Bonfire Fodder - Buffalo Chilli

 

If I was having one of those bonfire type gatherings, this would be my food of choice, because it is easy to scale up or down, looks as well atop a jacket potato as it does on some fluffy rice, and warms your bones as you stand out watching hundreds of thousands of pretty sparks shoot across an inky sky. Of course, some carefully chosen alcohol would also keep you warm against the cold, but it doesn't keep your hands warm as you wrap your hand around the glass, whereas a bowl of this stuff warms you inside and out, and tastes splendid.

 

Buffalo. I am not deliberately trying to be fancy. The fact is, it was at the back of the freezer, almost in the permafrost (I need to defrost the freezer) and I bought it because it was cheap. In reality, this is how I acquire the vast majority of some of the weirder ingredients in my freezer - if it has a yellow sticker, then it will be bought for some point in the future, and as far as the buffalo is concerned, that point has now been reached. You could obviously use diced beef; It would still be tremendous.

 

I kept the chilli reasonably tame because of Lola and Finn who aren't fond of eating anything which feels like it should be on fire. You should be far more liberal if fire eating happens to be your thing.

 

If you cook this really slow, you should produce unctuous chunks of beef which you theoretically cut with a spoon, and like most dishes of this nature, it is amazingly good the day after. And if you really go for it you could freeze vats of the stuff to be eaten on another random winter night, minus fireworks, when you need something to defrost your bones.

 

 

Buffalo Chilli, loosely based on any recipe or any version of chilli or a stew that I have ever made.

 

Serves Lola, Finn, Mum and Dad, plus 1 other, generously

 

Ingredients:

 

1 chipotle chilli

4 tbsp. olive oil

3 peppers - I went for all red - diced

1 onion, diced

2 sticks celery, finely chopped

1 fresh green chilli, deseeded if you like, finely chopped

800g diced buffalo (or diced beef)

3 garlic cloves

250ml beef stock

1/4 tsp dried chilli flakes

2 tsp ground cumin

2 tsp dried oregano

2 x 400g tinned tomatoes

3 x 400g tins of kidney beans

1 tbsp. fresh coriander stalks

 

Method:

 

 

 

Soak the chipotle chilli in a few tablespoons of water until it is soft. Whilst this is happening, you should crack on with the rest of the method.

 

Heat 2 of the tbsp. of oil in a suitable pot/pan that will be big enough to take all the ingredients later on.

 

 

 

Add the onion, the peppers, the chilli, the coriander stalks and the celery with some salt and saute until soft but not coloured.  Remove from the pan and set aside.

 

 

 

Put the rest of the oil into the pan and then add the meat. You should cook the buffalo until it is well browned; consider doing this in a couple of batches as you want the beef to brown, not steam. Add the chopped garlic and a little bit of salt and pepper. Cook the garlic only until fragrant and then add the beef stock. Deglaze the pan with the stock and bring it to the boil.

 

Return the pepper mixture to the pan and add the herbs and spices.

 

 

 

Add the tomatoes and the kidney beans and some seasoning. You will need a good amount of seasoning so don't be shy.

 

Lastly, remove the chipotle chilli from the soaking liquid and chop finely. Add this and the soaking liquid to the mixture and stir well.

 

 

 

I simmered this, covered with a tightly fitting lid, on a really low heat for a couple of hours, checking it now and then to ensure it wasn't boiling dry. After a couple of hours gentle simmering, I removed the lid and raised the heat to reduce the sauce to the consistency that I like.

 

 

In times of crisis, go back to what you know. Chilli con Carne

 

 

I say 'crisis', but it's all relative and my type of crisis is nothing compared to some in the world  - and at this point can I encourage you to give as much as you can to the likes of the Red Cross, Oxfam and UNICEF and other tremendous organisations who I try to support on a regular basis because of their great work with the needy. It's important to know sometimes that the world does not end at your front door. Anyway, that said, my 'crisis' should probably be re-categorised as 'minor hiccup' and it's all about the fact that there has been too much of mum going to Iceland (or insert any other frozen food shop/ freezer aisle of a supermarket here) and whilst I alluded to the fact in my last blog post that my love affair with a Birds Eye chicken pie really does go on and actually I don't mind battered fish, oven chips and beans, I really should be cooking something of a weekend to sustain us through the week, using fresh ingredients and just a little bit of effort. And the fact is, for me at least, it is not just about food that is good for you, but food that is good for my soul. Cooking actually de-stresses me; just a shame that my job doesn't allow me that time to de-stress, hence my regular visits to the supermarket for something that was made earlier.

