a little plate of haggis

Coming home

 

There's always a really good reason for doing it, sometimes it is with an unnecessary sadness attached, I wish it wasn't the case more often than not.

 

Haggis never really was something we grew up with, it wasn't an often sight or taste at mealtimes, and it honestly doesn't actually come across all that Scottish with me. It is utterly delicious though, and being fairly absent from my younger days, is now a bit of a treat now.

 

Try making a haggis just the once, and once only. All other times buy well and concentrate on making brilliant mashed potatoes and buttery, black pepper spiked neeps.

 

Haggis

 

1 sheep's stomach, thoroughly cleaned

The liver, heart, and lights (lungs) of the sheep

1 lb beef suet

2 large onions

2 tblsp salt

1 tsp freshly ground black pepper

1/2 tsp cayenne pepper

1/2 tsp allspice

2 lb dry oatmeal (the old-fashioned, slow-cooking kind)

2-3 cups broth (in which the liver, heart and lights were cooked)

 

You'll need a large spaghetti pot, 16 to 20 litre size with a lid to fit it; meat grinder; cheesecloth.

 

If the butcher has not already cut apart and trimmed the heart, liver and lungs, do that first.  It involves cutting the lungs off the windpipe, cutting the heart off the large blood vessels and cutting it open to rinse it, so that it can cook more quickly. The liver, too, has to be freed from the rest. Put them in a 4-quart pot with 2 to 3 cups water, bring to a boil, and simmer for about an hour and a half. Let it all cool, and keep the broth.

 

Run the liver and heart through the meat grinder. Take the lungs and cut out as much of the gristly part as you easily can, then run them through the grinder, too. Next, put the raw beef suet through the grinder. As you finish grinding each thing, put it in the big kettle. Peel, slice and chop the onions, then add them to the meat in the kettle. Add the salt and spices and mix.

 

The oatmeal comes next, and while it is customary to toast it or brown it very lightly in the oven or in a heavy bottomed pan on top of the stove, this is not absolutely necessary. When the oatmeal has been thoroughly mixed with the rest of it, add the 2 cups of the broth left from boiling the meat.

 

See if when you take a handful, it sticks together. If it does, do not add the third cup of broth. If it is still crumbly and will not hold together very well, add the rest of the broth and mix thoroughly. Have the stomach smooth side out and stuff it with the mixture, about three-quarters full. Sew up the openings. Wrap it in cheesecloth, so that when it is cooked you can handle it.

 

Now, wash out the kettle and bring about 2 gallons of water to a boil in it. Put in the haggis and prick it all over with a skewer so that it does not burst. You will want to do this a couple of times early in the cooking span. Boil the haggis gently for about 4 or 5 hours. If you did not have any cheesecloth for wrapping the haggis, you can use a large clean dishtowel. Work it under with kitchen spoons to make a sling with which you can lift out the haggis in one piece. You will probably want to wear lined rubber gloves to protect your hands from the hot water while you lift it out with the wet cloth. (You put the dish cloth in the pot only after the haggis is done; you do not cook the towel with the haggis as you would the cheesecloth.)

 

Note: Even if the butcher has cleaned the stomach, you will probably want to go over it again. Turn the stomach shaggy side out and rinse. Rub it in a sink full of cold water. Change the water and repeat as many times as necessary, until the water stays pretty clear and handling it does not produce much sediment as the water drains out of the sink.

 

four birthday cakes and great sushi in Istanbul; everything's possible

If you don't expect it, you won't be blown away buy it. If you're not going looking for it, you really can't predict how you'll react to it. Really really good ethnic foods can and do sometimes travel outside of their comfort zone, and if we then declare the food in question here is Japanese, then this makes a wee discovery like this all the more remarkable.

 

The very best sushi I've ever had was in a place called Midori at the back end of an obscure shopping mall in Shibuya, where absolutely everything eaten was total heaven. Their sea urchin I can still remember today. The massive queue for a table was testament alone, and the fact it was in a location easily forgotten meant the treck there my the masses of fans made perfect sense after only those first couple of morsels. I do get a kick out of being the only non local in places like that, and to stand out from the crowd simply because its a local sensation makes it all the better.

