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.
I’ve wanted to develop a recipe with cuttlefish for a long time now. At work, their peculiar and often very inky forms make an occasional appearance on the slab, but due to the sporadic nature of their availability, until now I haven’t quite managed to steal the right moment. And I thought that this summer would be very much the same, and instead I’ve been largely (and very happily) feasting on its close relations, the octopus and the squid. So when I opened a box one sunny morning a few weeks ago and was greeted by pile of particularly fine specimens, I just knew I had to take some home and fire up the hobs.
Cuttlefish is definitely something that we should be eating more of in this country. But unlike squid or octopus that are well and truly pinned onto the food map, cuttlefish gets all the bad press. That is, no press at all. Admittedly as a fishmonger they can be a bit of a nightmare due to their tendency to be messy and time consuming to prepare. But often it doesn’t even reach that point, with customers going down the safe old salmon, cod and tuna route. With the prices of these prime fish soaring, the cuttlefish still carries an unfashionable price tag, has bags of flavour and is a doddle to cook. All it needs is a decent national PR spin…
This dish represents exactly the type of food that I love to eat as we slide into Autumn with a chilly wind and grey cloud of rain. Slow, easy cooking that is all about the development of flavour over a little patient simmering. Food that can be sliced and eaten with a spoon. Now we’re in September, the shellfish will start to get slightly stronger, and soon we’ll see Shetland mussels back in their prime. Samphire is slowly heading the other way, and I’m finding any excuse to introduce a handful into my meals. Before long that vibrant green will be replaced by the burnished oranges and reds of squashes, apples and corn. I can’t wait.
Serves 2 for a main, or 4 for a lunch or starter
Ingredients:
2-3 small cuttlefish, cleaned, with the tentacles and ink sacs reserved
1 onion, finely sliced
2 cloves of garlic, grated
1 tsp fennel seeds
1 tsp dried chilli flakes
1 tsp dried oregano
1 glass of white wine
500ml chicken stock
2 sachets of cuttlefish ink
¾ of a mug of firm lentils, such as Puy
1 lemon, juice and zest
1 small bunch of parsley, finely chopped
To finish:
12-15 clams
A handful of samphire
The tentacles from the cuttlefish, cut into 3 or 4 pieces
Slice the cleaned and skinned body and wings of the cuttlefish into chunky centimetre-thick strips. Pour a generous glug of olive oil into a large saucepan and bring up to a medium-high temperature. Fry the cuttlefish for 3-4 minutes, turning occasionally, until they start to turn golden. Season well. Turn the heat down slightly and add the onion, garlic, fennel seeds, dried chilli and oregano. Continue to fry everything together for a couple of minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onions soften slightly. Turn the head back up and pour in the wine. Allow the liquid to bubble away and reduce by half. Stir in the ink from the sachets, and carefully squeeze in the ink collected from the cuttlefish sacs (use an extra two sachets if you can’t collect them). Stir well, then top up with the chicken stock. Bring back to the boil, then turn down to a very gently simmer. Cover the saucepan with a lid and cook for 30 minutes.
After 30 minutes, pour the lentils into the saucepan and stir everything well. Continue to simmer for a further 30 minutes.
Bring a frying pan to a high heat and pour in a good glug of olive oil. When the pan is very hot, add the cuttlefish tentacles and a good pinch of seasoning. Fry for 2-3 minutes, turning once, until golden and slightly crispy. Remove from the pan onto a plate lined with kitchen paper to drain. Keep warm.
Bring a saucepan to a high heat. Add the clams and a small splash of water. Seal the pan tightly with a lid, and cook for 3-4 minutes, until the clams all open. Turn the heat down and stir in the samphire. Cook for a further minute, then remove from the heat.
Finish the lentils by stirring in the parsley and squeezing in the lemon juice. Taste and add more seasoning if needed.
To serve, spoon the lentils and cuttlefish into shallow bowls and top with the samphire, clams and crispy tentacles. Finish with a scattering of the lemon zest and a good drizzle of extra virgin olive oil.
