Venison tartare

I once employed a chef who used to say that cooking was simply burning bits of food to various degrees. Funny but untrue. Making a salad’s cooking so, therefore, must be a raw meat dish.

Most of us have heard of steak tartare but we’ve currently got a fabulous venison version on the menu at the restaurant. As with any raw food, make sure that everything is scrupulously clean including the meat before preparing. If you’ve any doubts about eating raw meat or eggs for personal health reasons, please listen to them. However, I’ve never known any problems as long as cleanliness is observed and the best ingredients are used.

Serves four

800g venison loin – trimmed of any sinew and fat.

One medium onion - chopped

One tablespoon of capers – drained and washed if pickled

One tablespoon of chopped chives

One tablespoon of chopped gherkins

Two tablespoons of tomato ketchup

Four tablespoons of extra virgin rapeseed or olive oil

Two tablespoons of chopped parsley

Four to five drops of Tabasco

One teaspoon of Worcester sauce

Sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper

Four egg yolks – optional

Using a large sharp knife, chop the venison as finely as possible. You could use a food processor but a knife leaves the meat with a better texture. Place the onion, herbs, capers and gherkins on a chopping board together and chop finely.

Place all the ingredients, except the egg yolks, in a bowl mix, checking the seasoning as you go.

To serve, pile onto plates and, if using the egg yolks, make a dip in the top of each into which you place a yolk. Great if accompanied by toast or even Melba toast.

Friends 'round to eat

“How can you rear them and then eat them?”, I’m frequently asked. It’s true, I get a tremendous amount of joy out of rearing a few animals; not least the pigs. They’re such fun, intelligent and affectionate animals that I’m frequently to be found inside the electric fencing of their paddock, sitting on the ground with a beer in hand while the pigs snuffle around me. They nip at my trousers and wellies in a bid to see if they’re edible before settling down at my side as if to savour the beer with me.

But let’s be blunt: these animals wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t to provide us with food. Wild pigs disappeared long ago along with many other wild sorts of domesticated animals. Dogs and hunter-killer cats are only about because people have them as pets. Pigs would make great pets too as they’re easy to toilet train but you’d not be able to keep any fine furniture; they’re fairly heavy and clumsy creatures and their hooves would spoil the parquet flooring.

But it’s obvious I care. If I’m to keep animals for food it’s important to me that they have as good an existence as possible and, as they enter the food chain, I satisfy myself that they displace a few pigs that would have otherwise been reared in the horror that so many others are.

So they get space to run around in, trees to root beneath and a snug straw-lined stable to sleep in. My farmer friends have told me that I supply piggy heaven. It’s not necessarily economical but I believe it’s worth it in the end.

So, the time has to come that they’re to be taken to the abattoir and this is a process that I take as seriously as any other part of their existence. It’s important that the animals experience as little stress as possible for two reasons. First, I’ve made a decision to rear pigs and to do things as well as I can and that therefore must cover the whole process from start to finish. And second, if the animals aren’t stressed when they go to slaughter, the meat tastes better. Simple. If only things were.

The pigs live in a paddock that’s on a steep slope with access from the top. I’m pretty good with a trailer and tractor but, for various reasons, it took me nearly two hours to tow my animal trailer down there, turn it around and drag it up the slope to the right position. It then took me a further hour to organise an electric fence “passage” from their existing domain to the trailer. As I removed the last bit of fence to let them into the passage I wondered how I’d persuade them to move along it. Previously, I’ve always used a little food on the ground to make a trail and then, over time, they circumspectly follow it into the trailer. But no. Three of the four just ran along the passage and straight into the trailer. Great. The other one took me another hour to persuade using charm and guile but little force. If only I was a pig whisperer.

The biggest challenge was now towing the heavily-ladened trailer out of the paddock and to a hard-standing outside my bedroom window where I’d hear if they were distressed – which they weren’t. That took the best part of another hour.

