Kedgeree and egg rage

I had a fit of food rage today, a wee glimpse of the kind of stress that causes top chefs to bawl out their sous and spank their commis with ladles. Well, I managed to screw up boiling a couple of eggs for gawd’s sake! As Maureen so poignantly put it on Twitter: “should you be writing a food blog?”

I always use hard-boiled eggs for kedgeree, but I thought this time it would be nice if the yolk was still a tiny bit squishy. You know, just perfect. I’ve no idea how I got the timing wrong. Stupid water was probably boiling at under 100C or something! You know, like it does sometimes. Ahem. Anyway, the stupid egg just would not peel, even the tiniest bit of shell came off with a huge lump of white. The yolk was totally liquid, burst in the struggle and poured all over my hand. The second egg was exactly the same, of course. I gave an inarticulate scream of rage and flung it full-tilt at the sink. Massive, massive splatter. Everywhere.

So I took a deep breath, boiled two more eggs properly, and the kedgeree was delicious anyway.

As a complete aside, if you’re going to soft-boil eggs you probably want to use older ones, perhaps a couple of weeks. Really fresh eggs is what causes sticking-to-the-shell issues.

Kedgeree (serves 2)

1 piece smoked haddock
3 tbsp whisky
2 bay leaves
1 onion
2 eggs
80g rice
½ tsp turmeric
2 small tomatoes
tabasco sauce
3 tbsp cream
25g butter
black pepper
fresh parsley
  1. Buy as much fish as you’d have for an ordinary fish supper. Get a big frying pan on the hob, put in the bay leaves, whisky and a cup-or-so of water.
  2. Slice the onion, then toss the top and tail of it into the pan along with a couple of slices and bring it to a simmer. Poach the fish, covered, until it is gently cooked through. I find it is between 6 and 10 minutes.
  3. Meanwhile hard-boil the eggs, then set them aside.
  4. Now that the fish is done, cook the rice using the water leftover from the fish poaching along with half of the turmeric. You may need to top up the water if it’s not enough.
  5. While the rice cooks, peel and chop the eggs. Also flake the smoked haddock, getting rid of the skin and any bones you find. Fingers are definitely the best for finding bones.
  6. When the rice is nearly done, start gently frying the onion in a knob of butter. As it softens, add the rest of the turmeric and a good lot of ground black pepper.
  7. Finally, add the sliced tomato. After a minute more, add back the fish, the egg and the rice. A dash of tabasco sauce, the cream, the butter. Mix everything, then put the lid on and leave for two minutes.
  8. Serve hot, garnished with chopped parsley.

You shouldn’t need to use salt, as the smoked haddock provides plenty, but check your seasoning of course just in case. We usually have this for supper with absolutely nothing else, but it’s good with soft white buttered bread, or with some black pudding on the side.

Review: Green Cafe, Ludlow

It’s terribly inconsiderate of The Green Cafe to close throughout January. Who said they could have a holiday? I want lunch!

I want the best chicken liver pate ever created, with crispy bits of French stick toast and the most fruity and punchy fig chutney to cut the savoury meatiness perfectly. I want a bowl of smoked coley chowder with bacon and mussels, where all the flavours are so perfectly balanced it’s like a tightrope walker on a unicycle spinning eight plates blindfolded, in a bowl. Cream, shallots, parsley, bacon and fish have never sung together better. I want melting potato gnocchi with a palate-pleasing rich ragu made with Italian pork and fennel sausage. I want…

Okay, perhaps what I really need is a bit of perspective.

The Green Cafe is a cafe after all, and they serve light lunches and sweet treats from late morning until around about 4:30. They’re tucked away down beside the tumbling river Teme, below the quintessential market town of Ludlow. This is a real and deserved use of the word “quintessential” but I’ll save Ludlow for another day. The spot by the river is idyllic, and they manage to tuck about 20 covers inside a tiny dining room with another 10 or so outside when it’s not as bloody cold as it is now. It can feel a little squished on busy days, when the tables near the door are hobson’s choice and not a great choice in inclement weather with people trooping in and out. But hey, it’s a cafe.

So you wouldn’t come here for a romantic three course dinner. You would come here to have a couple of plates of deceptively simple lunch, all using local ingredients in season and washed down with a thoughtfully organised list of drinks including a few wines. Nothing on the menu runs over £9.00, from memory.

Service is perfect: friendly and warm, nothing is too much trouble. Cakes are good too.

What’s with the “deceptively simple” though? Well, everything I’ve ever enjoyed here has been as perfectly balanced as that chowder, seasoning spot-on and flavours bouncing neatly off one another. Chef Clive Davis has a magic touch, and it’s a surprise (and a pleasure) that he chooses to express himself with this, the humble light lunch, rather than following the obvious route for a palate of his calibre into the airy realms of fine dining.