The octopus had been in the freezer for a long time. A spring purchase, I had taken it home with big intentions; a light green broth perhaps, or fried in chilli to top a pea risotto. But somewhere along the line I was distracted, and the eight-legged beast had a little more time to acquaint itself with the lost myriad of ice-burnt fish fingers, three-quarter used packets of peas and random chunks of meat jostling for a way out of the cold. But as the summer came on, the octopus was the over-familiar leftover at the party and was more than starting to outstay its welcome. It’s shear bulk in such a tiny icebox meant that competition was tight, and with this heatwave, when a decision needed to be made between having room for an octopus or a box of Soleros, there was only one winner.
But the octopus was not alone, and was joined by many of my culinary outcasts in this recipe. Enter the humble bell pepper, which has rarely (if every) appeared on this blog. Sometimes too sweet, sometimes just the wrong texture, I have no malicious feeling towards peppers. But they are just something that I never seem to crave. Until now that is. The combination of smoky, salty octopus and soft charred peppers seemed to get a big thumbs up in my head.
Of course, the smoking side of this recipe isn’t essential. It would be perfectly acceptable (delicious, even) to grill the tentacles after the initial braising process. But I do like a bit of DIY food experimentation, and I’m always surprised with the amount of flavour that comes out of a bit of hay and a deep roasting dish. As with anything that releases your inner pyromaniac, it’s always best performed in an open, outdoor space, with a fire-quenching aid to hand.
Serves 4 as a starter or light lunch
Ingredients:
1 x 2kg octopus (double sucker variety), previously frozen and thawed out
A few good handfuls of hay, to smoke
For the charred peppers:
2-3 red and/or yellow peppers
1 clove of garlic, finely sliced
1 lemon
A pinch of dried chilli flakes
2 preserved lemons, centres scooped out and discarded
A few sprigs of fresh oregano, leaves picked
For the almond puree:
300g blanched almonds
1 clove of garlic, finely sliced
2 sprigs of rosemary, finely chopped
1 lemon
To finish:
A few more oregano leaves
Pop the octopus into a large saucepan and add 250ml of water. Bring to the boil, then lower to a gentle simmer and cook for 1 hour, or until the tentacles are very tender. Allow to cool slightly, then remove from the liquid and slice off each tentacle. Discard the head.
Set a heavy griddle pan over a high heat. Rub the peppers with a little olive and sear for about 5 minutes on each side, until blackened and blistered. Remove to a deep bowl and cover with cling film. Allow to cool down, then slice into thin strips. Pour a good glug of oil into a small saucepan and add the garlic and the chilli flakes, along with a pinch of salt and pepper. Fry for a couple of minutes until softened, then remove from the heat. Finely chop the preserved lemon and add to the pan along with the oregano leaves, lemon juice and 2 tbsp olive oil. Stir well, then pour all over the sliced, cooked peppers.
Bring a large frying pan to a medium heat and add the almonds. Toast for a few minutes, until lightly browned, then pour over a good glug of olive oil. Stir in the garlic and chopped rosemary along with some seasoning, and fry gently for a further 8-10 minutes. Transfer to a food processor and blend well. Squeeze in the lemon juice and slowly add 3 tbsp of olive oil. With the motor still running, slowly pour in a little cold water to loosen the puree, until it is soft and smooth. Taste and season, and pass through a sieve if necessary.
To smoke the octopus, scatter the hay onto the bottom of a heavy baking tray and top with a wire rack. Arrange the tentacles onto the rack, and use a large sheet of foil to seal. Carefully light the hay with a long match and allow to smoke for a couple of minutes. Place the smoked octopus onto a metal tray and use a blowtorch to crisp up the edges.
To serve, spoon the puree onto each plate and top with the octopus, pepper slices and a good drizzle of the flavoured oil. Finish with a scattering of fresh oregano leaves.
