crikey!

A bit of praise!

'I'll be in my outdoor kitchen, creating nostalgic food...'

That gives us lots of energy, if we go dancing tonight, lass!

'..designed to put Mary's life on a plate.'

Wow! That looks amazing!

Mary Berry was born in 1935 in the gorgeous West Country

city of Bath, famous for its grand Georgian architecture.

Her father Alan was a surveyor and a town planner who

served on the local council, eventually becoming mayor in 1952.

The city's magnificent buildings were the backdrop to her childhood

and the Roman baths themselves played a particular part

in Mary's younger life.

Mary, this is just a beautiful place you've brought me to, it really is.

Do you know?

My greatest memory of this particular bath, its hot springs.

It comes out hot and that is hot.

And when I was young, we had a dachshund called Rupert, and Rupert,

like many dachshunds as they get old, lost the use of the back legs.

And so, Dad, being Chairman of Planning,

my mother used to come down here with the dog on a lead

and used to pop the dog in here and the dog would do like this,

and believe it or not, that dog walked again

-and had a lot more years of his life.

-Lots of people do that.

No, you weren't allowed to do that! Nobody's allowed in the water.

But Mum used to come... Here we are, early in the morning. Listen.

BELL TOLLS AND SEAGULLS SQUAWK

-Isn't that lovely?

-The seagulls or the bells?

-The bells.

Mum used to come early in the morning,

before there was anybody about...

-Did your mum get in the water as well?

-No, no.

She stood on these very steps

and the dog went in and you can imagine, it strengthened the legs.

Your father obviously had clout in Bath,

he obviously was a well-respected member of the community.

Yes, I like that. I think he did have clout.

He was very respected, he had definite views

-and he was a very fair man.

-Do you think that affected your childhood?

It didn't so much affect my childhood, it's affected me now.

I am very fair.

Mary's father was also a keen amateur photographer

and animal lover,

and she's inherited a fantastic archive featuring some young

and very enthusiastic models.

To find out more about Mary's life growing up in Bath and what role

food played in her childhood, we're going next door to the Pump Room.

In Georgian times, the English gentry flocked here to gossip

and drink the hot spring water, which was claimed had healing powers.

I'm hoping to find inspiration for two dishes I'm going to

cook for Mary -

one full of nostalgia, the other a special tribute to her.

So, just going back to school days,

were you interested at all in food in those days at all?

School was not something I enjoyed a lot.

I was a bit of a tomboy really and I didn't work very hard

and at the age of, I suppose, 12, you either did Latin

and maths, or you did domestic science.

Right.

And the Bath High School, they had a new domestic science department.

I was the luckiest person.

It had only just been opened and so, I went to do domestic science

-and that changed my life completely.

-Oh, really?

Miss Date was our teacher, a little round lady with a huge smile,

and, you know, she praised what I did, because I was trying very hard,

because I knew what good food was

and I made a treacle sponge pudding in a little pudding basin,

took it home, and Dad never praised any of my work, it wasn't

worth praising,

but he said that my treacle pudding was as good as Mum's.

-He might have even said it was better.

-Oh, crikey!

A bit of praise! I was so lucky.

But severe illness made Mary determined to make

the most of her luck.

When she was 13, she contracted polio

and spent three months confined to a hospital bed.

To try and lift her spirits,

her father even brought her pony to visit.

When she recovered, her love of cooking took her to catering college

and later to the Cordon Bleu School in Paris.

On her return, she took a job writing recipes for magazines

and never looked back.

In 1970, she wrote her first cookbook.

Since then, she's had over 70 books published,

covering everything from one-pot meals to cooking for the freezer.

Throughout the '70s and '80s,

she presented a regular cookery slot on daytime TV show Good Afternoon.

Nowadays, thanks to a certain baking show, she has her own series and

is not only a primetime superstar,

but something of a national treasure.

Just go gently round the crispy outside

and then straight through the middle, and all is revealed.

Just look at that!

