Spit Roasted Poussin

Marinated in rosé, lemon, garlic, rosemary and dried chilli

 Poussin is not a bird that I cook very often. These tiny chickens are a very special treat and just ideal for the slow sizzle on a spit over charcoal embers. It's a bit like a mini version of the commercial 'Rotisserie' seen all over France; loads of chickens on large spits inticing passers by with their amazing aromas.

This special occasion was a weekend visit by our friends Lynn and Gary who had come up from Eton to stay. The previous weekend we stayed with my sister in law and were treated to roasted poussin, so it seemed the perfect indulgence and an opportunity to do something a bit different on the garden rotisserie.

I bought four poussins, each weighing about 450g which would, at a push, just about sqeeze together on my spit. The marinade made a perfect base for the light rosé wine sauce.

The meal kicked off with potted smoked trout and baby Yorkshire puddings as an entreé (from Jamie's  Great Britain), then the pousin with slow roasted vine tomatoes and a warm salad of green beans, asparagus and wild rice. For dessert, I made a decadent rosewater panna cotta with pink champagne and strawberry jelly.

INGREDIENTS (For the poussin and the rosé sauce)

- Four poussins (1 per person)
- 1 bottle of rosé (1/4 for the marinade, 3/4 for the sauce)
- 8 cloves of garlic (4 whole, 4 crushed)
- 2 lemons
- 2-3 dried red chillies, crumbled
- 2 tbsp of olive oil
- 2 tbsp of finely chopped rosemary
- 1 cup of good quality chicken stock
- 1 onion finely chopped
- 30g butter
- 1 tbsp plain flour

Weber chimney starter

METHOD

Start by marinating the poussins in a large bowl or sealable plastic bag with the wine, oil, grated rind of 2 lemons, the crushed garlic, rosemary, chilli flakes and juice of one of the lemons. The night before in the fridge is ideal, but for no less than 3-4 hours at room temperature at minimum. Before assembling the spit, insert 1/4 of a lemon and a whole clove of garlic into the cavities of each bird. These were on the rotisserie for about two hours. I was using fast burning British charcoal, it was fairly breezy and a chilly ten degrees outside, so regular charcoal top ups were required. (in the oven they would take 45-60 minutes at 180 deg C).

0 hrs 5 mins

1 hr 0 mins

Once the poussins are on the fire (or in the oven), the sauce can be pre-prepared and re-heated just before serving. To make the sauce, melt the butter in a large saucepan and sauté the onions until soft. Add the marinade juices and wine, then reduce down by about 3/4 over a medium heat. Strain the redution through a sieve and allow to cool a little. To finish the sauce, whisk in the flour after it has cooled, then heat gently, whisking constantly. Slowly add the chicken stock as the sauce thickens until you get to your preferred sauce consistency.

2 hrs 0 mins

These little babies were just soooo tasty. Thanks to the long slow sizzle, the meat just fell off the bones and the little fiery kick from the chilli flakes was delightful. They were fun and messy to eat and the carnage left on the plates is now in the stock pot...

Crystalized rose petals for the panna cotta

The decadent rosewater panna cotta - with pink champagne and strawberry jelly

Spit Roasted Pork Belly

Cooked over a charcoal fire

This meal was prepared in honour of a visit from my parents in law from Hertfordshire, and my sister in law and family from south Wales. It's the begining of the Easter school break and our house was the meeting point for two young cousins to go off and spend a few days with their grandparents. It's not often that we are all together at our place so this special event called for some extra special effort.

I had a large piece of pork belly in the freezer that had been sitting waiting for an occasion just like this. It was also the first time I'd put pork belly on my outdoor rotisserie and I couldn't wait to see how it would come out. Intuitively I thought it ought to be ideal. It's the right size and shape and has plenty of skin to crackle up nicely and keep the meat moist on the inside.

The whole meal was a bit of a feast for the ten of us. In addition to the pork belly, I had a whole chicken in the Weber and some quality chipolata sausages along side. In the oven went roast potatoes plus home made balls of bacon and herb stuffing. Steamed carrots and green beans finished of the plates.

I'm a bit of a puritan when it comes to mixing meats and I wouldn't normally serve more than one meat at a time. Pork and chicken, however is a rare exception. The sauce that comes from a combination of pork and chicken stock also works very well.

