Everyone and their granny knows and loves tablet, right?

Well, almost everyone. Having only spent half my life in Scotland (not my formative cooking-with-mother kind of years, either) I'd never tasted this sugary, teeth splintering comestible until a couple of years ago.

Upon trying tablet for the first time, two things immediately came to mind. The first - what is this incredible goodie and how come I haven't tried it before, and the second - who are you, and what have you done to my teeth?

Made of solidified sugar, tablet is a delicacy that has all the markings of being fabulously Scottish - sweet enough to rot through enamel in ten seconds flat, incredibly moreish and often with a recipe that's passed down a family for generations. So I don't feel like I'm exactly letting my heritage down when I can't eat it, because none of my family are Scottish. Doesn't mean that I'm not going to try it every time it comes my way, forgetting the effect it has on my teeth and ultimately leaving me yelping and desperate need of a lie down and a glass of water though.

In line with my periodic memory loss, the Glasgow Cookery Book has a recipe for fig tablet that's just crying out to be made and sampled. I figured that even if I don't try it myself, it could be just the thing to give out to my colleagues and use them as guinea pigs. Guinea pigs with stumps for teeth.

Figs, I believe, are one of those really underrated fruits you try and wonder why you haven't included in every shopping basket historically. The combination of sweet flesh, firm skin and juicy innards makes for a really special combination. It's a welcome addition to tablet.

I never actually realised how simple tablet was to make. I started by dissolving a pound of brown sugar in three quarters of a teacupful of milk (no teacups in my house - large mugs only) and stirred rapidly.

When it started to bubble I added half an ounce of butter and 3 ounces of figs (approximately two large fruits) washed and chopped roughly. Although stating in the ingredients that vanilla extract is required, the recipe doesn't dictate when it should be added so now is as good a time as any to bung it in.

The next part was slightly problematic as it called for me to heat the mixture to 240c, and the only thermometer I had in the house was the kind you stick in your mouth with. The recipe also required me to 'soft ball' with no mention of what soft balling was, or what exactly I was soft balling. No matter, though, as I simply continued to stir with a little more gusto than before. God loves a blagger.

There comes a point when boiling sugar that the mixture starts to get thick and a little more coarse -described in the instructions as 'beginning to grain'. Then I took the pan off the heat and poured the brown gloop into a greased tin before leaving to cool.

Because I don't have a Scottish granny (or, perhaps, much baking intuition) I refrigerated my tablet overnight to ensure it was set good and proper. The word 'fridge' is probably some sort of cuss in the confectionery world but it worked for me.

An hour before I was due to cut it I removed it from the fridge and let it come to room temperature. I then sliced my tablet into brownie shaped chunks, smoothing the rough edges down with a warm knife before serving.

Reader - I'll confess. I made the same error as always and sampled my batch. But sometimes it's worth making mistakes you've made before if there's some sort of pleasure to be obtained from them. Fig tablet is one error of judgement I may well continue to make forever.

Fig tablet

Ingredients

1 lb Demarara or brown sugar

¾ teacupful milk

½ oz butter

3 oz figs

Vanilla essence

Method

1. Dissolve sugar in milk

2. At boiling point, add butter and washed and chopped figs

3. Boil to 240c, soft ball, stirring all the time

4. Beat till creamy and thick and beginning to grain

5. Pour into a greased tin

6. When set cut in squares or bars