So, was your household growing up... Was it centred around food at all?

Or did you ever think in those days, food might take such a major

-part in your life?

-I don't think that is so, no,

because it was wartime and, of course, meat was rationed,

so you didn't always have it, but offal was not rationed

and not everybody knew what to do with that.

-No, and not everybody likes offal, for some reason.

-Ooh, I love it!

-Me too. It's delicious stuff.

-I can remember all those things

and we also grew a lot in the garden and I remember the vegetables,

because in the evening, Mum would say, "What do you want?"

And I used to have squeaky cabbage, because Mum cooked cabbage

-really well and new potatoes and mint sauce and no meat.

-Oh, right.

Because actually, I just loved the vegetables so much.

I remember also, we had goats and she would make

a bit of butter from the cream and we also kept a pig and...

-You kept a pig?

-We did. And my father loved his animals.

So, it didn't affect you personally or as a family,

the fact that you kept the animals and then, you realised that,

eventually, you were going to eat them?

We didn't eat the goats. The goats were there for the milk.

We would eat the pork, but we weren't allowed to ever

discuss at mealtimes that that was our pig.

I remember my brothers sort of saying, that was so and so.

My father would almost burst into tears - a very unemotional man.

He would get up from the table and you could see he was so upset.

Was yours the kind of household that had a pudding when you sat down?

Yes, and interestingly enough, my mother said in the war,

when everything was rationed, she said, "If you lot give up

"having sugar in your tea, you will get the occasional pudding or cake."

And I particularly remember my mother's bread and butter pudding

and we all loved it so much.

Family life was obviously very important to Mary and I've got

some ideas for a special tribute dish that pays homage to that.

As we journey back to Mary's youth,

I've ordered an old teenage favourite of hers - Bath buns.

These rich, sweet buns have been served in the city since

the 18th century and were apparently a great favourite of Jane Austen's.

They look delicious,

but will they stand up to the Mary Berry treatment?

The size is right, the lovely shine on top, but this is nib sugar.

The ones that I remember were sugar lumps that had been crushed up

and dipped in butter, so that when you ate them, they were soft

and also, you'd get a lump at the side and it was really good.

Being a Yorkshire lad,

butter and sugar can do nothing but help you.

Let's cut into it and have a look-see.

Yes, and you're cutting in the right way, that's how we would.

-We didn't cut it across.

-Thank goodness for that.

-I could've been in trouble there.

-It's beautifully fresh too.

Now, that, to me, is a perfect texture.

-It's the flavour I'm waiting for, though.

-Me too.

-So, let's just go for it.

-Mm.

'Ooh! It's like being in the Bake Off tent!'

That's quite correct.

-The sugar lumps, the crushed ones, would be actually inside too.

-Yes.

And that's where the sugar lump has dropped

and that gives a lovely surprise.

Did you make these when you were at college?

Because that's when I remember making Bath buns.

We didn't because very little time was spent on yeast cookery.

-We did do filo pastry, I remember. Goodness knows why!

-Really?

-That was such fun.

-Mm.

Pulling it, stretching it, throwing it... It was good!

Never made it since.

Mary's parents embraced the wartime message to dig for victory,

growing fruit and veg and keeping animals, including goats,

in the garden.

Today, the goat is making a comeback in Britain.

To find out why, I've come to Hill Farm Dairy, not far from Bath,

where Will Atkinson and his wife Caroline keep their herd.

-Morning, Will. How are you?

-Hi, Brian.

-This is just wonderful.

Look at them. What on earth made you become a goat farmer?

Caroline, my wife, was working in a cheese shop

and she really wanted to make her own cheese.

She wanted to make an unpasteurised cheese

and so it was important to have our own source of milk.

That's where I came in. She asked me if I'd keep the goats.

I was a lawyer, so I had no relevant skills whatsoever,

but we thought we'd give it a go.

It was a big learning curve, but goats are really engaging animals.

They're fantastic and they're great fun. They're big characters.