 

Fast forward a few years and I'm in Istanbul, a city of no limits, no fears and no decent drivers on the roads! The well worn one foot in Europe, one in Asia tag couldn't be more clear as the city is a heady mix of absolutely everything international that you could imagine. And the passion...oh boy, now there goes a city leaking the stuff all over the place. They love their families, their fanatism for their football is like few other places on earth (and that is Glasgow included) tea is drunk like it's about to be wiped from the face of the earth (the very best is likened to the colour of rabbit's blood, but that's another story), and they drive their cars like they are all in indestructable bulletproof missiles. Oh yes, and they love their food. The very social aspect of it in particular. It is all very animated, social, loud and utterly energetic.

I'm actually writing this in Bangkok on my way back to Hong Kong, but my departure meal last night before I headed to the airport was a proper full on double header of tripe. A soup which was slightly milky and loaded with strips of tripe and some other bits of indsides, albeit a bit bland until it was then loaded with a ton of minced garlic and a sharp chilli sauce clearly meant to bring tears to the eyes. Follow that up with a brilliantly unexpected  tripe sandwich. You know the ones where you're not even half way through it when you want to order another two just incase they sell out. Think strips of stomach lining rolled up into logs about the size of a good fillet of beef and spit roasted over open coals until its charred and sticky. Sliced, chopped and re-fried on a griddle with chilli, peppers, onions and loads of local herbs. Stuff all that fatty crunchy spicy wonderment into a bread roll both crispy on the outside and chewy within and we're sorted for some time to come. Unbelievably good, and I'd go back to Turkey for this alone.

 

Anyway, the Japanese food. If you ever happen to be in Istanbul and in search of really really good sushi, I'd seriously reccommend tracking down Itsumi at İşkuleleri Kule 2 Giriş Katı No:43 4.Levent. In my humble opinion, this was the best all round Japanese food that I've eaten since Tokyo.

 

With Itsumi they seem to really know what they are doing, they keep the product true and un-fussed while concentrating on ensuring true flavours, textures and temperatures are at the forefront of everything they do.

 

The Miso soup was delightful. Nothing more than was needed, although personally I like a little red miso paste and maybe a bit more tofu in mine. The Unagi and Horse Mackerel were superb, texture wise was as good as it gets, and the subtlety of seasoning very good indeed. The sauce with the Unagi was just right for me.

 

Tepmerature of all pieces on the sashimi plate were perfect. The Otoro (I think it was Otoro due to the incredible fat content and as such being served so much colder, and it was incredible) the Scallop and the Uni in particular were very good, and the temperature of their rice was perfect, seasoning very very good and the quantity of wasabi on their Nigiri was superb. The Toro alone was one of the best single things I’d eaten all week until I discovered the tripe roll!

 

The birthday cake too was absolutely perfect, and as it was one of four I was incredibly lucky to have, I could afford to be choosy... If Istanbul is a bit of a hike for something Japanese, a comfortable miso soup might still hit the spot wherever you are.

 

Miso soup for a quiet moment of reflection

 

Enough for 4

4 cups water
1 1/2 teaspoons dashi granules
1/2 cup red miso paste
1 tablespoon dried seaweed (for miso soup), soaked in water
1/2 cup cubed tofu
2 tablespoons chopped green onion

 

Pour the water into a pot and bring to a boil. Add the instant dashi and whisk to dissolve. Turn the heat to medium-low and add the tofu. Drain the seaweed and add the seaweed to the pot. Simmer for 2 minutes.

 

In the meatime, Spoon the miso paste into a bowl. Ladle about 1/2 cup of the hot dashi broth into a bowl and whisk with chopsticks or a whisk to mix and melt the miso paste so that it becomes a smooth mixture.

 

Turn the heat off, add the miso paste to the pot and stir well. Top with green onions and serve immediately.