 

So this weekend I went back to what I know, and have spent the last four hours creating those go to dishes; those crowd pleasers that you can make a vat of and it tastes so much better the next day and the day after. Shepherds' pie x 2 have been cooked and fridged, a ragu of some sad looking stuff in the vegetable drawer of the fridge has been concocted and there is a chicken casserole blipping away in the oven (and who knows, I might throw a lid of pastry over it later in the week and pretend it was made by Birds Eye) but the success is the chilli. Parties in my youth were centred around a chilli, ladled out over some fluffy rice, containing enough ballast to soak up any alcohol excess, and it is the sort of food that almost makes you glad about the onset of winter, as you curl up on the couch, hugging a bowl of the stuff, watching it go dark earlier and earlier. And it tastes good the next day. And if you're going to make one serving of it, you may as well make several, so on we go.

 

This is a doubled up recipe from 'Ministry of Food' by Jamie Oliver. Other chillis are available.

 

Chilli con Carne, adapted from Jamie's 'Ministry of Food' by Jamie Oliver

 

Serves Lola, Finn, Mum and Dad twice. (Please note, I doubled the ingredients below to feed 12 people - and us for a long, long time!)

 

Ingredients:

 

2 medium onions

2 cloves garlic

2 medium carrots

2 sticks celery

2 red peppers (didn't use)

olive oil

1 heaped teaspoon chilli powder

1 heaped teaspoon ground cumin

1 heaped teaspoon ground cinnamon

sea salt

freshly ground black pepper

400 g tinned chickpeas

400 g tinned red kidney beans

2 x 400 g tinned chopped tomatoes

500 g quality minced beef

1 small bunch fresh coriander

2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

 

 

Method:

 

Peel and finely chop the onions, garlic, carrots and celery.

 

Halve the red peppers, (if using) remove the stalks and seeds and roughly chop.

 

 

Place your largest casserole-type pan on a medium high heat. Add 2 glugs of olive oil and all your chopped vegetables.

 

 

 

Add the chilli powder, cumin and cinnamon with a good pinch of salt and pepper. Stir every 30 seconds for around 7 minutes until softened and lightly coloured.

 

Add the drained chickpeas, drained kidney beans and the tinned tomatoes.

 

 

Add the minced beef, breaking any larger chunks up with a wooden spoon. (Should just say, I browned my mince first in a separate pan. I am not a fan of grey looking mince). 

 

Fill one of the empty tomato tins with water and pour this into the pan. Pick the coriander leaves and place them in the fridge.

 

Finely chop the washed stalks and stir in.

 

Add the balsamic vinegar and season with a good pinch of salt and pepper.

 

Bring to the boil and turn the heat down to a simmer with a lid slightly askew for about an hour, stirring every now and again to stop it catching.

 

Doritos!

 

Serve with rice and all the other accompaniments you might like. No guacamole fans here unfortunately, but we do open a bag of Doritos and dive in!

 

 

 

Pea and Ham Soup. Not as simple as you might think...

 

 

So I had a plan to make pea and ham soup and it was inspired in part, by my grandma's amazing ability to take a ham bone and a handful of pulses and transform them from humble ingredients into something magnificent. Yes, there is a possibility that my memory of grandma's soup has been embellished in my own mind with a faint sprinkling of nostalgia, but what is certain is that it was the antidote to cold and dark winter nights and it was a meal in itself, transported from her home to ours in a Thermos flask, dished up, then consumed with gusto,  sat at the table at home, and it was the best soup I have ever had. But then, put me in a Michelin starred restaurant and serve me up a consomme made from the tears of mermaids (or something) and I know which soup I will be yearning for.

 

Anyway, you'd think such humble food would be easy to source wouldn't you? A ham shank and split peas? Not a bloody chance. I went to two supermarkets to buy green split peas (my split pea of choice) and you would think I had gone shopping for the aforementioned tears of mermaids. If I'd wanted adzuki beans or farro then I could have filled my trolley. Split green peas? Nope. And it wasn't that they'd sold out; no gaping chasm labelled green split peas could be found. Pffft. And you probably know already that if you want any meat other than skinless chicken breast, go to a proper butcher. The asking for an uncooked ham hock will often result in a disappointing answer. I abandoned all hope and came home to google.

