Faggots braised in Bristol Beer Factory Bitter

Where it comes to meat, I’m an unrepentant consumer. I’m at my absolute happiest with a severed hoof hanging limply out of my mouth, whilst I clutch a blood spattered cleaver and drag an industrial polythene bag containing at least 2 Kilos of unidentifiable, bloody animal parts along with my other hand.

I go too far with the imagery perhaps, (just a little) but what I'm driving at, and I feel this can only be expressed in the following, almost primal sentence - ‘I likes me meat’, and I'm in no way squeamish about it in a raw state. Ever.

At least, I wasn’t. Until I made Faggots last week.

I was making the aforementioned meaty balls (steady) for our ‘Montpelier Basement’ supper club, and when I say ‘I’, it was very literally just me, a one-man show. ‘E’ had recoiled in horror long before at the sheer meaty carnage and was hiding somewhere in the house

It wasn’t just one or two that I had to make, I could have handled that, but I had to make 30 cricket ball sized globes, which meant digging my hands into 2 kilos of minced, pink, sticky, gelatinous seriously Offaly smelling pigs liver and then stirring through various spices, more pig; in the shape of a kilo of minced pork belly; breadcrumbs and herbs.

It was good stuff, Gloucester Old Spot, but strangely it didn't make me feel any better as I looked down into this quivering cauldron of mangled pig parts. I'm ashamed to say I almost broke. I really didn't fancy putting my mitts in there. But then quite suddenly, I got a grip and with a small sigh and a ‘lets get on with this’ shrug of resignation, of the type you’ll often see from new parents changing a particularly loathsome shitty nappy, I relented and slowly sank my hands in, seemingly up to the elbow

Warm and sticky.

I’d be hard pressed to describe anything about the process pleasant, but I got stuck in and it wasn’t long before the breadcrumbs and spices had mixed through nicely with the meat and it all looked a hell of a lot more palatable. By the time I’d rolled out a couple of trays of neat looking porky spheres, I was feeling quite pleased with myself.

Next came wrapping them in Caul fat. I’d read about its use often, but never actually got my hands on some. It’s basically the membrane that surrounds a pig’s internal organs and looks almost web like in appearance. It’s awesome stuff with amazing stretching qualities. I little goes a long way, and it wasn't long before my meaty globes (hahaha) were encased in the most incredibly organic looking wrappers.

We’d decided to braise them in a combination of chicken stock and gorgeous Bristol Beer Factory No.7 Bitter. Not to blow our own trumpet (much) they were a thumping success.
Everyone almost with exception absolutely loved them. I tried one, and it was surprisingly light, quite spicy and intensely meaty. We served each with some local Sharpham Park pearled spelt (cooked in the same way as a risotto, with chopped sage stirred through at the end), and buttered Savoy Cabbage.

If I’m honest, it’s probably one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever cooked. To make something so excellent out of such seemingly unappetising ingredients really strikes a chord for my inner peasant.

Here’s the recipe.

Gloucester Old Spot Faggots braised in Bristol Beer Factory No.7

Serves 6

You’ll Need: -

20g butter
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, peeled and crushed.
sea salt and black pepper
1/3 Tsp ground mace
1/3 Tsp allspice
Pinch of cayenne pepper
1 Tsp chopped sage
1 Tsp chopped thyme
1 heaped Tbsp of finely chopped parsley
400g pork liver, trimmed and minced
250g minced pork belly (Gloucester Old Spot if available).
125g fresh white breadcrumbs
150g caul fat – soaked in water

For the Gravy: -

15g butter
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 Tbsp plain flour
½ Tsp tomato puree
250ml Bristol Beer Factory No-7 Bitter
500ml chicken stock
Dash of Worcestershire Sauce

To make the faggots, melt the butter in a small pan and add the onion, garlic and a pinch of salt and pepper. Sweat for 6-8 minutes until soft but not coloured. Tip into a large mixing bowl and leave to cool.

Tip in ALL of the rest of the ingredients, (except the caul fat) and season well. Think happy thoughts and get your hands in there, mixing well.
Divide the mixture into 6 portions, and roll into neat balls. Place on a tray, cover with Clingfilm and chill for at least 30mins to firm up.

Preheat the oven to 200C.Wrap each faggot in the caul fat, overlapping the edges, which should stick.Place in a lightly oiled roasting tray, spacing apart. Press to flatten very slightly, season and bake for 30-35 mins until browned.

Whilst this is happening, make the gravy.

Melt the butter in a saucepan and add the onion. Season and sweat. Stir frequently for 5-6 mins, until beginning to soften. Stir in the flour and the tomato purée to make a paste. Stir for a minute or 2, and then pour in the Bitter, stirring the whole time.

Boil and reduce by two thirds. Pour in the chicken stock, and bring back to a simmer for 10-15mins, until slightly thickened. Season to taste, and add a few dashes of Worcestershire Sauce.

Pour the gravy over the faggots to coat them all and bake for another 10-15mins. Baste them halfway through and serve when the faggots are nicely glazed.

(Recipe adapted from the rather excellent Great British Pub Food)

P.S.

Exciting news, and validation in particular of how cool I am, and by association, how cool you lot are for reading my blog. We’re all frigging tres cool basically, and here’s the reason why.
In the latest issue of Esquire, glossy magazine for the discerning gentleman, I was listed as one of the ‘5 Food Bloggers the restaurants fear’.Which I don’t believe for a second, but it stroked my needy and fragile ego rather nicely, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Forman's Love Cook Off (Win a Hamper Competition!)

If you happened to be a passing my basement kitchen last night, and stopped to listen closely. You might have heard the torrent of filthy curses, screams of rage and incredulous swearing emanating from my normally cultured mouth.
I thought I’d left that behaviour behind. Guests at our supper club often comment on how calm and serene the kitchen appears to be. But the blind cooking rage returned last night as I wrestled and sweated, trying to create something from a pretty random selection of produce sent to me by Forman & Field of London.

I’d somewhat naively agreed to participate in a Valentine’s Cook Off using a box of mystery ingredients with the aim of creating the best Valentine menu. I would be competing against a cunning and notoriously evil group of my fellow food bloggers.
‘I will crush them’. (Said in an Ivan Drago style voice)…

Tearing open and unpacking the mystery box, my excitement turned to puzzlement and then finally to panic I was confronted with the following luxurious, but utterly disparate selection of items…

H. Forman & Son Royal Fillet of Smoked Scottish Salmon
Formans Marinated Anchovies with Garlic
Mrs Kirkham's Lancashire Cheese
Moniack Castle Horseradish Sauce
Plantation Cottage Tarragon Jelly
Formans Brandied Cherries
Regent’s Park London Honey

What the hell could I do with this lot?

Sitting down to sob inconsolably and bang my head upon the table, I thought…and thought…and then, after about half an hour, ideas started to come to me, tumbling forth in an unconscious stream….

…It’s a Valentines menu, so it seemed obvious that it should be quite indulgent but also light, (so as to facilitate any après meal fumbling that might possibly result).
The Royal Fillet of Salmon was too good an ingredient to do anything with other than serve it sliced…
I could make a dessert out of the Honey and the Brandied Cherries…and I could incorporate the tarragon and the horseradish somehow…the anchovies, I had no frigging idea what to do with these, so…. errr…thought the best option was to pretend they didn’t exist and kicked them under the sofa.

There, a plan of sorts…now to refine, and tweak, cook, scream and swear as it all goes utterly tits up and finally force ‘E’ to eat the resulting mess…

Here’s the finished menu and recipes….

All recipes serve 2.

Sliced Salmon, Scrambled Egg Tart with a Tarragon Jelly glaze.

Salmon and scrambled eggs are a classic match, I thought it would look more impressive and elegant in a tartlet case, with the tarragon jelly brushed inside to glaze and give an interesting contrasting flavour.

For the Shortcrust Pastry: -

200g plain flour
Pinch of salt
75g cold butter, chopped
1 small egg
12ml water

Sift the flour with the salt. Rub the flour and butter together till it’s a crumble consistency. Add the egg and water and mix to form a smooth dough. Cling film and refrigerate for 30mins before using.

