Beef & Venison Bourgignon in the Potjie

A twist on the French classic dish, and cooked over an open fire. Perfect.

We had planned a Friday evening dinner party, so we needed something that could be prepared and cooked the night before. Our brazier had been extremely neglected for far too long so I was champing at the bit to fire it up and enjoy the still, dark autumn evening.

Originally, the bourgignon was going to be just venison, but my Thursday visit to the local butcher across the road from our office forced me to do a swift re-think. They had only half the amount of venison I needed to feed eight, so I decided to top it up with beef chuck steak and hope for the best.

There is a fair amount of preparation involved, mainly the painstaking task of peeling what seems to be a never-ending pile of tiny shallots. Don't shortcut however, as the effort is totally worth it.

The potjie is just ideal for this type of dish. Hot at first to sear the bacon, meat and mushrooms, then a long gentle cook using just about anything that burns as fuel. Unlike the fire needed for an open grill, a potjie fire is very forgiving. I used offcuts from a bookcase I made for our Luca over a few 'spare' weekends, plus bits of a broken oak toilet seat I had secretly stashed in the garage. My wife insisted that it be thrown away and NEVER be burnt to cook with. So I smiled sweetly and hid it, knowing exactly what I was going to do with it.

This recipe can be cooked on the hob or in the oven, so if you don't have your own potjie (a traditional African three legged pot) don't let yourself miss out. This recipe is to die for. But on the other hand, you could go and get one and enjoy an outdoor fire on a beautiful, still, cold evening.

For the quantities for my shopping list, I started with a Gordon Ramsay recipe I found at bbcgoodfood.com. However, having made plenty of bourgignon's in the past, I was thinking of ways to make it outstanding. So here are a few tips. Firstly, the sauce needs thickening, so I added a heaped desert spoon of plain flour early on. Secondly, to add some real punch,  immediatley before serving I stirred in a mixture of finely chopped garlic, thyme and mushrooms, leaving some aside for a fresh, pungent, and colourful garnish. I seasoned the dish heavily, with lots of black pepper and sea salt, ground in a pestle and mortar.

All those aromas combined with the rich, glossy sauce and tender slow cooked meat packs some serious punch, and leaves a lingering peppery aftertaste. It went down a treat, our guests loved it.

INGREDIENTS (Serves 8)

- 1.2 kg of beef/venison shoulder, 3-4cm dice
- 1.5 bottles of red wine
- 200g cubed pancetta or finely chopped streaky smoked bacon
- 400g chestnut mushrooms, halved
- 50g chestnut mushrooms finely chopped for garnish
- A few sprigs of fresh thyme or marjoram (keep some for the garnish)
- 500g shallots, peeled, whole
- 1 tomato, chopped
- 3 cloves of garlic, whole
- 2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped for garnish
- 1 tbsp tomato puree
- 1 heaped desert spoon plain flour

Frying the bacon first to release the fat

METHOD

Start by preparing all of the ingredients. I wish I had noticed Gordon Ramsay's tip about pouring boiling water of the shallots... it makes the skins slip off, rather than the painstaking way I peeled each one individually... next time!

Heat up the potjie over a small fire, then add the bacon/pancetta. No oil needed as the bacon fat does the job. Once the bacon is cooked, remove it, leaving the fat in the pot. Then brown the beef/venison with the thyme and remove it from the pot. Brown the shallots and remove them also. The pot needs to remain really hot during this stage. Finally, fry the mushrooms and tomato for a few minutes before returning the previous items plus the tomato puree to the pot. Add the flour and stir it through, then add the wine and bring it to a gentle simmer.

Browning the meat

I hate using a flash at night, so I tried using a torch instead

Check that the fire remains low and stir from time to time. After about one hour, taste and check for seasoning. Add lots of pepper and a bit of salt. Cook for a further hour and remove from the fire.

I left mine in the pot in the kitchen overnight before re-heating on the hob the following evening. When hot and ready to serve, check for seasoning again (go on, add more pepper and a bit more salt), add the finely chopped garlic and stir through. Serve onto hot plates and sprinkle over more finely chopped mushrooms and the remaining fresh herbs.

