I, in common with many people, would take a hamburger with me on the green mile. Well, that along with a roast chicken dinner; cauliflower cheese and chips; a chicken fajita and some sausages with a cloud of fluffy, creamy mashed potatoes (I'm gonna be on that desert island for a while anyway). I could go on, but why should I? I bought a meat mincer and it's time to christen it with some burgers.
And that's what I mean by my last request. I'm happy to make them with a big packet of beef mince if I'm making lots of small ones as a crowd pleaser, but for myself I want proper meat, chopped finely at home, handled as little as possible with a crunchy outside and a melting, bloody centre. I suppose you could get the crunchy coating with a packet of pasty pre-minced beef, but trying to cook that stuff rare makes for a hell of a spooky texture. Therefore, I take a basic but tasty cut of steak, for me a nice fatty sirloin, and mince it myself. I don't want an overworked paste but a loose pile of bubby beefy shreds. I then treat the beef as if it was a newborn puppy and shape it into a round- I like to use a basic burger press for this as it gives you less of a chance of making the proteins in the burger tighten.
Once I've shaped the burger it goes straight onto a screaming hot cast-iron skillet (you don't get the same crust from non-stick, but you do from stainless steel) and I season it right on the burning metal so the salt has no chance to break down the meat's delicate fibers. I also love a griddled burger, in which case it's probably okay to go non-stick, as griddles are made to take the heat. I flip it just once to keep as much juice in the burger as possible, and use the hot seared side to start melting the cheese and also absorb the caramelised onions I spread on top. I sometimes cook the onions myself, letting them colour very slowly in butter and a touch of sugar but I tend to just buy it snappily in a jar from the supermarket; equally, you can ignore my instructions to add the onion atop the burger whilst it cooks and just spread it on the bun as a relish, but I love the way the oniony sweetness suffuses the burger as it sears up and rests in its foil tent.
Don't let anyone tell you what sort of things you should want in your burger, this is no time to let others dictate your tastes. However, this is my blog, and I'll share what I want the burger to sit amongst in its sweet booty-ful bun in this recipe- chief of which is my special sauce. Similar to the kind of thing slathered on in a proper burger joint, but I use the far spicier English mustard rather than the sweeter American sort. I don't stray from shop bought mayonnaise and ketchup nonetheless, ever.
Serves 1, or 2 if each party is having just one burger
2 sirloin steaks, weighing 300-350g altogether
1 tbsp vegetable oil
Salt and ground black pepper
1 tbsp caramelised onions
2 slices American-style or Swiss cheese
1 tomato, cut into thick slices
Shredded lettuce
For the special sauce:
175g mayonnaise
3 cornichons or 1 large gherkin
2 tbsp tomato ketchup
2 tsp English mustard
1 tsp cider vinegar
Start by slicing the steaks into strips or chunks, and place them in a tray to go in the freezer. I use the tray I'll mince the meat into later to save washing up. Also, it's worth also chilling the mincer blades or the food processor blades. Chill all in the freezer for 20-30 minutes until the beef strips feel firmer.
While the steaks chill place your cast iron skillet into a warm oven to preheat, and make sure you remember that this makes the handle scalding too (I've burnt myself may times forgetting this). There's no need to do this if you're using a different sort of pan.
Make the special sauce by finely chopping the cornichons or gherkin, and combining with the other ingredients (the mayonnaise by the way, is give or take 3/4 measuring cup, which is easier than weighing the stuff). Taste, and add more vinegar if you want it sharper, ketchup for sweetness and mustard for extra poke. Special sauce making is a fluid kinda thing.
Also prepare a foil package for the burgers to rest on. Take two sheets of foil, layed one on top of the other onto a wooden surface (a steel one would chill it). If you're afraid the surface is too cold, use a pile of newspapers to insulate the foil. Today, I used the bubblewrap my new mincer came in.