 

hiking in the shadows of awesomeness

If you know Hong Kong, you'll highly likely to know of the MacLehose Trail in the New Terretories. If you know the MacLehose, you're for sure going to know that stages 4 and 5 on a hot day can break you like a cheap toothpick if you're not ready and prepared.

Starting at Kei Ling Ha to Tai Lo Shan and ending up on Tai Po Road after give or take 23k of some tough climbs and unforgiving descents, days out like these are what makes living in the metropolis that HK is something to utterly respect and appreciate. 

In the same way, whether you know of a fairly straightforward looking Cha Chaan Teng at the top of Nathan Road that's pretty famous for their egg tarts, but also do killer fried noodles and Ho Fun after a six and a half hour trek through the toughest hills is there for you to discover if not. Well done you if you know where I'm talking about, quite brilliant isn't it?

No pain, no gain is what they say, but I guess I'm one of the lucky ones where the hike is what it's all about on the weekend. A fast and hostile plate of noodles with an iced lemon tea served with all the grace and style you need not to distract from what is actually a really very good offering. The challenge, the escape, the wonderment of how you can be at the foot of an incredible little mountain already stretched up and ready to attack just 45 minutes after getting on the train at the bottom of another impressive climb, The Bank of China building in Central.

The opposite end of the day, we jumped in a taxi at the end of Stage 5 on the Tai Po Road with a couple of grazing monkeys giving us the look of 'you're doing all this climbing stuff wrong getting all sweaty and the like' and literally 10 minutes later back in the hustle of Kowloon and settling into that noodle reward.

Simply because a great bowl of noodles can be had here for a small fistful of dollars, what's the point of cooking at home I hear myself ask. Let's just say that there's always a time and a place.

Fried Nathan Road noodles

Serves 2

About 100g dried egg noodles

100g bean shoots

Half a handful of chopped chives

A splash of oil, pinch of salt

1 tsp toasted sesame seeds

For the sauce

1 tsp each light soy, dark soy, oyster sauces

Pinch of salt, same of sugar and 1/2 tsp sesame oil

Cook and loosen the dried noodles in a pot of boiling water until just cooked and when done, immediately drain noodles in a colander and run them under cold water. Drain and dry off any excess water

Wash the bean sprouts and mix together the ingredients for the sauce, set aside.

Heat half tablespoon of oil in wok over a medium heat, toss in the bean sprouts. Quickly turn and stir, and add the noodles and the chives. Season with the salt  and then remove to a small bowl.

Add one more tablespoon of oil to the wok and turn the heat up high, toss in noodles. Stir them constantly to minimize their lumping together or sticking. Swirl in sauce, and stir well with noodles. Then, return bean sprouts and chives, turn over a few more times and remove. Serve up, sprinkle sesame seeds on top and any other chilli sauce you might want to add for an extra oomph.

eating salad with chopsticks

Isn't as difficult as all that. It is though the last few flakes of fish in the bottom of the bowl that will continue to sharpen my dexterity and keep arthritis in my chopstick fingers at bay.

 

In a salad where cold noodles appear, in my opinion, the noodles themselves need to be served really cold, and not at room temperature. Fatty fish on the other hand, is better served tepid than chilled from the fridge. This splendid pairing meet here in this salad, a good contrast to one another. I've used chives as the main seasoning here, but I sometimes add coriander leaves too, a good handful of them, roughly chopped and thrown in at the end. Great picnic fodder this, by the way, especially packed into takeaway containers.

Cold salmon noodle salad

Serves 2

125g rice noodles
2 pieces of salmon fillet approximately 200g each
Groundnut oil
3 tblsp soy and oyster sauce mixed
1 tsp caster sugar
3 limes
1 or 2 bird's eye chilli
A handful of chives, chopped
A handful coriander leaves
2 tblsp toasted sesame seeds

Bring a deep pan of water to the boil. Slide in the noodles, turn off the heat and leave for four minutes. Drain and tip into a bowl. Mix the nam pla and sugar with the juice of two of the limes in a small bowl.