Having defrosted the pork belly the night before, the first task was to remove the rib bones so I could roll the belly around the spit. I used a small sharp Opinel knife and kept the bones to make a stock for the gravy. I could have easily asked the butcher to do this for me, but at the time I didn't think to. It was fairly easy as it happened, it just took a bit of time.

Like any garden spit roast, you need plenty of time. This one took about 3/4 of an hour of preparation from starting the charcoal fire to assembling the pork belly on the spit. Getting the fire on at the right time is critical. You want the coals to be white hot when the pork goes on and this can take 20-30 minutes depending on the charcoal you are using. I normally focus on getting the charcoal started, and then use that time to prepare the spit. This spit roast was over the coals for three and a half hours.

A few musings on charcoal. I used high density imported lump wood charcoal as it is readily available and has a good burn time. Charcoal, when packaged and transported gets a bit of a hammering and you always get a good quarter or so of the charcoal as tiny bits or powder as a result of this. I do my best to separate the decent sized 'chunks' from the small bits and pieces. The chunks are perfect for starting a hot charcoal fire as the gaps allow plenty of oxygen to get between them. The bits and pieces I then sprinkle over the established coals using a small gardening trowel when it's time to add a bit more fuel.

After the first 20 minutes - Crackling starting nicely

For this spit roast, I used 2 to 2 1/2 kg of chunks at the beginning, and about an hour or so later started adding the small bits to keep the fire just hot enough to maintain a gentle sizzle on the pork. At the beginning, the white hot chunks are pumping heat at about 1000 deg C (1,800 deg F), then this reduces fairly constantly as the charcoal is consumed. After the first hour, the coals had died right down and definitely needed topping up. I added some more sprinklings around the edges every further 30 mins or so to keep the temperature fairly consistant.

After 50 minutes

And now a few musings on my outdoor rotisserie. I bought this almost three years ago in May 2009. It came with a small battery powered motor that takes two large 'D' sized batteries, the type frequently used in torches. Just before writing this article, I trawled through my photos, blogs and notes to work out exactly how many times I have used it since. On average it has been used about four times a year, between April and October. Each use means about 3 to 3 1/2 hours of continuous rotation. The original two batteries are still going, 13 uses and 45 hours later. I still can't believe it and even when I ran it yesterday it wasn't giving any signs of letting up. I've had a pair of batteries on standby since I bought it.

1 hr 15 mins - First topping up of charcoal

PREPARATION TIME: 30 minutes

COOKING TIME: 3 and a half hours

INGREDIENTS (serves 6 as a generous main course):

- Pork belly (de-boned) - approx 30cm x 20 cm x 2 cm thick
- 1 tbsp olive oil
- 1 tsp salt
- 1 large sprig of rosemary

2 hrs 40 mins - Our first guests arrive

METHOD:

First prepare the charcoal fire as above, then rub the pork with olive oil and salt before rolling around the spit with a large sprig of rosemary in the centre. Tie firmly with kitchen string. Arrange the charcoal around the edges so that there is none immediately beneath the meat. Otherwise the dripping fat will ignite and you do not want thick, sooty flames destroying your meal. Place the spit over the hot fire for the initial intense sizzle at the beginning, then after the first 45 mins to an hour when the coals have gone right down, add small amounts of additional fuel regularly to keep the pork at a gentle sizzle.

Carve into thick rounds and serve with a light gravy made from the stock from the bones.

My intuition proved correct. Pork belly is perfect for this type of cooking. The crackling cooks quickly at the beginning, and protects the meat inside to allow it to slow cook beautifully. All in all it was a winner and will definitely grace our table again. And again.

 3 hrs 30 mins - Ready for carving

Spit Roasted Lamb with Caper, Anchovy & Mint Salsa

Cooked over an oak wood fire

Inspired by an unexpectedly sunny and warm Sunday afternoon, I decided it was time to get outside and make some fire.

Our brazier had been stored in the garage since we went away at Christmas, the spit roasting kit was in bits in various kitchen cupboards and up in the garage roof were some beatifully seasoned oak branches that I had foraged last Autumn.

Something, of course was bound to go wrong. A critical piece of the spit roasting kit was not to be found, so in a last minute panic I cobbled together a support for one end of the spit from an old bicycle spanner and small G-clamp. I was determined not to be defeated.

As the spit roast was a fairly last minute decision, I needed to buy the food and get hold of some kitchen string, as mine had run out. I planned to call into a supermarket on the way back from taking our daughter to her drama class in Oxford. I was going to be pushed for time but it seemed the most sensible option. My list was not complicated; lamb leg (on or off the bone), capers, anchovies, fresh mint and a few other essentials whilst I was at it.