 

Anyway, to cut an increasingly long rant story very, very short, a bit of googling came up with pea and ham soup made with frozen peas, Marco Pierre White stylee. And whilst it was nothing like what my grandma used to make, it was very green and very tasty. If I could say it was sweet and salty without that statement sounding revolting, that's exactly what it was. And whilst the colour 'green' is an anathema to Finn in particular when it comes to food, he entertained this a little when I told him it was liquidised monster. He didn't clear his plate; he rarely does. But he ate the ham and some of the soup before declaring that enough was enough.

 

Since then, I have found split peas. The challenge to recreate the best soup I ever had is back on.

 

Pea and Ham Soup adapted from Marco Pierre White's recipe

 

Serves Lola, Finn, Mum and Dad twice

 

Ingredients: 

 

1 x knuckle of smoked gammon (it will weigh approx 1.3kg) (I used a large ham hock)

2 sticks celery

2 large carrots, halved

4 onions, halved

1 sprig thyme

2 bay leaves

12 white peppercorns (I used black peppercorns)

Salt to taste

1.2kg Bird's Eye peas

40g unsalted butter (I didn't use this)

 

Method:

 

 

Make a stock by placing the gammon into a large saucepan, along with the celery, carrot, onion, thyme, bay leaves, peppercorns and two large pinches of salt. Cover with cold water, put the lid on the pan and bring to the boil.

 

When boiling, immediately reduce the heat to a gentle simmer.

 

After 20 minutes, use a slotted spoon to skim off the scum from the water's surface.

 

 

Continue to simmer for about 11/2 hours, topping up with warm water if necessary. After two hours, turn off the heat.

 

Carefully remove the hot ham from the saucepan and place it on a carving board. Carve the joint while it is still hot and cut the slices into bite-sized pieces. These will later be used in the soup.

 

Sieve the stock, discarding the vegetables, peppercorns, thyme and bay leaves. Allow the liquid to cool before chilling it in the fridge.

 

 

 

Thaw the peas until semi-defrosted, and then liquidise them with the chilled stock.

 

Pass the pea and stock purée through a sieve. (I just blitzed it - a bit of texture is just fine for me!)

 

In a saucepan, heat the sieved purée, but don't boil it or the liquid will lose its vibrant green colour. Season with salt to taste and stir in the butter for richness. (I didn't add the butter).

 

 

 

Place the pieces of ham into bowls and pour over the soup.

  

 

 

In case the snow comes again (fingers crossed!) Venison Stew

 

 

Some people don't like snow. Luckily, I have firmly held on to my inner child and adore the stuff. If there is any better weather induced happiness than making the first footprint into virgin snow then I don't know what it is. Even lounging about on a sun lounger in the Mediterranean sun is only equal to the contentment I feel striding out through the white stuff. But then, in winter, I want snow. I expect snow. I am not a fan of three months of cold rain and grey cloud. And, because I am a subversive soul, I smile inwardly and outwardly at the chaos it brings. What's that? Snow day? Fabulous. Where's the sled?

The garden...

The oak tree...

The kids!
 

So if, like me, you have a penchant for sledging and snow in all its forms, you'll be wanting a meal to mind its own business, cooking away whilst you are busy outside pretending to be six or seven years old. And when you come in, hands stinging through cold, nose red, toes numb, glowing with youthful exuberance, your house will be alive and warm with the aroma of winey meaty stew. Your job will be to whip up a little bit of mountain of mash and some iron rich greens and then dish up. Wow. I sound organised.

 

I am frequently visiting Taylor's Farm Shop in Lathom, Lancashire and it was there that I found some diced venison which was cheaper per pound than the beef I was planning to buy. So, because I am, fundamentally, skint I decided on buying that instead, as well as my regular ham hock and about a tonne of steak mince. It was this Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall recipe that I had in mind when buying my meat when made, turned out to be a lovely light, but substantial dish. (Mash helps here, clearly!)