When the meat has chilled start mincing it with the chilled blades. You can get a mincer attachment to a stand mixer, but an old-fashioned manual one does the job gratifyingly and equally well. Follow the instructions to mince it, and ensure you're using the coarse plate. If you have no mincer, use a food processor, though ensure you chop the meat in batches and do NOT let it become a mush. Line a burger press with some clingfilm, or the circles of greaseproof paper that come with the press and press the burger (and this mixture makes 2) gently into shape. Take it out and squish up the edges up a bit so the burger is thicker. If you are not using a burger press, you'll have to use oiled hands, and handle the meat as little as you can.
Set the preheated skillet on a high heat and heat up the oil. Or just whack any other sort of pan on a very high heat. Thwap the burgers onto the griddle or pan so the clingfilm or paper faces you and immediately remove the covering. Generously salt and pepper the exposed side and cook until a crust develops underneath- about 1-2 minutes. Flip again and season the second side. Spread the onions onto the two burgers, then lay the cheese on top of the onions. When the meat still feels squidgy and rare in the middle, transfer them to the foil package and wrap them up tightly. Allow to rest for 5 minutes.
Soak up the oils in the hot pan with the burger buns, and also grill the tomato slices on both sides in the oil and black bits the burgers left behind.
When the burger has rested, load it up onto the bun with tomatoes, lettuce, and plenty of the delicious special sauce. This is a basic, but perfect piling and what I go for most often, but feel free to play as much as you like. This is a deserted island, after all. I love this sandwiched between two big leaves of crunchy lettuce instead of the bun, for a throwback to the Atkins era, or topped with a fried egg and some snipped anchovies. To make a lady's brunch burger, as fabulous as it sounds, skip any vegetables (including the onions) and top the patty with a fried egg, crispy bacon and squish the whole lot together between a halved glazed doughnut. Heavenly.
Monday 8 January 2018
Saturday 6 January 2018
Porchetta
So, we've just hit miserable January and the tide's coming in over the footprints of Christmas and New Year's. For me that means it's time to start preparing recipes for this year's Christmas feast. What I had a go at today is one of those majestic roasts from a Disney Queen feast that you'd never think you'd be able to do at home. But in reality all you need is a good butcher (if you were really lucky maybe the butcher's counter at a big supermarket would suffice), some patience, and a set of bathroom scales.
Porchetta is an Italian boneless pork roast that is layed open, filled with various flavourings, often including a cured pork variant, and then rolled and tied. Traditionally you would take a whole pig, debone it and generally dismember it to open it out and cook it on a spit, rather like the Mediterranean equivalent of a hog roast. So, yes, there is no way of giving you a picture of what this dish entails without making it sound unenduringly complicated, but it's not as it seems. The work is in the preparation, which there is a lot of, but if you give yourself ample time along with a clear kitchen and a good playlist on the speaker, this is a stress-free exercise.
A lot of the work, actually, you can ask to be done for you, and a butcher will be happy to. You need a pork loin, with its rind and bone removed and butterflied, that is ideally attached to the belly but you can achieve this same effect with a separate loin and a chunk of pork belly that's big enough to roll over the loin. Ask to have the bones off the joint if your butcher kept them- they add terrific flavour as a roasting trivet and you can naw on the bones afterwards. It sounds like a terrible faff to have two cuts of pork in one dinner but actually, it achieves perfection. There's not enough real, carvable meat on a pork belly to make it feasible for a large crowd (I.e Christmas) but there's not enough fat and juiciness in a big loin to make it satisfying. Cooking the latter within the former means you get all the meltingness, porky oomph and crackling of a slow roast joint but also a long lump of meat that can be easily carved into slices, the next the same as the last, to feed a family easily in one roast. But don't feel you need to wait for a grand special occasion to make this- you can prepare a porchetta with a small pork fillet and a piece of belly to fit to feed a small crowd- this is what I did today.
