Ragu is without doubt one of my favourite things to eat. A saucepan of meat that has been patiently cooked until falling apart and tender, swimming in thick, rich reduced sauce offers a level of comfort and satisfaction that is hard to find in any other food. Add to that soft, buttery strands of pasta or melting wet polenta for and you’ve got a winner on your hands. Just don’t expect to be very active for some time afterwards!
I’ve made ragu with a range of different meats over the years; beef shin and bone marrow is the classic, and lamb, anchovy and mint is a firm favourite in our household. I’ve even lightened it up in the summer by combining rabbit and peas. Once you’ve mastered one, the principle is very similar with others, and it’s great to experiment with different produce across the seasons. Now that game is well and truly back on the menu, I really wanted to have a go with grouse. This almost livery-flavoured meat is not to everybody’s taste, but I love the metallic intensity. Some would say that using such prime birds for a slow-cooked ragu is a waste, but I was really happy with the results. In my mind cooking the grouse in this way is a match for anything served pink and fast, as the flavours are allowed time to properly marry together.
Autumn also sees the start of the mushroom season proper. For this recipe I’ve stuck with reliable favourites girolles, but I really can’t wait to cook with wonderful fresh porcini, and perhaps if I’m lucky, a little truffle. All bound together with some scrambled duck eggs, or carefully folded into a risotto. Now there’s something that will have to be cooked in the next few weeks…
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the ragu:
2 grouse, livers and hearts removed and retained
4 rashers of smoked, streaky bacon, sliced
1 onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1 carrot, chopped
A good few sprigs of fresh thyme
1 bay leaf
1 large glass of red wine
1 litre of chicken stock
1 large knob of butter
½ a lemon, juice only
For the pappardelle:
200g Italian ‘00’ grade flour
2 medium eggs
1 tbsp olive oil
Salt
For the mushrooms:
Two handfuls of girolle mushrooms, trimmed and brushed clean
1 large knob of butter
To finish:
Parmesan cheese
A few sprigs of fresh thyme, leaves picked
Preheat the oven to 160⁰C.
Pour a generous glug of olive oil into a large, heavy saucepan and bring to a high heat. Season the grouse all over with salt and pepper. When the pan is hot, brown the birds all over for a couple of minutes on each side. Transfer the grouse to a side plate and add the bacon to the empty pan. Fry for a couple of minutes until slightly caramelised, then add the onion, carrot, garlic, thyme and bay leaf. Continue to cook for a further 3-4 minutes. Pour in the red wine, bring to the boil and allow to reduce by half. Return the grouse to the pan and cover with the chicken stock. Bring back to the boil, then tuck a sheet of greaseproof paper over the top, and cover the pan with a lid. Carefully slide the pan into the oven cook for 45 minutes, or until the flesh on the grouse is very tender.
When the grouse are cooked, remove them from the pan and allow to cool slightly. Using your hands, strip all of the meat from the crowns and legs, making sure to avoid all bones and shot. Shred finely. Strain the cooking liquid through a sieve into a large frying pan and discard all of the solids. Set the pan onto a high heat and reduce the liquid by two-thirds, until slightly thickened and intensified in flavour. Stir the grouse meat back into the sauce. Set aside until needed later.
While the grouse is cooking, make the pasta. Pour the flour into a mixing bowl and use a wooden spoon to make a well in the middle. Crack in the eggs, pour in the olive oil and add a generous pinch of salt. Mix the liquid into the flour until a dough is formed, then use your hands to knead for 8-10 minutes, until springy and smooth in texture. Wrap with cling film and put in the fridge to rest for 30 minutes.
When the pasta dough has rested, use a pasta machine or rolling pin to roll into thin sheets. Cut the pasta into thick pappardelle with a sharp knife.
Bring a large frying pan to a high heat and add the butter for the mushrooms. Scatter in the mushrooms, along with a good pinch of seasoning. Fry for 3-4 minutes, tossing frequently, until golden brown on all sides. Set aside.
Fill up a large saucepan with water and add plenty of salt. Bring to the boil.
