Just the other day, I tried to bribe my youngest, Tilly, with a chocolate bar in exchange for a few minutes of affection. You see, I’ve been replaced by our new kitten as Tilly’s favourite family member, and the first thing my baby does when she comes home from school is to pick up the damn cat. Without relinquishing her hold on the feline, Tilly contemplated my offer for a few seconds, gave me a cheeky smile and walked off.

That would never have happened when I was young. Sweets were a true luxury for my brother, sisters and me. We would count down the weekdays in anticipation of the bag of treats that we’d share every Saturday afternoon. Mum would give us just enough coins to get a selection of Dip Dabs, fizzy cola bottles, liquorice torpedoes and sherbet bonbons from the sweet shop on Stratford High if we promised to head home straight after. We’d then have to sit in front of the telly while dad indulged in his passion for wrestling and mum made sure that there was no actual fighting over sweets in her living room. We were too busy stuffing our faces with sugar, but I do remember fierce and crazy scenes of Kendo Nagasaki, Big Daddy and Giant Haystacks in the wrestling ring.

As far as the sweets were concerned, I think that they were much more fun than today’s offerings. My personal favourites were barley sugars, sweet and sours, flying saucers and space dust. And I’ll never forget the day when my sister, Diane, broke the record for having a gobstopper under her cheek for more than eight hours! Mum was not happy when she learnt that we’d skipped tea to hold the competition.

At the risk of reigniting a childhood obsession, I’ve incorporated elements of some of the more memorable sweets in these recipes. If you’d like to try them, you may need to mail-order certain ingredients, such as the space dust and sherbet, from specialty sweet shops such as www.aquarterof.co.uk.

Rhubarb and Custard Pannacotta

Serves 4-6

Remember the rhubarb and custard sweets that we were always given as kids? As I recall, everyone loathed them because they tasted neither of rhubarb nor custard. This dessert is my way of redeeming the classic combination of flavours which truly are lovely together.

For the custard
600ml double cream
150ml whole milk
150g caster sugar
3 long sheets of leaf gelatine (or 3 tsp
powdered gelatine)
1 tsp pure vanilla extract

For the rhubarb compôte
3 tbsp caster sugar
6 tbsp water
300g pink rhubarb, trimmed and chopped

1 Put the cream, milk and sugar in a large saucepan and stir over a low heat. Slowly bring the liquid to a simmer. If it bubbles up the sides, adjust the heat and let simmer for about 5 minutes until reduced by a third. Meanwhile, soak the gelatine sheets in a bowl of cold water for a few minutes.
2 Remove the pan from the heat. Remove the gelatine sheets from the water and gently squeeze out any excess water. Add to the cream and stir to dissolve. Allow to cool a little before stirring in the vanilla extract.
3 Divide the creamy milk mixture into four serving glasses (six if using shallow martini glasses). Chill for a few hours until set.
4 For the rhubarb compôte, place the sugar and water in a saucepan and stir over a low heat to dissolve the sugar. Increase the heat and boil the syrup for 5 minutes until thickened slightly. Add the chopped rhubarb and simmer for a few minutes until soft and pulpy. Cool completely.
5 Spoon a layer of the cooled rhubarb compôte over the set pannacotta and chill for 20 minutes. Serve cold.

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