Parking in Summertown in Oxford can be hit and miss, so I considered two options. If I could park easily in Summertown, I'd get everything I needed from one or two of the supermarkets there. If not, then I'd head straight back to Witney and get everything I needed from Waitrose in the town centre. Luckily, as I was driving through Summertown, I nabbed a parking bay just as someone was pulling out. Great, time saved already. There are two supermarkets there, a fairly large Co-op and a Marks and Spencer.

I started with the Co-op to grab the essentials and anything else they had that was on my list. Essentials, fine. Capers and anchovies also fine. Mint? Lamb? Kitchen string? Nope. Fortunately M&S was just next door. I headed straight for the fresh produce, picked up two packets of lovely looking mint leaves then headed to the fresh meat section. Nothing. Diced lamb only. Not much good for spit roasting unfortunately. I re-calculated my options and realised that I now had no choice other than to head for the Witney town centre as well. Saving a bit more time I dumped the mint leaves to avoid the busy checkout, and legged it to the car.

The twenty minute or so journey gave me time to calm down a bit and re-plan the rest of my errands. There are two large supermarkets in the Witney town centre, a huge Sainsburys and the Waitrose. There was a fighting chance that everything I needed would be at either of the two. As I passed it first, I pulled in to Sainsburys. Easy parking, a good sign, so hopefully not too packed. I found two very nice packets of lamb leg, off the bone. They would be perfect to 'sandwich' them around the spit. Mint leaves, yes, fine. Now kitchen string? I hunted around the kitchenware area and saw nothing, I hunted for some one to ask and they didn't stock it. In a store the size of a football pitch. Can you believe it.

Waitrose, here I come. And it was the last place I bought kitchen string. Why didn't I just go straight there in the first place? By now I'm kicking myself. Easy parking again, another good sign. I headed straight for the kitchenware section and became immediately confused. The entire section was almost completely empty with a few odds and sods marked down for clearance. Not my day. I found someone to help, and was told that the kitchen ware section was being re-modelled. Great. And kitchen string? Please, I always buy it from here? Sorry, out of stock. I pleaded for to the poor assistant to help me and suggest where, at 3:40pm on a Sunday I might get some? I could try Cargo just opposite I was told. I bolted across the pavement, found someone straight away to ask. Sorry, we don't stock it. We looked at eachother and simultaneously said 'Lakeland'. A few minutes walk away. I was saved. They had some. By now I was at least 45 minutes behind my planned schedule, so we would be eating a little later than usual.

I finally got home. Six shops and about an hour later than planned. I relayed my disaster story to my wife who found it much funnier than I did. But, I had made it back, and now it was time to play. I grabbed a much needed cold beer, prepared and lit the fire, and retreated to the kitchen to sort out the spit roast.

INGREDIENTS:

For the spit roast:

- Lamb leg, off the bone
- 4-5 anchovy fillets
- 4-5 peeled and squashed garlic cloves
- 1 dollop of butter
- Mint leaves, roughly broken up
- Salt and pepper
- Olive oil to rub on the outside
- Kitchen string (!)

For the salsa:

- Large handful of mint leaves, finely chopped
- 1 tbsp drained capers, finely chopped
- 1 medium tomato, finely chopped
- 4-5 anchovy fillets, finely chopped
- 1 spring onion, finley chopped
- 2 tbs good olive oil
- 1 tbsp wine vinegar
- 1 tsp of fine demerara sugar
- Salt and pepper

METHOD:

For the spit roast (can also be done in a oven or Weber):

Place the capers, anchovies, garlic, butter and mint on the inside of the lamb. Roll the lamb around the spit and secure tightly with kitchen string. Rub the outside with olive oil and season generously with salt. I added a few potatoes to either ends of the spit after giving them a 5 minute head start in the microwave.

Spit roast gently for about two hours. I started the fire with oak pieces, let it burn down and then occasionally topped it up with a few sprinklings of those charcoal dreggs that accumulate at the bottom of the bag.

Alternatively, prepare the lamb as above and bake on a baking tray in the oven for the recommended time depending on the weight of the meat.

For the salsa:

Simply mix all of the ingredients in a bowl and test for seasoning. You can adjust the proportions as you like, but the above quantities delivered a very moist and minty salsa, with a subtle hint of the anchovies and capers. It was a bit of an experiment, but it worked a treat.