And very friendly, I have to say.

They're inquisitive and they just want to eat your jumper, mainly,

because they're fibre eaters, not grass eaters.

They're browsers, not grazers.

So we let them out and when they go out into the fields,

they're not as good as sheep at mowing the grass down,

they're looking for all the docks and the plantains

and the fibrous stemmy stuff,

because that's their natural habitat. They're naturally...

They'll be going round a brushy area, a scrubby area,

and that's why they're the most popular farm animal in the world,

because they can turn rough ground into milk and into meat.

-How many have you got here?

-We've got about 100.

There's probably just under 100 in the barn here.

-You've got three main types of goat that we've got in here.

-Right.

There's two, which were originally Swiss breeds

and those are called Saanens, the white ones, they're British Saanens.

-OK.

-And then the brown ones with the normal ears,

they're the British Toggenburgs and then, the third breed is a sort

of Middle-Eastern, Mediterranean goat called Manglomunin,

it's been anglicised again,

and they've got the massive ears, big Roman noses.

The goats are milked every morning

and evening for nine months of the year.

These days, it's all done by machine,

but I want to find out how difficult it is to do by hand,

as Mary's mum used to do.

How old am I? And this is a first for me!

So, thumb and first finger, just squeezing the teat into a bit of

a balloon, like that, so you can see the pressure with the milk in there.

And then, the other finger just pushes on the balloon to make

-the milk come out, like that.

-Ah!

-So, that's not doing the animal any harm at all?

-No.

-Because that's the way it used to be done, I suppose...

-Exactly.

-She's happy.

-..for hundreds of years.

She'd be jumping around if she wasn't happy.

Anyway, that's how you do it.

Do you want to try the milk, just before we do it?

-It's like a Horlicks milkshake.

-Creamy, warm Horlicks, exactly.

Exactly what it is.

-Anyway, off you go.

-Right, OK.

So, just move your legs there a little bit, darling.

-There's nothing coming out of this.

-She's not kicking you yet, so...

Thank you very much! Get the balloon and then it's... Yes! I have some!

We have blast off!

And she's still happy.

OK, well done. Thank you very much.

There are nearly 30,000 dairy goats across the UK today

and 75% of their milk goes into making cheese.

The British appetite for high quality artisan cheeses has

created a boom in small producers like Will and Caroline.

They make eight tonnes of cheese a year,

from a small soft cheese, which can be eaten after only ten days, to

a large hard cheese, which is left to mature for up to six months.

Now, goats' cheeses from other parts of the world have a reputation

for strong flavours that not everyone likes.

So I'm interested to see how these Somerset cheeses compare.

Perfect, thank you.

I love the texture and I think it's not overpowering at all.

-It just builds in the mouth to start with.

-It does. It has a long taste.

It goes on for a while.

It's not got a strong, pungent goatiness to it.

It's quite mild in that respect.

That's lovely, so let's try the other piece, then.

Oh, I love the smell.

-That's got a much stronger smell.

-Absolutely, yes. Yeah.

I can't understand why anybody would say,

"I don't like goat's cheese," when they taste that.

I think that has a lovely, natural sweetness to it,

one wouldn't have expected from a goat's cheese.

-It does.

-So here's the 64,000 question -

what do we drink with a goat's cheese?

Well, being in Somerset, it would

only be right to have some cider with it, certainly.

But more traditionally, perhaps, some white wine.

Ooh, this is turning into a cracking afternoon, is this.

-It's magic, thank you very much.

-Cheers, Brian. Thank you.

-Cheers.

I'm taking Mary on a journey back to her youth

and I've got a surprise for her.

In 1998, Mary's old school merged with another girls' school

in the city to become the Royal High School.

The school that you used to go to,

which was then Bath High School, is just down the road.

-Just down the road on the right.

-And it's closed.

-It's closed.

It's been vacated and all the students are now in this school.

-Is that right?

-Absolutely.