Ok, I know that it’s one of the hottest days of the year, but I want stew. Diana Henry recently announced on Twitter that she had mostly spent the last few months “cooking for autumn”, and I can totally get behind that. The weather this year has most definitely been playing silly buggers, conditions that my instincts always look to solve with a broth or a soup, some lentils or grains slowly blipping away for hours on a hob. A piece of meat, tender and falling apart, usually gets in on the act too. Settling and comforting food, and this time I don’t intend on waiting until the later months. I draw the line at bulbous, suety dumplings or piles of buttery polenta, but with a few light touches here and there, I believe that a summer stew of sorts is a wonderful and appropriate thing.
Summer sees excellent lamb, and a whole host of brilliant sidekicks to bob around a saucepan with. Spikey artichokes and almost hippy-like, vibrant pink borlotti beans are in their prime, with zingy sorrel giving things a refreshing boost where needed. The cut of meat chosen is the neck fillet, possibly my all-time favourite. Versatile enough to cook pink and charred over a barbeque, or in this case low and slow, and containing all of that flavour so common in the working muscles. I’ll leave my more refined cookery for another time. This is all about chunks of meat soft enough to break with a spoon, melting slabs of fatty pancetta and a rich liquor the result of patient simmering.
One large saucepan and a steaming bowl of happiness. More salads and summer fare next week. But for now I just want stew.
Serves 4-6
Ingredients:
800g-1kg lamb neck fillet, chopped into rough large chunks
150g smoked pancetta, thickly sliced
1 large onion, sliced
2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
A few sprigs of thyme
1 bay leaf
1 large glass of dry white wine
1-1.5ltr chicken stock
2 large handfuls of fresh borlotti beans
4-6 small artichokes, tough leaves, stems and chokes removed and hearts quartered
1 bunch of sorrel, roughly torn
1 lemon
Pour a good glug of olive oil into a large, deep saucepan and bring to a medium-high heat. Season the chunks of lamb with salt and pepper and brown in the hot pan on all sides, in 2 or 3 batches if necessary. Transfer the cooked meat to a side plate. Add the pancetta to the now empty pan and cook for a couple of minutes, until the fat starts to render and crisp. Add the onion, garlic, thyme and bay and continue until softened and slightly caramelised. Season well.
Pour in the wine and allow the liquid to reduce by half. Use a wooden spoon to scrape the crust from the bottom of the pan. Return the lamb and top up with enough stock to cover the meat. Bring everything back to the boil, then reduce to a gentle simmer. Cook for 2 hours, or until the lamb pulls apart easily.
Drop the prepared artichokes and beans to the saucepan and continue to cook for a further 30-45 minutes, until the vegetables have softened.
Tear up the sorrel and stir through the stew a couple of minutes before serving. Taste and check for seasoning.
Spoon the stew into bowls, finishing with a squeeze of lemon juice.
Around this time of year, gooseberries become the darling of social media. Shiny cherries, old, grumpy looking pumpkins and heritage tomatoes can briefly step aside from the iphone lense and form a queue behind these plump, veiny orbs. Restaurant menus also jump on this seasonal bandwagon, tempering their tang with creamy fools, or scattering raw slices with halibut crudo (which if I’m honest, makes my stomach turn a little). Yet gooseberries rarely turn up in home cooking, possibly losing ground to more user-friendly strawberries. I always associate gooseberries with when I was a child. Being relatively greedy and already knowledgeable of other types of sweet, messy summer berries, I stuffed my face without realising the cheek-raspingly sour consequences. I lived and learned the hard way.
Like anything bitter, sharp or sour, a little guidance from contrasting ingredients can conjure magical results. Sugars and fats seem to work best at this balancing act, and in this case a plump, laden duck proved the perfect sidekick. I’ve often struggled to cook duck in the past, with most methods that suggest frying and then roasting the breasts consistently producing overcooked, disappointingly grey results. So this time I stuck to the hobs and was much happier with the pink, juicy flesh.
