Following on from the last recipe on this blog, I still had a good amount of black truffle in my possession and I was determined to turn it into another tasty dish. Although I have previously preserved excess truffle in butter to stretch it out for a week or so, this time I wanted to strike while the iron was hot, and no sooner had I finished scoffing my raw beef snacks I was back in the kitchen with the stove on. For this dish I wanted to keep things simple and very plain, maximising the pungent flavour of the knobbly tuber.
Truffles and eggs have long been bedfellows, and it’s amazing that if you keep eggs and truffles close together, the flavour will seep through the shells. After an overnight stay in each other’s company, the eggs had a definite truffley whiff and were ready to be beaten into a pasta dough, along with forming the base of the simple sauce. Carbonara and other rich, creamy pasta sauces have been making a fashionable comeback of late, and it doesn’t seem like you can switch on social media without spying another take on cacio e pepe. The role of eggs in this recipe is further stripped back, acting as a rich binder to transform the parmesan and truffle into a thick and glossy sauce.
Like most simple Italian recipes, success lies in careful execution. I cringe when I remember my earlier attempts at carbonara, heating the sauce together in a red hot pan that instantly turned the smooth eggs into a grainy, somewhat scrambled affair. I also knew nothing of using the very handy glutenous pasta water, which tempers the eggs and helps a great deal to thicken everything up. Constant movement of the pasta is the key; it will stop the eggs from overcooking whilst emulsifying the sauce. It may take a practice or two, but it’s a technique well worth mastering that will enable a bowlful of comforting pasta to be made in minutes.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the fresh spaghetti:
200g ‘00’ grade strong pasta flour, plus a little extra for rolling
2 medium eggs
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt
For the sauce:
2 medium eggs plus one yolk
A small handful of parmesan, finely grated
1/3 of a black truffle, finely grated
To finish:
Thin slices of black truffle
Extra gratings of parmesan
First make the pasta. Pour the flour into a large bowl and combine with a very generous pinch of salt. Use a wooden spoon to make a well in the middle, and crack in the eggs, along with about a tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil. Use a fork to beat the eggs and oil, slowly incorporating the surrounding flour until a dough starts to form. Transfer the dough to a flat surface and knead really well, for 5-10 minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic in texture. Wrap with cling film and put in the fridge to rest for an hour.
Remove the rested dough from the fridge, and use a pasta machine to roll thinly (to the second thinnest setting using an Imperia machine), dusting each side with a little flour every few rolls. Use a spaghetti cutter attachment to create spaghetti. Cover the fresh pasta with a tea towel while you prepare the rest of the dish.
Fill a large saucepan with water and add a generous amount of salt. Bring to the boil. Set a large frying pan over a gentle heat.
Break the eggs for the sauce into a bowl and whisk well. Stir through the grated truffle, parmesan and a pinch of seasoning.
Drop the fresh spaghetti into the boiling water and cook for 1-2 minutes.
Use tongs to transfer the cooked spaghetti to the frying pan, adding a good ladle of the cooking water. Pour over the egg mixture and toss with the pasta really well. Cook for a minute or so over the low heat, stirring/tossing the pan continuously until the sauce thickens and coats the pasta. Taste and season if necessary.
To serve, pile the spaghetti onto each plate and top with extra shavings of truffle and grated parmesan.
Snacks are always so overlooked, and I’m as guilty as anyone. I’ll happily spend hours in the kitchen preparing a hearty breakfast or intricate dinner, but when feeling a bit peckish I’m always so tempted to just crack open a bag of crisps or spread piles of salted butter onto hot toast. Although this sort of absent eating does its job and at least momentarily fills a hole, with a tiny bit more thought snacking can become that bit more satisfying. Be it stirring up a rich and tangy rarebit sauce, slicing ripe tomatoes to accompany slippery anchovies or simply toasting some almonds in a pan before coating in a slick of olive oil, salt and chilli flakes. Surely better than pickled onion monster munch!
