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Fine Dining

with Woodroffe Spanker

Woodroffe Spanker

Hello there chaps and chapesses. Ever find yourself in the unfortunate position of having to entertain a rich aunt and proving entirely unequal to the task of feeding the old dear? You could try tempting her with that tin of anchovies that has been skulking in solitary confinement in the larder since last Michaelmas, or even, if things get really desperate, fobbing her off with a bread roll that you smuggled out of your club, hidden in the brim of your hat. Such tactics, however, are unlikely to impress. Your aunt, as most aunts do, will expect to be treated to a first class nosebag and anything less will be evaluated, committed to record and brought up against you next time you try to touch her for a fiver.

So what do we do? Well, we don't panic because, as ever, good old Woody Spanker is here to extricate you from this spot of bother. You might be tempted, upon the eve of your aunt's impending visit, to fake an illness, flee the country or even, gulp, hire a private catering firm. Nothing so drastic is required. I'm here to tell you that it is perfectly possible to lay on a premium spread yourself, thus avoiding the necessity of painting your face with spots, submerging yourself beneath false whiskers or taking out a second mortgage on the old pied-à-terre. It's all about the courses - get 'em in the right order and lay on the correct cutlery and you'll be in clover. The fact that the actual bill of fare will be barely fit for human consumption is by the by.

Let's start with:

The Butter Course

Some gourmets prefer to serve the butter course later in the meal, or even skip it entirely, but you don't want to appear cheap. Remember, you're out to impress and in this respect the butter course is a dashed good opening. For maximum effect you will need to present a selection of at least five different butters. Butter spoons should be available, although it is acceptable, and quite fashionable, to use one's fingers. Shirt sleeves can be rolled up and please ensure there are clean towels and a mop nearby.

Trumpets and Pennywhistles

Gosh, the number of times I've had to explain to people that the trumpets and pennywhistles that feature so significantly in this course are not actually for human consumption, usually whilst I have been frantically attempting to recover one of the aforementioned instruments from a luckless diner's gullet. Nobody with any sense would ever try to eat a trumpet, from which we can only conclude that the multitudes that I have rescued from an ignominious demise due to brass poisoning must have all been thoroughly out of their minds.

No, the trumpets and pennywhistles merely provide musical accompaniment to a light salad - top French chefs have apparently decided that serenading your food is an aid to digestion. Whether this is true or not is for you to decide. I, personally, would not wish to pick an argument with a top French chef when his blood is up. From what I gather, you can serve up pretty much any old vegetable matter for this course: just remember that the louder the trumpet, the better the food. The pennywhistles apparently have no measurable effect other than to provide musical garnish.

Meat Tower Course

wine glass

It's astonishing to think there have been debates, in Parliament no less, about banning the meat tower from British tables on health and safety grounds. True, there have been several high profile cases in which diners have been seriously incommoded by toppling meat towers, but these were evidently poorly constructed and there's no reason to suppose that you would be at risk from a tower made of a sturdy beef or a good quality lamb. Admittedly, if you're using poultry you're asking for trouble, but then what kind of a damn fool would try to construct a tower out of chicken?

Your aim, if you wish to demonstrate that you are at least a halfway decent host, is to assemble a meat tower around three feet high - certainly no less than two and a half. If you can incorporate a couple of turrets and a gravy moat, then that would be simply wonderful but there's no sense in overreaching yourself if you don't feel confident. As my old tutor used to say, a collapsed drawbridge will only ever lead to embarrassment. He was a strange fellow.

The Finch Course

It is a truth universally acknowledged that as a species the sophisticated diner does not incline to a rigid system of tastes and appetites, and it is for this reason that the finch course is not to everyone's liking. However, skip it and you will rapidly find yourself being talked about in all the best households in town; what they will say about you in the worst households is not worth serious consideration.

Goldfinches are de rigueur, of course. Bullfinches are troublesome but worth it. Spectacled finches are only really for the yachting set and are best avoided, if you can get away with it. Chaffinches are just showing off. Serve everything with brown sauce, natch.

Giant Killer Octopus

bottle

I'm sure I hardly need tell you, but when one has a giant killer octopus flapping about all over one's best table linen, upsetting the pickles and stealing a fellow's potatoes, it's as much of a talking point as it is a meal. Messy but well worth the effort. I once attended a society do in Chelsea during which the hostess wrestled with one of the beasts for three quarters of an hour and at several points it looked like it was gaining the upper hand. Or upper tentacle, perhaps I should say. In any case, she was a game girl and I'm pleased to report that she ultimately got the better of the troublesome leviathan.

