Steak tartare

Whenever I visit France I throw myself at the steak tartare like a love-struck fool. Because absence makes the heart grow fonder and this simple dish is harder to find on UK menus than beetroot macarons. Not impossible, I grant. But don’t bother telling me about the one posh brasserie in London you know of that has it on occasionally; in France you find steak tartare in family-friendly chain restaurants and every cheap bistro in every single town.

Clues as to why I can’t find steak tartare in the UK are plentiful. Search for recipes and they all agree on one thing: use the very best fillet steak. Ouch. That’s immediately pushing it out of the everyday bistro food category. Were my 10 euro steak tartares around rural France really all fillet?

Next we can search the web for articles discussing the pros and cons of eating raw beef. Opinions are polar, running from “I love the taste of raw beef, chicken, turkey…” right through to “I think it’s disgusting! I actually don’t know how people can casually chomp on raw meat! I find it repulsive.” Taken on balance, the “think it’s disgusting” group seem to have weight of numbers. And I’m betting they represent an even larger silent majority who would simply never think of eating raw beef.

I’m part of quite a small market, it’s no wonder most restaurants won’t risk their fillet steak on it. Chatting on Twitter, Matt Follas of The Wild Garlic told me that last time he tried, he offered it raw or grilled… and every order was for grilled. Hmm.

Finally, it’s interesting to look at Food Standards Agency advice. Their requirement is that if you have to serve steak tartare (reading their blogs and articles, it’s pretty clear they would much rather all meat was cooked right through) you must use the “sear and shave” approach; sear the outside of the beef and then cut the seared edges away, before mincing the interior.

So that’s a fair percentage of your fillet steak disappearing into the bin.

To be fair their fear is E. coli, a particularly horrible bacteria that exists naturally in cattle guts and faeces. Apparently no modern beef butchering process can entirely avoid getting some of this onto the surface of the meat. Which means that any beef, even the best fillet from your local organic butcher, could have a little E. coli dusting the surface. Fear not, a brief searing will kill it entirely, which is why even rare steak should be safe and why “searing and shaving” the steak before chopping it for tartare is also safe.

But do they really take this approach at every tiny neighbourhood bistro in France?

I suspect not. I also suspect that farming practise has something to do with it. Modern mass production of beef cattle is intensive. The beef live their lives in small concreted yards where they are fed corn and dosed with numerous additives to try and keep them healthy. Hardly the cleanest animals at the best of times, they are essentially standing around 24/7 in each other’s muck. Where the E. coli is found. My hunch is that the highly subsidised French agricultural system has a lot more grass-fed cattle living out in the fields. Your average French bistro sourcing meat from their average French butcher is probably getting a better product than the average UK restaurant getting a weekly delivery from a meat wholesaler. Not every restaurant in the UK can afford premium beef from the minority of farms using less intensive practises.

I hoped this post would be an entertaining rant against bonkers food safety standards, but I’ve ended up concluding that there probably is a higher risk from eating steak tartare in this country than in France. That’s reality. What I cannot hope to self-research is the absolute risk of finding E. coli on a piece of raw beef. The risk exists, as evidenced by the occasional news stories of an outbreak, and although these stories always seem to relate to undercooked burgers of dubious provenance that doesn’t mean there is zero risk from a carefully sourced piece of fillet. But I think it’s pretty low.

So if – for the sake of argument – the risk of finding E. coli in a well-kept piece of beef is substantially less than the risk of being killed in a car crash then I’m going to keep enjoying steak tartare and driving to work.

How? Well, since restaurants won’t give it to me I’m going to make it myself.

Steak tartare (serves 2)

350g fillet steak (see below)
2 fresh egg yolks
1 banana shallot
1 tbsp capers
4 cornichons
Handful flat-leaf parsley
2 tsp Worcestershire sauce
Dribble of olive oil
Splash of Tabasco sauce
Salt and black pepper
  1. Remove any obvious bits of fat, then chop your steak up very fine, just stop short of turning it into mince
  2. Finely chop the shallot, capers, cornichons and parsley
  3. Mix these into the steak along with the Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco to your taste, olive oil if a little dry, then salt and pepper to season
  4. Divide the steak tartare between two plates (I used a big cookie cutter as a mould and squished the tartare into it, which looks nice), add an egg yolk to the top of each, and pile a load of salty French fries alongside. Bliss!