There's no point giving a recipe for a roast without thinking of accompaniments. The bigger the feast the greater the number of sides you need to ensure the size of the dishes veer within the non-panic inducing. Therefore, if you wanted this for Christmas or a different big event I'd go for lots of roast potatoes cooked in lard, sprouts or other green vegetable, colcannon, which is cooked green cabbage folded into mashed potatoes, or any sort of mash really; the sulphurous hit of green cabbage works nicely with sharp sweet, slow-cooked red cabbage which also keeps everything nicely seasonal. I also love the way the creaminess of some leeks in cheese sauce mixes with the dark gravy, but if you didn't want to bother I'd possibly do some roast squash or carrots. And finally, what is roast pork without a sour apple sauce- I make a normal one with bramley apples and add grated fresh horseradish and some dollops of wholegrain mustard. The apple sauce especially helps as you need a smear of it in a leftover bun with some potato and veg- which also keeps the theme of an Italianate hog roast going.
And to reiterate, the method and ingredients lists are long here, I know, but crucially they are easy to do, and sometimes it's wonderful to make a special effort in the kitchen- and you really reap the rewards of it here.
One large rectangular piece pork belly with the rind scored, with the loin attached, and the loin butterflied also. Alternatively, use a de-rinded and deboned pork loin, butterflied, and a piece of belly, also butterflied that's big enough to cover the loin. It's difficult to say how much this should weigh altogether, as it depends on the size of the cuts, but aim for approximately 4 kilos, give or take. Keep any bones the butcher removed.
Butcher's twine (ask for this along with the meat)
6 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
4 tsp fresh thyme leaves, reserving the stalks
2 tsp sea salt
2 tsp peppercorns
1 tsp fennel seeds
Approx. 10 big slices mortadella
Nob of lard
4 onions
Approx. 150 ml white wine or vermouth
Approx. 1 litre chicken or pork stock
Approx. 100g butter
Fill a kettle of water to boil and lay the belly joint over a rack on the sink, rind side up and pour the scalding liquid over the rind so it shrinks up. Pat this dry thoroughly, then leave it uncovered, overnight in the fridge or somewhere cold to dry out. If you're doing a very small piece of belly, leave it by an open window for a couple of hours.
The following day take the joint as a whole, or the separate loin and belly and also any bones if you have them out of the fridge and let them all come to room temperature.
Open up the loin part of the joint like a book. If this hasn't been butterflied you'll have to go it alone: take a very sharp knife and cut parallel to the chopping board the pork is sitting on, straight through the centre of the loin lengthways, stopping just a few centimetres shy of cutting the joint in half. When you've opened it out after making the first cut, cut outwards again into each opened up side of the meat to open it up even more. Cover with the plastic the joint came in or some parchment paper and bash it really well with a rolling pin or otherwise something heavy to flatten it out even more. Pound the salt, peppercorns and fennel seeds in a pestle and mortar or in a bowl with a rolling pin or something heavy to a fine-ish powder. Spread the minced garlic over the opened out loin and sprinkle about a third of the pepper and salt mixture and about half of the thyme leaves over. Lay half of the mortadella slices on top of this. Roll this up, longways in. If the loin is attached to the belly stop there, if not, place the rolled loin on the underside of the large bit of belly. Sprinkle the remaining thyme and another third of the pepper and salt mixture on to the loin, and then lay the rest of the mortadella on top of the loin and on the belly. Roll the loin up into the belly so the rind is on the outside of the roll. Place the finished rolled joint, rind side up onto lengths of butcher's twine. You need one length for every 4 cm of joint. Rub the rest of the pounced fennel seed mixture into the scored rind. Tie up the joint tightly with whatever kind of knot you're good at. Another person's thumb to hold the knot down comes in very handy, or rather thumby. If you don't have the weight of this altogether, place it on a set of bathroom scales and take note of the weight. Be sure to disinfect the scales before returning them to their home.
