Category Archives: meat

marrow fritter, flatleaf parsley, shallots

Posted on April 16, 2013 by admin| 1 Comment

A wonderful new food magazine, Saffron, acted as a timely reminder for me to stop procrastinating and to get on and write this post. Published for the first time last week, Saffron is a meticulously researched and beautifully illustrated journal that promises much for the future. It caught my eye for many reasons, not least of which was a eulogy to those fantastic ‘forgotten’ fats, lard and dripping.

If you’ve visited my blog (and my Twitter account) before, you’ll know that I’m an enthusiastic advocate of those very fats, as well as of suet. I only wish I could readily get hold of flead to cook with, too, but that’s a mission for another time.

But here’s another glorious source of fat which is too often overlooked and discarded – bone marrow.

Rich, slightly sweet, and as melt-in-the-mouth as you could possibly wish for, marrow is a highly nutritious treat that every self-declared food lover should try. I particularly love these fritters, in which the simple addition of lemon zest both counters and elevates the fatty marrow into something quite sublime. Do try.

Makes 2
50g marrow from veal marrow bones (see below)
20g fresh white bread crumbs
1 egg yolk
1 tbsp chopped flatleaf parsley
1 tsp lemon zest
salt, freshly ground black pepper to taste

Take a handful of marrow bones (cut across the bone – ask your butcher to do this) and cover with hot water. Bring to a bare simmer and cook the bones for no more than 5 minutes.

Remove the bones from the pan and leave to cool slightly on a plate. After a couple of minutes, push the marrow out of the bones using a teaspoon or other blunt cutlery. It will be a bit messy, but you should be left with some decent lumps of usable marrow.

Combine the marrow with all the other ingredients until they come together and you can shape the resultant mix. Roll into fritters about the length of your little finger.

In a heavy-based frying pan, heat a little vegetable oil (not olive oil). Put the fritter into the hot pan, and fry briskly, watching all the time, until the fritter is golden brown all over – this will take seconds, rather than minutes. Do not over fry!

Serve with a salad of flatleaf parsley, finely chopped shallots, dressed with olive or rapeseed oil.

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Posted in eggs, herbs, meat, vegetables

‘haggis and neeps’

Posted on January 23, 2013 by admin| 2 Comments

If I had to live anywhere other than Kent, the chances are that it would be Scotland. I lived there for a year back in the nineties, and came close to moving there 5 years ago. There’s something about the landscape that draws me in – from the Gothic grey of urban buildings to the rich green and purple hues and spectacular vistas of the countryside.

And then, of course, there’s the food. Scotland plays to my weaknesses for big flavours and hearty sustenance. I have fond memories of – to name only a few – mutton pies, Fife haddock, Caboc cheese, and all manner of sweet baked treats. None of it was good for the waistline, but it was mighty good for the soul.

At this time of year, of course, it’s all about Burns, haggis, neeps, and tatties – and the obligatory whisky. It’s not for the faint hearted, but then why would it be? As Burns himself said, the Scots aren’t the type for lily-livered food. Instead, “Ye Pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care, and dish them out their bill o’ fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware that jaups in luggies: but, if ye wish her grateful prayer, gie her a Haggis!”

I may be Kentish, but I commend that spirit.

But just in case you can’t eat a whole one, or you’re not mad on the texture of haggis, here’s a variation on the theme. I’ve used turnips for ‘neeps’. I know there’s an ongoing debate about whether neeps comprise swede or turnips, and I confess that I typically eat the former with haggis – but here, turnips work far better. The idea is that they make a dip along the lines of the Greek skordalia. If you want more punch to it, leave the garlic raw.

‘Haggis and neeps’ (for 2)

1 small haggis, cooked as per instructions, and left to cool
A bowl of 2 beaten eggs
A bowl of plain flour, seasoned
A bowl of white breadcrumbs
Vegetable oil , enough for deep frying

4 turnips, peeled, boiled, and left to steam and cool, then mashed
8 peeled garlic cloves, poached for 5 minutes in milk, then mashed
Ground almonds
Olive or rapeseed oil
Lemon juice, a squeeze
Salt and black pepper

Get the turnips ready first. Using a mortar and pestle, pound the turnips, garlic, and ground almonds together. Add the ground almonds to your taste and texture preference – you will probably need up to 50g or so. Then add a little olive oil to loosen. Finally, add a pinch of salt and a generous twist of black pepper, and a squeeze of lemon juice. Taste, and adjust the flavours as necessary. Don’t stint on the pepper – turnips love it!

For the haggis, heat a deep pan, wok, or fryer filled with vegetable oil – it’s ready when a small piece of bread turns golden brown in a matter of seconds.