Chop the chilli finely, removing the seeds if you wish (leaving them in will make it hotter) and add it to the dressing with most of the finely chopped chives (and coriander) leaves. Save a few for serving. Toss the dressing with the noodles and leave to cool. Refrigerate for at least an hour so that the noodles are well chilled.

Place the salmon in a grill pan. Rub with a little oil, season with salt and black pepper and squeeze over the remaining lime. Grill for 10 to 12 minutes or so, till the flesh is opaque and the flakes of fish can be pulled easily apart. Leave to cool to room temperature.

Divide the noodles between two plates, then break the fish into broad chunks and scatter with the toasted sesame seeds and remaining herbs.

Eat with chopsticks, naturally...

 

noodles rock

Is it this easy to be be back so quickly and so comfortably? Seriously don't bother with this recipe if you can get a piping hot bowl of noodles in soup locally, if you can't then all I can do is apologise. Food like this is what makes us

 

King prawn and scallop wonton soup

 

Serves 4

 

8 dried whole shiitake mushrooms

750ml just boiled water

2 tblsp ground nut oil

4 raw, large unpeeled king prawns

Small knob galangal or fresh root ginger, peeled and sliced

2 lemongrass stalks, bruised and cut into 5cm slices

4 kaffir lime leaves

2 banana shallots, peeled and sliced

1 red bird’s eye chilli, deseeded and sliced

2 garlic cloves peeled and sliced

Small handful fresh coriander roots, roughly chopped

500ml good vegetable or fresh chicken stock

50g glass noodles (mung bean vermicelli)

1-2 tsp nam pla (Thai fish sauce), to taste

2 small pak choi, trimmed, washed and leaves separated

Salt and ground white pepper

Fresh coriander leaves, to garnish

Wedges of fresh lime, to serve

 

For the wontons

2 fresh king scallops, shelled, washed, coral discarded and flesh finely diced

4 canned water chestnuts, drained, rinsed and finely diced

1 spring onion, trimmed and finely chopped

¼ tsp of tamari soy sauce

¼ tsp toasted sesame oil

2 tsp finely chopped fresh coriander

8 wonton wrappers, thawed if frozen

Salt and ground white pepper, to taste

A little lightly beaten egg white, to seal the wontons

 

Place the mushrooms in a large bowl and pour over the just-boiled water. Set aside for 30 minutes. Peel the prawns, leaving the tip of the tail intact, and remove the dark vein. Cut into large pieces or leave whole. Put the prawns in a bowl, cover and chill until required. Place the heads and shells in a large saucepan.

 

Pour the oil over and cook gently for 3-4 minutes until golden brown, stirring constantly. Do not allow to burn. Next, add the galangal, lemongrass, lime leaves, shallots and chilli. Cook with the prawn shells for 2-3 minutes over a medium heat before adding the garlic and coriander roots. Cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly.

 

Drain the soaked mushrooms in a sieve and add the liquid to the pan with the peeled prawns. Stir in the vegetable or chicken stock and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat slightly and simmer for 15 minutes to release all the flavours. Put the noodles in a bowl and cover with just-boiled water. Leave for 5 minutes, then drain and refresh in cold water. Drain once more. Slice the soaked shiitake mushrooms thickly, discarding any tough stalks.

 

To prepare the wontons, combine the scallops, chestnuts, spring onion, soy sauce, sesame oil, coriander and seasoning. Place a little of the mixture in the centre of one of the wonton wrappers and brush the edges with egg white. Bring the edges up together and pinch to seal. Put on a plate, cover with a clean, damp cloth and set aside. Continue making the wontons until all the mixture is used.

 

When the soup base is ready, strain through a fine sieve into a clean pan and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat slightly. Add nam pla and seasoning to taste. Stir in the shiitake mushrooms and cook for 2-3 minutes until tender. Next, add the pak choi, reserved noodles and prawns.

 

Carefully drop the wontons into the soup using a slotted spoon. Simmer together for about 3 minutes until the prawns are pink and cooked through and the wontons are tender and float to the surface. Ladle into four warmed bowls. Garnish with plenty of fresh coriander leaves and serve with wedges of lime for squeezing

barbecued corn, and more of that beef

Incredible. Remarkable. Outstanding.