We served the dish with crispy roast potatoes, roast chanterey carrots and steamed green beans. Hearty, wholesome, aromatic and peppery. What more could you want at this time of year.

For a starter, I made a light and refreshing salmon mouse and my wife made a delightful pecan pie for desert.

Our lovely Lolly sniffing around for tidbits

Luca's book case, the offcuts provided fuel for our meal

Still Life with Potjie

They say a picture tells a thousand words, and to me, this one certainly does. First there's the story of my lovely new potjie (that's pronounced 'poy-kee' by the way).

My South African foodie mate Ben bought it for me for my recent birthday. I can't tell you how thrilled I was. He's recently moved to Herefordshire, so he ordered it from an obscure village post office-cum-purveyor of all things South African, not far from us here in Oxfordshire. He'd given me some advance warning and all we had to do was wait for his cheque to clear and I'd get the OK to go and pick it up. I go right past the shop each time I go into Oxford so I arranged to get it on my way back on the afternoon I was given the all clear.

To make it a bit more fun I thought I'd travel on my son's Vespa. He's touring Asia on his gap year and he encouraged me to get my motorcycle training sorted out so I could make use of it while he's away. So that I did and I've been scooting around on this thing for some time now, and I absolutely love it.

I called in to the South African shop to collect my gift, announced the reason for my visit, and the three South African guys working in the shop greeted me with a very nicely sung 'Happy Birthday to You......'. They seemed as thrilled as I was and all came out to help me secure my new gift to the rear rack on the scooter. They put it in a box and I had two decent straps to hold it on. It took a good fifteen minutes of trying different ways until we were all happy it was secure. I asked one of the guys to take this photo using my phone so I could send it Ben and Tersia to say thanks.

The journey back was about 6 or 7 miles through a couple of villages and mainly on country roads. About two miles from home, I was belting along a busy A road at about 50 mph when I heard this almighty crashing noise behind me. I glanced in the mirror and there it was. I could see the box and lid in the middle of the road about 100 yards behind me. There was no hard shoulder, so I pulled up as close to the edge of the road as possible and walked to survey the damage. I felt gutted. I got to the box (empty) and lid (still in one piece) but there was no sign of my potjie. I trawled the dense bushes on the side of the road as I made my way back to the bike and couldn't see it anywhere. When I got to the bike, there it was! Miraculously dangling from the rack on the strap that had been looped through the eye where the handle attaches. It was hanging barely an inch off the road. I can not describe the sense of relief I felt.

I reminded myself that there were lorries flying by in both directions and I should not really be lingering around. It was when I was re-securing the pot in the box that I realised the mistake us three blokes had made. The three legged pot was in a cardboard box, and what had happened was the legs had punctured the bottom of the box, and the pot then dropped just far enough to slacken the tension on the straps.

Even with traffic flying by in both directions, I worked out that the best way was to put the pot in the box upside down. Not that I will ever need to use that knowledge again. Had the chunky cast iron pot hit the road at 50 mph I'd have been collecting in two or three pieces. It's still a miracle that the lid survived. It has a small scratch which will be there forever to remind me of the experience.

I got home, rang Ben to tell him the story and took his instructions on seasoning my new miracle potjie. Casting iron is a greasy dirty process and leaves nasty residues that need removing before the pot can be used. The process involved boiling water in the pot, washing it, boiling more water, washing it again, then cooking something fatty in it for the first time. He suggested bacon, and so my pot was christened and is now nicely seasoned.

Now back to my still life (and this is 750 words so far by the way), because it's not just about the potjie.

This blog is really a bit of a desperate round up for the month of June, and it is my first ever blog without any recipes. My self imposed discipline of writing at least one article per month has been stressing me so much that I just had to drop everything and get it done.