Gently reheat the grouse ragu in the frying pan. Very finely chop the grouse livers and hearts and stir through the sauce.
When the water is hot, add the fresh pasta and boil for 2 minutes. Use tongs to transfer the pappardelle into the grouse pan, along with the girolle mushrooms, the remaining butter, thyme leaves, a good grating of parmesan cheese and the lemon juice. Toss everything together really well, and continue to cook together for a further minute or two. If the sauce needs loosening slightly, add a small amount of the pasta cooking water.
To serve, pile the pappardelle onto plates and finish with more grated parmesan and a good crack of black pepper.
The days that I spend cooking for this blog are often hurried and frantic affairs. In the mornings I’m out and about gathering the required ingredients, before returning back home to turn them all into a finished (and hopefully successful) dish. In theory a fairly simple and straightforward plan. But often enough something goes amiss and the whole ordeal becomes much more stressful. Especially for something meant to be a hobby. And last week was a prime example.
Things didn’t get off to the best of starts; I overslept. This wasn’t the greatest of problems really, and in truth Mondays are also my only real day of the week to get some rest. But it set me behind schedule, and my window for messing about in the kitchen was getting smaller and smaller. What I really wanted to buy was a grouse or two. Since the Glorious Twelfth, my social media feeds have been jam-packed with them, and I wanted to have another crack at cooking them. But could I find one? Could I heck. A few tubes and buses covering a London map of butchers later and I still had empty bags and even less cooking time. Stuck on Oxford Street amongst the crowds, things were looking pretty desperate. But then I remembered that there was a rather good branch of the Ginger Pig, not too far away in Marylebone, so I walked up to chance my luck one more time.
They also didn’t have any grouse. Bah! But what they did have were a couple of lovely, plump pigeons. At that stage of the day, I snapped them up. With the recipe cogs whirring around in my head, I darted next door to the mecca that is La Fromagerie for some bits to accompany the bird, and I was soon sat on the bus home with a bag laden with beautiful sweetcorn, cavolo nero and prosciutto. Soon the light would be fading, threatening rubbish photography and a wasted day, so I had to work quickly.
I wasn’t too disappointed to be lumped with pigeon instead of my desired grouse. I haven’t tackled a pigeon for a good few years, but they remain one of my favourite things to eat. I love that gamey richness and tender, pink flesh. And because the birds were whole, literally heads, claws and guts, it meant that I also had access to the wonderful offal. Whilst the trimmings and liver helped to make the sauce deep and flavourful, the heart was simply pan-roasted, adding another dimension to the finished dish. I never mess around with the cooking of smaller poultry, in my opinion roasting the crowns before carving is the only way to go.
The rest of the dish is a simple balance of early autumn flavours. The sweetcorn provides a wonderful sweetness that cuts through the powerful flavour of the pigeon. Sage and onion are practically married. I’ll still try and track down a grouse this season, but in the end I was pleased as punch with my pigeon.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the pigeon:
2 pigeons, portioned into crowns with wishbones removed. Trimmings, hearts and livers kept
4 slices of prosciutto
4 sprigs of thyme
2 sage leaves
1 knob of butter
For the sauce:
The wings, legs, livers and trimmings from the pigeons
1 onion, finely chopped
1 carrot, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, crushed
2 slices of prosciutto, chopped
5 sprigs of thyme
1 generous splash of brandy
750ml good chicken stock
1 knob of butter
For the smashed sweetcorn:
The kernels from 2 sweetcorn cobs, released with a knife
75g butter
500ml water
For the charred sweetcorn:
The kernels from 1 sweetcorn cob, released with a knife
1 small knob of butter
For the burnt onion:
1 small onion, skin left on and halved vertically
½ a lemon, juice only
For the cavolo nero:
3-4 cavolo nero leaves, any tough stalks removed, leaves roughly chopped
For the pigeon hearts:
The hearts from the two pigeons, cleaned of any sinew
Get the pigeon sauce on first. Bring a large, heavy frying pan up to a medium-high temperature and add a good glug of olive oil. Season the pigeon legs, wings, trimmings and livers with salt and pepper and brown well on all sides, in batches if necessary. Add the prosciutto, onions, carrots, garlic and herbs to the pan and cook until lightly caramelised. Pour in the brandy and carefully flambé, then reduce until only a small amount remains. Top up with the chicken stock and bring to the boil. Use a wooden spoon to scrape up and caramelised bits from the bottom of the pan. Reduce slowly until only around 150ml of thickened sauce remains. Strain the sauce through a sieve into a smaller saucepan and discard the used flavourings. Whisk the knob of butter into the sauce until fully emulsified, then cover and set aside until needed later.