Slice up the onions without bothering to peel them and make a platform in a roasting tin, rubbed with a little lard to grease and top with the thyme stalks. Lay the bones on top of the onions, then lay the tied joint on top of this.
Roast at 220 degrees Celsius for the first half an hour to set off the crackling, then reduce the heat to 170 degrees Celsius and roast for 30 minutes per 500g, so for a 4 kilo joint you're looking at about 4 hours.
When the pork is done, check by piercing the meat (go around the side to avoid cutting through the crackling) and checking any juices run clear. You're extremely unlikely to encounter undercooked meat with this slow cooking method, however.
Wrap the joint in foil in its tin to rest for at least 20 minutes (though pork will stay hot for ages, so you can rest it for an hour or longer).
After resting, remove the joint to a carving board. Keep the bones to chew on for later. Mish-mash the onions in the tin to extract their flavour, then pour the roasting juices into a saucepan. Add the vermouth or wine and the stock and reduce the gravy until it thickens. Off the heat, add the butter, and I should say that the 100g is very approximate; just add as much as you need to make the gravy a bit mellower and thicker. Before serving the gravy, give it another quick stir to redisperse any separation.
Porchetta is an Italian boneless pork roast that is layed open, filled with various flavourings, often including a cured pork variant, and then rolled and tied. Traditionally you would take a whole pig, debone it and generally dismember it to open it out and cook it on a spit, rather like the Mediterranean equivalent of a hog roast. So, yes, there is no way of giving you a picture of what this dish entails without making it sound unenduringly complicated, but it's not as it seems. The work is in the preparation, which there is a lot of, but if you give yourself ample time along with a clear kitchen and a good playlist on the speaker, this is a stress-free exercise.
A lot of the work, actually, you can ask to be done for you, and a butcher will be happy to. You need a pork loin, with its rind and bone removed and butterflied, that is ideally attached to the belly but you can achieve this same effect with a separate loin and a chunk of pork belly that's big enough to roll over the loin. Ask to have the bones off the joint if your butcher kept them- they add terrific flavour as a roasting trivet and you can naw on the bones afterwards. It sounds like a terrible faff to have two cuts of pork in one dinner but actually, it achieves perfection. There's not enough real, carvable meat on a pork belly to make it feasible for a large crowd (I.e Christmas) but there's not enough fat and juiciness in a big loin to make it satisfying. Cooking the latter within the former means you get all the meltingness, porky oomph and crackling of a slow roast joint but also a long lump of meat that can be easily carved into slices, the next the same as the last, to feed a family easily in one roast. But don't feel you need to wait for a grand special occasion to make this- you can prepare a porchetta with a small pork fillet and a piece of belly to fit to feed a small crowd- this is what I did today.
There's no point giving a recipe for a roast without thinking of accompaniments. The bigger the feast the greater the number of sides you need to ensure the size of the dishes veer within the non-panic inducing. Therefore, if you wanted this for Christmas or a different big event I'd go for lots of roast potatoes cooked in lard, sprouts or other green vegetable, colcannon, which is cooked green cabbage folded into mashed potatoes, or any sort of mash really; the sulphurous hit of green cabbage works nicely with sharp sweet, slow-cooked red cabbage which also keeps everything nicely seasonal. I also love the way the creaminess of some leeks in cheese sauce mixes with the dark gravy, but if you didn't want to bother I'd possibly do some roast squash or carrots. And finally, what is roast pork without a sour apple sauce- I make a normal one with bramley apples and add grated fresh horseradish and some dollops of wholegrain mustard. The apple sauce especially helps as you need a smear of it in a leftover bun with some potato and veg- which also keeps the theme of an Italianate hog roast going.
And to reiterate, the method and ingredients lists are long here, I know, but crucially they are easy to do, and sometimes it's wonderful to make a special effort in the kitchen- and you really reap the rewards of it here.