As with many savoury dishes, there is nothing quite like a deep, meaty sauce to tie everything together. These intense reductions need a bit of time and care to get right, but are definitely worth all the effort spent browning, simmering and straining. In the end, a shockingly small puddle of sauce is produced, but it is compressed flavour, and only little is needed with each serving. The same principles of sauce making can be reproduced with beef, lamb, chicken etc etc…
It’s hard to ignore the other green, vibrant summer produce at the moment, with beautiful lettuces and, of course, peas working their way into lots of meals. The end result is a warm salad of sorts, a combination of rich, gamey duck and refreshing, multi-textured accompaniments.
Serves 4
Ingredients:
1 duck, portioned into breasts, legs and wings. Carcass bones cut into pieces and reserved
For the pan-fried breast:
The breasts from the duck, trimmed of sinew and excess fat
1 large knob of butter
For the duck sauce:
The wings and bones from the duck, fat removed
1 shallot, chopped
1 carrot, chopped
1 garlic clove, crushed
A few sprigs of thyme
1 large glass of white wine
500ml chicken stock
1 large knob of butter
For the gooseberry puree:
500g gooseberries, trimmed
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
2 sprigs of thyme, leaves picked
3 tbsp of caster sugar
1 knob of butter
For the torched gooseberries:
1 handful of gooseberries, halved
To finish:
2 handfuls of fresh peas, podded
A few large lettuce leaves, washed and torn into small pieces
½ a lemon, juice only
Preheat to oven to 160⁰C. Season the duck legs all over with salt and pepper. Place a metal rack above an oven dish and top with the legs, then slide into the oven and bake for 2 hours, or until the duck is tender in the middle with a crispy skin. When the legs are cooked, allow them to rest for 15 minutes, then strip from the bone in large chunks.
While the duck legs are cooking, make the gooseberry puree. Melt the butter in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Add the shallot, garlic, thyme and a good pinch of seasoning, and sauté for a couple of minutes, until soft and slightly caramelised. Add the gooseberries and the sugar, and continue to fry for a further 5-8 minutes, or until the berries start to melt. Taste a little of the sauce, and add more sugar if needed. Pour the contents of the pan into a food processor and blend well. Add the butter and blend for a further few seconds, until fully emulsified. Pass the puree through a sieve into a bowl, cover and set aside.
For the sauce, pour a good glug of olive oil into a saucepan and bring up to a medium-high heat. Season the duck wings and bones and brown well in the hot pan, cooking in batches if necessary. Add the shallot, carrot, garlic and thyme and continue to fry for a couple more minutes, until the vegetables are slightly caramelised. Pour in the white wine and allow to reduce by two-thirds. Use a wooden spoon to scrape up the crust from the bottom of the pan. Top up with the chicken stock and return to the boil. Reduce the liquid a second time, by around three-quarters, until thickened enough to coat the back of a spoon. Strain the sauce through a sieve into a smaller saucepan, and stir in the butter. Keep warm.
Fill a saucepan with water and bring to the boil. Pod the peas and add to the water with a good pinch of seasoning. Blanche for 1 minute, then drain. Pour over lots of cold water to halt the cooking process. Shell the peas into a small bowl. Tear up the lettuce and add to the peas.
Season the duck breasts all over and place them skin-side down into a cold, dry frying pan. Turn on the heat to medium-high and fry for 6 minutes, until the skin is crispy and has released its excess fat. Turn the breasts over and continue to cook for a further 4 minutes. Transfer the cooked duck to a side plate and allow to rest for 10 minutes, then slice in half lengthways.
Halve the spare gooseberries and arrange cut-side up on a metal tray. Use a blow torch to char the berries, holding the flame over for about 10 seconds, or until they are slightly blackened.
Squeeze the lemon juice over the lettuce and peas, and sprinkle on a little seasoning. Use your hands to mix well.
To serve, arrange half a duck breast and a few pieces of leg meat to each plate. Add a large dollop of the gooseberry puree to the side. Scatter the torched berries, peas and lettuce around the sides. Finish with a generous amount of the duck sauce.