Roll out the pastry and line 2 greased tartlet tins, leaving the pastry overhanging to be trimmed later.
Line with greaseproof paper and baking beans, and bake at 180C for 15 mins.
Remove the beans and using a pastry brush coat the inside of the tarts with the Tarragon Jelly.
Return to the oven and bake for a further 10 mins.
Remove and put to one side to cool.

For the Scrambled Eggs: -

4x Large Eggs
Large Knob Butter
1 Tbs Double Cream
Salt and Pepper

I shouldn’t really have to give a scrambled egg recipe, but in the interests of completeness…

Add the knob of butter to a saucepan over a low heat and melt until foaming.
Beat the eggs with a fork, season and then pour into the saucepan. Stirring with a wooden spoon. Add the double cream and turn the heat down low, stirring regularly. The idea is too cook slowly until just set and creamy. Remove the eggs from the heat just before they seem ready.

Spoon into the tartlet cases.

Drape with sliced Salmon (Be generous).


Beetroot Jelly, Salmon and Horseradish Cream.

I’d made a Beetroot Jelly before, and knew that this flavour partnered with Horseradish and Salmon is an absolute classic. I pictured how it would look and how simple it should be, but the whole thing turned out to be quite fiddly to assemble and get right. I used Agar Flakes to make the jelly as ‘E’ is a Pescetarian but if you’re not bothered about such things, you could swap for Gelatine, as it’s much cheaper.

First make the Beetroot Jelly

You’ll Need: -
250g Cooked Beetroot
375ml Vegetable Stock
½ Tsp Caster Sugar
3 Heaped Tsp Agar Flakes

Grate the beetroot into a saucepan and add 250ml of the stock. Simmer, covered for 10 minutes.
Pour the remaining 125ml of stock into another saucepan and sprinkle over the agar flakes, leave for a couple of mins and then warm through stirring now and again until all the flakes have dissolved. This should take about 10 mins.
Pour into the beetroot pan and stir together.

Pour the mixture through a sieve into a bowl, do not force the mixture through.
Set the bowl over a larger bowl filled with ice, and stir slowly with a metal spoon until a gel begins to form. Spoon the jelly into a small flat-bottomed bowl lined with Clingfilm. Ideally you want the beetroot mixture to be at least 1cm thick.
Refrigerate until firm. This should take a couple of hours.

Next, make the Horseradish Cream.

You’ll need: -
100ml Crème Fraiche
2 Heaped Teaspoons Moniack Castle Horseradish Sauce
1 Tsp finely chopped Chervil or parsley

Mix all of these ingredients together.

To Assemble: -

Using a square cookie cutter, or sharp knife cut an 8cm x 4cm oblong out of the Salmon Fillet and place in the centre of the plate.

Cut a piece with the same dimensions from the beetroot jelly, and place on top of the Salmon.

Finally top with the horseradish crème, and garnish with some finely chopped parsley or chervil.

Regents Park Honey Parfait, with Ginger Crumb and Cherry Coulis

This is a bit of a cack handed homage to the beautiful Regents Park Honey Ice Cream Sandwich they serve at The Restaurant at St Pauls. It’s awesome, truly one of the best things I’ve eaten anywhere. For this, I made my own gingerbread and blitzed it up, but you could save time by blitzing some bought gingerbread biscuits, I doubt anyone would notice.

For the Honey Parfait
You’ll Need:-
3 Egg Yolks
90g Caster Sugar
225ml Double Cream
75g Regent’s Park London Honey

Line two small (6cm across, 4cm deep) ring moulds with Clingfilm.

Break the eggs into a bowl and add the sugar.
Heat the honey in a saucepan until melted then pour over the egg and sugar mix.
Whisk the eggs, sugar and honey over a saucepan of simmering water until doubled in volume.
Remove from the heat and whisk until cool.

Whip the Double Cream until at the soft peak stage, and then fold into the honey mixture.

Pour into the lined moulds (you’ll have some extra, so pour that into a tub), and freeze until set (at least 3 hours).

For the Gingerbread Crumb
You’ll Need:-
110g Plain Flour
Pinch salt
1 tsp Bicarbonate of Soda
½ heaped Tsp ground ginger
¼ heaped Tsp ground cinnamon
25g unsalted butter
50g soft brown sugar
50g golden syrup
1 tsp treacle

Sift the flour, salt, soda and spices.
Heat the butter, sugar, syrup and treacle until melted and then cool.
When ready, pour into the dry ingredients and mix to form a dough.
Refrigerate for 30 mins.

Pre-heat the oven to 190C, and grease a baking sheet.

Roll out the dough to about 5mm thick, and cut out biscuit shapes.
Bake in the oven for about 7 mins, but keep an eye on it. Gingerbread although seemingly soft, hardens as it cools – it’s very easy to overcook, so be cautious.

Cool on a wire rack.

To Assemble: -

Blitz a couple of the gingerbread biscuits to a fine crumb and sprinkle onto a small plate.

Stone and Blitz a handful of brandied cherries to make the coulis.

Un-mould the Honey Parfait, and dip each end into the gingerbread crumb.
Top each with a whole brandied cherry and spoon cherry coulis around the plate.



Honey Oatcakes served with Mrs Kirkham’s Cheese.

I wanted to use as many of the ingredients as possible, but still had some of the excellent Mrs Kirkham’s Lancashire Cheese left (Lets forget about the anchovies yeah?). In the end I decided to use some more of the Regents Park Honey to make some honey oat biscuits and to serve these simply with the cheese at the end.

You’ll Need: -
90g Rolled Oats
60g Butter
60g Regents Park Honey
Small pinch of salt

Melt the butter, add the salt, honey and oats and mix until combined.
Pour into a greased baking tin and bake at 170C around 25-30mins or until golden.
Remove from the oven and leave a few mins to cool, then cut into squares.


So that’s that. ‘The stuff that I cooked’.
I think that the tartlets and the honey parfait dishes worked best. Overall I was fairly pleased with how most of it turned out.

*Needle skidding across Queen's ‘We are the Champions’*

But, what’s this?
You think I’m an incompetent fool who doesn’t know his arse from his elbow and you could rustle up something far more impressive with the same ingredients?
Well….

*COMPETITON TIME*

Leave a comment telling me what you’d have made with the same ingredients, or failing that; utterly berate me for being a culinary clown and ruining such beautiful produce. The best and most entertaining replies will be entered into a prize draw to win a Forman & Field Hamper worth £60.

PS: Make sure to leave an email address or Twitter name so you can be contacted. The competition closes on the 10th February.

St Clements Posset (with quick candied peel)

If you’re short of cash, or time, one of the simplest yet fairly impressive desserts you can throw together with minimal ingredients is a posset, an ancient dessert of medieval origin. Although I warn you now, I suspect there may be a slight problem with this dessert akin to eating cheese before bedtime. Retiring to my luxurious pit after eating the aforementioned dessert (ably prepared by ‘E’), I had the most horrifying dream. I was pursued down alleyways, across rooftops and forced to take increasingly tortuous and laborious routes in a futile attempt to escape from my relentless pursuer…a guinea pig with unusually large and sharp teeth.

The horror.

We had a friend round for dinner, and being short of time, thought a posset would be the perfect choice. Deciding that we should ‘pimp’ it a bit for our guest, we thought that candied peel would be the way to go to elevate a rather plain posset to dinner party status.
Searching the internet for likely recipes we found that candied peel seems to involve a disproportionate amount of work…most recipes requiring about 5 days of drying time, draped over the thighs of virgins and only if the moon is waxing gibbous…. oh and you have to wear a badger pelt hat. Obviously.

‘E’ and I, melding our mungus foodie brains together, thus forming one utterly herculean, bulging mega gourmet brain, came up with an alternative quick method. Dismissing 47,700 results on Google with a nonchalant raised middle finger – we decided that we knew better.
Whilst we were ignoring conventional culinary wisdom, we also decided that a bog standard lemon posset was just too…errr…bog standard, and created an orange and lemon combo instead. Wild and crazy eh?

Here’s the recipe for the posset…. if you can deal with the Guinea pig terror…and the quick candied peel.