One large rectangular piece pork belly with the rind scored, with the loin attached, and the loin butterflied also. Alternatively, use a de-rinded and deboned pork loin, butterflied, and a piece of belly, also butterflied that's big enough to cover the loin. It's difficult to say how much this should weigh altogether, as it depends on the size of the cuts, but aim for approximately 4 kilos, give or take. Keep any bones the butcher removed.
Butcher's twine (ask for this along with the meat)
6 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
4 tsp fresh thyme leaves, reserving the stalks
2 tsp sea salt
2 tsp peppercorns
1 tsp fennel seeds
Approx. 10 big slices mortadella
Nob of lard
4 onions
Approx. 150 ml white wine or vermouth
Approx. 1 litre chicken or pork stock
Approx. 100g butter
Fill a kettle of water to boil and lay the belly joint over a rack on the sink, rind side up and pour the scalding liquid over the rind so it shrinks up. Pat this dry thoroughly, then leave it uncovered, overnight in the fridge or somewhere cold to dry out. If you're doing a very small piece of belly, leave it by an open window for a couple of hours.
The following day take the joint as a whole, or the separate loin and belly and also any bones if you have them out of the fridge and let them all come to room temperature.
Open up the loin part of the joint like a book. If this hasn't been butterflied you'll have to go it alone: take a very sharp knife and cut parallel to the chopping board the pork is sitting on, straight through the centre of the loin lengthways, stopping just a few centimetres shy of cutting the joint in half. When you've opened it out after making the first cut, cut outwards again into each opened up side of the meat to open it up even more. Cover with the plastic the joint came in or some parchment paper and bash it really well with a rolling pin or otherwise something heavy to flatten it out even more. Pound the salt, peppercorns and fennel seeds in a pestle and mortar or in a bowl with a rolling pin or something heavy to a fine-ish powder. Spread the minced garlic over the opened out loin and sprinkle about a third of the pepper and salt mixture and about half of the thyme leaves over. Lay half of the mortadella slices on top of this. Roll this up, longways in. If the loin is attached to the belly stop there, if not, place the rolled loin on the underside of the large bit of belly. Sprinkle the remaining thyme and another third of the pepper and salt mixture on to the loin, and then lay the rest of the mortadella on top of the loin and on the belly. Roll the loin up into the belly so the rind is on the outside of the roll. Place the finished rolled joint, rind side up onto lengths of butcher's twine. You need one length for every 4 cm of joint. Rub the rest of the pounced fennel seed mixture into the scored rind. Tie up the joint tightly with whatever kind of knot you're good at. Another person's thumb to hold the knot down comes in very handy, or rather thumby. If you don't have the weight of this altogether, place it on a set of bathroom scales and take note of the weight. Be sure to disinfect the scales before returning them to their home.
Slice up the onions without bothering to peel them and make a platform in a roasting tin, rubbed with a little lard to grease and top with the thyme stalks. Lay the bones on top of the onions, then lay the tied joint on top of this.
Roast at 220 degrees Celsius for the first half an hour to set off the crackling, then reduce the heat to 170 degrees Celsius and roast for 30 minutes per 500g, so for a 4 kilo joint you're looking at about 4 hours.
When the pork is done, check by piercing the meat (go around the side to avoid cutting through the crackling) and checking any juices run clear. You're extremely unlikely to encounter undercooked meat with this slow cooking method, however.
Wrap the joint in foil in its tin to rest for at least 20 minutes (though pork will stay hot for ages, so you can rest it for an hour or longer).
After resting, remove the joint to a carving board. Keep the bones to chew on for later. Mish-mash the onions in the tin to extract their flavour, then pour the roasting juices into a saucepan. Add the vermouth or wine and the stock and reduce the gravy until it thickens. Off the heat, add the butter, and I should say that the 100g is very approximate; just add as much as you need to make the gravy a bit mellower and thicker. Before serving the gravy, give it another quick stir to redisperse any separation.
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