Using your hands, scoop up some of the cooled haggis, and roll it into a ball – aim for golf ball size. If it’s too wet, and keeps breaking up, add some breadcrumbs, and use an egg yolk to bind the mixture. Repeat until you’ve got as many balls as you want to eat.

Lower the balls into the hot oil – don’t overcrowd the pan, so fry in batches if necessary. They should turn golden within a minute or so. Remove from the pan, and drain onto kitchen towel.

Eat and enjoy while crisp and hot, with the neeps dip. Wash down with a wee dram of whisky.

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Posted in eggs, meat, nuts, vegetables

roast mallard, red wine pears, celeriac, wild mushrooms

Posted on November 23, 2012 by admin| Leave a comment

There are roasts, and then there are game roasts. With the game season now in full swing, it’s the time to to put aside your usual roast meats in favour of something more seasonal and, frankly, more flavoursome.

If you’ve yet to be converted, then mallard is a good starting point. As it’s smaller than farmed ducks, you’ll need 1 bird between 2 people, or even 1 each if you’re feeding large appetites!

To cook your mallard, simply smear it with butter or duck fat, and season. Pop it into a roasting dish, and put into a hot oven – 220C for 10 minutess, then 200C for a further 10 minutes. Remove from the oven and leave to rest for another 10 minutes, so that all the flavour can seep back into the muscle fibres.

For the pears, carefully peel your Conference pears, leaving the stalks on – you’ll need one pear per person. For 4 people, place 4 pears in a deep and wide saucepan, cover with red wine, 4 tbsps caster sugar, and about 250ml water. Add a couple of star anise and a stick of cinnamon to the pan. Bring the pan to just up below boiling, turn the heat down, and leave to simmer for about 20 minutes, or until the pears are fully tender. Remove the pears from the pan and leave to cool.

For the celeriac, simply prepare it as you would roast potatoes. Peel and chop, then boil for about 7 minutes. Drain, and leave to steam briefly. Season. Put into a dish with hot oil or duck fat, and roast at 200C for 40 minutes.

The wild mushrooms couldn’t be simpler. In a large frying pan, melt a generous knob of butter over a medium heat. As soon as the butter starts to foam, put in the mushrooms. Move them around until well coated, slightly softened, and golden. Don’t put too many in the pan at once, or they’ll stew.

For some greenery, and an element of bitterness to counter the richness of the mallard and the sweetness of the pears, kale, Swiss chard, or cavolo nero makes a great accompainment. In a wok or similar-shaped pan, put a generous knob of butter. Throw in your chopped kale (stripped from the stalks) and toss it around until glistening with the butter. Pour in a splash of hot water, and put a lid on the pan immediately. The kale is ready when it’s wilted – no more than a couple of minutes.

Serve with a red wine reduction, and enjoy!

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Posted in fruits, meat, vegetables

pulled pork, for the end of summer

Posted on September 6, 2012 by admin| 2 Comments

When I moved back to Kent a couple of years ago, I couldn’t wait to take advantage of all the food and drink that Kent is famous for – particularly its orchard and soft fruit, seafood, Romney Marsh lamb, wines and beers.

What I wasn’t quite so prepared for was the amazing standard of locally-reared meat in Kent today. I can honestly say that over the last few months I’ve eaten some of the most flavoursome beef, pork, lamb, and poultry I’ve ever had in my life – principally from my 2 local farm shops, the Goods Shed butcher, the wonderful Monkshill Farm, Chandler and Dunn, and the Butcher of Brogdale, but also from relative newcomer, The Kentish Pig Company. I’m always on the hunt for other excellent producers to try, though – so if you have any great recommendations, please share them by leaving a comment below!

Meat is on my mind right now because the weather forecast is looking promising for an Indian summer of a weekend – sunny and warm – and conjures up, for me, irresistible visions of smoky, BBQ-style treats.

So I think it’s time to post this recipe for pulled pork. Rub it, roast it, shred it, stick it in a bun and eat it (preferably with sides of coleslaw and pickles, and fries!). I’ve adapted it from here, and I encourage you to do the same – you can make pulled pork with an infinite variety of ingredients. Just create your own rub/marinade to your taste. I love the smokiness from the coffee in this particular recipe, and – of course – the key ingredient is the very best Kentish pork belly you can lay your hands on.

1.25kg belly pork
2 bay leaves
3 garlic cloves, crushed

For the rub:
2 tablespoons of finely ground coffee
60g demerara sugar
1.5 tsp salt
1 tsp smoked paprika
1 tbsp chilli ketchup
4 cloves garlic, crushed and finely chopped
Generous splash Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp chilli flakes
1 tsp dried thyme
A good amount of freshly ground black pepper
Dijon mustard for sticking

To finish: apple ketchup, cider vinegar, grape or redcurrant jelly, Worcestershire sauce to taste.

The night before, rub the pork belly all over with mustard, and then slather on the dry rub.