If you are more concerned about E. coli than I, just buy 400g of steak and sear every side of it in a pre-heated frying pan (2 seconds is fine) before carefully slicing the seared edges off. Then switch to a new chopping board and new knife to dice up the beef.

Buying your steak
Please, please, please don’t try making steak tartare with meat from your local supermarket. Yes, I know that sounds very middle class, but I’ve seen far too much TV exposing the slip-shod and cost-squeezed supply chains that get produce onto supermarket counters to ever trust their meat raw. Instead I went to a reputable (in fact, award-winning) local butcher and explained that I wanted to do steak tartare. They suggested two tail-end pieces of fillet steak; being too thin to make steaks they were cheaper but still as lean as the rest of the fillet and in fact more full-flavoured. Brilliant! That’s what going to someone knowledgeable gets you. Thank you, Ludlow Food Centre.

Review: The Unicorn, Ludlow

I’m sometimes tempted to make allowances for duff food on the grounds that at least it was cheap. But that’s daft. I’m a half-decent home cook, no Delia but no bad either. So I can confidently state that it doesn’t cost more money to cook crunchy chips, it just requires that you cook them right. It doesn’t cost more to peel apples before making a crumble with them. It doesn’t cost more to make a chocolate torte that has a velvety texture rather than that of potter’s clay. It doesn’t cost extra to roast beef to pinkness rather than grey – arguably it costs marginally less. So although there is a need to balance a review to reflect the price-point, that’s more about not expecting premium ingredients or molecular techniques. You shouldn’t need to pay extra for good cooking. If you eat in a restaurant you are eating food from a professional kitchen. As opposed to your own, amateur, kitchen. It should be at least as good as your own efforts, end of.

I think I’ve pretty well prepped this review!

I do like how they’ve done The Unicorn Inn, with its three distinctive rooms. The front room is a perfect country pub, original wood panelling still on the walls and a roaring fire in the grate.

Further back is the Slate Room, open to the kitchen, stuffed with period features but offset by smartly modern and comfy chairs. Good choice. The Oak Room at the back is the new extension, looking a lot more friendly and cosy than under the previous owners.

We were in for Sunday lunch. My duck liver pate was pretty decent, with a nice fat grape chutney. It being Sunday, for main Maureen chose the roast beef. The meat was cooked right through to grey, disappointing given that we took the trouble to ask whether it would be pink and were told that it was. The roast potatoes were decent, the veg had good texture, but the Yorkshire pud lacked poof. The gravy was very full flavoured, a free hand taken with the Worcestershire sauce. My battered cod and chips were a mixed bag. The cod was a decent piece wrapped in jolly thick, crispy batter. There was a fair dollop of pea puree and a tangy homemade tartare sauce. The chips were disappointing though, the skins leathery rather than crisp. Not inedible, but it was certainly a chewy experience.

Puddings can often save a Sunday lunch, but these didn’t come close. My chocolate torte was as dense as any I’ve had, like trying to push through hardening potter’s clay. It stuck to the spoon like glue. The pastry did nothing and the chocolate itself wasn’t packing any punch. Blood orange sorbet was sweet-shop flavoured. Maureen’s crumble was mainly fruit with a dusting of crunchless crumble on top. And would it really have killed them to peel the apples? Strips of apple peel, divorced from their fruit, aren’t the loveliest things in the world to eat.

It wasn’t an expensive lunch. £25 for three courses and one drink. Good enough if you want a Sunday pub lunch in Ludlow, given the lack of good eating pubs in the town (we’ve tried the pies at The Church Inn, they were yuck but didn’t warrant a review). But £25 is also the price of a three course Sunday lunch at the Michelin-starred Stagg Inn, thirty minutes drive away in Titley. And what frustrates me most is that the things we didn’t like were just down to how the food was cooked. Which costs no more or less to get right, wherever you are.

Khao Soi, Northern Thai Curry

If you haven’t been to Thailand, you really should. I recommend spending two weeks exploring north from Bangkok, inland, and then relaxing for two days on a beach at the end before going home. We have such brilliant memories of our eight weeks there, and no more so than a week in the city of Chiang Mai, where we enjoyed the hot northern Thai curry, Khao Soi, as often as we could get it. For whatever reason, it seldom shows up on Thai menus in the UK.

One thing particular to Khao Soi are the condiments: a plate of various things you can add to your bowl as you go along, to your taste. I wish I’d taken a photo, but at our favourite place in Chiang Mai the plate of extras included bunches of about five different herbs, none of which (except the coriander) I recognised. And all of which were uniquely tasty.