 

Lola and Finn's reaction? Well, after they'd thawed out they liked the dish in general. They really liked the gravy which though thinner than you might be used to, is really flavoursome. The meat is lean and benefits from the slow cooking indicated in the recipe. Finn even ate the cabbage and liked it. I imagine they will have nailed the lid on and I still won't have figured out what makes him tick when it comes to the food he chooses to eat. Crazy.

 

By the way, there is a distinct lack of pictures here and the reason is that I am 'between cameras'. I was bought a very jazzy technical camera for Christmas which is very nice but I still haven't figured out how to take pictures without blurring them. Anything that looks clear is through luck more than judgement. It also eats batteries like you wouldn't believe and that means I use my retired camera whilst my jazzy camera's batteries are charging. And then I forget I've done that. And then I delete them by mistake...

 

Venison Stew, adapted from Stewed Venison by Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall

 

(The quantities here are halved from the original recipe - enough to feed Lola, Finn, Mum and Dad)

 

Ingredients:

 

1 tbsp oil (or dripping)
125g salted pork belly or pancetta, cut into chunky cubes (I used diced pancetta)700g venison neck and shoulder meat, cut into large chunks (I used diced shoulder)1 onion, peeled and finely sliced
2 large carrots, peeled and cut into big chunks
1 sticks celery, sliced (I diced mine very small or those who don't like celery)1 bay leaf
1 sprig thyme (I used 1 tsp dried thyme)75ml red wine (I used a Cotes Du Rhone)250ml-plus beef or game stock (I used beef, and you need enough to cover the meat and vegetables) Salt and black pepper

 

Method:

 

Heat the oil in a large, heavy frying pan.

 

Add the pork and fry gently until it is lightly browned and the fat runs.

 

Transfer the pork to a casserole, but leave the pan and bacon-flavoured oil on the heat.

 

Now brown the venison, in batches, transferring it to the casserole as soon as it is lightly coloured.

Add the onions to the pan and sweat until soft but not brown.

 

Transfer to the casserole, then add the carrots, celery, bay leaves and thyme to the pan. Deglaze the pan with wine - allow it to bubble for a minute, to evaporate some of the alcohol.

 

Pour over the meat, along with the stock and a little water if needed: the meat should be covered by a good couple of centimetres.

 

Season sparingly with pepper, but not salt (the bacon will be quite salty).

 

Bring to a simmer and cook, uncovered, at a very low, tremulous simmer for one-and-a-half to two hours (up to three if you've used neck or shanks on the bone), until the meat is very tender.

 

(You can also cook it, covered, in a slow oven - about 140C/275F/gas mark 1.)

 

When the meat is cooked, taste the stew and adjust the seasoning. The juice will be thin, but well-flavoured.

 

 

 

 

Serve with a dollop of good, buttery mash and steamed seasonal greens.

 

 

The best meal this year and Finn agrees! Lamb Ragu.

 

 

It's probably worth emphasising the fact that it is still only January, and the declaration in the title is subject to change. What isn't up for change is the fact that (trumpets please...) FINN LIKED THIS! Being that he is a finicky little bugger with a taste for the bland, the recognisable, the processed and, weirdly, shellfish and caviar (how can you put all those together in one sentence?) this is a momentous event. It is also one of the ways in which I am going to tell you that you must make this recipe because it is amazingly good. Honestly, it's wonderful!

 

The fact is that I would never have happened upon this recipe and more specifically the book that it came from if I hadn't found myself in TKMaxx looking for bedding. I was on a self enforced cookbook buying ban (I still am) but 'clearance' was next to 'bedding' and there this was battered looking, lonely cookbook dumped on a shelf within my line of vision. It was surrounded by the tat that TKMaxx have a cheek to try and sell, even though it is not fit for purpose such as chipped cups, photo frames without the glass, a pair of pillowcases with one missing - you know the type of thing, So, I picked it up. Price £2.00. It transformed from battered cookbook to orphaned child that was in need of a good home and consequently fell in my trolley. Yes, you're right. I am rambling.

