A Surreal Chilli Moment

A typically mad packed Sunday, and I'm at home for a short period between taking our son to rugby training and having to shoot into London to collect our daughter when the door bell rings. Our good friend and neighbour Rob has turned up with a carrier bag... full of chillies! Red ones, green ones, yellow, black, brown, big, small, you name it. My eyes nearly jumped out of my head.

He had met someone nearby with a poly tunnel who loves growing chillies. Why? because they are so beautiful to look at. Here's the best bit... he doesn't even eat them! We were like two kids in a sweet shop. Ooing and aahing over this one and that one. We spread them out on the table, meticulously sorted them out and divided them evenly. What you are looking at is my half of the stash. This lot went straight into the freezer so now I'll be able to taste and savour them for months to come.

Freezing is a great way to preserve lots of fresh chillies. I take a few out at a time, slice them thinly,  put them in a small bowl and barely cover them with olive oil. They retain their colour and flavour and once in the oil, they will keep in the fridge for days, that's if they last that long!

A Real Wood Barbecue

How to make a proper cooking fire.

Let's face it, a barbecue is not really a true barbecue without wood. Don't get me wrong, lump wood charcoal is wood, as are charcoal briquettes (we hope!). Gas barbecues have their place too, but sometimes it just has to be a real fire with real wood. The fire making ritual is ceremonial and therapeutic, and therefore was perfectly suited for my Mum's last day with us before she headed back to Australia. The unprecedented late September heat wave helped add to the outdoor occasion.

A wood cooking fire is not complicated, but it has to be right. The wood needs to be a dense, seasoned hardwood (I used oak) and in pieces no thicker than 3-4 cm. Start by building a small fire with a piece of screwed up newspaper and then placing tinder such as dried twigs and small sticks on it. Once the tinder has fully ignited, build the hardwood over the fire to make a pyramid.

The oak I used was foraged from local woodland. It came from branches that had fallen some years before and although they were slightly damp, they were completely dead. I stored it in my garage for a few weeks and by the time I came to use it it was bone dry.

The fire should burn hot and fast, and only take about twenty minutes to become a pile of searingly hot embers. The embers are then spread out ready for cooking. A few words of warning, hot means hot. About 1,000 degrees C to be precise. I was cooking marinated chicken thighs and wings which need to be cooked slowly, chicken breast (tandoori kebabs), and some little chipolata pork sausages. You obviously can't turn the heat down, so you need to create cooler and hotter cooking areas either by moving the embers around, or by raising the cooking grill higher above the embers.

I started by putting the chicken pieces around the edge in fire proof pans, so I could move them easily and make sure they didn't burn early on. These pieces cooked for forty minutes in total. The tandoori kebabs went on to the grill next (about twenty minutes after the chicken pieces went on), and the little sausages about five minutes after the kebabs. The initial embers were too hot for the more delicate chicken breast and sausages, so the twenty minute wait made all the difference.

Surprisingly, with good hardwood, a fire like this will last for at least 45 minutes, which is long enough to barbecue pretty much anything. Super hot at first, and cooler towards the end, so it's just about timing the different foods accordingly. Once you get the hang of this method, you can pretty much barbecue anywhere you can find wood.

Slow Roasted Pork Shoulder

Cooked over charcoal in the Weber

It's been a fairly intense month with family visiting from Australia combined with a massive work catch up after our summer holidays. I was uncertain as to whether I was going to meet my self imposed target of a minimum of one article per month, for the first time ever.

Luckily, a traditional Sunday roast and some locally made charcoal saved the day. I had a large shoulder of pork in the freezer, ideal for cooking outside in the Weber kettle barbeque. My Mum and parents-in-law were our guests so I planned a roast pork meal with all the trimmings.



Firstly, some musings on charcoal. Lumpwood charcoal is my preferred cooking fuel despite the number of branded barbecue briquettes on the market. With charcoal, you know what you are getting, or so I thought. I recently stopped at a garage on a country road for fuel and spotted bags of British charcoal for sale in unfamiliar packaging. The garage owner informed me that it was supplied to him by a couple of guys who had some local woodland. It was a large bag and reasonably priced. I did notice however that it did feel lighter than I would have expected for its size.

As usual I made a plan; light the charcoal at 2:15; start the roast at 2:45 and so on with view to serving the meal at 6:30. Then I read the lighting instructions. Ten minutes from lighting to cooking? I was more used to 20 or even 30 in colder weather. No fire starters or tinder required either? This was unexpected. Instead I was to select a handful of small pieces, scrunch them up with one piece of newspaper, light it, and then build more fuel on top. This stuff lit so quickly it was scary, and also a bit worrying in so far as how long was it going to burn for? For a good roast you need a hot starting temperature and a fairly slow burning fuel that doesn't give off too much smoke. This was going to be interesting.

