A Long and Messy Business. Rowley Leigh. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Rowley Leigh
Издательство: Ingram
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Кулинария
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781783525188
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with cold water. Bring to the boil and then drain,

      discarding the liquid. Cover again with cold water, bring

      to a simmer, then add the onion, carrots, leek, celery and

      herbs. Simmer very gently, from time to time skimming off

      any scum or grease that comes to the surface and ensuring

      that the meat is always covered, adding fresh water if

      necessary. Continue cooking until the meat is very tender

      and a skewer moves in and out of the joint like soft butter:

      this will take about 21⁄2–3 hours. It is best to let the meat

      cool in its broth, then place in a bowl and strain enough

      of the broth back over it to cover. Reserve the rest of the

      bouillon for the soup.

      Serve the meat sliced in a little of its broth with some of

      the vegetables, and your choice of condiments and pickles.

      For the soup, heat the olive oil in a heavy, flameproof

      casserole dish and add all the vegetables except the

      cabbage. Turn the heat down and allow them to sweat

      gently for 15 minutes. Add the cabbage, together with

      a good seasoning of sea salt and freshly ground black

      pepper, and cook for a further 5 minutes. Add the beans,

      bouillon and thyme and continue to simmer for another

      30 minutes.

      Before serving, taste the soup for seasoning. Add a

      few drops of soy sauce to accentuate the seasoning and

      improve the colour. Grill the bread under a hot grill, then

      sprinkle with sea salt and dried rosemary before rubbing

      with the cut garlic and dousing in olive oil.

      Serve the hot soup in bowls with the toast.

      16

      In a Nostalgic Moment

      Kipper Pâté

      Kippers have proved a resilient food. Despite their strong

      taste and even stronger aroma, those of us who love them

      have managed to keep them going. They are still made on

      the Norfolk and Northumberland coasts, the Isle of Man

      and at various other sites dotted around the British coast.

      There is no better breakfast and, like Bertie Wooster, one

      is inclined to think they are good for the brain.

      Given that they are still plentiful, it is surprising how

      clandestine the business of getting a whole kipper can be.

      Everywhere, if offered kipper, one is given fillet. Good

      hotels will generally offer them, but the true devotee will

      know the overwhelming thud of disappointment when

      served a couple of miserable little fillets because someone

      thinks we cannot be trusted with a whole kipper.

      Buying kippers for this recipe occasioned a visit to a

      fishmonger who had none. The biggest local supermarket

      only sold fillets in a vacuum-packed bag, with butter

      thoughtfully provided. The next supermarket had fillets on

      ice. I asked, despairingly, about the availability of whole

      kippers. The young man appraised me, winked,

      disappeared to a cold room and returned with a small box

      from which he produced two fine specimens. I felt like a

      thirsty man in prohibition-era America who had procured

      a bottle of proper proprietary gin. I almost kissed him.

      There are two reasons for making a fuss. A kipper

      cooked on the bone has a great deal more succulence,

      as fillets shrink and dry easily without the bone. Just as

      important, fillets are cut away from the main backbone

      with the result that, paradoxically, a fillet is full of the tiny

      bones, which can be lifted away when cooked on the bone.

      Even with a whole kipper, getting rid of these little

      bones takes care but is essential, whether you are

      philosophically probing your specimen over a leisurely

      weekend breakfast or making a kipper pâté. In a nostalgic

      moment, and in tune with my penchant for reviving

      forgotten dishes, I decided to put kipper pâté on the menu

      when we opened Le Cafe Anglais (2007), mainly because

      I was serving kippers and thought it would be a prudent

      economy to process them every couple of days to preserve

      them. Now I buy kippers just to make the pâté, since what

      started as a whim has become a stalwart and a good

      number of my customers would be reluctant to go without.

      17

      January

      KIPPER PÂTÉ

      Although they look more attractive on the other side, I

      always present and tackle my kippers skin-side up as it is

      easier to peel away the skin and lift the fillets from the bone.

      Serves six or eight.

      2 large kippers

      200g (7oz) unsalted butter,

      softened

      juice of 2 lemons, strained

      3 tablespoons double cream

      a pinch of cayenne pepper,

      plus extra for sprinkling

      black pepper

      Preheat the oven to 200°C (400°F, Gas Mark 6).

      Place the kippers, skin-side up, in a large ovenproof

      dish and place 50g (13⁄4oz) of the butter on top. Bake the

      kippers in the oven for 15 minutes, then remove and allow

      to cool slightly, pouring the rendered butter into a large

      heatproof bowl.

      Once the kippers are cool, very gently peel back the

      skin and discard it. Edge the fillets apart from the ‘frame’

      – the back fillet can be lifted away easily and should have

      no bone. The belly fillet should be turned over and the pin

      bones gently removed with tweezers. Getting every single

      piece of bone out is time-consuming but it is important.

      Place all the filleted fish in the bowl, add the strained

      lemon juice, a twist of black pepper and 100g (31⁄2oz) more

      of the butter.

      Melt the