Through the window in the photo is my trusty old Weber. We had a dinner party recently that would have been a perfect opportunity for a good story. I so wanted to make pork belly on my garden rotisserie, but was defeated by our lovely English weather. My fall back was to do the pork belly in the Weber, twice cooked. Can you believe I over fueled the fire on the second cooking, and the fat in the baking dish actually ignited. The pork was black around the edges and underneath and 10 people were on their way. It looked beyond rescue. Somehow I managed to stay calm (unlike my wife) and reviewed the disaster. The crackling still looked ok which was a start. So I carefully removed the charred edges and divided the pork into 10 servings (albeit a bit smaller than intended). I swear, you'd never have known and inside, the pork was perfect.

In the photo, the Weber is missing something... yes it's the handle that should be on the lid. I still haven't fixed it, not since mentioning it in a post last November.

There are two more stories my picture has to tell. My lovely chilli plants on the window cill, planted from seed back in March and now starting to fruit. There is another pot just opposite and they look so lovely. At the same time I planted some herbs which are in my little plastic greenhouse on the deck. Secondly, it's the lack of sun. This month has been dire as far as the weather is concerned, so there have been few opportunities for outdoor cooking. Wind and rain. Relentless.

Work/life pressure has kept me off the blog radar a bit too much this month, and I would like to apologise to my favourite food bloggers whose blogs I've been unable to keep up with. The loss is mine and I will be doing something about it!

So my picture has now said 1,168 words. The myth has become true.

Coriander blossom and tomato leaves

Tomato flowers

and basil in abundance

Cockerel au Vin - A Tale of Two Cockerels

I never had the pleasure of meeting Bushman, or his brother for that matter. Well, that was until one of them met the fate of the big black pot. I'd been looking forward to this meal for some time. When my South African foodie friend Ben said he had a 3.5 kg cockerel in the freezer and was saving it for our next visit I felt honoured. Each time we visit he makes such a special effort and this was no exception.

Bushman's brother was nameless for a reason. He was destined for the pot. Bushman however was to meet a bizarre fate of his own. The two brothers were offered to the Van Vuuren family by their local tree surgeon and with five beautiful hens in need of a 'man', they could not resist. The cockerels were delivered, Bushman got the girls, and shortly after was the slaughter. It was a ritualised family event, involving their kids and Ben's wife Tersia as executioner's assistant. I'd been grilling Ben in advance of our visit to his enviable place in Herefordshire as I knew this would be a good story to tell, so he emailed me his own touching and entertaining version of the event (see link below).

Two weeks after Bushman's brother found his new home in the freezer, Ben was decorating their new kitchen and heard a shriek coming from the orchard. Tersia had discovered poor Bushman who had fallen into an old cast iron bath filled with water and had drowned. Miraculously, after some CPR and mouth to mouth (I kid you not), Bushman actually came back to life and started walking around. But his second life was to be an even shorter one. Minutes later he coughed and spluttered his way back to oblivion, and with no hope of return. Ben mercifully finished him off, and he was honoured with a proper family burial and funeral. Unlike his brother.

0 hrs 10 mins

So, back to the coq au vin. This was a big bird and and worthy of one of the most famous French provincial dishes around. The recipe was created for exactly this. 'Coq' in French means cockerel, not chicken yet we have become so used to what is probably 'chicken' au vin. In this context, the extended marination in red wine, garlic and herbs starts to make some sense. It's brown meat all the way, even the breast and can really only be eaten like this, cooked long and slow in a rich and aromatic marinade. The recipe and method is uncannily similar to 'bouffe Bourguignon', right down to the shallots, bay leaf and bacon lardons, as both have the intention of delivering meltingly tender results.

0 hrs 15 mins

Ben researched long and hard and came up with a hybrid of all the best recipes around. He started with the overnight marination in red wine, garlic, thyme, bay and onion, then the high temperature browning off of the cockerel. With the cockerel temporarily removed from the pot, onions, carrots and more thyme were then sauted, and the cockerel returned to the pot with about a litre of stock made from the back bone and wing tips.