This wonderful North Devon beef just keeps getting better, and for a weekday treat, a fillet steak given some simple seasoning and a hard pan fry is all that's needed. If anyone wants some of this incredible meat, give Siana Yewdall a call on +447817 395924 to place an order for one of her brilliant beef boxes.

With a steak of this quality, a slightly fancier something on the side is always worth the effort when the main part needs no help to be splendid. So enter some spunky barbecued corn.

Barbecued sweetcorn with lime, chilli and parmesan butter

Serves 4

This recipe is a regular barbecue number at home, incredibly simple to prepare, and fun to eat.

4 whole corn cobs, in their husks

100g unsalted butter, softened
100g parmesan cheese, freshly grated
finely grated zest of 2 large limes
1-2 bird's-eye chillies, seeded and finely chopped
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 lime, quartered

Place the corn cobs on a preheated hot grill and cook until golden brown, about 15 minutes, turning often.

Peel off the husks when cool enough to handle. While the corn is cooking, combine the butter, parmesan, zest and chilli, and beat until smooth.

Season with salt and pepper and smear each cob with the butter and serve with a wedge of lime, a crispy jacket potato and an outstanding piece of beef fillet.

A proper treat indeed.

some of the best beef I've ever had

North Devon has always been a place in between with me. Somewhere you pass on through on the way to what I used to think was all the South West had to offer in the way of Cornwall, but I'm dead happy to be labelled a convert in more areas that I'd planned for. Truly brilliant people, quite beautiful places and their beef when it is correctly reared and handled is something utterly incredible.

You know when you've stumbled upon something a little bit special, it clicks effortlessly, feels instantly right and just seems to linger for ever. With proper beef, there constantly seems to be a search and demand for the next best thing; creamy fat, rich colouring, consistent marbling, depth of flavour - and on we could go... So when you find it, you need to do something decent with it.

Now, a steak is a wonderous thing, and I may have waxed on and on many times before of my love for just an unfussed and barely cooked slab of meat. I do more often than not need coaxing away from a primal cut, but the honesty of a harder working piece of the beast cooked slowly and lovingly never disappoints, it really is always worth the effort, and I sometimes kick myself for not doing it more often. Anyway, like all things quite brilliant, this beef has a source, and you can find it all from the amazing Yewdall family at West Webbery farm near Bideford. You can get a hold of Jonnie and Siana with their contact details here and ask them about their beef boxes.

An honest to goodness beef stew

Makes enough for 6-8, with enough  left over for a splendid lunch tomorrow

1.2kg shin of beef
A decent bottle of red wine

50g flour and 50g mustard powder, seasoned with salt and pepper

Beef dripping, or oil

4 onions, sliced

500ml beef stock

50ml each of Worcestershire sauce, HP sauce and tomato puree

1 bay leaf

3 sprigs of thyme

8 big flat mushrooms

4 carrots, peeled and cut into chunky slices

4 small turnips, peeled and cut into chunks

Trim the beef of its main sinews and cut into large chunks. steep in the red wine for a few hours, then drain and reserve the wine. Toss the meat with the seasoned flour and mustard powder to coat. Heat a heavy-bottomed casserole on a medium flame and add a knob of dripping or a couple of tablespoons of oil. Brown the meat in batches, adding more fat if necessary – be careful not to overcrowd the pan, or it will boil – then transfer to an overproof pot with a tight fitting lid.

Once all the meat is browned, cook the onions until soft and slightly browned. Add them to the beef and then pour in the wine to deglaze. Add the wine, the stock, the herbs and the sauces. Bring to a simmer, then cover and pop into an oven at 140c for at least three hours.

Add the carrots and turnips, and simmer for about another hour, until the meat is tender enough to cut with a spoon. Leave to cool, overnight if possible, and then bring back to a simmer, adjusting the seasoning and finishing with freshly chopped parsley, mashed potatoes and some beans from the garden - a triumph with a story.