St Clements posset

Serves 4

Ingredients: -

450 ml double cream
110g caster sugar
1 Lemon
1 Orange

Plus, for the candied peel
1 cup sugar (plus a pinch of caster sugar for sprinkling)
½ cup water


For the candied peel: -

Remove half the skin of both the orange and the lemon in wide strips and carefully remove the pith.
Slice the peel strips lengthways into 2mm matchsticks.
In a small saucepan, heat the cup of sugar with the water to make stock syrup, simmering until clear.
To this, add the orange/lemon matchsticks and simmer gently for 5 mins.
Meanwhile, line a baking tray with greaseproof paper, and pre-heat the oven to 150C.
Remove the orange/lemon from the stock syrup and spread out on the baking tray. Put into the oven, and bake for roughly half an hour.
Remove the tray from the oven, and immediately scrape the peel from the greaseproof paper into a bowl (If it’s allowed to dry, it’ll stick fast – I speak from experience).
Sprinkle some caster sugar over the peel.

For the posset: -

Place the double cream and the sugar into a saucepan and stir to combine.
Heat gently at first, then raise the temperature and bring to the boil, stirring regularly.
Remove from the heat and add both the orange and the lemon juices.
Pour into heatproof glasses/espresso cups and leave to set in the fridge for at least 3 hours.
Decorate with a heap of the quick candied peel and serve with a shortbread biscuit on the side (Bought or baked yourself, your call).

Two months in a Bristol kitchen (Or, why we are fat - Part 2)

As promised, here is part deux in the award winning and critically acclaimed serialisation of two months in my Bristol kitchen*.

‘E’ and I cook together pretty much every night, kind of like Fanny Cradock and Johnnie (Myself, of course being the imperious Fanny with ‘E’ playing the bumbling background role of ‘Johnnie’**). But the leading role can often be exhausting, and sometimes I like nothing better than to lay prostrate on a chaise longue, resting and re-focusing my mungus foodie brain in absolute silence whilst ‘E’ takes over solely in the kitchen and makes me dinner for a change. Tres romantique, oui?

This very scenario recently transpired when we decided to take turns cooking three courses for each other in a somewhat competitive display of affection. I volunteered to go first, my gourmet brain being at that time refreshed and ready for immediate use. But what to cook?

Feeling in my water that a kind of Middle Eastern/Moroccan vibe was the way to go, I decided wisely to forge ahead into new territory, reckoning that the best idea was to cook completely untried recipes. I leafed through my trusty copy of the Moro cookbook, picking out and discarding ideas until finally, I had three recipes. New to me and entirely untested. (I think we can all see where this is going).

My first and main dish would be vegetable paella with artichokes and piquillo peppers, complimented by a side dish of slow cooked fennel and dill and rounded off with a poached cherry and almond cream dessert.


Later that evening, and panning out exactly as expected, I gazed at the stump of my bloodied finger, watching my life blood dripping and mingling with the mangled remains of the globe artichokes that lay hacked, butchered and scattered across the kitchen worktop. F*cking globe artichokes. I’d never prepared them before, and probably never will again. I’d sweated and wrestled, cursing their very existence on this Earth, covered in the downy yet bizarrely sharp fluff of their choke, slipping and sliding against the almost leathery consistency of the leaves whilst all the time very conscious of the wickedly sharp kitchen knife in my hand, which ironically wasn’t the instrument of my misfortune. The culprit was the vegetable peeler, which sliced a chunk off the end of my finger… subsequently making my vegetarian paella anything but. (Don’t tell ‘E’).

My hand now swathed in bandages, I whistled a carefree ditty through gritted teeth as I grimly continued with the task in hand.


Strangely enough the paella came out really well, ok – it may have contained the end of my finger and a pint or so of blood, but it tasted superb. ‘E’ seemed impressed too.
The slow cooked fennel side dish scattered with dill from the garden although perhaps a bit crunchy in part due to my not cutting it thinly enough was also not too shabby. So far, so good.


Sadly probably the simplest dessert I’ve ever prepared failed completely. Poached cherries? Easy – sling them in a saucepan and simmer. Almond cream? Blitz some almonds, sugar and add water, also ridiculously easy. How could it go so terribly wrong?
I now realise I added too much water to the almond cream, I’m not sure how but it ended up being a grainy almond flavoured puddle with poached cherries swimming forlornly in the middle. Realising instantly that it looked utterly shit, I fiddled with the presentation trying in vain to polish the turd of a dessert I’d produced. Flailing around like a drowning man, as a last resort I threw in a heap of yoghurt to thicken it, which just seemed to increase the volume rather than firming it up. There was no hiding it. ‘E’ took one spoon full and burst out laughing at its utter hideousness, which was the final insult really.

So in conclusion a bit of a disastrous meal from me. Could ‘E’ do better on her turn the following night?

Of course she could.
I can only comment as a consumer of course, but from my vantage point on the chaise longue, peeking from beneath the cold compress I was using to cool my ill-used, feverish foodie brain, still recovering from the previous night. The kitchen appeared to be an oasis of calm. No shouting. No screams of “Oh God, oh God – I’ve cut it off”, No constant streams of cursing the like of which would make a tourettes sufferer blush. Just efficient, businesslike, cooking sounds and wonderful smells.



Taking my seat at the table, ‘E’ (somewhat smugly I thought), presented the first course. A starter of roasted scallops, a re-creation of the same dish we’d eaten at The Seahorse in Dartmouth earlier in the year. Beautifully done, they tasted almost exactly the same as the ones we’d eaten at the restaurant. Hats off to ‘E’.


The next course, emerged calmly from the kitchen ‘grilled turbot steak with tartare sauce, Anya potatoes and pea shoots’ (The Turbot was a gift to ‘E’ from a fishmonger friend – Thanks Mat!) and wow – what a present. This rather expensive piece of fish had been done justice, and was cooked just right. Combined with the homemade tartare sauce and the pan fried Anya potatoes. Superb.


Gnashing my teeth, but at the same time pleased to be eating so well I awaited my dessert with baited breath. Peach melba with a blueberry coulis. Although nothing like the pigs ear of a dessert I’d served up the previous night, I was somewhat relieved when it was just ‘OK’ rather than stunning like the two previous courses. A slight chink in ‘E’s armour there then. Muhahahaha *twirls moustache*
I think we can all see who the winner was here (Points at ‘E’ but silently mouths ‘Me’).

So, lessons learnt.

1) When cooking to impress, never try out new and untested recipes. You're just asking for disaster.

2) Globe artichokes although admittedly, tasting amazing, are evil. I call down a blight on all of them. Die you bulbous green devils gonads die.

3) The introduction of human ‘meat’ to vegetarian paella can only improve the texture and flavour. Just remember to remove the fingernail first.

4) Turbot is amazing, especially when its free turbot (Thanks again Mat!)

Stay tuned readers for the upcoming part three in this gripping series, ‘Two months in a Bristol Kitchen’, which I’ll be writing…as soon as my finger grows back.


* I lie. Often.
** Also quite possibly a lie.

Two months in a Bristol kitchen (Or, why we are fat - Part 1)

I’ve lived with ‘E’ in Bristol for about two months now. We are both seriously into food, she owning a café and catering business and me writing this here food blog. As you’d expect the kitchen has seen a whirlwind of activity since we moved into our new home, which considering we are both from Essex has become a little part of the motherland in the South West.

So, what have we been cooking? – what happens when two food obsessed geeks co-habit?

Lets start the summer off with the premium Weber BBQ that I frigging won…yes WON! at the Grill Stock event held on Bristol’s harbourside in July. Tres impressive eh?
‘E’ and I wasted no time in firing it up. The first things we cooked on our new premium BBQ (Did I mention that I won it? As in – I WON IT?) were…Yoghurt marinated paneer flatbreads with charred shallots, rocket, piquillo peppers and a chilli and yoghurt sauce. Oh that's right, ‘E’ is a pescetarian so, sickeningly the first meal we cooked contained no meat. A crime against all that is holy in the BBQ world you might think, and you’d be right. Although it was bloody nice…but that’s beside the point.