If you’ve come to Ludlow for a foodie weekend, including a slap-up meal at one of the two renowned restaurants in town, you’d be doing yourself a grave disservice if you didn’t squeeze in lunch at The Green Cafe. Hands down my favourite cafe, anywhere. Be warned: you should definitely phone a day ahead to book.

Foodie spending

How much do I spend on food? This post was inspired by the first post of an interesting new blogger, The Skint Foodie, who has pointed up the nonsense of most government statistics on the subject of how much households spend on food. Apparently the most affluent 20% of us spend £38 per person per week on food and drink. Haha! HahahaHAhaHAHAha! One thing I’m pretty certain is that the most affluent 20% go out for at least one meal per week, with wine, which would suggest that they must spend the rest of the week rummaging through dustbins.

Anyway, we can laugh at government statistics all day. How much do I spend on food?

I’ve got a great advantage in answering this question. In 2010 we set off travelling around the world for a year (and blogged it), and this meant keeping a daily budget of absolutely

every darn thing we bought. It didn’t prove onorous, taking less than 5 minutes a day, and was instructive. Even if we ended up over-budget. Once we got home it just seemed natural to continue the habit, so I’ve got a record of our spending over the last six months. Not right down to the last bacon rasher, I do tend to just put “Butcher, £8.40”, but I certainly know how much we’ve spent on food.

It’s a lot. Actually, it’s the biggest part of our weekly spend by a long way.

So I ought to cover our eating habits in brief. Living in Ludlow, we’re surrounded by great local food shops; in consequence, I go to Tesco for exactly two things: loo rolls and chopped tomatoes. We eat well at home, but everything is cooked from ingredients; no ready-meals or cooking sauces. I like to buy good things, too. We only drink filter coffee, only fresh local juices, good quality chocolate, artisan cheese, you get the idea.

Eating out. Nothing like as often as when we lived in London! However, there’s probably one big (>£80 per person) meal every month, plus one or two other dining occasions lower down the price range. Of course there are also plenty of times when we’re out and need lunch, or dinner, or breakfast, or just a coffee. We’re foodies, so we don’t stop off at Pizza Hut or McDonalds. Maybe once a month we have a takeaway. And don’t forget that just because Christmas is special, doesn’t mean it gets excluded from the budget.

And so we come to the big figures. Over the last six months our average weekly spend per person (for a household of two) was…
£37 on groceries (excluding booze)
£6 on booze for the home
£41 on general eating out & takeaways
£61 on fine dining
Grand total: £145 per week on food and drink, each.

In context, our total weekly spend per person on everything except household bills is £330.

So food is where nearly half of our money goes. And I pulled out the booze deliberately to show it wasn’t going on bottles of old claret! In my defence, eating is probably my favourite pastime. But I’m only 10 stone, so it’s quality rather than quantity here. Recalling our eating habits back in London, this would easily have pushed over £200 each per week and the weighting would have been much more towards eating out.

Conclusions?

  • The Skint Foodie, aiming for £40 per week himself, is definitely a skint foodie
  • The office of national statistics couldn’t count its own buttocks with both hands
  • Food is a stupendously important part of our life and spending
  • If we ever needed to cut back, a moratorium on fine dining would be the best idea

I’d love to hear what other people spend weekly on food, and how it compares. Because I’m nosey. I do think it’s a useful exercise, but only if you try it over a few months. A trip to the Fat Duck will seriously skew your eating-out figure but it would be invalid to exclude it, just as the week before Christmas will skew the grocery (and booze!) figures but would be equally wrong to exclude.

Spiced game stew

Quick! While it’s still game season! Many good butchers will do a pack of mixed game; cubes and chunks of whatever they’ve got, and I think mine had at least venison and pheasant in it. D’you know, I didn’t really look that hard.

Anyway, I’ve really enjoyed Christmas this year as the season of spices, and I’m still in the mood for putting exotic warmth and depth into anything that will take it. A rich, melting game stew can definitely take it. The load of spices add a great deal of intrigue to the simple stew. I’d serve it to royalty without blushing or mumbling “sorry ’bout the ‘umble fayre, ma’am”.


Spiced game stew (serves 4)

1lb mixed game, cubed
1 tbsp plain flour
3 rashers smoked streaky bacon
1 large onion, chopped
1 stick celery, chopped
1 turnip, cubed bite-size
1 carrot, chopped bite-size
1 chunk of celeriac, cubed bite-size
5 star anise
5 black cardamom (or green)
5 cloves
1 stick cinnamon
2 bay leaves
½ dried chipotle chilli (opt.)
1 glass Madeira
¾ pint beef stock
  1. Get a big casserole dish really hot on the hob. Dry-fry all the spices (except the chilli and bay) for a minute, then set them aside but leave the dish on the heat
  2. Season and flour the game, then brown it in a knob of butter. Set it aside in a bowl
  3. Add another knob of butter and start frying the chopped onion and celery. Chop the bacon and add it, frying everything up and scraping up the burnt bits from the browned meat.
  4. Next toss in all the other vegetables and keep frying for another 5-10 minutes, moving it about occasionally so none gets burnt
  5. Now add back the meat, all the spices (chop the chipotle up), the glass of Madeira and then the beef stock. I’ve said ¾ pint, but basically you want enough to almost cover everything, with the odd little island of meat or veg still visible
  6. Put the lid on the casserole and pop it in the oven at 170C for 1½ hours, at which point the meat should all be beautifully tender and the vegetables soft and soused with flavour

