Monthly Archives: March 2009

paella

paella

…Or it might be jambalaya. I’m not sure what the criteria is. It’s rice ‘n’ stuff in one pan, anyway.

My old chum chorizo makes a special guest appearance, but it’s the vegetables that do the work in this one. I fried the chorizo a bit to char the edges and encourage their spicy-sweet juices to leak out, then put them to one side. Then in go the veg: red onion, celery, carrot. After they’ve tenderised a bit, in go a courgette, some garlic and a pepper. After a couple of minutes I added some basmati rice and tossed that around to get up to heat. I wanted an alcoholic flavour so I added some Cinzano of all things at this point – slightly bitter, slightly sweet.

Then the chorizo went back, along with a pint of veg stock, some saffron and some paprika. Lid on, and left it for 20 mins or so. I came back to find a pan full of sticky rice and tender veg. Garnished with a little fresh parsley and shovelled away heaped spoonfuls at a time. Dinners in one pan rock!

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shepherd’s pie

shepherd's pie

Thanks to yesterday’s roast, I had a heap of leftovers. A few additions later and dinner’s ready.

I started by baking some potatoes until they were, well, jacket potatoes. I’m a big fan of mash done in this way. Meanwhile I took the cold, yummy, gummy lamb and chopped it into bits. I also had some leftover carrots and chopped those up too. I fried these bits in a pan until warmed up, then added some lamb stock and frozen peas. When the juice had reduced down a bit, I chucked them in a dish and topped with fresh mash, carved from the flesh of the baked potatoes mixed with a few leftover roast potatoes. I couldn’t resist a little cheese on top and left it in the oven for a few minutes until golden and bubbly. Lovely.

gravy

I was asked how to do ‘real’ gravy recently, and this seemed the right place to put it. It’s somewhat chicken-and-egg – for the perfect gravy you need to have had a previous roast from which to get your stock. And so the cycle continues. If you don’t have a decent home-made stock, and it’s not always possible, I’m a big fan of these two Knorr products: Stock Pots and Touch of Taste. Stock Pots for just pure stock, Touch of Taste for just a splash of intense flavour here and there. They’re both extremely tasty, and definitely the next best thing.

Make sure you cook everything in a decent roasting tray, as it’s going to end up on the hob – a cheap baking tray might not survive. Deep sides will help you out a lot too.

Moving on, the gravy starts when you’re roasting meat. I chuck spare veg in the roasting tray under the meat, which acts as both a flavouring and a trivet to prevent the joint sticking to the pan. As for the veg itself, if I have the luxury of choice I’d have a halved onion, a couple of halved peeled carrots, a couple of broken sticks of celery, a head of garlic separated into cloves, and a bay leaf. Any root veg alongside onions will do, experiment and find the mix that works for you. Anyway, bung the meat on top of the veg and as it cooks the fat will dribble out and gently roast it all.

Once the meat is cooked to your liking, put it to one side, resting in a warm place while you get on with the gravy proper. Put the roasting tray on the hob and whack the heat up high. If you can, spoon off some of the oil floating on top. If you can’t, it’s no big deal. Start pushing and scraping at the veg to start unsticking it from the tray. At this point add a rounded dessert spoon of plain flour and grind it around until you can’t see it. This is the time you need to add stock. If you’re not sure, add more rather than less. What a dismal dinner, to run out of gravy :( I usually use around a pint for about 4 people. This should start bubbling furiously, and will help lift the browned vegetable matter from the dish. Keep having at it with a wooden spoon, pushing at the base of the tray and soon everything will be loose. Dig at the veg occasionally, smashing it a bit so it breaks up. These tiny plant bits will give real body and flavour to the finished gravy.

After a few minutes, it will be bubbly and probably dark in colour. You’ll need to taste it here (carefully, it’s hot!) and add salt and pepper as required. Let it bubble a bit longer if you’d prefer it a little thicker. Note for next time: if this isn’t thick enough for you you could’ve added a spoonful more flour earlier. If it tastes meaty, a little salty and rich, we’re ready!