Bring a frying pan up to a high heat and add a small amount of olive oil and a knob of butter. When hot, add the smaller amount of sweetcorn kernels and a good pinch of salt and pepper. Fry for a few minutes, stirring frequently, until starting to brown and blacken. Tip into a bowl and set aside.
Pour the water for the smashed sweetcorn into a saucepan and bring to the boil. Tip in the sweetcorn kernels, butter and a good amount of seasoning. Stir to combine, then simmer for 8-10 minutes, or until the sweetcorn has softened and taken on some of the liquid. Using a hand blender or food processor, blitz into a coarse, yet soft mash. Loosen with a little water if necessary, and taste for seasoning and butter. Cover and keep warm.
Add a good glug of oil to a frying pan and set on a high heat. Place the onion halves cut-side down and fry for 5-6 minutes, until blackened and burnt. Turn over for an additional 5 minutes, then transfer to a side plate. When cool enough to handle, carefully separate the layers into little cups and place in a bowl. Squeeze in the lemon juice and season. Mix well and set aside.
Preheat the oven to 190⁰C.
Pour a generous glug of olive oil into a large, heavy frying pan and bring to a medium-high heat. When hot, add the sage leaves and fry for 30 seconds until crispy. Transfer to drain over a sheet of kitchen roll. Keep the pan hot for the pigeons.
Season the insides and outsides of the pigeons well with salt and pepper. Lay the sheets of prosciutto crisscrossed over the breasts, tucking some sprigs of thyme and a sage leaf underneath. Tie in place with some kitchen string.
Add a large knob of butter to the sage pan and sear the pigeons for 1-1.5 minutes on each breast. Turn the crowns so that they are sitting upright in the pan, and use a spoon to baste well with the butter for a further minute. Transfer to an oven dish and roast for 10 minutes. Allow the cooked birds to rest for 10 minutes, then carve the breasts from the bone.
While the pigeons are resting, cook the pigeon hearts. Bring the same pan that was used to sear the pigeons back to a medium-high heat. Season the hearts, then cook for 1 minute on each side, basting well. Remove and allow to rest briefly, then slice in half.
In the same, now empty pan, add the cavolo nero leaves and a good splash of water. Wilt down quickly for a couple of minutes until tender.
Reheat the sauce and the smashed corn.
To plate up spoon a few dollops of the smashed corn onto each plate and add some of the cavolo nero. Arrange the pigeon breasts in the middle and three of the onion segments in the gaps at the sides. Top with the charred corn, heart, sage leaves and some of the prosciutto from the pigeon. Spoon some of the sauce into the onion cups and around the plate and serve.
We’re now bang in the middle of game season, which means it’s time to branch out from the usual beef, chicken, pork and lamb and have a go at something different. I’m usually terrible at taking advantage of this glut of alternative meat, but this year I’ve really made an effort and have already cooked with pheasant, grouse and wild rabbit. Although the often stronger, livery flavour puts a lot of people off, I personally love a bit of game and will always jump at the chance to buy it from a butcher or order it when eating out. The flavours work so well with other autumnal ingredients, be it sweeter squashes, beets and sweetcorn or bitter cabbage leaves and earthy mushrooms.