Reading the packaging I discovered more. Ninety-eight percent of charcoal used in Britain (52,000 tonnes in 1992) is imported. The source wood is harvested mainly from mangroves and tropical forests with scant regard for regeneration. My charcoal however was made from coppiced wood in well managed local broadleaf woodlands, a practice that goes back as far as 6,000 years. So, the nice dense slow burning charcoal I had become so accustomed to wasn't so nice after all.

So what did this all mean? Mainly, that I was going to have to constantly top up the fires during the cooking time and use more charcoal than I would normally expect. The main consequence of this is that it was going to be a fairly smoky affair because normally you would allow the charcoal to become white before cooking after the initial smoky starting stage. And smoky it was. With each charcoal top up, smoke was pouring out of the top vent in the Weber and I frequently had to lift off the lid and fan the fire to accelerate the initial burn. I was planning to cook this pork for at least three hours.

All that said, let's get back to the pork. My 2.5kg shoulder had been defrosting over night and was the only thing to be cooked in the Weber. The potatoes, squash and stuffing went in the oven, and the broccoli and carrots in the steamer on the gas hob.

INGREDIENTS (Serves 8):

- 2.5 kg pork shoulder with rind scored with a knife
- 1 tablespoon of olive oil
- 1 heaped tspn of salt
- 4-5 large sprigs of fresh rosemary, still on the stalks

CHARCOAL METHOD:

Prepare two indirect fires in the base of the Weber (know your charcoal!). Rub the olive oil all over the rind and then sprinkle on the salt. Make a bed of rosemary stalks in the base of a roasting dish and rest the pork on top. Check the pork (and the fire) from time to time and baste the fat over the skin. After about two hours cut any string, and remove the rind from the meat with a knife. This will guarantee that the crackling will turn out soft and crumbly. At this point, I left the pork in the Weber for a further hour and put the crackling in the oven over the top of the roast potatoes. The extra heat is needed to finish it off properly. About half an hour before serving the pork, remove it from the Weber and cover with foil to rest before carving. Pour off most of the fat, and remove all the juices from the roasting dish with boiling water for the gravy. I thickened the gravy with some plain flour and added chicken stock to ensure there would be plenty.

OVEN METHOD:

Put the pork in a deep sided roasting dish as above and roast at 150 deg C for at least two hours before removing the rind. To get a crispy rind, finish the roast off at a high temperature (220 deg C). Cover the pork with foil towards the end to keep it moist for carving, while allowing the rind to become perfect crackling.

Ours was delicious, and worth all effort. The smokiness from the charcoal had subtly flavoured the meat and gravy, and the crackling was intensely flavoured and crumbly. The pork itself was deliciously moist and tender. Lucky there were some left overs, because writing this is making me hungry and I'm about to snack on them right now!

I'm still left with the charcoal quandary. The local stuff is easy to light and quick burning, ideal for open grill type barbecuing where food is being cooked fairly quickly. It would also be perfect for my open fire rotisserie, but it's got me thinking regarding slow cooking in the Weber. Extra effort and a smokier roast might just be the way forward.

Petit Feuilleté Boeuf et Figues

In honour of dear friends moving away and inspired by our recent holiday in France, this dish was the first course of a four course French themed feast for the occasion. My wife and I had this at a restaurant in France, La Ferme Ladouceur, and all I had to go on was my memory of the dish and a photograph I took at the restaurant.

First of all, what is a 'femlleté'? I've searched, run various derivations through Google translate and have come up with nothing at all that is food related. The nearest was 'femmellete' which apparently means 'sissy'. So 'sissies' they are. Help me out here, please. (Mystery now solved... see comments below).

The filling is made from seasoned pureéd beef, and a piece of fresh fig, all wrapped in a shortcrust pastry. Seeing what I was doing, my wife stepped in with her artistic talents and actually made them look like figs. Impressive work. The sauce is a rich beef stock reduction and the garnish a simple leaf salad topped with redcurrants. I had recently bought some fig balsamic vinegar which was perfect for the dressing.

INGREDIENTS:

(Makes 10)

- 650g sirloin steak, trimmed and finely pureéd in a food processor
- 1 tbsp finely chopped parsley
- 6 small fresh figs, quartered
- Salt and pepper
- Shortcrust pastry (1 'Jusroll' pack was good for 4)
- 500ml good quality beef stock (this was from Waitrose)
- 1 desert spoon of plain flour
- 1 desert spoon of butter
- Mixed soft leaves
- 1 tub of redcurrants
- Thick balsamic vinegar
- Beaten egg for brushing on to the pastry
- Parsley sprigs to garnish (I forgot this bit)

METHOD:

Start by making the filling. Trim the thick fat rind off the sirloin, cut it into chunks and put it in a food processor. Add salt, pepper and the chopped parsley to taste. (it tastes great raw so don't be afraid). The pureéd beef needs to be really well seasoned, but not too salty.

