In the olden days we used to love condensed milk. sofabrother and I would take our pocket-money and head down to the local cafe and buy ourselves each a can. Then we would take one of those old-fashioned can openers that made little triangular openings and puncture the top of the can on opposite sides. We’d go and sit in the garden (“Don’t you two even think about making a mess in my kitchen”) and pour little streams of the sweet sticky milk into our mouths. Walking sugar drunk back to the house with whatever remained about an hour later. And stashing it right at the back of the fridge so we could finish it off the next afternoon. Sofamother used to make a peppermint crisp fridge tart with the caramel version of our treat. She would get the pressure cooker out, fill it up with boiling water, drop two cans into the pot, seal it up and leave it for an hour or so. When she pulled them out, the tins seemed heavier than when they went in, and Mark and I would each be given one to open and empty. Anything that stuck to the sides was our reward. Read MoreThe Perfect Easy Caramel.