BBQ event part deux was a much more elaborate affair involving a selection of side dishes, barbecued squid (which didn’t so much as BBQ with a satisfying chargrilled hiss as we expected, but whimpered and sweated a bit) the coals weren’t quite hot enough for our cephalopodic chum. Still it wasn’t bad when torn up and mixed with a lovely rocket and lemon salad.


Alongside the squid we served a chickpea, parsley and red onion salad and a baby gem, barbecued pepper and anchovy salad with a seriously garlicky dressing.


As if that wasn’t enough, we barbecued some corn on the cob (which took bloody ages by the way). In the spirit of frugality and thinking ourselves just a bit clever, we smothered it with a re-used herb and chilli infused butter lurking in the fridge (forgetting that it was also infused with anchovies). Bleurgh! Sweetcorn and anchovy – not a classic combination people, for good reason.

Sadly, just as we were getting into our BBQ stride, the British summer weather did what it does best, and started pissing it down for days on end. Obviously we like to cook seasonally, but it seems like we’ve had every season in one month. We went from summery salads to craving steaming hot stews and other wintery comfort food within the course of a week.

In times like this, there’s only one dish that satisfies these kinds of autumnal desires and it’s my old favourite Chickpea and Chorizo stew. But once again, hitting the buffers like a runaway meat train carrying an express delivery of 6 thousand tonnes of pork sausages – I slammed into ‘E’s pescatarian tendencies and derailed. But hey, lets not fight over spilt lentils man. I adapted my recipe and made a vegetarian version (sort of - ok, it has anchovies in it), which is cheaper, more healthy and tasted pretty much like the original. Win.


Adapted Chickpea and Chorizo Stew (With no Chorizo – but plus other stuff).

Serves 4-6

2 Handfuls mushrooms, thickly sliced
3 Salted anchovies - rinsed.
1 Medium Red Onion - chopped
1 Red Bell Pepper - deseeded and chopped
Olive Oil
2 Garlic Cloves - chopped
1 and a 1/2 Teaspoons dried Oregano
250g Passata
2x 400g Cans Chickpeas, drained with 75ml of the water reserved.
100ml Red Wine
500ml Vegetable Stock or water.
Hand Full of fresh flatleaf parsley chopped.
Black Pepper

Fry the anchovy, onion and bell pepper in a large saucepan over a fairly high heat until it begins to colour

Add the mushrooms and fry until brown, turn the heat down, and add the garlic and oregano and fry for a few more minutes. Add the passata, chickpeas. chickpea water, wine, stock and some pepper. Bring to the boil and simmer for 20 Mins. Add the roughly chopped parsley to serve.

We chargrilled some bread to serve on the side, but it’s also good with a heap of rice in the bottom of the bowl to stretch it out. Oh, and personally I like a load of white pepper on it. But ‘E’ hates it, although she is partial to a pint of sherry on the side.

And then, there was Yoghurt….
As a food blogger I often get sent stuff to try, and perhaps mention on this very blog. And thus, this is how the good people at Total sent me enough Greek yoghurt to fill a swimming pool. Making room in the fridge for this yoghurt bonanza meant we had room for pretty much nothing else, so we frantically racked our mungus brains for recipes to use up this dairy based bounty.

The Moro cookbook proved to be a happy hunting ground for appropriate recipes and two in particular looked like they’d use up a good few gallons of the white stuff.


First of all we tried a dish that had been recommended to us both, featuring the frankly weird and rather icky marriage of poached egg and yoghurt. Taking our first tentative forkfuls of ‘poached eggs with yoghurt, sage and chilli flakes’ no one was more surprised than us when it turned out to be frigging awesome. Dare I say, the best yoghurt and egg-based dish I’ve ever eaten, no really – it was amazingly good.


We also made a ‘Leek and yoghurt soup with dried mint’ which personally I quite liked, but ‘E’ wasn’t so keen on it, although it did use up 350g of our Yoghurt mountain, which could be considered something of a result.

We needed a break from yoghurt. Inspired by an excellent and free fresh pasta cookery class (held in a marquee located in Cabot Circus) by the Bordeaux Quay cookery school, we returned and broke out the Italian recipe books. Deciding that fresh pizza dough was the way to go (neither of us having made pizzas at home before) we quickly assembled the necessary ingredients and in no time were throwing dough all over the place in a incompetent approximation of someone who actually knows what they’re doing. Naturally I excelled and my time spent at the La Cucina Caldesi cookery school in London wasn’t wasted (Ok – 1 hour at a Moretti beer sponsored event, but hey – I rock).


‘E’ went for the somewhat surprisingly traditional potato and rosemary topping. I went off piste with an elk salami (a present from Sweden), fennel seed, caper, basil and red onion combo.


The results were frankly impressive, even if I do say myself. Beautifully crisp bases, better than pretty much any I’ve eaten in anywhere but the best pizza restaurants (Pizza Hut – I’m NOT looking at you). In addition we had great fun making them, it was a superb way to spend an evening…oh and they’re cheap (if you’ve got some elk sausage knocking about like I have).

That’s it for part one, people. More thrills, spills (and no doubt yoghurt) coming up in part two.

Cheddar, Leek and Mushroom Tart.

The first cookbook I ever bought was in 1999, believe it or not, it was 'New British Classics' by the ridiculously coiffured chef, Gary Rhodes.
Naff haircuts aside it's still one of the best recipe books I own, and trust me; I own a lot. It's just so comprehensive, a real celebration of British Food. Everything is covered in there, from 'rack on black' to 'spotted dick'. If you don't own it, I suggest you pick it up - and if like me, you're a bargain hunting frequenter of charity shop bookshelves, there's a good chance you'll come across it at some point, so snap it up!

I still cook from it often, and one of the best recipes is a cheddar, leek and mushroom tart (Errr, but in the book it may be Gruyere, and it may be described as a flan or quiche - my copy is currently languishing among many identical boxes of unpacked cookbooks after my recent move to Bristol). In any case, it's a cracking recipe and I made it again just the other day. I found this more or less identical version of the recipe online here - and have amended it with the substitution of cheddar cheese and addition of cayenne pepper.


Cheddar, Leek and Mushroom Tart.

You'll need: -

25g butter
4 leeks , washed and sliced
250g pack chestnut mushrooms , sliced
2 eggs
284ml double cream
140g Strong Cheddar Cheese, coarsely grated
Large pinch Cayenne Pepper

FOR THE PASTRY
280g plain flour
140g cold butter, cut into pieces


First make the pastry, tip the flour and butter into a bowl, then rub together with your fingertips until completely mixed and crumbly. Add 8 tbsp cold water, then bring everything together with your hands until just combined. Roll into a ball and use straight away or chill for up to 2 days. The pastry can also be frozen for up to a month.


Roll out the pastry on a lightly floured surface to a round about 5cm larger than a 25cm tin. Use your rolling pin to lift it up, then drape over the tart case so there is an overhang of pastry on the sides. Using a small ball of pastry scraps, push the pastry into the corners of the tin. Chill in the fridge or freezer for 20 mins. Heat oven to 200C/fan 180C/gas 6.

While the pastry is chilling, heat the butter in a pan and cook the leeks for 10 mins, stirring occasionally, until they soften. Then turn up the heat and add the mushrooms. Cook for 5 mins more, then turn off the heat.

Lightly prick the base of the tart with a fork, line the tart case with a large circle of greaseproof paper or foil, then fill with baking beans. Blind-bake the tart for 20 mins, remove the paper and beans, then continue to cook for 5-10 mins until biscuit brown

While the tart case cooks, beat the eggs in a bowl, then gradually add the cream. Stir in the leeks, mushrooms, cayenne pepper and half the cheese. Season, then tip the filling into the tart case. Sprinkle with the rest of the cheese, then bake for 20-25 mins until set and golden brown. Leave to cool in the case, trim the edges of the pastry, then remove and serve in slices.


I love this tart, it's so rich and creamy - obviously its probably got about a million calories in it, for the waistline watchers amongst you, but hey who cares when it tastes this good. We ate it along with a beautiful looking tomato and mixed herb salad knocked up effortlessly by the extremely talented 'E'.