You know what, you can substitute the turnip, carrot and celeriac for about the same amount of many other veggies. Try parsnip, or a squash, potato, swede, maybe even j-chokes? You can leave out the chipotle chilli, although it only adds warmth; there’s not enough to raise a sweat. You certainly don’t need to use Madeira, either port or red wine would be fine, or indeed a bottle of dark ale (use less stock).

This stew wants to be served on a plate with one starch and one green. Mashed potato and purple-sprouting broccoli, or roast potato and curly kale, or whatever else you can dream up.

The one thing that might annoy the royal dinner guests would be the bits of whole spice in the stew. I’d fish out the cinnamon and bay leaves, but the other bits are too fiddly. Then again, this lot are used to finding lead shot in their game! They aren’t going to mind spitting out the odd clove.

Pork sous-vide(ish) and chestnut

Here’s a question for you. If it’s possible to cook fillet of beef by leaving it in a hot water bath at 50C for several hours… would you cook yourself if you stayed in a hot bath for just as long? Scary thought.

That’s sous-vide, by the way, for anyone who hasn’t come across it. Your meat is vacuum-sealed in a special plastic bag by a special little machine and popped in a special hot water bath that can keep the water at a precise temperature for several hours, or even a couple

of days for some meats. Meat tender, flavour locked-in, still pink but safely cooked, it just remains to pan-fry for a minute each side to give it some attractive colour.

I don’t have any of this special equipment, but surely a big saucepan, a milk thermometer and some clingfilm would do the trick? How very Blue Peter.

I settled on pork tenderloin and got a couple of nice steaks from the butcher. The water bath was actually the easy bit. After getting my biggest saucepan up to 62C I just put it on the tiniest hob on its lowest setting and – give or take the odd tweak – it stayed pretty much steady for the 1½ hours needed. For the vacuum I used plenty of clingfilm and tried to wrap the steaks very snuggly, then tied off the ends with string. It looked pretty good to me, but there were a couple of air bubbles which resulted in slightly uneven cooking as the water isn’t transmitting heat properly at those points. Worse, it also turned out that water got in during the cooking process. So: my pork was properly cooked, still very moist, quite flavourful, but not pink and firmer than I had wanted due to the bit of poaching that took place.

The rest of the dish worked a treat, so feel free to enjoy the recipe but either (a) cook your pork the old-fashioned way, in a pan for five minutes each side; (b) invest in proper sous-vide equipment; (c) perfect the clingfilm Heath-Robinson technique and tell me how you managed it!


Pork tenderloin with chestnut sauce (sauce is enough for 4)

2 pork tenderloin steaks
2 rashers smoked streaky bacon
For the sauce:
1 stick celery
2 shallots
1 clove garlic
200g cooked+skinned chestnuts
1 tsp fresh thyme
50ml Madeira
400ml vegetable stock
2 tbsp cream
2 tsp truffle oil
  1. Slow-fry the bacon until it is cooked crispy, then reserve the bacon fat and let it cool
  2. Season your steaks, put them on your clingfilm (in your sous-vide bag), pour the bacon fat on, wrap them insanely tightly (use the vacuum machine to seal the bag) and pop them in the saucepan (water bath) at 62C for an hour. Or pan-fry the steaks in the bacon fat after making the sauce!
  3. Chop the shallots, celery and garlic then fry them softly in a good knob of butter until golden
  4. Reserving 6 chestnuts, chop the rest and add them to the pan along with the thyme. Turn up the heat, then pour in the Madeira and let it bubble and reduce until just a sticky coating on the veg
  5. Pour in the stock, then simmer it for 25 minutes. You could use ham stock, or perhaps 50/50 with the veg stock
  6. Add the cream, give it another 5 minutes, then add the truffle oil and blend the sauce until smooth. Check seasoning
  7. Halve the reserved chestnuts, chop up the bacon, and fry them together in a little butter for a couple of minutes – they make a nice addition to the pork

I served this with a round of black pudding, some button mushrooms fried in butter and garlic, and a small bunch of red grapes. The whole dish was pleasantly autumnal and yet surprisingly light. No potato, rice or pasta because the chestnuts seemed to give enough starch. However, I think there’s any number of other vegetables that would go well here: pan-fried celeriac cubes, parsnip mash, shredded cabbage, braised celery…

Enjoy!