So I was able to leave them overnight, bedded down on straw in their trailer and then, early the next morning, tow them gently the ten minutes or so to the abattoir, worrying all the time how I’d get them out again. I shouldn’t have. Once reversed into position, I lowered the ramp, opened the trailer’s inner gates and out all four came, sniffing around without a care in the world as they disappeared round the corner to meet their fate.

I know this was the end of their lives but I’d like to think it couldn’t have been much better.

I hope that the animal rights people, my friends, Oldfield’s diners and, of course, the pigs, recognise the effort that I’ve been to. Including the five hours of swearing and sweating in the paddock the day before.

Let's tell the truth about animals for meat

It’s got into the press that David Cameron’s in-laws are objecting to having a slaughterhouse built next to their home. Quite why I should be interested in the personal matters of the Prime Minister’s relations is beyond me as it’s doubtful they were a major influence in our decision at the last general election, but that’s to digress.

I’ve just read a letter to a newspaper that was written by a lady from an organisation called Animal Aid who suggested Cameron’s in-laws would benefit from being educated about the reality of meat production. She implied that all slaughtered animals went through terror and pain and went on to say that Animal Aid makes available films about the subject.

Now, I’m sure that she holds genuine feelings but in her enthusiasm to further her cause she makes the same mistake made by so many who want to change our views: she transparently told only part of the truth and, as a result, lost me as a potential member to Animal Aid. There’s so much more to this subject than she let on.

It’s possible she actually disagrees with the breeding, rearing and killing of any animals for food. She didn’t say in her letter. I wondered if she’d be happy for us to eat an animal that had been accidentally struck by a car, or - taking the human element out of things - had met its end purely by its own misfortune (one of my sheep tried to commit suicide this weekend and didn’t even thank me when I saved its life). Is it ultimately the eating of meat that she’s against or the rearing and killing? She didn’t say.

But what I know not to be true is the suggestion that all animals destined for our table go to their maker (and diner) filled with terror and pain. The majority do and if she'd used the word "majority" I’d have been reaching for an Animal Aid application form faster than the release of a captive bolt. But, and here’s the rub, a minority don’t.

Obviously I’m a supporter of eating meat. That’s why I do it and why it’s on the menu in the restaurant. But being the wise and intellectual race we are, surely it’s morally correct that any meat we do eat comes from an animal that’s treated as well as possible prior and right up to its demise? After all, few of these animals would exist outside sanctuaries if we didn’t choose to eat them. We’d still need cows for milk but what would happen to the 50% of boy cows born? I guess there’d be a few sheep knocking about to keep moorland grass down but rabbits seem to be amazingly efficient at that in my garden. And pigs? They’d have to be in zoos.

Animals can be reared in a way that gives them a good time on this planet. And it’s not beyond the wit of man to put systems in place where the animals aren’t stressed being transported to the slaughterhouse and then, when they get there, never actually realise what’s happening to them. It does happen. We do it for Oldfields and so do a number of farmers we use to supply us.

I’ve seen the two extremes of slaughter house: first the sort where animals are delivered in multi-storied lorries and know exactly that a frightening fate awaits them due to their treatment, the noise, confusion and smells. And then the other sort where the animals are kept calm and quiet, get no terror-inducing feedback and are quietly and professionally led away to a sudden and, if there is such a thing as an animal afterlife, surprising end.

It could be like that for all animals reared for meat. It’d mean more expensive bacon but that’s your choice.

But this is the sort of reasoned discussion we should be having rather than picking on some people who didn’t choose to be, and really shouldn’t be, in the public eye. Perhaps Samantha Cameron’s parents don’t actually want a commercial building built next to their house and it’s their right to object. Maybe they don’t actually believe in industrial-style slaughter houses. I don’t know as I’ve not discussed it with them.

What I do know is that I’d prefer organisations such as Animal Aid to tell the whole truth and make sure we’re all educated properly so as to be able to make informed decisions rather than preaching, as they do, that the only cruelty-free diet is a meat-free one. I beg to disagree with them but admit that the cruelty-free option requires effort. And that’s what we, at Oldfields, are trying more and more to do.