Beef Cheeks

Flushed with my recent Pork Cheek success (see what I did there?) I've wasted no time in indulging in some more cheeky goodness…

*Brief pause for a misguided ponder on whether I should illustrate this post with a picture of the cheeky girls. Coming to my senses and recoiling in horror at this image, I decide, thankfully, for all concerned – that it’s a terrible idea*

Cheeky, Cheeky!

Errr, yes – so Cheeks… My next attempt would be of the Ox variety. Waitrose is currently championing ‘forgotten cuts’ and amazingly for a supermarket chain, they don’t appear to be cashing-in on it. Three shiny pound coins bought me two surprisingly hefty Ox cheeks, weighing them in my hand; I slinked away from the counter feeling like I’d just purchased the meat bargain of the century.

Little did I realise what trouble they would cause me, as I squirreled them away in the freezer for some future cheek action.

*Fast-forward two weeks*

Bounding from my pit in an irritatingly good mood and declaring that today of all days would be “cheek day” – I retrieved the meaty parcel from the freezer to defrost. At this point, I had no idea how I’d cook them…. I hadn’t even considered it. I knew that Ox cheek is a cut that needs a long slow cook, and I was thinking a few hours…. as far as I was concerned, I had loads of time….

Later that morning, with the cheeks half defrosted, I finally got around to checking a few recipes and was alarmed to find that nearly all, without exception require the cheeks to be marinated overnight to soften them up and even then they still need some serious cooking.

Dinner at 10pm was looking like a real possibility, until at my wits end I came across a recipe in Gordon Ramsay’s Great British Pub Food. ‘Beef cheeks braised in stout with dumplings’.
The cheeks are cut into chunks and braised in a combination of stout and stock for three and a half hours. I decided this was eminently doable. But, what? Beef or Veal stock needed, having none to hand and deciding that in order to do my cheeks justice only the real deal would do. I decided to make my own stock. Running down to the butchers, and purchasing some veal bones I got the stock on. It took bloody hours, but there’s something very satisfying about making a product so useful from inedible bones and a bit of veg.

So, Six hours later and my Veal stock done, I was ready to begin cooking the Ox cheeks for three and half hours. At this point I was starting to think this better be one of the best things I’ve ever made, because its taken nearly a whole day to prepare.

Here’s the recipe:-

Beef cheeks braised in stout with dumplings

Serves 4

You’ll need:-

2 Beef Cheeks, about 500g each
2 TBSP plain flour
Sea salt and black Pepper
2-3 TBSP Olive Oil
1 Large Carrot peeled and chopped
1 Celery Stick, trimmed and chopped
1 Leek, trimmed and chopped
2 Bay Leaves
Few thyme sprigs
1 TBSP tomato puree
1 TBSP brown sugar
300 ML Guinness or other stout
400 ML Quality Beef or Veal stock

Dumplings
125g self-raising flour
125g suet
½ TSP salt
Small handful of mixed herbs, such as parsley, chives and chervil, chopped.
1 heaped TSP creamed horseradish
4-5 TBSP Water

Trim off any excess fat from the cheeks and cut into bite-sized pieces.
Mix the flour with a little salt and pepper and use to lightly coat the beef pieces. Heat a thin layer of olive oil in a heavy-based flameproof casserole. Brown the beef in batches for 4-6 mins, turning to colour evenly, then remove to a plate.

Drizzle a little more oil into the pan and add the vegetables, along with the bay leaves and thyme. Stir in the tomato puree and sugar.
Cook, stirring frequently, over a high heat for 6-8 mins until the vegetables begin to soften and colour.

Pour in the stout and let bubble for 5-10 mins until reduced by about half. Return the meat to the pan. Add the stock to cover the meat and vegetables. Season well, bring to the boil and put the lid on.
Simmer gently for 3-3 ½ hours until the beef is just tender, stirring every once in a while. Taste and adjust the seasoning.


Meanwhile, to make the dumplings, put the flour, suet, salt and a good pinch of pepper into a large bowl. Mix well, then stir in the chopped herbs. Make a well in the centre and add the creamed horseradish and 4 TBSP of water. Mix to a firm dough that comes away from the sides of the bowl cleanly. If it is a bit dry, add a little more water. Turn the dough out onto a clean board and sprinkle over some flour. Roll the dough out into a sausage shape, then divide into 8 balls.


Carefully drop the dumplings into the stew, spacing them apart to allow for them to double in size during cooking. Replace the lid and cook for a further 20-30 mins until the dumplings have puffed up and are light and fluffy. Serve with seasonal vegetables.

So, after Ten hours of faffing about making veal stock and then slow cooking the ox cheeks in stout…. was it any good?


Although I ended up eating dinner at 9pm, It was bloody gorgeous. Stupendously good. In fact, one of the best things I’ve ever cooked. The meat was melt in the mouth tender, falling to pieces at merest touch of the fork. It tasted incredible. The surrounding stout stew was dark, rich and tasty, and the herb and horseradish dumplings were a revelation. So light, and so distinctly flavoured, they were the perfect accompaniment to the Ox cheeks. I’ll definitely be making these again to use in other stews.

So, my verdict on ox cheeks, if you’ve never tried them then you’re missing out. £3 for two cheeks to cook a dinner for four is making out like a bandit! Seriously good value for money, and seriously tasty. So, if you see them - snap them up!

Salted Butter Caramel Ice Cream

Everyone owns a kitchen gadget they rarely use, tucked away in the back of a cupboard somewhere, gathering dust. For me, it’s my ice-cream maker… since I bought it a good few years ago; I think I’ve made ice cream maybe five times. So there it sits, unloved and unused. Part of the problem being, is that it’s a cheap one (Ice cream makers fall into two camps – cheap or expensive, there is no middle ground)…I think it cost me about £30 at the time, and you have to pre-freeze the bowl for at least 24hrs before using it, which doesn’t lend itself well to spontaneous ice-cream action.

About a year ago, realising that this was the stumbling block to the creative process – I moved the bowl out of the cupboard to a permanent home in the freezer…yes it took up a lot of space, but if I wanted to make ice-cream it was there ready and waiting to take up the challenge instantly…and then there, inevitably it’s sat for about a year, waiting. …Silently in the dark.

Until just the other day a conversation on Twitter about ice cream makers had me opening the freezer and dragging my unused ice-cream maker towards the light. I’d boldly declared publicly that yes, I shall make ice cream, immediately and not only that, I was going to make salted butter caramel flavour. I’d found a recipe online (Here) I was all set, raring to go,

‘Immediately’ in reality, became the next day…up at the crack of dawn I made my way down the local shop to buy the ingredients needed. It cost me about £5. The thought did cross my furrowed brow that, I could have bought some decent ice cream for the same price and saved myself the effort. But where’s the fun in that? And in any case, mine would be ‘handmade artisan ice cream’ in a flavour that is almost impossible to buy commercially. It would have no nasty chemicals or additives in it. It was worth the cost.

The recipe states that the ice-cream needs 8 hours refrigeration, so I thought I better get started early if I wanted to actually sample some the same day.

First of all, I made the salted praline…heating the sugar carefully in a saucepan, (Caramel, despite looking extremely benign and inviting… just begging for you to stick a digit it for a cheeky sample is actually frigging hotter than the surface of the Sun, and as such; it deserves respect).
It was all going so well, and then I noticed a foreign object in the saucepan…something white…. Had I washed the pan up properly from its last use? And then I realised what it was.
The ‘heatproof’ rubber spatula I was using, to stir the caramel was anything but…. and it had started to melt. Realising immediately that salted rubber butter caramel flavour was perhaps a bit too avant-garde for even the most adventurous gourmet, I decided to bin the lot. I was flustered, it was boiling hot…. I decided to tip the molten caramel onto some greaseproof paper first, and in the process burnt my finger…just a little bit, but enough to make me scream like a girl.

Five minutes later, wiping the tears away from my face, and scornfully washing up the saucepan, I was ready for another attempt.


This time it went exactly to plan, and I soon had a sheet of hardened Praline to break up and scatter into the finished ice cream.
Everything else with the recipe went smoothly, without incident and in no time I had beautiful mocha coloured custard to refrigerate for 8 hours, ready for churning.