1 hr 0 mins

From then it was just time, and lots of it (3-4 hours ideally) on a gentle simmer. Ben sauted the shallots and bacon lardons and added them to the pot about 30 minutes before the end. A handful of fresh thyme, parsley, minced garlic and grated lemon zest before serving and there you have it.

1 hr 25 mins, our amazing seafood starter hits the table

There was more to the meal than the coq of course. Ben amazed us with a seared mixed seafood starter and Tersia prepared some amazing chocolate meringues with Kahlua cream. As always, we had a fabulous time and before long, they'll be coming to us so time to get thinking about what to serve. Fire will be involved. I promise.

All Roads Could Lead to Coq au Vin (by Ben Van Vuuren)

Five lovely ladies (the widows)

3 hrs 30 mins - Totally worth the wait

Ben's Chicken Curry Potjie

I have been so stressed about my January blog. We started the month in Australia, travelled back to the UK, and then reality set in. Work, work, work with so much to catch up on so Fire and Food was to be well and truly parked. Then I was saved. Saved by an invitation to visit to my foodie South African friend Ben in Herefordshire and the promise of a proper traditional potjie curry cooked over an open fire. So here I am, the second last day of January, relieved that I have a story to tell.

I just love all things South African, and a Cape Malay curry with great friends after a manic week of work was just too good to be true. We legged it from Oxfordshire as soon as school finished to miss the traffic and arrived in time to enjoy Bringsty Common at dusk. Bringsty Common itself is a delight. Over 200 acres of hills with just a few dozen rural homes scattered about. A perfect setting for a South African family in need of open space.

The moment we arrived I could smell the curry spices in the kitchen. The fire for the potjie had not yet been lit so there was plenty of time to enjoy the whole experience.

You might not associate South Africa with curry, but there is a huge Malay influence going back several centuries from when enslaved Javanese from modern day Indonesia were transported to the country by the Dutch East India Company. There remains a Cape Malay ethnic group and their food culture has become an integral part of South African cuisine.

A potjie (pronounced poit-kee) is a three legged cast iron pot for cooking over an open fire. Ben had his sitting on a purpose made ring in the base of his Weber.

Ingredients: (serves 6)

- 8-10 Chicken legs and thighs
- Two large onions, finely sliced
- Large piece of fresh ginger, grated
- 2-3 large cloves of garlic, crushed
- 2 400g tins of chopped tomatoes
- 1 handful of chopped potatoes
- 1 handful of chopped carrots
- 1 tbsp garam masala (for the dry rub)
- 1 tbsp medium curry powder (for the dry rub)
- 1 tbsp olive oil
- 1 tsp whole fennel seeds
- 1 tsp whole mustard seeds
- 2 tsp whole cumin seeds
- 1 tsp ground cardamom
- 1 star anise
- 1 piece of cinnamon bark
- 1 tbsp hot curry powder
- 1 extra tsp of garam masala

Method:

Coat the chicken pieces in the dry rub spices for at least a few hours before cooking. Get the pot nice and hot before browning the chicken pieces in the olive oil. Once browned remove the chicken pieces and cover them with foil. Add the onions, ginger, garlic and remaining spices to the pot and stir to mix in all the bits left in the pot from browning the chicken.

Once the onions are soft return the chicken pieces to the pot, add the tinned tomatoes and stir until it starts to simmer. Finally add the potatoes and carrots, put the lid on and let it be for an hour or so. The fire needs to be just hot enough to keep it at a gentle simmer.

Bobotie

By the time this baby came to the table it was sensational. Intensely aromatic and full of flavour. Ben served it up with rice, a refreshing cucumber salad, and rotis. A dish of traditional South African bobotie also graced the table. I've not had anything like it before, a rich meaty, fruity dish topped with a savoury custard and baked in the oven. We had some of it cold on toast the following morning. What a treat.

After the meal, the girls donned their pinnies and slashed 'a few' damsons in preparation for Tersia's mega batch of damson jam.

Thank you again Ben and Tersia, it was a meal to remember.

Sunrise at Bringsty Common