A day off last week saw me travelling by train across London to the ever excellent Andreas greengrocers on Chelsea Green. Although somewhat of a mission from deepest, darkest Hackney, I always enjoy seeing different parts of the capital on a bright and crisp morning. And all well worth it for the wonderful selection of seasonal produce, including many interesting and hard to get ingredients. Beautiful fresh porcini mushrooms, purple Italian treviso and heavily armoured artichokes gleamed in the light. But the real star of the show lurked in a small jar to one corner; knobbly black Wiltshire truffles. Although at that point I didn’t have a specific recipe in my head, I just had to take one to play about with upon my return home.
A few weeks ago I was lucky enough to eat a really delicious steak tartare whilst lunching at Phil Howard’s new restaurant, Elystan Street, and I have been craving it ever since. I thought that something similar would work brilliantly with my newfound truffle, so after a quick visit to my local butcher, I soon had a well-marbled slice of chateaubriand in my possession. Raw beef, particularly lean cuts like the fillet, can be rather bland, and need a bit of careful help to shine through. Salt is obviously most important here, and hard cheese such as parmesan is commonly used to add richness. But a little seasonal twist in the form of finely sliced girolles and sweet chestnuts worked a treat here. The key is to make sure everything is at room temperature, and to taste repeatedly and adjust the flavourings until just balanced.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the beef:
200g good quality dry-aged beef fillet, trimmed of outer sinew
1 small handful of girolle mushrooms
8 cooked chestnuts
3 tbsp finely grated parmesan
1 small Wiltshire black truffle
For the sourdough:
2 thin slices of white sourdough bread
To finish:
More gratings of black truffle
Extra virgin olive oil
Chop the chestnuts roughly. Pour a glug of olive oil into a frying pan and bring to a medium-high heat. When hot, add the chestnuts along with the mushrooms and a good pinch of seasoning. Fry for 3-4 minutes, stirring frequently, until everything is tender and slightly caramelised. Remove from the heat and allow to cool, then chop very finely and transfer to a bowl.
Preheat the grill to high. Cut the crusts from the sourdough and discard. Using a pasta machine or rolling pin, gently roll the bread until very thin. Place onto an oven tray and drizzle with a little olive oil and a pinch of salt. Set under the grill for 1-2 minutes on each side, or until lightly golden and crispy. Remove and allow to cool, then break each into three equal pieces.
Chop the beef to a coarse mince texture using a very sharp knife and slide into a bowl. Combine with most of the cooled mushrooms and chestnuts and grate in the parmesan and about 2/3rds of the truffle. Season well and pour in about a tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil. Mix together with a spoon, adding more of any of the flavourings to achieve a balanced flavour. The delicate flavour and texture of the beef should still be the focus.
To serve, spoon generous amounts of the beef mixture onto the pieces of sourdough and arrange three on each plate. Top with lots more grated black truffle and a few drops of extra virgin olive oil.
For many, buying a blowtorch to use in a domestic kitchen might seem like a gimmicky item to show off, or something destined to gather dust in the back of a shelf after many months of no use. I certainly don’t drag it out for most things that I cook, especially not quick, simple midweek meals. Yet I find it so genuinely useful in many circumstances, able to create a different element of flavour that is difficult to achieve with any other appliance. For a long time I have found myself semi-obsessed with charred or borderline burnt food; not great when totally dominating dishes, but a tiny bit of bitter smokiness can really make a decent dish special. From toasting delicate tips of an Italian meringue to blackening sweetcorn and charring winter leaves, there are endless uses. Some recipes call for a hot grill, but the control of vicious heat that you get from a blowtorch is far superior.