Later that day, out it came and in it went to the ice-cream machine, which was already on and churning away (learning my lesson here from a previous abortive attempt long ago, where I’d poured the mixture into a machine that wasn’t running – and it had instantly frozen rock solid, making it un-churnable).

30 mins later, it looked about right – I stirred in the broken shards of praline (which according to the recipe, melt and become ‘gooey’….errr….yum!). And, back in the freezer it went for 3 hours to set fully.

What a time-consuming operation making ice cream is!
But, I guess the question is, was it worth it?


This afternoon, I opened the container and scooped up a beautiful looking shiny ball of creamy coffee coloured ice cream, speckled through with melted, soft specks of praline. I stuck my spoon in for a taste, and oh my God…. it was incredible, rich smooth and intense caramel flavour underpinned by a subtle lip smacking salt tang. Seriously beautiful stuff. Definitely not something you could eat much of in one sitting, it being very rich – but wow. So yes. It’s very much worth the time and effort involved.

If you fancy having a go at this yourself, you can find the recipe I used here on David Lebovitz’s website.

Pork Cheeks

Right now, cheeks are currently the things to cook. (Facial – not arse, I should point out.) Ox and Pork are the usual meaty suspects. It’s a really neglected cut, pretty much unknown to most consumers and therefore seriously cheap to buy. With the added benefit, that it’s packed full of flavour, just needing a slow cook on a low heat to get the most out of it.

Wasting no time in jumping on the cheek bandwagon, a good few weeks back, in a veritable cheek frenzy I purchased a pack of Pork cheeks from my local butcher. He had to disappear out back to get them, (Proving that it’s always worth asking for the cut you want it you don’t spy it at the counter). They were frozen, and I was amazed at how weighty a pack of meat I got for around £3. Bargain or, so I thought.

The Pork cheeks sat neglected in my freezer for some time. The whole de-frosting then long cooking time always put me off making the effort…. Until on a day, seemingly just like any other, inexplicably, I awoke wanting…. No, ‘needing’ cheeks. Out of the freezer they came and I made my preparations.

How to cook them? I own hundreds of recipe books, shelves of the buggers…but can I find a single recipe featuring Pork Cheeks? No.
So… casting my mind back I remembered that Graphic Foodie had written a very nice recipe on her blog featuring the aforementioned cheeks. This would be my guide.

Assembling the ingredients, I turned my attention to the now defrosted meat – and this is when I realised something was different about my cheeks. Every other food blogger was talking about buying packs of a few cheeks, six or so from (mainly) Waitrose, and the finished articles looked almost like beef medallions. I now realised that I had purchased only two meaty medallions…. And they were essentially un-butchered; still with whole slabs of the Pigs cheek skin attached, complete with bristly hairs. Also, the half inch thick, pink skin looked scarily human, which was a tad off-putting.
Grimacing, but now determined to get my cheeks – I sharpened my best Global knife, and went to work, cutting away in a fairly amateurish and carefree fashion I soon had two nice, neat looking lumps of meat sitting on the worktop – sans fat, skin and hair.

I followed Graphic Foodies recipe to the letter, except that rather than oven bake the accompanying apple, I pan fried apple rings in butter to caramelise them, and served with crushed new potatoes with wild garlic and mustard.

Here’s the Recipe: -

Pork cheeks in Cider. Caramelised Apple, & crushed Wild Garlic and Mustard New Potatoes

Serves 2

You’ll need:-

For the Pork Cheeks:-

2-3 Large Pork Cheeks, trimmed of fat
1 small onion, finely sliced
1tbs olive oil
Knob of butter
400ml dry cider (I used Aspall)
3 Sage leaves
Seasoning

For the Crushed Wild Garlic and Mustard New Potatoes.

500g New Potatoes
Hand full of Wild Garlic – chopped
Tablespoon of wholegrain or Dijon mustard
Drizzle of Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Seasoning.

1 Apple cored, and sliced into two rings.

Preheat the oven to 160C.

Sautée the sliced small onion in olive oil and butter until softened. Add the pigs' cheeks and brown. Add the cider, season and bring to the boil.

Transfer into an ovenproof dish and place in the preheated oven for 70 minutes, turning and basting with the cider regularly. Add 3 sage leaves and return to the oven for a further 20 minutes.

At this point, whilst the cheeks are finishing off, cook the new potatoes in salted boiling water, also for 20mins.

Remove the pig cheeks from the oven to rest for 10 minutes

Drain and crush the new potatoes – stirring through the Olive Oil, the chopped Wild Garlic and the Mustard. Taste and season.

Meanwhile, over a high heat reduce the cider sauce.

Pan fry the apple rings with a knob of butter until golden.


Seriously, bloody delicious. The cheeks were superbly rich, meaty and so tender. I arranged the dish in a rather pretentious looking tower, with the apple ring and cheeks on top – it actually looked (I think) superb, and tasted incredible. I’m rarely truly happy about what I cook, but this time I was really pleased, in fact – I’d have been happy to be served up the same dish in a restaurant.

Flushed with my Pork cheek success, I am now the proud owner of some Ox cheeks, and will be cooking them up very soon.
Watch this space.

Thanks again to Graphic Foodie for allowing me to use, (and slightly bastardise), her excellent recipe.

Wild Garlic and Potato soup

About this time last year, fellow Essex food blogger, and all round good guy Food Urchin was kind enough to supply me with some wild garlic from the abundant supply he has growing in his garden.

Unfortunately, I never got the chance to actually use it in any cooking. It was the end of the wild garlic season, the plant was small – the few leaves soon shrivelled, and died…the whole thing looked decidedly unhealthy. Unsure at the time whether my gardening ‘touch of death’ was at work, once again, or whether this was just the natural order of things…. I planted what was left, crossed my fingers and tried to forget about it.

Fast forward nearly a year, and spring has sprung, dormant plant life in my garden has burst into bud, blossom beautifully framed by cloudless blue skies is apparent everywhere, birds sing, fox’s play, baby lambs bleat… you get the picture, and best of all – what’s this? My ‘dead’ Wild Garlic has seemingly overnight, grown into a fine looking shrub with an abundance of pungent, beautiful, lush, verdant leaves draped seductively against each other.

With not a moment to lose, and determined to get as much use out of it as possible, I’ve been snipping bits off here and there…. Wild Garlic Mayonnaise as a dip for last weeks Scotch Eggs, Wild Garlic stirred through scrambled eggs for a breakfast, but still I feel like I’m not getting enough out of it, so yesterday I decided to go for broke – strip all of the decent size leaves, and make some Wild Garlic Soup.

A quick search threw up a Tom Norrington-Davies (recipe HERE), which appealed to me (I really have a thing about potatoes in soup – no idea why, but I love them, might be a childhood thing – oxtail soup with boiled potatoes conjuring up fond memories). In no time at all, I had a large heap of wild garlic leaves sitting on the kitchen worktop, and the other ingredients were assembled, ready to go.

Luckily, I had some beautiful homemade stock in the freezer – (seriously, when you next have roast chicken DO make stock from the leftover carcass, it may seem like a pain in the arse at the time (it’s not) – but you’ll be well rewarded for your efforts later). The kitchen was soon awash with the fresh pungent aroma of wild garlic and the gorgeous comforting smell of hot chicken stock.


I served the soup steaming hot with crusty bread from the local bakers, (just for that extra carb overload) and it was delicious. The wild garlic’s very distinctive but subtle taste was complimented nicely by the onions, and the roughly pulped potato and bread added a nice thick rustic texture – the addition of some crumbled dry chilli giving a nice little kick. Lovely stuff, and very simple to make.

I have to add; there is something incredibly exciting about cooking with produce grown in your own garden, especially so with an ingredient like Wild Garlic – which has quite a short season, and is, as its name suggests, a wild plant. It grows all over the place in woodland apparently, but whenever I’ve looked for it – I can never bloody find any. If you can lay your hands on the stuff, either through foraging (with better luck than mine), or perhaps getting some to plant in your garden then do, it’s very rewarding to cook with.