 

So, the book is 'Urban Italian', an American book by Andrew Carmellini and save for a few Americanisms which I really don't understand, it contains some wonderful recipes which will now be tried due to the outrageous success of this one. I wondered how different lamb ragu would be in terms of taste and texture to 'normal ragu' if such a thing exists and it is different but I don't have the specific words to tell you how. If I can try, it's like this has a richer feel in the mouth and the components of the dish meld beautifully. I think, because it's lamb, I would be more than happy to serve this with potato as well as pasta. Without sounding like I have something akin to cooking OCD, I don't like putting normal ragu (read bolognese) with anything other than pasta. It doesn't taste right to me. Therefore, I served this with (shop bought) gnocchi because lamb and potatoes always go together, and they did. Next time I'll serve this with roasties and I don't care who thinks I am weird because it will taste fabulous.

 

Make this. You will not be disappointed.

 

Lamb Ragu, slightly adapted from Urban Italian by Andrew Carmellini and Gwen Hyman

 

( in cup measurements - American recipe)

 

My adaptions in red

 

Serves Lola, Finn, Mum and Dad, twice (so 6!) 

 

Ingredients:

For the ragu:

 

¼ cup olive oil

1 ½ pounds ground lamb (shoulder if possible)

½ cup finely diced carrot

½ cup finely diced onion

½ cup finely diced celery

1 tablespoon tomato puree

1 ½ cups dry red wine (I used Cabernet Sauvignon)

1 cup canned cherry tomatoes or good quality Italian canned whole tomatoes (I just used a tin of cherry tomatoes)

3 cups low-sodium chicken broth (or water) (I used lamb stock and put slightly less stock in to account for the increase in the quantity of tomatoes - see above)

2 bay leaves

½ teaspoon ground cumin

½ teaspoon ground coriander

½ teaspoon ground fennel

¼ teaspoon red pepper flakes

1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves (I used dried)

1 tablespoon fresh rosemary leaves

Parsley stalks from the parsley I used to garnish later

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon coarse-ground black pepper

 

To finish the dish:

 

Gnocchi or pasta of your choice

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons butter (didn't use it)

1/4 cup grated pecorino cheese (I used Parmesan)

1/4 cup chopped fresh mint (didn't use it)

A sprinkle of parsley

 

Method: 

 

Heat the olive oil in a large stew pot over medium-high heat. Ensure that it is big enough to brown all the mince at once, or else you will have to brown in batches. 

 

 

 

Cook the diced onion, carrot and celery. (PLEASE NOTE: This is different to the original recipe which suggests browning the mince and then adding the diced vegetables. Rightly or wrongly, I just prefer to do it this way round). 

 

Just before I drained!

 

Add the ground lamb, breaking it apart into small bits as you drop it into the oil, and brown it over high heat, about 5 minutes. If the lamb releases a lot of liquid, so that the meat begins to steam instead of browning, just drain off the juice and put the pot back on the heat to start the browning process again.

 

 

 

Add the tomato paste and stir to incorporate. Cook together until the mixture becomes a thick reddish mix, about 1 minute.

 

 

 

Add the red wine and stir to incorporate, making sure that no bits of meat or vegetable are sticking to the bottom. Use a wooden spoon or rubber spatula to scrape down the sides; Cook until the wine evaporates completely: about 2 minutes.

  

Add the canned tomatoes and the broth (or water - or lamb stock). Then add the bay leaves, cumin, coriander, fennel, red pepper flakes, thyme, rosemary, salt, and pepper. Scrape down the sides of the pot again.

 

 

 

Bring the mixture to a low boil, and then reduce the heat to medium - low to keep the ragu cooking at a simmer. Cook the lamb, uncovered, until the liquid evaporates and the flavours meld, about 1 1/2 hours. Continue scraping the sides of the pot at regular intervals to avoid burnt bits. The meat will turn dark brown and the liquid will turn a dark orange colour as it cooks. When it's done, all the flavours will be melded, and the sauce (if you've broken the meat up enough) will look like a sauce: dark brown, rich, thick, and textured.

 

Cook the gnocchi or pasta of your choice.

 

Drain the pasta, add it to the sauce, and stir together over the heat, adding the olive oil, butter, and mint to make it smooth and rich tasting on the tongue. (I didn't do this)

 

 

 

Remove the pot from the heat, ladle the pasta and sauce into individual bowls, and top with the pecorino (or Parmesan) and parsley.

 

Enjoy, as Phill and I did, with the remainder of the red wine.