By the time it came to serve the lamb it was delicous. Moist and tender with lovely crispy, caramelised bits around the edges. We had half of it last night, the remaining half is wrapped in foil in the fridge for later in the week. We devoured the salsa, even the kids (I didn't mention the anchovies or capers), so I will have to make some more. Soon.

Aglio, Olio e Peperoncino (Per Uno)

Quick and easy Italian comfort food at it's best.



It's extremely rare that I end out cooking an evening meal just for myself. Tonight, as it happens has been one of those nights. It's half term week and my family are off staying with relatives or away for work, and there I was, working away and wondering what to eat. For a house that's usually full of people it's a strange place when it's just me. I cook most evenings for all of us, but tonight I needed something quick and something that would fill the void created by an empty house. The last time this happened to me was three and a half years ago (!), and what did I cook? Aglio, olio e peperoncino.

I don't know of anything simpler that packs as much punch as this delightful dish. Ordinary dried spaghetti, good olive oil, garlic, fresh basil, chilli, butter and parmesan. Intensely aromatic, seriously 'peppery' and immensely satisfying.

I checked out the fridge and the pantry before walking to the the shop to pick up the last bits and pieces. Basil: check, garlic: check, chilli: oh yes, still plenty of my chilli bounty in the freezer -  but olive oil, parmesan and spaghetti? No.

Nice and frosty, straight from the freezer

This meal takes as long is it takes to boil spaghetti. Like ten minutes in total if you are organised. I do it like this:

Boil 1.5 litres of water in a kettle and transfer to a large pot with a good dash of salt. Add 100g of spaghetti to the boiling water. Roughly chop 4-5 cloves of garlic and as many chillies as you can handle. Finely grate a decent chunk of parmesan cheese (2-3 tablespoons works for me) and roughly break up a handful of basil leaves.

In a large frying pan, heat up 2-3 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil and toss in the garlic and chilli. Turn off the heat immediately as you do not want the garlic to brown, you just want it to infuse the hot oil.

When the spaghetti is cooked (it takes only 8 minutes or so), remove it from the water with tongs and toss it into the hot oil. Put the heat back on gently while you stir the garlic, chilli and oil through the spaghetti. Add a dollop of butter, half the parmesan and half the basil, give it a good toss and plate it up. Once on the plate add the rest of the basil and parmesan, crack open a super chilled bottle of white wine and go for it. You won't regret it. I promise.

Perfect Poached Eggs - It's All In the Planning

Whether it's a breakfast treat for overnight guests, a hangover cure or just a naughty little snack, to me the perfect poached egg is where it begins and ends. I measure the quality of a restaurant kitchen by it's poached eggs and always order eggs poached when given the option. It's an anxious moment as more often than not I end out disappointed. They are usually either two hard or worse, have unset whites.

I get annoyed when asked 'how do you like your eggs poached?'. Perfectly of course! A perfect poached egg should have a hot creamy yolk and a fully set white. You can see the difficulty, a few seconds can make all the difference. In order to have a fully set white, the outside edge of the yolk must also be just set, leaving an nice steamy runny centre.

I'm proud of my poached eggs and I think I deserve to be. I've perfected the method over decades and no longer feel anxious when preparing as many as 8 or 10 breakfasts for guests. So today I share with you my little tips and hope you can enjoy the same feeling as I do because, there is nothing quite like the satisfaction of delivering perfect poached eggs.

1. The eggs:

Fresh fresh fresh and organic is all I can say. We eat so few eggs so what is the difference in a few pence per egg when it comes down to it. Always choose the ones from the back of the shelf with the latest use by date. If the egg is not really fresh, the white will go to pieces in the water. Yuck. Some say you shouldn't keep eggs in the fridge (supermarkets don't) but then I don't think it really matters and what are the egg holders in the fridge for anyway?. To be honest, if they are cold there is less risk of overcooking them.

2. The kit:

A ladle (to break the eggs into first) and a saucepan with at least 5cm (2 in) of gently simmering water with a serious dash of vinegar. I normally use white wine vinegar but I had run out so used malt vinegar instead. The only difference is the darker vinegar leaves a slightly coloured residue on the finished egg. Use a slotted spoon to check and remove the eggs. A bit of kitchen paper is useful to remove any last bits of water before they go on to the plate.

3. Preparation:

Timing is what it's all about, so get prepared. Make sure all of the other breakfast ingredients are cooked and ready to serve before you start poaching the eggs. Make sure the plates are hot, and make sure your condiments and garnishes are all ready to go. And don't forget the coffee.