Divide the seasoned beef into ten balls (each should be the roughly the size of a golf ball). Lay each ball on a square of shortcrust pastry, put a quarter of a fig on top, brush beaten egg on the inside of the pastry, fold up the sides and then do your best to make them look like figs (or whatever your creative talents desire). Brush the outside with more egg before laying them onto a buttered baking dish.

Pre-heat the oven to 200 deg C and allow 30 minutes for them to cook. While they are in the oven, prepare the sauce by putting the flour and butter in a saucepan over a low heat to make a roux. Then add the beef stock, bring it to the boil, and then reduce it down at a low simmer until it is nicely glossy and just a little thickened. Season the sauce with salt and pepper to taste.

Lay the leaves on the side of the plate, dress with some balsamic vinegar and place the redcurrants and a quarter of a fig on top. Finally, plate up the femlletés and drizzle over plenty of sauce before garnishing with a fresh sprig of parsley.

We followed this with coq au vin blanc (I found a brilliant recipe at The Gourmet Traveller), a cheese course, and a refreshing 'le colonel' (Bombay Sapphire version). The evening was topped off by burning some of my treasured foraged oak in the brazier as a treat for the South African majority (well, for all us blokes actually).

La Ferme Ladouceur, Ramatuelle, France

A RESTAURANT REVIEW



Our two week family holiday in the south of France is always a firefoodie challenge. There is pretty much a blanket ban on open fires and barbeques everywhere except in private houses. Having seen more than one forest fire in the region at close hand I can see why.

We are surrounded by family and friends where we stay, and when my sister in law offered to feed and look after our kids one evening so my wife and I could try out her favourite local eaterie, what could we say? Her generosity was even further extended to driving us to the restaurant and picking us up after the meal.

La Ferme Ladouceur is a few kilometres from the stunning village of Ramatuelle, near St Tropez on the French riviera. It is locally reknowned for its evening only restaurant which is run along side their chambres d'hotes. The converted farmhouse is set back off the main road, surrounded by vineyards and has a beautiful shaded terrace at the rear. We asked for a special table and got one, right on the edge of the terrace under the canopies of olive and fig trees.

The set price four course menu includes wine and changes daily. There are no choices to be made, you are simply served the same four courses as everyone else that evening. Our menu:

- Petit femlleté boufe et figue
- Brandade de cabillaud, coulis de tomate
- Fromage
- Soupe de pesches

We were guessing as much as you as to what we would receive other than what we could work out with our limited French. The first course was something to do with beef and figs, no clue on the second course other than the tomato coulis, then cheese, and finally peach soup?

After we were seated, we splashed out and had a glass of champagne each to celebrate the occasion. The setting was truly lovely. The trees surrounding the terrace were gently up-lit and the tables set simply and elegantly with white linen, a small paraffin lantern and an array of wine and water glasses.

We were given the choice of red or rosé to have with our meal, and opted to start on a refreshing, chilled rosé which came to the table in a bottle without a label having been filled from a cask in the kitchen. Then came the first course, and wow.  It was a small pastry parcel surrounded by a thick glossy sauce, and garnished with a salad of mixed leaves and redcurrants. The first cut into the pastry revealed a finely minced beef filling with a few slices of fig on top of it. The beef was beautifully seasoned and combined well with the sweet fig, pastry and sauce. The sauce, I think, was a reduced and thickened beef consommé. The leaves and redcurrants had a wonderful cleansing effect as an end to the course. Our plates were left clean, any last traces having been wiped up with some of the home made bread. Our first experience was full of complementary flavours and left us wanting for more.

We were left with just the right amount of time to contemplate how good the first course was and consider moving on to a red wine now the rosé was starting to run out. The local reds are very light, so hopefully our choice would work well with the coming main course (a conversation with one of the waiters had revealed that it was fish of some sort).

And wow again. The fish turned out to be cod, and was served on a bed of what looked like potato pureé (but by its taste was not), a whole steamed carrot, a kind of herby egg roll, and a piece of toasted rustic bread topped with baked tomato. There was a lot going on with this dish and it took a bit of a while just looking at it to piece it all together.