Sieve it off into a jug, pushing at all the veg matter with your wooden implement. Again that fibrous stuff will give real texture to the meat juice. I often prepare this as soon as the meat is done, then (whisper it) microwave the gravy at the last minute.

All this aside, keep Bisto in the cupboard. You never know when you’ll get caught short.

roast lamb

roast lamb

Spring is surely here when lamb is on the menu. Wonderful, succulent, English lamb. I used a shoulder; just as interesting and tasty as a leg, but half the price. A trickier carve I’ll grant you but I can suffer that for luscious tender meat.

With the benefit of ample time on a Sunday, I fancied a slow roast on this occasion. I turned to two inspirations, food pornographer Nigel Slater and laid-back New Zealander Peter Gordon. If Kiwis know how to cook something, it’s lamb. I started by slashing the meat all over with deep grooves, reaady for flavours. I arrived at a baste of juicy garlic, aromatic garden-picked rosemary, prickly mustard seeds and of course s&p. I mashed all this together and smeared it into a paste with olive oil, then eagerly rubbed all over the meat. I put this in an oven of 150c, over some onions, carrots and celery, covered with foil.

As pungent garlicky smells filled the air, I basted the meat every half hour or so then removed the foil after about four hours. A further twenty minutes just to brown a little more of the surface, and left it to rest for an hour. The meat came off with no effort at all, and made piles of juicy lamb. I served with roast potatoes (natch), carrots, yorkshire puddings (it’s not beef, so sue me) and broccoli cheese. The meat was filled with savoury, tender juice and had a wonderful flavour. It’s a crappy old ad slogan, but there’s never a better time to “Slam in the Lamb”.

chicken wrapped in bacon with red cabbage and champ

chicken wrapped in bacon

Last week I watched a great series from the wonderful Hardeep Singh Kohli, Chefs and the City, where norms bring their signature dish to battle against a pro chef. One guy lost in a brazen fashion, daring to take on a French chef at something right up their street. He was destroyed, but there was something promising in his quail wrapped in bacon. I decided to adapt it to my own means.

chicken - oozy!I started with chicken breasts, skin-on, seasoned well. I then lifted the fillet and filled with a generous splurge of garlic Philadelphia before folding back over. Then the whole breast was wrapped in two pieces of bacon, seasoned again and brushed with olive oil. On a baking tray it went, into a 180 oven for about half an hour til golden brown. I made sure it rested for at least five mins before serving.

The red cabbage was proper rich: butter, brown sugar and red wine vinegar melted together then poured over the shredded cabbage and bunged in the oven.

Meanwhile, some excessive mash: potatoes boiled to tenderness of course, but on the side I was allowing some leftover double cream to infuse on a gentle heat with half an onion, some nutmeg and some peppercorns. When the potatoes were ready and drained I added butter and some of the cream, then whipped the potatoes with a fork (smoother paste through the tines you see) until they were slick and floury. I chucked in some spring onions for good measure, to give some acidity through the richness. I couldn’t resist adding a few fried crispy bacon bits on top for fun.

I sliced the chicken on the diagonal and plated it up – admittedly I wish I’d served it with a little more thought so it wasn’t three dollops of things, but it was one of the best things I’ve ever made. Really top-grade stuff.

hungarian pork chops with cabbage and swede

 

hungarian pork chop

Yet another Jamie winner, and yet another triumph from my friendly neighbourhood butcher. There’s three distinct parts here: pork chop, spicy cabbage, and roast swede.

Swede first: peeled and diced, tossed with salt, pepper, oil and thyme, left to roast for 45 mins.

Then the pork. I made a rub first by grinding fennel seeds, paprika, salt and pepper together in my two-ton pestle and mortar (must pic that some day), and then pressing all over my beautiful pink pork chops. Then on to a nice hot griddle, ten minutes all told, turning every couple of minutes.