4. Timing:

Use the ladle to 'roll' the egg into the water. As the egg sinks it will plume as the white starts to set and create just the right shape. Now this is where it all gets a bit weird. I don't time poached eggs because there are too many factors involved. For example the temperature of the egg, the number of eggs being cooked and the volume of water. So, I invented the 'wobble test' instead. Pick up the egg with the slotted spoon and gently wobble it. If it looks like a bag of water, it's not ready. If it doesn't wobble at all it's overdone. It should wobble just like a set jelly. With a bit of practice you'll work this out in no time, it's intuitive. This tells you the outside is firm enough to hold it together and the inside is still liquid. It's weird , but it works. Roughly it takes about as long as the toast takes in the toaster, so I always put the toast on immediately after the last egg goes in the pan.

Two eggs is obviously easier than 8 or 10 eggs. When I do a large batch, I use a large pot and remember the order that the eggs went in. When serving, I remove the pot from the stove and continue to check each egg and remove them the moment the pass the wobble test. Everything else must already be plated up or you'll get into a right flap.

5. Make them pretty:

Fresh coriander (cilantro) and fresh chillies are my favourites plus lashings of freshly ground black pepper. I raided my chilli bounty in the freezer and finely chopped a mild red one, a pretty purple one and a little green bomb; super hot and full of flavour. It looks like a pea with a fuse and wow, it really does explode!

So there you have it. That's how simple and stress free it can be.

And last of all, the leading photograph is one of those happy accidents we all hope for. The word 'EGG' on the Emma Bridgewater dinner plate has somehow landed perfectly above the egg itself! It wasn't until I copied the photo on to my laptop that I even noticed. Priceless.

Slow Roasted Leg of Goat

Cooked in a Weber

What's going on here? One minute I'm stressing about having nothing to write about for my January blog, and the next minute I'm on to my second. They're sort of connected too. It was when we were staying with our friends in Herefordshire (see Ben's Curry Chicken Potjie), that I was taken to visit a fabulous local butcher, Legges of Bromyard. They had 2.5kg trays of mixed cuts of young goat for sale. How could I resist. Goat seems impossible to get hold of where I live yet here, 80 miles from home there it was, in abundance.

Our traditional Sunday family meal in the cooler months is a proper English roast dinner. We alternate between lamb, beef, pork and chicken with each family member having their particular favourite. Chicken with stuffing, beef with Yorkshire pud, pork with crackling, and lamb with mint sauce. So now it was to be goat. Our teenage daughter Kitty trembled at the thought (chicken is her favourite) and to be honest I was not looking forward to her asking what we would be having.

Weber chimney starter

My attraction to goat goes back to my time in Perth. I have two good friends there who occasionally satisfied my cravings for 'capretto' as a special treat. One had an outdoor wood fired oven and he would slow roast fist sized pieces in a large tray with garlic and herbs. I remember the smell wafting up the street as I arrived.

So here I was with a 1.2kg piece of goat leg and a bag of lumpwood charcoal. This was a big moment.

Goat is an incredibly lean and healthy meat. It benefits from slow roasting and some form of additional fat. I rubbed it with olive oil, and made a few slits between the muscles and inserted a couple of anchovy fillets and slivers of garlic. I laid it on a bed of rosemary sprigs in a pyrex roasting dish, tossed in a few trimmed heads of garlic and whacked it in the Weber.

I kept a bit of water in the bottom of the dish throughout the cooking time to provide a bit of steam and prevent the garlic and herbs from burning. It needed an extra splash from time to time. I also added a few knobs of butter on top of the meat about half way through.

It had a good hot start and was then left for about 2 1/2 hours with a gradually reducing temperature. Half an hour before the end I wrapped it in foil and removed the juices to add to the gravy which I was making on the hob. The gravy base was made simply with butter, flour and chicken stock.

The meat was tender and made a interesting change to our "English" Sunday roast. A jar of mint sauce on the table had a sufficiently Anglicising effect and really did go well with the meat. Well, Kitty did try it, smiled politely, and then left most of it neatly arranged around the edge of her plate so she could lap up the spuds and the gravy.

The other cuts from the 2 1/2 kg tray went into the freezer and will surface again soon in the form a proper 'curry goat', cooked over an open fire in my potjie, sorry, I don't have one so I'll give it a go in my Kotlich instead. Watch this space!

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