This dish, like many of my better ones, happened by chance. It certainly wasn’t the result of a long-conceived and adjusted recipe; it all came together very quickly. I was strolling through Marylebone on the way home from town, and being a rare visitor to the area I thought I would take advantage and have a quick snoop around. Moxon Street was like my foodie heaven, with the delightful smell of cheese wafting out of La Fromagerie and the impressive glass-lined hanging room in The Ginger Pig, lined with blackened aged-foreribs and porterhouses. It was whilst in the butchers that I spied the mallard, and not often seeing them around I just had to take it. Back in London Fields and a quick trip to the local E5 Bakehouse for a huge slab of ciabatta and the local greengrocers saw me ready to go.
Ever since I had the chicken roasted on bread at Rotorino in Dalston I’ve wanted to have a go at something similar. It was such a fantastic dish, and the fact that I still have it at the front of my mind months after eating it is tribute alone. The end result is something similar to posh fried bread, all laden with the roasting juices and olive oil. To accompany the bird and the bread, I made a very savoury, earthy and thick stew out of the beans, the braised leg meat and the livers. Combined with the fairly sweet sauce it really brings depth to the dish.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the mallards:
2 plump mallards, legs removed and crowns trimmed
2 long thin slices of fresh ciabatta
2 cloves of garlic, sliced
8 sprigs of thyme, leaves picked
2 tbsp butter
For the braised mallard legs and sauce:
The legs and trimmings from the mallard
4 shallots, finely sliced
3 garlic cloves, crushed
1 tbsp soft brown sugar
1 carrot, diced
1 leek, sliced
5 sprigs of thyme
1 bay leaf
A good splash of brandy
1ltr chicken stock
For the smashed borlotti beans:
6 tbsp cooked borlotti beans including the cooking liquid
2 cloves of garlic, grated
4 sprigs of thyme, leaves picked
½ a shallot, finely chopped
4 chicken livers, cleaned and diced
The picked braised leg meat from the mallards
¼ lemon, juice only
Extra virgin olive oil
A few gratings of black truffle
For the roasted shallots:
2 shallots, quartered lengthways
1 tbsp butter
1 tbsp olive oil
5 sprigs of thyme
For the cavolo nero:
4 large cavolo nero leaves, thick stems removed
1 tbsp butter
To finish:
A few gratings of black truffle
Extra virgin olive oil
First braise the legs of the mallard. Heat a heavy saucepan to a medium-high temperature and add a little olive oil. Fry the mallard legs quickly to brown well on all sides, then transfer to a plate. Repeat with all of the trimmings from the bird until well coloured. Turn the temperature down slightly and tip in the shallots, garlic, thyme and sugar and fry for about 15 minutes, or until softened and golden. Add the other vegetables and herbs and continue to cook for another few minutes. Turn the heat back up and add the brandy, burning off the alcohol and de-glazing the pan. Top up with the stock and return the mallard legs and trimmings to the pan. Bring to a simmer, then cook very gently for about 2 hours, or until the leg meat is tender. Remove the legs from the stock and shred the meat off the bones. Set aside until needed later.
Strain the rest of the stock and discard the carcass and vegetables. Pour the liquid into a smaller pan and set to a high temperature. Reduce until only a small amount of thick sauce remains, about 150ml. Cover and keep warm until needed.
Pre-heat the oven to 160⁰C.
Put the quartered shallots into a small baking dish and toss in the olive oil, seasoning and thyme. Dot the butter around and bake in the oven for about 45 minutes, or until really soft and slightly charred at the edges. Peel the shallot layers into individual petals and set aside.
For the borlotti beans, add a little olive oil to a saucepan and set to a medium-high temperature. Season the chicken livers and then fry quickly for about two minutes or until golden brown on the outside and still pink in the middle. Transfer to a side plate. Lower the heat, add the shallot, garlic and thyme and soften for a few minutes. Add the borlotti beans and liquid along with the braised leg meat, season well and gently cook for about 15 minutes. Return the livers to the pan and roughly smash the contents against the side of the pan with a wooden spoon. Finish with the lemon juice, a tablespoon of the reduced sauce, two tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil and a few gratings of the black truffle. Keep warm until needed.
Raise the oven temperature to 200⁰C.