When the pork was done and resting (crucial for those flavours and juices to return throughout the meat), it was time for the cabbage. I heated some oil in a hot pan, then added mustard seeds, cayenne pepper and sliced garlic until the seeds were popping out of the pan. Then shredded cabbage was quickly added and tossed in the pan until it caught slightly, blackening the edges.

It was lovely – juicy flesh, with aniseedy flavours hitting you immediately then giving way to the smoky-sweet paprika. The cabbage and swede were great counters to both of these. Enjoyed this a lot.

roast chicken

The humble roast chicken is anything but. It’s a real crowd-pleaser. Vegetarians, I feel genuinely sorry that you’ll never know the succulent, meaty joy of a crisp, moist roast chicken.

How I cook it depends on what’s to hand. Here it’s stuffed with a chopped onion, which evaporates sweet perfume throughout the bird, and liberally rubbed with olive oil, salt, pepper and fresh thyme. It’s sat on a bed of root veg, ready to make gravy with afterwards. I also have a favoured version which starts with fried bacon deglazed with brandy to kick the cooking off.
I generally start it off on a high heat (225C), then take it down to about 180C once it’s in. A good basting from the run-off juices every 20 mins or so keeps it moist and returns flavour to the bird. Once a skewer allows clear juice running from the thigh it’s done. You must let it rest to retain moistness and flavour, in this case it sat for about half an hour.
The gravy was simply the roasting pan, veg and all, over the hob and chicken stock allowed to bubble over for a few minutes until thick and dark, then strained off. Glorious.

chicken and mushroom hotpot



Wow, this was a Jamie great. Very pleased with the results.

Started with chicken legs: skinned, then trimmed the meat off and diced. The skin was then put into a hot pan and allowed to render the fat out. Then browned the leg meat, and added onion, garlic and celery. Once this had all sweated a little I chucked in some sliced chestnut mushrooms and seasoned well. Then, a spoon of flour mixed through to help thicken it up. I added some chicken stock until soupy, then lovely wood thyme.
I poured this into a casserole pot and topped with lightly-boiled sliced potatoes and baked in the oven for half an hour. Thick, savoury and a lovely blend of textures. Nice!

pancetta & pea risotto


Risotto is a deeply calming dish, both to cook and especially to eat. What amazes me about risotto is that it starts the same but can end so many ways depending on what you add.

It starts with: onions fried gently, then the heat turned up as your arborio or carnaroli rice is added. A handy tip for measuring rice: two handfuls per person. The rice needs to get hot and toasted all over to prepare it for absorbing stock. Stock should be boiling the background (thank you, last week’s chicken stock). Booze is needed here, a glass of white wine is best. Allow this to bubble to nearly nothing. Then stock is added a ladelful at a time, allowing it to reduce away until sticky. You need a bit of armwork, stirring away to move the rice off the bottom of the pan. Once the rice is tender and tasty, you can eat as is (a little dull) or add what works for you.
For me, it’s grated parmesan and butter, vigorously stirred through. In this case I added pancetta fried just beforehand, kept to one side then put back into the rice at the end. Some frozen peas and it’s ready. Eat with a spoon and a lazy grin.

chicken stock



I love making chicken stock. It means there’s a really excellent meal coming in the next day or so, and whilst it bubbles away the whole house smells of divine chickeniness.

Using our friend from earlier in the week, all the leftovers were tossed into a roasting tray with some assorted veg: celery, carrots, onions and any other oddity that was clogging up the fridge. That’s the beauty of stock; it doesn’t really matter what goes in there, they each add their own interesting note to it. If I’ve got a marmesan rind knocking about that’ll go in, in this case some spare pancetta and a couple of tomatoes were the guest stars.

After about half an hour’s roasting it all goes in a pot, covered with water and boiled for maybe an hour and a half, the timing’s not terribly important. When it’s cooled it’s strained off then left covered in the fridge. The best stocks wobble like a loose jelly when chilled. This one had a pleasing little jiggle to it.
Now, what to do with it?