Scotch Eggs - The agony and the ecstasy

When I was a child, I just couldn’t stand Scotch Eggs. The horrible supermarket bought, uniform, mass-produced examples, sporting an obligatory grey sheen around the egg, like a convicted prisoners newly shaved head, about as unappetising as it gets visually, and then when paired with the accompanying aroma of cheap battery farmed cold egg. Hideous. I have no good memories of them at all.

But, in recent years, with the rise of the gastro-pub and a re-awakened interest in British food and its heritage, the Scotch egg is back on the menu, and it’s a million miles away from the supermarket versions of our youth. I guess what has made me re-consider my view is sampling Scotch eggs in a couple of London gastro-pubs which, are rightly famous for their versions. The Michelin starred Harwood Arms in Fulham serves up a Venison Scotch egg, the bar snack to trump all bar snacks it’s incredible, and deserves all the praise that’s been heaped upon it, and more. Across town in Farringdon, the also rather excellent Coach & Horses serves up a more traditional Pork version, which is utterly gorgeous. I’ve noticed that there are a couple of important similarities between these supreme examples of Scotch eggy’ness, and it’s what holds them head and shoulders above the rest. Both pubs Scotch eggs are the size of cricket balls, and more importantly – they’re served warm with the egg yolk just set, so as you cut into it…the silky, golden yellow yolk oozes gently out…

Is it getting hot in here, or is just me?

As you’ve probably deduced, I’m sold. I now love Scotch eggs, and wanted to try making them at home. Casting my mind back, I remembered that Gourmet Chick has a recipe on her blog, which she learnt from the head chef at the Coach and Horses himself and theirs are superb. What could go wrong?

Well, quite a bit actually.
After a moderately successful attempt the previous week where everything went right, except that the eggs weren’t soft and the amount of cayenne pepper used made them far too spicy for me (despite putting less in than specified in the recipe), I decided to have another attempt.

This time, I decided to make 4 Scotch eggs and I went ‘off piste’ a bit from the original recipe.

For the soft boiled eggs I decided to use a ‘Delia Method’ – which involves lowering the eggs into salted, simmering water – boil for 1 min…then turn the heat off with the lid on for 7 mins. Then plunging into cold water (This step stops the cooking, and also the grey ring forming).

So far so good, leaving the as yet unshelled eggs aside – In a bowl, I assembled the sausage ingredients:-

250g Pork Mince
½ Tsp Cayenne Pepper. (Still too much I think…1/4 tsp?).
1 Tsp Mace
8 Sage Leaves finely chopped
4 shallots, sliced and fried in butter.
3 Tbs English Mustard
Salt and Pepper

And for the coating:-

1 Egg
Splash of milk
Flour
Panko breadcrumbs

Ready to begin assembly – I started to shell my eggs, and here’s where disaster struck…the wobbly soft boiled egg, perhaps slightly too underdone was like a thing alive as I struggled to get all of the shell off…. and then it happened, a fissure opened in the white, and the whole thing started to collapse…. But it’s ok, I have another three…. and then the same thing happened to the next one, and in between howling in pained frustration, swearing and spitting like a man possessed…the next one ruptured as well. At this point I was almost having an apoplectic fit…. and then what’s this? Against the odds, one perfect shining beacon of soft boiled eggyness emerges from the wreckage, the sweat and the tears….Hallafuckingeulah! I feel like I’ve just given birth to it myself, and a smile breaks out on my tear streaked face.

Surveying the wreckage of the three ugly mutilated brethren, compared to my one perfect, adonesque like super egg…. I decide that I may be able to carefully reconstruct them.
Setting up a triage system on my worktop, I identify the most seriously injured egg and begin work quickly and silently, piecing it slowly back together…. luckily, the injuries sustained are not fatal; the yolks on all three are intact.


After a tense few mins where I flatten a lump of the Pork mixture, onto a piece of Clingfilm – lay the egg in the middle and use the Clingfilm to help wrap it…before shaping into a sphere with my hands. I eventually have before me 4 Pork mix wrapped eggs, and they look beautiful, the outer layer belying the hideous injuries that lurk within.

Rolling first in the flour, then the egg (beaten with the milk) and then finally the Panko, I coat all 4 Scotch Eggs ready to be deep-fried.
I have a deep fat fryer, but I can’t be bothered to get it out…. so I decide to cook them individually in sunflower oil on the hob. They need to be deep fried at 180C for 2 mins, and I’ve read somewhere that if you drop a stale piece of bread in the oil – it will fry golden brown in 30 seconds when the correct temperature is reached. Not very scientific, but lacking any way to measure the temperature – I go with that.

Judging the oil to be hot enough, I lower the first one in. And it’s instantly consumed by ferociously bubbling oil. 2 mins later, I carefully lift it out…. a deep golden brown.
Into the oil goes the next, and I return my attention to the first one….I cut it in half, and – it appears to be cooked, and the yolk is still runny…it doesn’t look tidy, this being one of the casualties – but it tastes superb and looks right.

I cook all four Scotch eggs, and we eat three of them. All are OK, they taste lovely but all are a bit ‘untidy’…I’m not pleased with the whole aesthetic element…. I put the last one in the fridge.

Morning, a new day…awaking, and my thoughts stray to breakfast I remember the surviving Scotch egg, and decide to finish it.
Cutting through it, I gasp amazed, choking back tears of joy.....the most perfect Scotch egg this side of Scotchland is cleaved open before me. beautiful soft yolk, pleasing construction. I decide then and there that this shall be the ‘poster boy’ for my Scotch egg endeavours, and that’s why you can see only it illustrating this post. The other 3, despite undoubtedly being delicious, lurk in my culinary nightmares – and it would be too cruel to share that image of horror with you.

Sleep soundly dear reader.

Penne with slow-cooked sausage sauce

Right now, as I write this, my home is filled with the aroma of something cooking…a recipe I absolutely love. I’m at home alone this evening and decided to indulge myself in a delicious Sophie Dahl’esque manner (topical eh?)

*Pouts at camera, assumes vacant, innocent doe-eyed, yet slightly naughty expression*

And what a treat it is. A dish liberally filled with sausage, Parmesan and double cream – it doesn’t get much richer. For some strange reason this afternoon, I suddenly thought of this recipe in particular. It popped into my head and I knew straight away, I had to cook it.

Right then and there…. I swiftly checked the recipe, wrote a short shopping list…. pulled on my trainers and walked determinedly off to the local shops to get the ingredients I needed. A lightning visit to the local butcher and greengrocer, and back I hurried, urgently swinging a carrier bag filled with ingredients.

The interesting thing is, at least; to me, is that I’m writing this post as I actually cook it…. which is something of a first on this blog.
It’s gently simmering away, out there in the kitchen, throwing out a rich scent of bubbling wine, onion, garlic and sausage meat…I’m in here in my, for want of a better word ‘study’…typing away and trying to judge correctly when to hurry back to give the pot a good stir so it doesn’t stick…nothing else to do for 45 minutes. The plan is – to get this written up, take photos, and have the post up and being read by you, whilst I lean back, belching lazily, patting my now full belly and swigging on a well earned, ice cold Peroni.

Its from the River Café cook book; and in Italian is Penne con Sugo di Salsiccie, or Penne with slow-cooked sausage sauce.

Here’s the recipe: -

Penne con Sugo di Salsiccie

Serves 6

You’ll Need: -

TBS Olive Oil
6-8 Italian spiced fresh pork sausages, meat removed from skins and crumbled (if you can’t get them easily – just use good quality pork sausages).
2 small red onions peeled and chopped.
2 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped.
2 small dried chillies, crumbled.
2 bay leaves
1/3 Bottle Red wine (preferably Chianti or Sangiovese)
2x 400g tines peeled plum tomatoes, drained.
½ nutmeg. Freshly grated
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
120g Parmesan, freshly grated
150ml Double Cream
250g Penne Rigate

Heat the oil in a large pan, and fry the sausage meat, stirring and breaking up the pieces. After the juice from the meat has evaporated and the fat begins to run, add the onion, garlic, chilli and bay leaves. Cook gently for almost 30 mins until the onions are brown. Pour in the wine, increase the heat and cook until the wine evaporates. Now add the tomatoes, lower the heat, and simmer gently until you have a thick sauce, about 45-60 minutes. Season with nutmeg and salt (and pepper, if the sausages were not spicy), and add the Parmesan and cream.
Cook the penne in a generous amount of boiling salted water, and then drain well. Add the pasta to the sauce, combine and serve.