-Well, we're very lucky.

We've got a key to get in to the old school.

You can go inside and so, I'd love you to go now and have a look.

It's not what it was,

but it may bring back some happy memories for you.

And in the meantime, I'm going to prepare a dish just for you.

A nostalgic dish that will make you think back to those wonderful days.

So, off you go. You go and enjoy.

-You have a good cook.

-I'll do my best.

We've set up our kitchen in the stunning grounds of the new school

and I've taken inspiration from Mary's stories of growing up in Bath

during the Second World War to

create one of her childhood favourites.

Now, Mary's mum actually got the rations

so that she could make a very special pudding.

I didn't need any rations, I've got enough here.

I'm going to make a really special bread and butter pudding.

I know Mary likes simple things

and I know she's going to really love this.

Mary hasn't been back to her old school for over 60 years.

It's empty now, waiting for redevelopment.

Good gracious! This is all very different.

Gosh! I remember this!

This is where I would be rushing in with my satchel

and grabbing my coat and whatever, because I was always late

and I would come in here and that's the cloakroom,

and it hasn't changed at all. The trees have grown up.

There was just a bank here, which we used to roll down and things.

But it's very much the same actual building.

Well, the first thing I remember is the floor.

That's exactly the same floor.

I also remember that glorious fireplace.

And the headmistress's room was here

and, you see, there's a light above the door and I would be

terrified, because I would've been told to go and see the headmistress,

and the procedure was you knocked at the door

and waited till that green light came on.

Your heart began to beat and in you went.

I was frequently called here,

and I can remember her always looking down and saying,

"Mary, you're here again," or something like that.

And, you know, "Try harder," and "Don't do that."

"We must take life more seriously,"

which I used to listen to and, for a short time,

I even believed in it but, you know, it was more fun to do other things.

I was quite naughty and, er...

there was quite a little gang of us, really,

and we loved break and gym and games and all those things,

but when it came to sort of doing the more serious subjects,

I wasn't so fond of that.

The plan with my nostalgia dish

is to whisk Mary back to happy times at home.

First, I'm making a deliciously velvety custard.

I've begun by heating half a pint of cream and half a pint of milk

together, and adding the seeds of one vanilla pod.

I've put the pod in as well.

Get bags of flavour in there to start off with.

So, whilst that's coming up to the heat, let's take the eggs.

I want my custard to set when it cooks, so I'm using lots of eggs.

Six yolks and two...whole eggs.

I'm adding caster sugar to sweeten.

But this is a real way to make a lovely custard, is this,

for bread and butter pudding.

Then, mixing in the hot, creamy milk.

Lovely. It's thickening already, is that.

I don't want to thicken it any more, because we'll do that in the oven

when we get everything else ready.

Right. Time to start building my pudding.

I'm going to use a bit of brioche bread,

so that's an enriched bread, it's got extra butter in there

and sugar in there - it's lovely sweet.

Just put a little bit of butter on these slices here.

Looking at that, I think we need about ten slices.

Of course, the beauty of this is it gets rid of stale bread,

if you've got any about.

My dad used to make this, but it was very simple when he made it.

In fact, I'm sure it was bread and marge pudding.

Now, I happen to know Mary used to enjoy making marmalade with her mum.

So, now, we're going to put marmalade onto our bread and butter pudding.

Your decision, whatever kind of marmalade you want to use.

This is just traditional stuff. Looks lovely.

I've cut each slice in half to arrange in a buttered dish.

Push that down and then, we're just going to strain...

the custard over the top.

Now, I think it's a good idea to leave this, then,

for about 40, 45 minutes,

so that the bread soaks up

all this delicious, luscious custard.

I don't want to lose those seeds either,

so just put those back on there.

That looks good.

This was the library.

The one thing you had to do was total silence.

I always used to go right to the window,

because there was always... You could see other people playing

and doing things, but this is totally different now.

There were no trees there. It was just beautifully mown grass

that went down to the junior school and beyond our playing field.