The trick with octopuses - and this is advice that I have no doubt will serve you well in other areas of your life - is to subdue it quickly before it starts getting its suckers up one's nose. To this end you will need to ensure that your guests are fully equipped with the requisite tools for the job. A good quality harpoon gun is essential - you can hire them for quite a reasonable sum from Harrods - plus the usual complement of bone saws, hammers and scalpels. There is a modern trend these days for using power tools, but frankly such heathen practices make me shudder. I suppose I am a traditionalist at heart.

The Tomato and Onion Ring Game

One has always been told that one shouldn't play with one's food, but now that we are getting near the end of the meal we can make exceptions. At this point you want to serve something light, frivolous and fun. Some gourmands favour Yorkshire pudding charades or carrot battleships, but for me the tomato and onion ring game is the only real option, combining as it does the right elements of skill, friendly competition and carbohydrates.

The idea is that one tilts the plate hither and thither in order to nurse the tomato into one of five onion rings of differing sizes. I have to say I'm really rather good at it. Five points are awarded for hitting the smallest ring, four points for the next and so on. Be a sport and ensure you use a sufficiently firm tomato. The winner gets a goldfish, which is served as the next course.

The Goldfish Course

See above.

The Treacle Course

There is a jolly good reason why treacle is always served last. Actually there are several, allow me to enumerate them for you. Firstly, after you have poured roughly five pints of treacle down your neck you are pretty much saturated. It's a rare customer indeed who can continue to consume anything in the wake of a sugary deluge on such a biblical scale.

Secondly, the palate is pretty much ruined at this point and will take a good twenty-four hours to recover. This is excellent, of course, since you are sending your guests away with a lasting and pleasingly troublesome reminder that they have been fed, and fed both copiously and professionally at that.

Thirdly, treacle has been medically proven to act upon the brain in such a manner as to render its victims highly suggestible. In other words, they are putty in your hands, your work is done and you can ask anything you want of them. Time to remind Aunt Jemima that she promised to advance you a tenner. Did we say a tenner? Actually, do you think we could make it twenty?

Essential Cutlery and Cruet

Onion Ratchet

The onion is a slippery fellow. Small onions in particular are apt to slide out of your grip and shoot across the room to find refuge beneath a heavy piece of furniture. Here they will remain dormant, hidden by a thick coat of protective fluff, until rediscovered many years later. The onion ratchet provides the answer, rapidly curtailing the wayward habits of these mischievous vegetables by exerting a firm and evenly distributed pressure, thus preventing its unexpected departure from your plate.

Prescription Pepper Shaker

We all love pepper even though medical science informs us that it has no beneficial effects on our constitution. Quite the reverse, in fact. I heard of one chap down at my club who loved pepper so much that during his lunch he would spend more time sneezing than eating. Indeed, it got to the point where it was seriously displeasing the other members. And then one day he rather overdid it and with one monstrous sternutation he upset a dessert trolley, despoiled a portrait of Wellington and temporarily deafened himself.

What this fellow should have done is to have asked his doctor to prescribe a special medical pepper shaker. This ingenious device has no holes in it, meaning that one can shake it to one's heart's content without the risk of any of the contents emerging to contaminate one's meal.

Cheese Shovel

You have your cheese axe for your hard cheeses and your cheese spoon for the runnier varieties but what about the crumbly cheeses? Failure to invest in a good quality cheese shovel will lead to extreme social embarrassment when your guests find themselves inundated by an avalanche of Wensleydale or Dorset Blue Vinney.

Gravy Comb

gravy comb

I bought my first gravy comb when I was at university and I'm still using it today. Some people think that it's cheating to comb the lumps out of gravy but people rarely ever detect the difference, and the lumps themselves make wonderful presents for a young nephew or similarly easily pleased relative.

Colly-Wobbler

I knew a chap who once served his collies unwobbled. To give him the benefit of the doubt, he had lent his colly-wobbler to a friend, who then badly let him down by failing to return it. The poor soul had done his best to wobble his collies manually using an egg whisk and a leather strap but his efforts had been his vain and the results had turned to ashes in the mouths of his guests, who could not fail to notice that the collies they had been offered had an unmistakable air of unwobbliness about them. The sequel to these events is that this chap joined the French Foreign Legion - a salutary tale that should serve as a lesson to us all.