It is undoubtedly still a faff though. Especially in this case, where my recipe calls for you to melt 300g of butter purely for the poaching of a few langoustine tails. Then to drag them out and blowtorch them seems like a lot of work. But I totally guarantee that it is worth it. Wild local langoustines are bloody expensive, and as such should be treated with delicate respect to maximise their beautiful sweet flavour. Although I have previously grilled and traditionally poached langoustines with enjoyable results, the gentle poaching in butter yields the ultimate soft texture. With the speedy exposure to a high flame afterwards, the tails take on a wonderful subtle caramelisation, without further internal cooking.
To accompany the langoustines I only required a few subtle sidekicks. As is often the way, ingredients that share the same seasons also sit happily on the same plate. Autumn is all about wild mushrooms for me, and I was lucky enough to find girolles, trompettes and fresh porcini mushrooms in my brilliant local fruit and veg shop in Stoke Newington. They also had a pile of beautiful Italian violet artichokes, and I couldn’t resist popping a couple into my basket.
Although a lot of butter is used to cook the langoustines, save the leftovers for frying potatoes, or to melt through pasta with plenty of sage and garlic…
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the langoustines:
6 large live langoustines, killed humanely and tails shelled. Heads and claws reserved.
300g salted butter
For the artichokes:
6 small violet artichokes, peeled, trimmed and halved
The heads and claws from the langoustines
1 smoked garlic clove, crushed
1 shallot, quartered
1 bay leaf
1 large glass of white wine
1 knob of butter
For the wild mushrooms:
1 handful of small girolle mushrooms, trimmed and cleaned
1 handful of trompette mushrooms, cleaned
1 or 2 fresh porcini mushrooms, cleaned
For the smoked garlic mayonnaise:
1 clove of smoked garlic
2 egg yolks
1/2 tsp Dijon mustard
1 lemon, juice and zest
250ml light olive oil
To finish:
½ a lemon, juice only
Bring a large saucepan or high-sided frying pan to a medium heat. Pour in a generous glug of olive oil and add the claws and heads from the langoustines. Fry for 3-4 minutes, until lightly caramelised on all sides. Add the trimmed artichokes, shallot, garlic and bay leaf and continue to cook for a further couple of minutes. Pour in the wine and bring to the boil, then cover the pan and reduce the heat. Gently simmer for about 15 minutes, or until the artichokes are tender. Add the knob of butter and adjust the seasoning if needed.
To make the mayonnaise, grate the smoked garlic into a small food processor and add the mustard, lemon zest and juice, egg yolks and a good pinch of seasoning. Blend well to combine. With the engine still running, slowly pour in the oil, until fully emulsified into a mayonnaise. Thin down with a little water if necessary, and taste and add more seasoning. Spoon into a plastic bottle.
Heat a pan to a high heat and add a good glug of oil. When hot, sauté the girolle and trompette mushrooms for a couple of minutes, until tender and caramelised. Keep warm.
Halve the fresh raw porcini mushrooms and slice thinly.
Melt the butter for the langoustines in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer. Remove from the heat and carefully drop in the langoustine tails. Poach gently for 3 minutes, then transfer onto a metal tray. Use a blowtorch to quickly caramelise the outsides.
To plate up, dot the mayonnaise onto each plate and arrange the langoustines and artichokes around. Top with the cooked wild mushrooms and raw porcini slices, and finish with a little of the buttery artichoke cooking liquid.
Chicken livers used to really weird me out. As a child, I would pull a squeamish face if I accidentally peeled open the wrong tub in the back of the fridge, revealing grey and pungent pate. Yuk! This liver phobia stretched out for a large chunk of my young adult life. Even when working in a kitchen just after finishing university, making huge vats of delicately set chicken liver parfait was my most hated job. There’s nothing worse than the sight of a mountain of uncleaned livers whilst nursing a dangerous hangover.
Then something changed. One evening out at a restaurant, a plate emerged as part of a set menu. To avoid any social awkwardness I got stuck in, and suddenly became aware than I quite liked the smooth, rich and earthy morsels that had for so long been my nemesis. I guess there’s no real explanation for this shift in taste, other than just growing up and liking different foods. Around that time I also re-embraced mushrooms, discovered that bitter greens weren’t best shoved to one side of the plate, and that a good pinch of salt makes a world of difference to pretty much everything.