When I say playing field, it was TO PLAY.

I can remember in the summer they would cut all the grass,

then we collected up the hay and we made little, sort of, houses,

like tents, and we'd get in them.

But I spent very little time in the library

and I wasn't a bookish child. I'd much rather be outside and playing.

I'm making my own take on a bread and butter pudding.

For the custard, I heated cream, milk and a vanilla pod.

Meanwhile, I beat six egg yolks and two whole eggs with sugar,

then stirred in the creamy milk.

I've used slices of brioche bread, spread with butter and marmalade

and arranged in a buttered, ovenproof dish with the custard poured on top.

I've placed it in a tray of water, or bain-marie,

to cook for about half an hour.

All that remains to make is a crunchy topping.

Wotcha. How was it down the school?

Well, of course, it was a little bit sad

but, gosh, there were lots of memories there.

-Oh, really?

-Much of it was still the same.

OK, so, what I'm doing here, I've got a bit of water in there,

put a bit of sugar in there, make a bit of syrup,

and I'm going to take these bits of zest and I'm going to just cook

those in the syrup,

and then, we'll mix it with these chopped pistachios.

They've got this lovely colour.

Mum used to do whole bananas dipped in chocolate

and then, with the pistachio, and I'm talking about when...

The earliest memories, that was, when I was very, very young.

Well, you'll be very sad to hear that the only bit I'm going to do

is the pistachio.

-It's a lovely smell of orange coming now.

-It's nice, isn't it?

It's almost to say you're in the kitchen and you're making marmalade.

Those were great moments.

You always knew what was going on because you could smell it.

First thing Mum would do was we'd shut the kitchen door

so it didn't go throughout the house.

Smells of childhood can be amazingly evocative

and, so far, I seem to be pressing all the right buttons.

To get a really crunchy topping, I'm straining the zest,

then adding the chopped pistachios.

When it's cooled, I'll chop it again.

Just one last finishing touch.

The nice thing about this is we waste nowt.

Look at that, just perfect.

-Wow, that looks amazing!

-Thank you.

Interesting you cook it in a bain-marie.

Saves getting bubbles in the mixture, saves it souffleing

and I just thought if it had, you might criticise me,

because every time I see you, you seem to be criticising people's food.

I am.

Oh, I can't wait.

I can't remember the last time I was so nervous serving up a pudding!

Look at the custard, not a bubble in sight.

Turning it upside down just shows off the fact that you've made

a perfect custard.

I want this nostalgic bread and butter pudding, with its luxurious,

creamy custard, to be as much a treat for Mary as her mother's was.

Finished with a crunchy pistachio and orange zest topping,

it's designed to be an evocative plateful of memories.

How exciting is that?

I don't know. How nerve-racking is it?

-You've got to have some of the pistachio and orange.

-No, quite.

Mmm, it gives a lovely crunch on the top.

And I have a suspicion that there is some cream in here.

Yes, there is, you're quite right.

There wouldn't have been cream in your mum's, I take it?

No, no. In Mum's, it was pure milk and it would have been

goats' milk, because that's what we have in the war.

I mean, this is sheer luxury.

Here's the question, would it have been, with your mum's,

with custard powder, or did she actually make it with eggs and sugar?

Definitely made it with eggs

-and sugar, because we had hens.

-Good girl.

-Oh, not custard powder.

This is so good.

That's a very luxurious version of my mum's pudding,

but am I enjoying it? Yes, a lot.

-Good girl, that's what I like to see.

-Thank you very much.

-Not a bubble in sight - look at that.

-Perfection.

A home-made pudding wasn't the only luxury Mary would have looked

forward to growing up in ration book Britain.

Sugar shortages throughout her childhood meant

the sale of sweets had to be restricted right up until 1953.

No kiddy under eight has known what it is to buy sweets off points.

Tuck shop commandoes will soon be storming the counters.

Don't worry about yours permanently glued together with humbug,

ask your dentist for a new set of teeth on the state.

