Add the chopped tarragon to the hot soup and serve with two or three of these croûton whoppers per person and some of the garlicky butter from the pan strewn over the whole. Damn fine, this.
Game soup with wild mushrooms and chicken liver bruschetta
It seems almost pointless to mention that the success of this soup will depend largely on the quality of your game stock, but it is worth highlighting all the same. A good rich duck or chicken stock can be employed in its stead if you find game scary. In fact, in a domestic situation, it is unlikely that you will have enough carcasses from game birds knocking about (unless you happen to be a gamekeeper or a grand Scottish laird) and a couple of pheasant and/or grouse carcasses can be supplemented with a dozen chicken wings or some chicken carcasses.
The best birds for flavour are mallard, grouse (especially, but these are not available after November), wood pigeon, partridge and pheasant. It is best to stick to feathered game for this stock and if you are short of such carcasses, by all means bulk up the quantity using any leftover roast chicken bones if available, as mentioned above, or the frozen carcasses of game birds.
There is no point in making this quantity unless you have a big enough stockpot or braising pan for the job, although the quantities could, of course, be halved. This is quite a time-consuming soup to make, so probably best reserved for larger and perhaps celebratory gatherings. Christmastime?
Serves at least 10 as a starter
8–10 leftover carcasses (from roasted birds) of whatever game birds you have used
duck fat or vegetable oil – enough to sauté all the chopped carcassses
salt and freshly ground black pepper
12 raw chicken wings, roughly chopped
3 cloves of garlic, peeled and minced
250g button mushrooms, cleaned and sliced
1 bunch of fresh thyme, leaves picked
350ml dry Madeira or dry sherry
2 leeks, washed and chopped
2 onions, peeled and chopped
2 large carrots, peeled and chopped
1 whole head of celery (quite a lot this, but celery is excellent with game), chopped
6 bay leaves
2 litres of chicken stock (by using one stock to make another, we arrive at what chefs call a ‘double’ stock – this will have an excellent and gutsier flavour than if simply using water)
1 bunch each of fresh tarragon and flat-leaf parsley, leaves picked and reserved (use the stalks in the stock)
500g wild mushrooms, cleaned (in November/December time these are likely to be girolles, pieds de mouton, trompettes or ceps. Fresh truffle would obviously be lovely too, if your budget allows)
10 slices of sourdough bread, or other good-quality bread
500g chicken livers
a little butter
Chop up all the carcasses as small as possible. Any trim, such as wings, drumsticks, necks, and so on, are all useful here. The smaller the pieces, the more flavour will be imparted to the broth. I use a cleaver and a big chopping board for this job and aim for pieces about 5cm square. The chopping is also important since, if not done thoroughly, the larger carcasses will take up too much space in the stockpot and you will require even more stock to cover them, thereby dissipating the game flavour.
Heat a very large, ideally cast-iron pan for 2 minutes and add a thin film of duck fat or vegetable oil. Season the chicken wings and then sauté in the pan until they have taken on a lovely golden colour. Avoid over-crowding the pan and do not move the wings until they have caramelised sufficiently. When they have coloured, throw in the garlic, button mushrooms and thyme. Continue to sauté until the mushrooms have coloured. Take time to enjoy the smell. Add the Madeira or sherry and reduce down until all but 10 per cent of the alcohol has cooked off. Add the mirepoix (the chopped vegetables), the game bones, bay leaves, chicken stock and herb stalks. If the bones are not adequately covered by the stock, top up with water. Bring to the gentlest simmer, skim and cook for about 1½ hours – no longer. Pass the stock through a fine sieve into a suitable container, adjust the seasoning and it should be good to go. If the quality of the chicken stock was sufficiently good, the broth should already taste delicious. If it could do with more flavour, return to the heat and reduce down until the flavour is sufficiently gamey. This can, of course, be done the day before.
Roughly chop the tarragon and parsley leaves and put to one side. To finish the dish, warm the broth in a clean pan. Sauté the wild mushrooms in some duck fat or butter in a large frying pan and season well. Drain on absorbent kitchen paper and then add to the broth. Toast or grill the sourdough and keep warm. In a separate, ideally non-stick frying pan, sauté the seasoned chicken livers briefly in foaming hot butter so that they retain their pinkness – this should take only 1–2 minutes. Remove the livers from the pan and keep warm and put the pan with its lovely, buttery, livery juices to one side. With a pastry brush, generously dab these buttery juices on to the toasted bread and top with the livers. Add the chopped herbs to the broth and ladle into warmed soup bowls with the chicken liver bruschetta on the side.
Potato soup with black pudding, grain mustard Chantilly and chives
This soup is about as basic as it gets because the liquid used is simply the water in which the spuds are boiled – no need for highfalutin stocks here. The addition of black pudding is, of course, optional, but it works really well. In fact, other poaching sausages are delicious with this, such as chorizo, Toulouse and especially Strasbourg (frankfurters to you and me). The next time you are making mashed potatoes and forget about the spuds to the point that they have disintegrated beyond hope, make this soup instead.
Serves 6
4–5 large red floury potatoes, such as Désirée or Romano, peeled and chopped evenly into 4cm dice (it is important not to use waxy, new-style potatoes, such as Charlotte, for this)
1 clove of garlic, peeled and minced
salt and freshly ground black pepper
… and, with water, that’s basically it for the soup part
200ml double cream, plus extra for the soup if you like
grain mustard, to taste
15cm length of black pudding (I like the Stornaway sausage from the Isle of Lewis) – about 300g should do it
vegetable oil
1 bunch of fresh chives, chopped
Put the potatoes in a pan in which they fit snugly but comfortably, add the garlic and cover with water. Season really well and bring to a gentle simmer. When the potatoes have cooked (or more accurately overcooked) to the point of disintegration, either pass through a fine mesh mouli/sieve, or blend with the cooking water in a liquidiser (or with a hand-held blender). Avoid over-blending or the overworked starch from the potato may render the soup gluey. Return to the pan and reheat, add a little cream if liked and check the seasoning.
To make the Chantilly, lightly whip the cream, adding grain mustard to taste. A perfect Chantilly should just hold its shape but retain a certain floppiness – avoid overwhipping or it will end up heavy and buttery. Add a little salt. Slice the black pudding and sauté in a thin film of vegetable oil in a non-stick pan. Drain on absorbent kitchen paper and keep warm.
Serve the soup in warmed, wide, shallow soup plates so that the slices of black pudding do not sink without trace when placed gently on top. Spoon the mustard Chantilly cream over and scatter generously with the chives. Crusty baguette or sourdough is nice with this.