The fish was firm, white and just moist enough, and looked like it had been baked. It was not like the watery cod often served, but superior in quality. To be honest, I wasn't totally sure it was cod until I looked up the translation of 'cabillaud' the next day. The pureé beneath the cod was an intense, creamy, fishy experience. I was thinking of celeriac and not potato at the time, but the next day translation revealed it to be the 'brandade' on the menu; an emulsion of salted cod, olive oil and milk, a specialty of the region. Cod on cod, an abundance of seasoning, the sweet carrot and the tomato coulis, a divine dish. The toasted bread on the plate I'm sure was there for the final clean up. My wife and I couldn't stop raving as we were eating. It was (together with the wine) an intoxicating experience.

The third course arrived after a suitable break. A single, fairly large slice of brie on a plate. After the attention to detail we had become accustomed to, this felt just a bit disappointing. The quality of the brie was exceptional, but we both felt a bit let down. No garnish, a few grapes maybe, some cheese biscuits? It could be that there was some contrasting simplicity versus complexity going on, but it didn't give us much to think about.

The dessert, I'm afraid, was also a bit disappointing, but possibly only because of the expectations that had built up after the superb first two courses. The 'peach soup' consisted of small cubes of peach in rich peach pureé, and a small boat shaped sponge sitting on top. The idea itself was fine, but it was served in a deep glass goblet with a long spoon which made it awkward to eat. It was refreshing and I ate it all but I was disappointed with the presentation. It had also come straight from the fridge so there was no impression of any final flair in the finishing stages in the kitchen.

All in all, however, we had a brilliant time and together agreed on a score of 8 out of 10. The quality of service, ambience, and first two courses were exquisite. Value for money? at 43 euros per person including  a litre and a half of wine for food of this quality, no question. The only let down was the last two courses. Had these followed the all round standards of the first two courses, this could have pushed the score to a 9 or even possibly a 10.

La Ferme Ladouceur is one of those places you have to try. The surprise menu of the day, the ambience and the quality have to be experienced. We will definitely be going back there. Oh, and remember to take cash, no cards accepted.

A Festival Breakfast

COOKED OVER AN OPEN FIRE

Nearly a week has gone by and we have barely recovered from our four days of camping, feasting and music in Dorset last weekend. The X-Grill got yet another hammering, often for breakfast, lunch and dinner on the same day.

Sad-o here even took a box of seasoned oak firewood foraged from woodland near our home. As if you don't have enough stuff to lug around when camping. Our fuel was a mix of charcoal and oak, and for cookware, my trusty paella pan and karahi dish, both perfect for open fires.

The breakfast pictured above was a hearty selection of bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes and fried eggs. The trick is not to have too large a fire. It doesn't need to last long, and needs to cool down fairly rapidly. When the bacon first went on it was searingly hot, so it cooked quickly and was then transferred to the karahi dish to keep warm with the mushies. The mushrooms started off in the karahi when it was also searingly hot. Then the tomatoes, and finally the eggs. When they were done, there was just enough glow left in the embers to toast the bread on the rack.

At the end of the weekend, the X-Grill packed away nicely into the flat box it originally came in almost a year before.

For more about the X-Grill, have a look at The X-Grill Barbeque.

Spit Roasted Lamb Chops with Garlic & Rosemary

It was a much needed day of glorious Oxfordshire sunshine, I had two bags of lamb chops in the freezer and some good quality charcoal sitting waiting. Lamb chops are traditionally grilled, but the large amounts of fat released can create unmanageable flames that leave sooty marks on the food plus the unnecessary stress of trying to prevent them from burning.

Being a Sunday, I had plenty of time to think of something a bit different and more relaxing. Spit roasting is slower, and without coals directly below the meat so fat fires are much less likely. The idea reminded me a bit of some kebab shops, where lamb is layered in slices on a vertical spit in front of a gas grill, and the cooked meat sliced directly off the spit. I thought that if I layered the lamb chops on my spit, with some garlic and rosemary between each chop, the slower cooking would allow the flavours to better infuse, and the self basting would create delicious sweet crunchy bits around the outside. And besides, I'd get to sit in the garden with a cold drink listening to the sizzle and taking in the smells.


As it happened, it worked. Once the spit was removed, there was no carving needed, and my 1.2 kg of prime lamb chump chops made five decent servings. The flavours were intense and the sweet crispy bits on the outside a real delight. I served ours with mixed roasted vegetables and cous cous.

INGREDIENTS:

- Lamb chump chops (allow about 3 per person)
- Garlic cut into thin slices
- Fresh rosemary stalks
- Salt

METHOD:

Layer the chops on the spit with a few pieces of garlic and a sprig of rosemary between each one. Pack them together tightly and then sprinkle the outside with salt. Prepare the charcoal fire so that there are no coals below the spit. Lumpwood charcoal starts off really hot and then reduces in temperature gradually, which is ideal for this type of cooking. I used about 2.5 kg of charcoal, and the chops were on the spit for just over an hour.