By this time, though, most of the small sweet manufacturers,

who would have thrived in virtually every town, had closed down.

Lost with them were unique sweets, which would have been made,

sold and sucked locally.

But not far from Bath, in Cheddar,

a small family business - hand-making sweets

the traditional way - has kept alive some old West Country favourites.

We make the pineapple rock. We do it two different ways.

We do it with a picture of the fruit inside, which is

known nationally, and then, we also make it red on the outside

and yellow in the centre, which is a traditional Somerset product.

We also make the mint shrimp and then, the Bath bull's-eye.

Alexandra is the fifth generation Mizen to roll out

sweets by hand, using only boiled sugar,

glucose and a few natural colourings and flavourings.

It's magical to watch.

She learnt all she knows from her grandfather, Martin.

Most of the recipes handed down through the generations,

word of mouth.

I do have some of them written down, but I'm afraid, uh,

most of it's in here.

One old-fashioned sweet Mary might have sucked as a girl

was the Bath bull's-eye.

Bath bull's-eyes, originally made in the 1930s, to my knowledge.

Traditional brown peppermint with some white stripes on it.

Nowadays, of course, non-existent.

We're sugar-pulling, so we're pulling air into the sugar.

Makes it opaque and, in this case,

because we haven't added any colour, it's going to turn it white.

Also increasing the volume and changing the texture

of the sugar, so when it cools, it'll become crisp and crunchy.

And then we, literally, just make stripes by putting the brown

and the white sugar together,

pulling it, cutting it, so we get four stripes.

This is what we call a batch roller.

It's keeping the batch warm

and it's also taking it from being short and fat

to being long and thin.

And anything that's made in a rope form, like bull's-eyes,

all made in machines like this,

built in the 1920s and originally powered by hand.

Worth its weight in gold, although it's so old.

Many of the traditional sweets Martin and Alex make

are remembered as much for their shape as their flavour.

These are what we call drop rollers, made in the 1920s and '30s.

That one was made specially for a company in Yeovil back in the 1930s,

were called the original Somerset herbal tablets,

still made here.

Very popular in the winter. Good for people with coughs and colds.

One of the best loved sweets in these parts, though,

was the mint shrimp.

Well, mint shrimps were made, basically, for the miners who

worked in the Somerset coalfields.

Miners traditionally have taken boiled sweets to work.

Up in the North-east, the miners' favourite was the black bullet.

In South Wales, it was always the Welsh mint.

Sucking on the boiled sugar

helps to combat the dirt and dust.

I can actually remember, back in the '60s,

when there were at least seven or eight

small home-made sweet shops in north Somerset

and Wiltshire all making mint shrimps.

And they're all gone now. We're the only ones left.

I think the way that we make sweets here is really special.

There's not many of us left now making sweets this way,

and I feel like it's a bit of a dying trade.

It's up to us to keep it going.

I shall be very happy now to retire.

I think I've done my bit.

I'm taking Mary on a trip down memory lane, and I've brought

her back to the house where she spent most of her younger days.

So, what do you feel like now walking down this road,

for the first time in you don't know how many years?

-Well, it's a long while - about 65 years.

-Ooh!

-And...let's just see... Oh, God.

-There it is, look.

You know, looking up at those windows,

I remember in the war, in April, we had two days' bombing in Bath,

and every single one of those windows were shattered.

-Were you in the house at the time?

-We were in the cellar.

All in the cellar, underground, and grandparents who'd come down

from Hull to get away from the bombs.

Anyway, looking at that, it's a fine house, isn't it?

You go and have a quick look round, bring back some fantastic memories.

I'm going to cook for you a little tribute dish.

One or two things you've said have given me some ideas,

-so go and enjoy.

-Thank you.

Since Mary lived here, the house has been split in two.

It's really sad to see the house divided in half,

with this thick hedge right down the middle of the lawn.