So, this Khao Soi recipe isn’t watered down, this is the real deal*. It has a bright, aromatic, chilli heat which is making my mouth water while I type. It really is a dish for those who enjoy some serious spice, but if you want to try a less ferocious one then go down to 1 dried chilli and a half tsp of curry powder.

Khao Soi, Northern Thai curry soup (serves 2)

1 tbsp coriander seed
1 inch piece fresh ginger
2 black cardamom pods
3 big dried chillies
3 shallots
2 tsp turmeric
1 tsp curry powder
1 tsp salt
250ml coconut milk
300ml water
2-3 chicken thighs
1 lime
1-2 shallots
pack mustard greens
bunch coriander leaves
  1. Dry-fry the coriander seed, chopped ginger, cardamom seeds (discard pod), crumbled chillies and chopped shallots together in a pan for a couple of minutes
  2. Wail like a baby as the chilli fumes melt your eyeballs and lacerate your throat. Or make sure you leave plenty of windows open and the extractor on full blast!
  3. Put into a pestle along with turmeric, curry powder and salt then pound the whole lot until you end up with a thick paste. This will take some time!
  4. Pour 150ml coconut milk into a wok or large pan and bring to the boil. Once it is bubbling away, add all the curry paste and stir in. Leave this on a medium heat, stirring regularly, for perhaps 10 minutes or until it has reduced a lot and there is a sheen of oil visible
  5. Add the chicken, cut up as you like, and cook in the paste for 5 minutes
  6. Add another 100ml coconut milk along with 300ml water and leave this simmering for a good 15 minutes. Add a splash of fish sauce, then taste for seasoning and add more fish sauce as necessary
  7. Chop a couple of segments of lime. Pull off a good handful of coriander leaves. Chop up some pickled mustard greens (look in your nearest oriental supermarket). Chop up a shallot or two. These are your condiments, leave them on a plate to be added to the khao soi as you like
  8. Plunge enough noodles for two into boiling water for 3-5 minutes, then drain them and divide into two bowls. Add the chicken and pour on the khao soi curry
  9. Enjoy!

The paste is a hassle to make, so perhaps double the ingredients and make enough for two meals; it will keep happily for a week or two in the fridge, or could be frozen.

* – okay, it’s not quite the real deal. There are a few unusual herbs and spices from Asia that I have still never found in UK shops, so rather than torture you with demands for fresh turmeric root I’ve left it at stuff you ought to get easily enough. The black cardamom and mustard greens are probably still only from specialist Asian food shops, however.

Review: Churchill Arms, Gloucestershire

Is it fair to review a restaurant that you visited on a “special” day? In this case, New Years Day for lunch. My friend Tim was quite prescient in saying “we shouldn’t expect too much, the staff will be tired after last night.” But surely a restaurant should only open its doors if it is going to bring its best game? If they put a note on their website saying “open for New Years Day, but please don’t expect our best” would many, indeed anyone at all, book a table?

So, this is the Churchill Arms, Paxford, a village in the charming Cotswolds which were looking even better for being seen on the first sunny day for the last twenty years (or so it feels). The pub itself is lovely, with all the feel of a country inn that has been evolving its way through the past few centuries to arrive at the cosy lived-in yet classy look it has today. Big inglenook. Random collection of chairs. Photos of pheasant shoots upon the walls. Rugged young professionals in cable-knit jumpers being altogether too chipper on the next table.

I’ll touch very lightly on the twenty minute wait for a table, only ended when I went to remind them we were still waiting. Yes, we had booked. We got two little round pub tables shoved together to make an impromptu and uncomfortable dining place for four. But staff were friendly and coped reasonably well with a room that was frankly

heaving with people all wanting food and drink; it may have meant eating elsewhere, but I could wish that they had refused our booking and given themselves more breathing room. All this may have made us grumpy but I’ll allow it, given this was New Year’s Day.

And my starter was pretty good. A bread-crumbed ham hock terrine, topped with a generous slice of black pudding, some crispy bits of smoky bacon and a dollop of pear puree. This made for a very pleasant meaty overload. My main course was disappointing, though. Salmon fishcakes with poached egg and creamed leek. The fishcakes were so dense as to be beyond dull. You can put too much fish in a fishcake, and these were 110% fully-cooked baby-pink mashed-up salmon. I chewed and gulped my way through as much as I could, also becoming aware of a harsh note of uncooked cayenne pepper on my palate. Maureen’s fish and chips were greasy, the batter not particularly crispy and the tartare sauce lacking any really zing. I asked about the burger across the table and got a non-committal nod, perhaps a “fine”. Sticky toffee pudding and apple crumble were both fine too. The coffee was nasty.