The next day, preheat the oven to 140C/275F/Gas 1. Put 2 bay leaves and 3 garlic cloves in a roasting tin, and place the pork belly on top. Pour cold water around the pork to a depth of 1cm, and carefully place the tin in the oven. Roast the pork for 3 hours.

After 3 hours, increase the oven temperature to 220C/425F/Gas 7, and roast the pork for a further 20-30 minutes, or until the skin crackles. At this point, it will look almost black – but don’t panic!

Remove from the oven, loosely cover with foil, and leave to rest for 15-30 mins before pulling.

To finish, flip the pork over…

… and pull the meat away from the crackling using two forks. Shred the meat thoroughly.

In the same pan as the meat juice, put the apple ketchup, cider vinegar or apple verjus (you can get this from Perton’s), grape or redcurrant jelly and Worcestershire sauce. Warm through and let reduce a little. Stir half of the reduced sauce through the meat and let it soak in.

Eat and enjoy!

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Posted in meat

the Countryfile snail pizza

Posted on March 12, 2012 by admin| 6 Comments

If you missed the programme, you can watch the clip here (1 min 58 secs): http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p00pzr77

To recreate the pizza, you’ll need:

sufficient pizza dough to make one 12″ pizza (about 165g)
100g cavolo nero, or other kale, or spinach
1 small onion, sliced finely
1 garlic clove, chopped
parma ham, to taste
Roquefort (or other blue cheese, but Roquefort melts particularly well), to taste.
3 or 4 sage leaves, fried in hot oil until crisp (this takes a matter of seconds)
as many pre-cooked snails as you like
rapeseed oil (I use Quex Foods) to drizzle over

1. Pre-heat the oven to 230C/450F/Gas 8.
2. Strip the cavolo nero leaves from their stalks, and chop quite finely.
3. In a large pan, fry the sliced onions over a medium heat until soft and transparent, and just starting to turn brown at the edges. Add the garlic.
4. Add the cavolo nero to the pan, and cook until wilted – you may need to turn the pan down a little. When the kale is cooked, set the pan aside.
5. Roll out your pizza dough as thinly as possible. Add the kale and onion base, then all your toppings in the quantity you want them (don’t go mad on the Roquefort, though – it can be overpowering).
6. Drizzle some oil over to finish, and put the pizza in the oven for 10-12 minutes.
7. When it’s ready, remove it from the oven, and crumble over the fried sage leaves.
8. Slice and eat immediately!

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Posted in meat

the slowest food of all, and Countryfile

Posted on March 11, 2012 by admin| 1 Comment

It’s not often that a television crew turns up at your doorstep, wanting to film you cook something with snails. But thanks to Twitter and a neighbouring snail farmer, Helen Howard, that’s exactly what happened a couple of weeks ago.

What happened next?

Well, you’ll have to watch Countryfile this evening, 11 March, at 7pm for the full story, but here’s an abbreviated version in the meantime…

Take some of these:

Countryfile snails

Add a Countryfile presenter, a few other choice ingredients, and a hot oven. Wait for about 12 mins, and serve:

Countryfile pizza

Finish filming, let the crew devour the pizza, and then take a few snaps for posterity:

Countryfile 1

And then wait for the show!

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Posted in meat

toast and dripping

Posted on November 26, 2011 by admin| 6 Comments

dripping 1

Butter is good. We know that. (If you find someone who doesn’t, fry them an egg in butter, make a Victoria sponge, or spread the yellow stuff thickly across a hot crumpet.)

But as irreplaceable as butter is in our hearts and arteries, it is not the only fat. And, in the spirit of the current brand of revivalism spreading across the media and restaurants alike, I bring you another old-fashioned joy: dripping.

If you’re a youngster of less than about forty, the chances are that dripping never passed your lips during your childhood. But toast without dripping? For the wealth of other experiences you may have had instead, you really haven’t lived.

A couple of weekends ago, we had a friend to stay. Since I’d planned a fulsome dinner for the evening, I offered some commensurately lighter food choices for lunch. Until, that is, looking into the fridge, I spied the dripping. ‘Or,’ I said, a little tentatively, knowing how some folk baulk at the mere mention of fat, ‘we have some beef dripping. Do you fancy toast and dripping at all?’

Her eyes widened like a small child’s on Christmas morning. ‘Dripping?’ she murmured, as if in a reverie, ‘I haven’t had dripping for years. Yes, please!’

Why did we ever fall out of love with dripping? Whatever the reasons, it is a food for today’s reined-in times – frugal (being the free by-product of a roast dinner), full of flavour, and nourishing (so long as you don’t overdo it – moderation, as they say, in everything).

On warm toast, melting into glistening puddles of meatiness, it is a winter snack with few equals.

dripping 2

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Posted in meat