My granny's sweet rice pudding with a browned skin top, cooked slowly, maybe all day, in the oven of the cast iron black range, in a large brown dish, heated only by the coal fire in the adjoining grate. The same, patient method for her Lancashire hotpot and short pastry crust, or barley broth, or thick pea and ham soup, with the ham bone in the mix, with best patted butter and fresh crusty bread. My word, who needs steroids?. Let go granny's cooking? I can't. My childhood memories say I will never taste its like again.