If Harden’s write-up is accurate, we got the Churchill Arms on a bad day. But that’s just tough (for them and us!). I don’t think any restaurant should be opening its doors if it isn’t going to offer the best it can do. Or if it does, it’s going to risk getting a bad review. Because one thing is for sure: there will be more amateur restaurant critics stalking the streets in 2013 than there were in 2012. Happy New Year!

My own 2012 was…

I’d like to thank anyone and everyone that has found my blog over the past year, especially if you’ve left a comment. Nothing moves a blogger more than proof that their words are read, and nothing does that like a comment on a post! This, which just missed being the last post of the year due to too much fun on New Year’s Eve, is just a bit of a round-up of my favourite bites from 2012.

The culinary highlight of the year has to be our pilgrimage to Noma in Copenhagen. Pilgrimage is the right word; in as much as food is a religion for some then Noma has been their culinary Mecca for the last couple of years. Of course, kitchen Messiahs have an even shorter life than religious ones, so I’m glad we visited while it was still cool to do so. And it was an eye-opening experience. It would be wrong to report that every one of the twenty courses was delicious, but all of them were fascinating and most were thought-provoking.

Other meals out that I’ve enjoyed most this year have included: The Gurnard’s Head, that wonderfully cosy inn perched in glorious wind-swept isolation on the Cornish coast just a few miles from Land’s End. Splendid seafood, but it’s the setting that lives in the memory. Odette’s in Primrose Hill and Medlar on the King’s Road stand out for being by far the best examples of modern Michelin-guided French dining in London that I’ve found in ages.

The Butcher’s Arms, Woolhope in deepest Herefordshire, gets the shout for best pub meal of the year; pigeon salad and haggis fritters ain’t your standard pub fayre. The best gastronomic experience in the UK must be Roganic, reminding me again that I need to return to L’Enclume. Most remarkable dining room? Definitely the god’s eye view of London from Duck & Waffle in the City. And a final shout out to Euclid Hall in Denver, the only memorable (and marvellous) meal we had on our US holiday.

I shouldn’t ignore the places we eat at regularly. The fact that they remain favourites year-in, year-out makes them all the more worthwhile. First prize always goes to The Green Cafe in Ludlow. There are lots of places we want to try in Brighton, and yet we always find ourselves tempted back into The Chilli Pickle. And when we’re shopping the West End it’s unusual not to stop for lunch at Fernandez & Wells. Finally, the

annual tradition of Christmas Eve dinner at The Wellington Arms, Baughurst is still going strong.

It would be no fun to mention the good and miss out the bad. The Mail Room was my first chance to be a cutting edge food blogger and review a new opening before anyone else. Okay, so it’s in Ludlow. Unfortunately serial under-seasoning and risotto you could use as construction material isn’t what our town needs. Both our holidays, to France and to the Wild West, were marked by generally duff dining experiences. It all confirmed the old adage: “if you don’t research your dining options in a fairly current food guide before travelling, you’re liable to end up eating rubbish.” Okay, that may not be an old adage but it’s still true.

What about my own cooking? My favourite thing this year is undoubtably learning to cook Tarte aux Myrtilles better than Paul, though I must admit that foraging our own myrtilles (bilberries) made it even better. A couple of really flashy experiments that came out delicious: Pork tenderloin with chestnut sauce, and Singapore black pepper crab.

But the accompaniment to the crab, a deliciously spicy/sweet/sour Thai salad (Som Tam), is the thing that has become a new staple in my repertoire; I make it at least every other week. Our visit to Noma also got me experimenting; Smoked bacon fudge and Hay-smoked mashed potatoes were two of the best outcomes. And another new staple came from Noma: pot-roasted is now the only way to cook cauliflower. Trust me.

So now it’s 2013. What am I looking forward to this year? Well, as mentioned I’d really like to get back to L’Enclume in Cumbria. There are a host of other places around the country I’d like to visit; Sat Bains, Allium, Trinity, the list is effectively endless. But I’m most looking forward to getting stuck into the molecular gastronomy kit I got for Christmas! Expect more playing with food. I also want to try experimental picklings, savoury souffles and get to grips with roasting. What more can I say? Watch this space!