With anything as strong and distinctive in flavour as chicken livers, the key is creating a balance with the other ingredients on the plate. Sweetcorn season is in full swing right now, and creates a wonderful sweet contrast. Add a few chicken wings to create a binding sauce and some irresistible crispy skin, and some peppery nasturtiums picked from my front garden, and everything is tied together.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the chicken livers:
300g chicken livers, halved and trimmed of any sinew
1 good knob of butter
1 garlic clove, crushed
1 sprig of thyme
For the baby leeks:
6 baby leeks
For the sweetcorn puree:
2 sweetcorn, kernels cut free from the cobs
2 shallots, finely sliced
1 clove of garlic, finely chopped
2 knobs of butter
2 sprigs of thyme, leaves picked
1 tsp wholegrain mustard
For the charred sweetcorn:
1 sweetcorn, kernels cut free from the cob
For the chicken sauce:
4 chicken wings, skin removed and retained
2 shallots, quartered
1 carrot, chopped
1 garlic clove, finely sliced
3 sprigs of thyme
1 large glass of white wine
500ml good chicken stock
For the crispy chicken skin:
The skin from the chicken wings
To finish:
Nasturtium leaves
½ a lemon, juice only
Start by making the chicken sauce. Heat a large saucepan to high temperature, and add a good glug of olive oil. Season the wings and brown well on all sides in the hot pan, then transfer to a side plate. Slide the shallots into the pan and fry for a minute or two on each side, until caramelised. Add the carrot, garlic and thyme and continue to cook for a further minute, stirring frequently. Return the chicken wings to the pan and pour in the wine. Allow the liquid to boil and reduce by half. Pour in the stock, then return to the boil before reducing again, until only a small amount of thickened sauce remains. Strain the sauce through a sieve into a small saucepan and set aside to reheat later.
Fill a saucepan with water and bring to the boil. Sprinkle in a generous amount of salt. When the water is hot, blanch the baby leeks for 2 minutes, then drain and set aside until later.
Bring a saucepan to a medium heat and add half the butter for the sweetcorn puree. When melted, add the shallots, garlic and thyme leaves, and cook gently for 3-4 minutes, until softened. Tip in the sweetcorn kernels and season well. Stir everything together, then cover the saucepan and cook for a further 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Spoon the contents of the pan into a food processor and add the mustard and remaining butter. Blend really well, until a smooth puree is formed. Loosen with a little water if necessary. Taste and season if needed. Pass the puree through a sieve into a bowl, then spoon into a plastic bottle.
Preheat the oven to 190⁰C.
Line a baking sheet with greaseproof paper and rub with a little oil. Stretch the chicken skin onto the tray and season with salt and pepper. Cover with another oiled sheet of greaseproof and top with a second baking sheet. Slide into the oven and roast for 15-20 minutes, or until the skin is golden and crispy. Drain on kitchen paper and set aside.
Cut the kernels from the remaining sweetcorn cob, trying to keep the kernels together in clusters if possible. Using a blowtorch, quickly char the outsides.
Put the butter for the chicken livers into a non-stick frying pan along with a splash of olive oil. Bring to a high heat. When the pan is hot, season the chicken livers and add to the pan, along with the thyme and the garlic clove. Cook the livers for 1-2 minutes on each side, until still bouncy and pink in the middle. Transfer to a warm plate to rest quickly. Add the blanched leeks to the now empty liver pan and heat through for a minute.
While the livers and leeks are cooking, reheat the sauce.
Dress the nasturtium leaves in a little lemon juice and olive oil.
To plate up, squeeze a decent blob of the sweetcorn puree onto each plate. Arrange the leeks to one side along with the livers and charred sweetcorn. Top with the chicken skin and nasturtium leaves, then finish with a small amount of the chicken sauce.