3rd June 2011

Ox tongue and beetroot with ramsons and horseradish

Ox tongue and beetroot with ramsons and horseradish

It’s all too easy to turn one’s nose up and something like ox tongue but, as I’ve discussed in the adjacent column, if you’ve decided to eat well-reared and slaughtered meat you might as well go for all the bits of the animal; particularly when it tastes as good as this.

You can buy pressed tongue from all good butchers but, if you wanted to do it yourself, it’s easy enough and so cheap with enough meat to feed a family of four . It just needs a little forethought. Take one salted ox tongue and soak it overnight in plenty of cold water. Drain, place in a large pan, cover with cold water while adding a few peppercorns and something like a couple of carrots, sticks of celery and a bay leaf. Bring to the boil and simmer for 2 to 2½ hours until tender. Remove from the water and allow to cool a little before peeling off the skin and chilling well before slicing.

As for the ramsons (wild garlic), along with asparagus it’s one of my favourite seasonal vegetables of the moment and I love it because it’s free. Found in moist wooded areas, it’s recognisable by the garlic smell in the air and when the leaves are crushed between your fingers.

Serves two as a starter or light lunch

A few slices of ox tongue

One whole uncooked beetroot

Horseradish sauce

The zest of half a lemon

A large pinch of smoked paprika

Extra virgin rapeseed (or olive) oil

A handful of wild garlic (ramsons) leaves

A couple of walnuts or two or three hazelnuts

A few salad leaves of your choice

Salt and freshly-ground black pepper

Wash the beetroot but don’t cut off the stalk, just trim back a little with scissors. Piercing or cutting into beetroot before cooking dilutes the flavour. Place in a pan of cold water, bring to the boil and simmer for 30 to 45 minutes until it can be easily pierced with a skewer or pointed knife. Drain and allow to cool enough to handle.

To peel, you can use a potato peeler or sharp knife but the slices have a propensity to end up in the shape of a 50 pence piece. We use an old tea towel to rub the skins off but it will turn the towel pink.

To prepare the wild garlic, bring a large pan of water to the boil, blanch the leaves in it for a few seconds (this kills any germs or bugs) and then quickly drain and plunge into iced or very cold water. Drain well. Place in a blender, add the nuts, a little salt and black pepper and blend, adding enough oil to make a slushy sauce.

Place a teaspoon of horseradish sauce, the lemon zest and paprika in a small jar, add a little rapeseed oil and shake until well blended.

Place slices of ox tongue and beetroot on the plate along with the salad leaves. Spoon over then spoon over the horseradish and ramsons dressings.

June 2011

Chocolate coffee mousse with Anzac biscuits

Here’s a recipe for an unctuous mousse that never fails. But as a contrast we serve it with Anzac biscuits which, considering we’re a British restaurant might seem a little odd. However, I like to think it’s something to do with our colonial history that allows us to make this Australasian treat. It’s said that they were originally made by antipodean wives to send to soldiers abroad during World War 1 and they had particularly good keeping qualities. This is useful because I can never be sure how many biscuits the following recipe will produce but at least you can put the extra in an air-tight tin for future elevenses. The mousse recipe makes enough for four to six people, depending on appetite.

For the Anzac biscuits

50g rolled oats

55g desiccated coconut or flakes

250g plain flour

200g sugar

10g bicarbonate of soda

110g butter

One teaspoon golden syrup

30ml boiling water

Place the oats, sugar and coconut in a large bowl and mix well. Put the butter and syrup in a small saucepan and heat until melted before adding the bicarbonate of soda and water. Mix together and pour into the bowl and mix well. Place teaspoonfuls onto a greased tray, flatten slightly and bake on the middle shelf at 160°C for 18 to 20 minutes until golden brown and crispy. Allow to cool on a wire rack and store in an air-tight container.

And for the mousse

250g good quality dark chocolate

50g unsalted butter

40g caster sugar

6 free range egg yolks

9 free range egg whites

A teaspoon of good instant coffee mixed with a teaspoon or so of water.