While the borlotti beans are cooking roast the mallards. Pour some oil into a non-stick frying pan and set to a medium-high heat. Season the inside and outside of the birds and sear quickly on each breast for 1-2 minutes, then add the butter to the pan, turn the birds breast-side up and baste really well. Lay the ciabatta slices onto the bottom of an oven dish and top with a little extra-virgin olive oil, the slices of garlic, seasoning and the thyme leaves. Place the browned mallards on top of the bread, pour over the pan juices and roast for 10-12 minutes, basting every few minutes. When cooked, transfer the mallards to a chopping board to rest for 10 minutes. Pick the garlic off the ciabatta and return the bread to the oven for a few minutes to crisp up slightly.
Re-heat the pan used to sear the mallards and add the butter for the cavolo nero. When melted, add the leaves, a bit of seasoning and a splash of water and fry for a couple of minutes until slightly softened.
While the mallard is resting also reheat the other elements of the dish if necessary.
To serve up, spoon a good amount of the smashed beans onto each piece of ciabatta and place one on each plate. Top with some of the cavolo nero leaves. Carve the mallards and arrange the breasts around the bread. Finish with some of the slow-roasted shallot, a generous spoonful of the sauce, some extra virgin olive oil and more grated truffle.
Over Christmas and New Year I spent some time in Scotland with Katie’s family. They live in beautiful rolling farmland in Perthshire, where you can spend days living on nothing but endless tea and pound cake sat by a roaring fire. Going on walks you can hear yourself think, and nights are lit by blinding stars. Her family are the closest imaginable, and as cousins instantly inseparable after months or years apart. A very lucky thing.
During my stay an ambition was achieved. A shoot was organised on their land and I was asked to be involved. Katie was terrified. These things are bound with tweed-wrapped tradition, where the men and hounds leave at dawn to bloody the land while the wives whip up the perfect meringues and pies, and decant the whisky for their return. The thought of unleashing her naïve city-dwelling boy onto all of this without her protection caused a chill. But she shouldn’t have been worried. In a forest of plus-fours and tartan socks I stuck out with my old anorak and skinny jeans but they were all very kind, and a storming day was had. Although my role as one of the beaters was far from the business end of the shoot, I was thrilled to be part of it and I left with an unexpected case of gun envy. I must go shoot some clays soon…
Although in that case the pheasants were accounted for, it inspired me to try and cook some for myself before the season ends. I love the connection between the land and the table, and it wouldn’t have felt complete without making a dish out of the experience. Happily I was able to return from Borough Market with a plump and extremely reasonably priced brace under my arm.
The rest of the recipe planning was a formality, and also very traditional. Game is the perfect partner for strong, earthy flavours. Irony always has a way with these things, and like how rabbit and carrots go hand in hand, so do pheasants and grain. I’ve only really got into cooking with barley since meeting Katie, and a wonderfully versatile ingredient it is too. In this recipe it is almost made like a risotto, soaking up those deep mushroom flavours.
Baking the celeriac in salt certainly considerably lengthens this recipe, but if you have the time it is worth it. I hadn’t used this technique before, and was dubious about any dramatic changes in flavour compared to a traditional mash or puree. But the way that the salt seals the vegetable to cook in its own juices enhances the sweetness, and I love the theatre of cracking into the giant sphere. I will definitely be trying this out with other root vegetables.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the pheasant:
1 pheasant, legs removed and kept for confit, wishbone removed and all trimmings kept for sauce
50g butter
A few sprigs of thyme
Olive oil
Salt and pepper
For the sauce:
All of the trimmings and giblets from the pheasant
1 clove garlic, finely sliced
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 tsp fennel seeds
5 sprigs of thyme
100ml brandy
500ml good chicken or pheasant stock
20g butter
Olive oil
For the barley:
100g pearl barley
1 shallot, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
2 sprigs fresh thyme leaves, picked
3 tbsp dried porcini, soaked and finely chopped
Splash of white wine
Approx. 600ml good chicken stock
20g butter
For the salt-baked celeriac:
1 medium celeriac
4 egg whites
800g table salt
5 sprigs of thyme, leaves picked
A dash of double cream
10g butter
For the confit pheasant leg:
2 legs from the pheasant
3 garlic cloves
5 sprigs of thyme
6 peppercorns
4 tbsp coarse salt
500g duck fat
20g butter
For the chanterelles:
12 chanterelle mushrooms, trimmed and brushed clean
For the savoy cabbage:
A couple of big cabbage leaves, sliced thinly
1 clove of garlic, finely chopped
20g butter
Olive oil
Splash of water
Splash of white wine vinegar
Prepare and cure the pheasant legs the day before cooking. Carefully remove the thigh bones, leaving the flesh in one piece so that just the drumstick bones remain. Place in a bowl and rub with the salt, garlic, thyme and peppercorns, then cover and refrigerate overnight.