Utterly superb, and whilst I’m talking about incredible, slow cooked, unctuous, rich Italian pasta dishes, I tried this recipe earlier in the week by The Graphic Foodie, Red Pasta sauce with Pork. It’s an Italian family recipe, her Mothers in fact, and it’s without a doubt one of the best things I’ve cooked in ages. Incredibly good and rich, I suspect I’ll crave it sometime soon like I craved the recipe above. I urge you to give it a try, you won’t believe how good it is.

I’ve finished just in time, I’m being distracted by the urgent ‘beeping’ of the timer from the kitchen; dinner is more or less, done. I'll quickly take pictures, (eternal curse of the food blogger – cold dinner)…. eat my food – and get this post up. Enjoy.

My Big Fat Christmas Eve Blowout.

First of all - Happy New Year to you, readers of my blog. I hope this year is an excellent one for all (two) of you.....and, hello Mother.
That out of the way, for my first post of 2010, lets talk about Christmas Eve 2009.

Every Christmas Eve for the past few years, I host a big blowout around my place for mine and the GF's respective families. Lots of booze, lots of food and lots of dressed up to the nines, knee high, nieces and nephews (try saying that after a glass or two) running up and down the hall and absent mindedly trailing their sticky dirty hands along my oh so impractical white minimalist walls.

I enjoy it immensely though.
I love hosting a big family get together, and I love providing the food and drink.
Even though, invariably the preparation, which takes all day - normally descends into chaos with time running out, sweating, swearing, tempers flaring.......I still enjoy it. Once its finally done, and I've had a drink or three.
The families enjoy it too, otherwise they wouldn't keep coming back I guess.

This year, I thought I'd try a few new things....mix it up a bit.

The Coco book which I reviewed last year here, has a section on Lyndy Redding with some fantastic looking canape recipes, although these are completely untested by me (which isn't always the best idea when your under pressure to deliver, as Ive found to my cost at a few dinner parties.....Lemon and Orange tart - my nemesis...I'm thinking of you).

But being awesomely stupid, I decided to try a few anyway, along with a few old favourites from previous years.
So, a few days before the event I worked feverishly into the night, listing, plotting, planning, crossing out, umming, ahhhing and finally - I had it. A buffet menu for just under 20 people....I was going to cook all of it, no doubt losing a bit more of my sanity....perhaps the tip of a finger, and some hair.....but it would all be worth it.....the menu looked like this....

Extra Long Cheese Straws (From Coco)
Salt and Pepper crusted beef fillet skewers with horseradish skewers (from Coco)
Pea and Mint tartlets with Feta and Mint (From Coco)
My Famous Club Sandwiches.
Pork and Sweetcorn Fritters with roasted red pepper dip (Based on an Ottolenghi recipe)
Goats Cheese and Red Onion Toasts (The GF's contribution, and by far the most popular thing...much to my disgust).
Mushroom and Alloi toasts
Goujeres

And the normal selection of Olives, Twiglets, kettle chips, couple of cheeses (which no one eats), crackers etc etc.

Oh, and I also planned on making mulled wine, the scent is so evocative of Christmas....really makes the place smell fantastic and sets the mood. I'd seen a Rowley Leigh (of Le Cafe Anglais fame) recipe in ES magazine.....it looked suitably paint strippingly, alcoholic, exactly what I wanted.

So, Christmas Eve found me working steadily in the kitchen,...I seemingly had loads of time, totally on the ball.
A few hours later - I was starting to worry....
I had loads left to make, some of it couldn't be made till the last minute, otherwise it wouldn't be that fresh....I'd forgotten things and had to go out to track down shallots and sherry.....
The Coco recipes seemed to be a bit hit and miss.....cheese straw recipe omitting how thick to roll out puff-pastry to make the specified 50.....the pea and mint tartlet recipe left me with about half of the mix left over.....

I was starting to freak out.
I'd run down the shops earlier throwing on a jumble of clothes, the first things that came to hand....that suave Christmas eve host look, as I mingled dispensing canapes and witty comments? I looked like a particularly vile and repulsive tramp.

Its ok though....I still had an hour and a half till they were going to arrive. Head down, I could do this....
I glanced back at my watch seemingly 10 mins later.....the hour and a half had gone, vanished. I still wasn't finished, and my guests were supposed to be arriving 10 mins ago. (Thank God for fashionably late). I needed a shower, the kitchen was a mess, I looked terrible...
Into this Maelstrom the GF had come home from work and attempted to help......by moaning that she didn't know what to wear....and stopping me mid panic, asking me to help her open a bottle of Champagne....(I almost lost it at that point - I really did).

I don't know how.....but somehow, I pulled it out of the bag....I managed to throw on some suitably debonair hosting clothes....(smoking jacket, cravat and Pyjama bottoms 'a la' Hugh Hefner if you must ask).
My last job was cooking the beef skewers on the griddle pan, and I made the mulled wine while my guests were arriving.
It was done. I could relax.....
Everyone was happy, my family was here.... it was Christmas Eve....the nieces and nephews were going nuts.....Sinatra and the Rat Pack were supplying suitably festive music.... the place smelt of cinnamon and cloves, Right there and then, I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else.

In Summary.....

The food pretty much all went, the most popular item being the beef skewers with horseradish cream which disappeared in minutes.....

followed by the GF's goat cheese and onion relish toasts, which are always incredibly popular.
The Pea and Mint Feta tartlets - were ok.....I wouldn't make them again.

The Cheese Straws were bloody gorgeous.....I had to explain I'd actually made them, because everyone thought by the look of them, they'd been bought.
Oh - the mulled wine went down very well.....I ended up drinking most of it myself, and was in quite a festive state.

For posterity - here's a few of the recipes.....

Rowley Leigh's Mulled Wine
(Makes 15 glasses)

2 Bottles of Red Wine
8 strips of orange peel
8 strips of lemon peel
1 cinnamon stick
5 pieces of star anise
3 bay leaves
10 peppercorns
a few shards of mace
15 cloves
200g soft brown/muscovado sugar
1/4 bottle of port
1/4 bottle of brandy

Method - Heat all the ingredients, except the port and brandy to just below boiling point. Then add the port and brandy and serve


My Famous Club Sandwiches
(Makes a tray full)

12 slices toast, buttered one side.
Salad leaves of your choosing
Couple of handfulls of grated Cheddar Cheese.
8 Slices of Bacon - fried.
1 Red Onion, finely chopped.
French's American Mustard
Mayonaise
4 thick Slices of Chicken or Turkey Breast
Black Pepper
Grated Parmesan
Cocktail sticks to hold the sandwiches together.

Method
Lay out four slices of toast, buttered side up and build the sandwich up - it's a triple decker deal. You can do this anyway you want, but I normally give it a squirt of Mayo, grated cheese, chopped onion, the bacon and some salad leaves....then the next piece of toast on.....a squirt of mustard, the Turkey or Chicken, more grated cheese and chopped onion, and more salad leaves. Finally the last piece of toast.....cut diagonally into four 'V's and put a cocktail stick through each. Arrange on a plate, and grind black pepper and grate Parmesan over the lot.


Goujeres
(Makes about 50)

200g Plain Flour
1 tsp dried yeast
100g butter
4 large eggs
140g grated cheddar
55g grated Parmesan

Method
Pre-Heat the oven to 210C.
Mix the flour and yeast in a bowl.
Put the butter in a pan with 250ml of water and 1/2 tsp salt. Bring to the boil and immediately tip the yeast and flour into the boiling liquid, beat until smooth with a wooden spoon.
Remove from the heat
Beat in the eggs, one at a time.
Beat in the Cheddar and Parmesan
Line a baking sheet with non-stick parchment, and pipe or spoon little balls of the mixture, about the size of 50 pence pieces.
Bake in the oven for 8-10 mins.