We used to play all across here, and Mum would so often

be playing the piano and the windows would be open,

which she'd be keeping an eye on us in the garden as well.

I always remember the garden more than anywhere else,

and that bay tree. I was sent from the kitchen to get

bayleaves from that and there it is feet high now.

And, of course, no tarmac here, this was all lawn,

and, then, no houses the other side, just fields and cows.

And we made a camp here,

and my brothers and I had a fire

and we had a pipe that went outside our camp,

that came across the fire,

so that if you poured water at the top, it would

run through into a bowl and you would have hot water for washing up.

So, over here, this window, behind there, was the boiler

and it took up a whole room, but we very rarely had it on,

because Dad was very frugal and, you know, "Just put on another jumper."

And, as you go further in, there were other rooms

and Dad used to grow mushrooms and that was very exciting.

It was all very dark and...

now I think about it, I don't know how we ate all the mushrooms,

but he grew them.

But to the vegetable garden, that was straight back here.

While Mary is off to explore her old back garden, we've set up

our pop-up kitchen round the front, to create my tribute dish to her.

It was a surprise to me to discover Mary Berry,

the queen of cakes, loves offal.

It was often the only meat she got to eat when she was a child,

and I happen to know one of her favourite parts was tongue.

So, I've got some ox tongue, some ham and some chicken.

I'm going to make a pie. I know that Mary loves pies

and fresh vegetables as if they were fresh from her dad's garden.

First thing we need to do, we need to get the leeks on,

ready to go with our pie.

Mixed in with the meaty filling, the leeks will add colour and flavour.

I'm sauteing mine in butter and chicken stock,

which will help make a tasty gravy.

Bit of salt...

bit of pepper, and we'll just let those cook

for a couple of minutes, no more, just to start to soften them up.

To remind Mary of all that fresh veg her dad used to grow,

I've got some carrots with their tops on.

Just so that they look as if they're fresh from the garden,

so take that off,

and all I'm going to do now is cut those in half,

trim up the bottom - and I haven't peeled them,

they're just nicely washed, are these.

Okey doke, here's my leeks.

They've kept a lovely colour, that's what I want.

Just want them to cool down a little bit now,

so I'm going to put them into this bowl here.

Adding more cold chicken stock to them now will help cool them quickly,

and I'll cook my carrots in butter and chicken stock, too.

Season...

and for a lustrous glaze, add a bit of sugar.

Now, we'll just let that slowly simmer away,

get rid of the liquor and all the flavour will go into the carrots

and then, we'll just get a really nice shine on, so they look

really pretty when we present them on the plate.

Now for the main attraction...

my meaty filling of tongue, chicken and ham.

I can just imagine this is the kind of dish

that Mary's mum would have made.

OK, so, put into the bowl.

The only other thing I want now is some fresh parsley.

Freshly chopped at the last minute.

And here I've got some rough puff pastry. I've made the pastry,

but, you see, just as easy sometimes to buy some puff pastry.

So, all I need to do now is to put the pie together.

So, imagine there was a little narrow path here,

and we would start the vegetable garden up here.

Neat little rows of vegetables, just like Mr McGregor.

No garages up here - there were greenhouses.

One was for flowers and then, the other greenhouse would have

tomatoes and cucumbers, and we were always sent to do the watering.

Then this, plus double this side - the other side -

would be all vegetables.

There were raspberries and strawberries, and Mum had to

grow sweet peas at the top, and I'm just the same as she is,

and I've grown sweet peas ever since I've had been married and had room.

We made the most of everything.

So, right now, I would be standing in the middle of the raspberries

and then, there would have been beans, runner beans.

There were fruit trees.

We were self-sufficient, really, in the war, for vegetables

and fruit, and the goats were in a pen right over to the right,

which is in the other half of the garden,

and they were white and they used to

make very sweet noises that would wake us up in the morning.

It was a very happy childhood for me.

As a tribute to those happy times,

I'm baking Mary a pie in her old front garden.