Soak the dried porcini mushrooms in boiling water for at least fifteen minutes. Drain, reserving the liquid; use this to boost the chicken stock for the sauce and pearl barley. Finely chop the mushrooms and set aside until you make the barley.
Pre-heat the oven to 200⁰C (fan).
To confit the pheasant legs, rinse the salt off and pat dry. Melt the duck fat in a small saucepan to 85⁰C then add the legs, garlic and thyme. Cook at that temperature for 1 ½ hours, making sure that the oil doesn’t boil. When cooked, drain and set aside for crisping up.
To make the salt crust for the celeriac, thoroughly mix the salt, egg whites and thyme leaves in a bowl until they form a dry paste. Place the celeriac on a baking dish and coat with a thick layer of the salt paste, making sure there are no gaps. Bake in the oven for 2 1/2 hours.
To make the pearl barley, heat half of the butter in a saucepan. Gently fry the shallot, garlic and thyme on a low heat until soft, then add the chopped porcini and continue to cook for another couple of minutes. Turn the heat up slightly and pour in the barley, stirring until the grains are coated. Add the wine and allow it to be absorbed before adding the first half ladle of stock. Stir frequently and only add more liquid when needed. Cook for about 20 minutes, or until the barley has increased in size and is just al dente. The liquid should be reduced and sticking to the grains. Set aside for finishing later.
For the sauce, heat up some oil in a frying pan or skillet to a high heat. Season the pheasant trimmings and giblets and fry quickly until well browned on all sides. Add the garlic, shallots, fennel seeds and thyme and colour. Add the brandy and carefully flambé until all of the alcohol has burned off. Pour in the stock and continue to cook until only about 150ml of thick liquid remains. Strain into a small saucepan and set aside.
When the celeriac has been in the oven for 2 1/2 hours remove from the oven. Keep warm while you prepare the pheasant.
Heat a non-stick frying pan to a high heat and add a little olive oil. Season the pheasant crown well all over and cook for 2 minutes on each breast, until well browned. Transfer to a small oven dish and smother with the butter and thyme sprigs. Put in the oven for 15-17 minutes, so that the meat still remains a little pink. Baste the meat with the butter every 4-5 minutes. Remove from the oven and allow to rest for 10 minutes.
While the pheasant is in the oven prepare the celeriac. Crack open the salt crust and slice the top off. Pass the soft inside through a sieve into a bowl, then season and mix with the cream and butter. Keep warm until you plate up.
When the pheasant is resting, finish off the other elements of the dish:
Sautee the garlic for the cabbage in the butter over a medium heat until tender, then add the cabbage, seasoning and water and cook for 3-4 minutes. Stir in the white wine vinegar.
Re-heat the pan used to sear the pheasant and add the butter. Fry the confit legs over a high heat, basting frequently with the butter until crisp and golden. When the legs are nearly cooked add the chanterelle mushrooms and cook for a further minute.
Reheat the sauce and pearl barley, stirring a small knob of butter into each until emulsified.
Using a sharp knife, carefully cut the rested pheasant breasts from the bone and slice each one into three pieces.
To plate up, spoon a mound of the celeriac onto each plate and some of the pearl barley next to it. Position the pheasant leg and breast pieces on top. Arrange small piles of the cabbage and some chanterelles around the meat, then spoon over some of the sauce.