Definitely not cobblers and great as a Bonfire Night supper! Chicken cobbler with sweet peppers and tomatoes

 

 

May I suggest that if you are having some sort of bonfire event at your house in the next week or so, (for 'tis the season of fireworks just now) that this be something you serve. If we are doing something here (not this year...) then my mind tends to swing towards a beef stew of some sorts for reasons that I cannot rightly explain, however, this would be a brilliant thing to serve instead. Robustly flavoured, with some spice, warming, satisfying and with plenty of tasty Parmesan flecked carb topping to boot. How could it ever be wrong?

 

I cooked this a few times when I first got Tamasin Day Lewis' book 'Supper for a Song' and it was liked by all. Even Finn had a go, picking out the sausages and eating the cobbler crust after dipping it into the tomatoey juices, but then as is the case with the person who has too many cookbooks, it got put back on the shelf whilst I went on to explore new books, new tastes, new ideas...

 

So, a couple of weeks ago whilst surveying the fridge and hoping for some sort of inspiration it came back to me. That cobbler! I had the ingredients (mostly) and about an hour and a half or so later it was like the recipe had never left my consciousness and it was back on the table, ready to be dished up for a Saturday night dinner.

 

I really think this is a lovely, warming, hearty dish, perfect for this the first day of November, right through the cold dark days of winter. I hope you decide to make it.

 

Chicken Cobbler with Sweet Peppers and Tomatoes, adapted from 'Supper for a Song' by Tamasin Day Lewis.

 

My slight adaptations in red.

 

Serves Lola, Finn, Mum and Dad and two others

 

Ingredients:

 

4 red peppers, which will need to be roasted (I used jarred roasted red peppers)

3 - 4 tbsp olive oil

1 large chicken, jointed (I confess - I used chicken breasts because that was what I had)

1 large red onion, peeled and finely chopped (I used an ordinary onion - I am not keen on cooked red onion)

3 - 4 garlic cloves, peeled and sliced

3 celery stalks, destrung and chopped (I have to blitz mine because of Phill's celery aversion - see method)

a bouquet garni of sprigs of thyme, bay leaves and 2 strips of orange peel tied together (I used a tsp of dried thyme and just bunged 2 bay leaves into the mix)

1lb of good quality sausages, cut into chunky bits (optional - but compulsory in this house)

tin of cherry tomatoes (I used chopped - it was fine)

1/2 - 1tsp paprika

sea salt and black pepper

 

For the cobbler:

 

8oz plain flour

2 rounded tsp baking powder

3 1/2oz chilled unsalted butter, diced

4 tbsp freshly grated Parmesan, plus extra for sprinkling

6 sprigs of thyme, leaves stripped and chopped (or 2 tsp of dried thyme)

6fl oz single cream or full cream milk (I used milk)

 

Method:

 

If you need to, char grill the peppers then peel off the skins, or if you're like me, wait until a little later and then open the jar.

 

 

 

Heat half of the olive oil in a suitable ovenproof casserole pan and brown the chicken pieces. remove to a plate.

 

I have to blitz celery because Phill does not like the texture nor the appearance when it remains chunky. An added faff, but I think if I left it out you'd miss the taste...

 

 

 

Add the rest of the olive oil and saute the onion, garlic and celery until just beginning to soften. Add the herbs.

 

 

 

If you're using sausages, add them now and allow them to brown a little.

 

 

 

At this point return the chicken plus juices to the pan and then add the tinned tomatoes and the roasted red peppers, cut into strips. Sprinkle the paprika over and season. Bring to simmering point and then allow to cook for about 20 minutes.

 

 

 

Meanwhile, make the cobbler. Combine the ingredients, minus the milk, either by hand or by using a food processor (like I did) until it resembles breadcrumbs. Add the milk and use it to combine the dry ingredients until it coheres to a dough.

 

 

 

Flour your hands and make little scones, a couple of inches in diameter and about 1/2 inch thick. Plop them onto the stew, sprinkle over a little more grated cheese and then place the casserole into the oven, uncovered, for about 40 minutes until the cobbles have swollen, are golden brown and crisp.

 

 

 

This will be unbelievably hot immediately after coming out of the oven so allow it to rest for 10 minutes or so. Pour yourself a glass of wine and lay the table or something. By that time it will be ready to serve.