I diced leek and softened in butter and chicken stock

and cooked garden carrots the same way.

For the meaty filling, I mixed cubes of cooked chicken,

ham and tongue, adding freshly chopped parsley.

-The most wonderful smell's coming here.

-Oh!

Ah, look at the blessed rain!

I've had to put this umbrella up just to look after you.

Well, I'm glad you've done that, I don't like getting wet.

No, me neither. So, this is a lovely mixture for a pie,

and I remember you saying that you had lots of offal during the war

-and you loved it and your favourite was ox tongue.

-Yes.

You know, when Mum used to cook a whole ox tongue, she used to

split it in half and then put it in a sort of six-inch cake tin,

as it was then, and she'd put the cut side down

and the other one, the cut side up,

before she pressed it, so when you turned it out, it looked beautiful.

No pressure, then!

Plenty of stock in there, so it's just a nice gravy with it.

-That's what I want.

-Ooh!

And, over here, we've got some ready-made rough puff pastry.

And I know what I always do is, that's had four turns,

-that's what I do.

-That's exactly it, yes.

And that's the way I was taught at college.

Would you just like to hold this table?

I'm just holding everything. OK.

Looks really good, nice evenly distributed fat in the pastry.

I'm going to get good marks here from Judge Mary.

You know, Mum always used enamel and I've still got the enamel

plates. They're awfully chipped but who cares?

So, I'm going to do it the old-fashioned way.

I'm going to put a little border round the top as well.

That's exactly what I do. And you wet round here so it sticks.

-That's exactly what I'm going to do.

-I think we'd be quite a good team,

-you know?

-I think we would.

-I could put that on for you.

I'm not sure I should actually be asking my guest to help.

You're supposed to be here just having a jolly good time.

No, but you can't stop interfering - I can't.

Then, I'll egg that.

Thank you very much.

I love this next little bit...

when you trim, trim the edges.

At an angle because it shrinks.

Yeah, and it's so neat.

-I tell you, did we go to the same school?

-I think we did.

So, then, this is the next bit that I just love. I'm not a great...

-Go on, then.

-I just love crimping and it shows you just care.

Looks home-made.

Ta-da!

Finally, I'm using egg-wash to glaze,

and creating a hole to let the steam out.

A nice hot oven, 180.

It'll probably take about 35 minutes...ish.

Well, of course, it's in a metal dish, so it won't take much longer.

Looks good.

Smells...

Ah! It's a gorgeous colour.

It's sort of chestnut colour on top, isn't it?

And I've got one extra trick up my sleeve.

So, what I like to do is just take a little bit of butter,

-just get that little bit of shine.

-And it's so good for us as well.

Absolutely right. Gives us lots of energy

if we go dancing tonight, lass.

My tribute dish for Mary is inspired by her childhood love of offal.

Succulent ox tongue in a meaty pie,

served with crunchy glazed carrots on the side - freshly picked,

just as her father would have produced.

Your life on a plate.

Can't wait.

Oh, doesn't that look exciting?

And the pastry is just the right thickness.

-Look at the way it breaks. I'm going straight for the tongue.

-Good girl.

Oh, this tongue is... melts in your mouth.

It's interesting - there are a lot of people who don't like tongue,

but when those that do like it - I'm on your side - it is delicious.

-Mmm.

-Inexpensive and good for you.

And an ox tongue, you can only get at Christmas time in supermarkets,

but in a good butcher's you'll get it any time of the year. Ox tongue.

Mmm, and these carrots.

Now, what did you do with those carrots? They were so good.

Just put them in a little bit of melted butter, bit of sugar,

salt, pepper and then, a bit of chicken stock on top,

and then, just let them slowly cook away on the side, there.

Oh, it's really.... It's superb.

And I have to say, it's better than me mother would have made.

Mary, it's been a pleasure having you here today.

I really hope you've enjoyed the experience of looking

back at life through food.

That is my life on a plate and I'm proud to think it's mine.