Place the chocolate and butter in a small Pyrex bowl that sits comfortably on top of a pan of simmering water and allow to melt. Meanwhile, beat the egg yolks with half of the sugar until the mixture lightens in colour and becomes creamy. Then whisk the eggs whites with the other half of the sugar until the mixture forms stiff peaks.

Add the whisked egg whites to the yolks along with the melted chocolate and butter mix as well as the coffee and combine with a whisk before covering the bowl with clingfilm and placing in the fridge to chill.

To serve, spoon the mousse into serving bowls or wine glasses and place a biscuit or two in with it.

February 2011

Irish Stew-style mutton

Irish Stew-style mutton

This week’s hearty one pot recipe requires very little effort. So it’s ideal for those with a hectic lifestyle but needs a little patience. Do use mutton if you can get it. It works with lamb but the flavour of mutton is better and the long slow cooking will definitely tenderise it.

It’s ideal for the cheaper cuts of meat such as neck, scrag end (which is essentially neck) or shoulder.

1kg Mutton shoulder, scrag end or neck

Some mutton bones – if available

One onion

Two sticks of celery

Three carrots

½ a swede

50g of butter.

Two potatoes

Sprig of Thyme

Two bay leaves

A bunch of curly parsley - chopped

Salt and freshly-ground black pepper.

First, simply place the mutton, along with any bones, into a large pan and cover with cold water. Bring to the boil, reduce to a simmer and allow to cook for two hours, skimming off any scum or fat that rises to the surface with a ladle or spoon.

Meanwhile, wash and peel all the vegetables and cut into 1cm dice. Pick the thyme leaves from the stalks.

After two hours simmering, the meat should be tender and starting to break down. Remove it from the liquid and cut into bite sized chunks. Then pour the stock through a fine sieve into another pan or large bowl. Place the original pan back on a medium heat, melt the butter in it and add the diced vegetables. Allow them to sweat for five or ten minutes, stirring occasionally to ensure they soften but don’t colour.

Add the reserved liquid along with the bay and thyme leaves and cook for a further 30 minutes. Taste, season with salt and pepper, add the mutton back to the pot and finish with a generous handful of chopped parsley.

February 2011

Squid, garlic and potato casserole

Squid, garlic and potato casserole

Today’s recipe contains squid which is regarded as a sustainable fish. Never mind if you’ve had poor, rubbery experiences of it before. The long slow cooking makes it a melt-in-the-mouth fish. Give this a go and be delighted.

Ask the fishmonger to prepare and clean the squid with the ink sac and other internal bits removed. Otherwise, prepared frozen squid makes a reasonable substitute.

While not absolutely essential, the addition of a little truffle oil at the end lifts the dish onto another plane and is well worth it if you can get some.

500g fresh or frozen squid

500g potatoes - peeled

One onion - peeled

One bulb of garlic - peeled

One glass of dry white wine

Two bay leaves

A sprig of fresh thyme

200ml double cream

A bunch of parsley - chopped

50g butter

Salt and freshly-ground black pepper

Truffle oil (optional)

Cut the squid into bite-sized pieces, including body and tentacles. Place the garlic and onion into a food processor and pulse until all finely chopped.

  

Place a saucepan over a gentle heat and melt the butter. Add the processed onion and garlic and gently cook for five minutes or so. Add the chopped squid and cook for a further five to ten minutes. Pour in the wine, turn up the heat a little and reduce it by half before adding the thyme, bay leaves and double cream. Reduce the heat again and simmer for around 30 minutes.

Cut the potatoes into two centimetre cubes and add to the pan, simmering for a further 30 to 40 minutes. If the cream appears to be getting a touch thick at any time, just add a little water.

  

At the end of this time, taste it. The squid should be very tender. Season as necessary with salt and ground white pepper. Just before serving, add a large bunch of chopped parsley and, if you have it, trickle a few drops of truffle oil around once you’ve spooned the casserole into the bowls. Lovely with some crusty bread.

March 2011