Pot-Roast Partridge

I have to acknowledge having, these last few days, fed friends on the likes of Steak Tartare and Chips, dishes that are utterly inconsistent with the rustic glow I aim to emanate here.  Admittedly the Tartare was made of the finest of Norfolk cows, adorned with the yellow Yolks of my mother’s hens’ eggs, Nasturtium Capers and Lacto-Fermented Cucumber, the Chips cooked over gas by starlight in the garden.

The Tartare… preceded by raw Jerusalem Artichoke and Fennel salad, preceding Pear Cake made with the beautiful sweet Josephine pears that are best stored till now, and eaten peeled, running with sweet juices… The Tartare therefore, photogenic though it was, was not photographed.

A Pot-Roast Partridge

More in line with the wholesome theme of this blog however were last week’s Pot-Roast Partridges.  Envisage the artful cooking of the meat as in a roast, the vegetables meanwhile cooking slow in the bird’s juices, all in one pot, for a couple of hours, till the meat is falling, melting in the vegetables, the vegetables are tender but not falling apart… This is the simplest and quite my favourite way of cooking game.  (That is besides enrobing it in Cabbage as in this Rabbit and this Partridge.)

A brace of Partridge, kindly given.  Hung four days.  Plucked, Gutted.  Necks and hearts reserved for stock.  Partridge sealed in butter, stuffed with Butter, Onion, Carrots, Bay Leaves.  Swede, Celariac, Potatoes, Carrots chopped into chunks.  The Partridge lain on these in a big pot.  The mere addition of a knob of Butter, Salt, Black Pepper, an inch of water, some Herbs.   This is brought to the boil on the hob them put into the oven, with a lid on, to cook at about 150-180C for two hours.  The birds tender, the vegetables slow-cooked and rife with flavour…  Eat with the juices, a teaspoonful of jelly, and that’s all.

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Save the carcass for stock.  Add to this vegetable peelings, the reserved necks and hearts of the birds.   Simmer covered in water overnight and use the liquid for the base of winter soups.

Winter Feasting (iii) A Feast Indeed! or How to eat Terrine: with lashings of Bread & Butter, Pickles, the like...

Besides the Terrines, how to satiate the stomachs of twenty-odd banqueters?

Game Terrine

The stoic winter staples: Puy Lentils, Cabbage and Bread.  These, and piles of Pickles and Jellies from the shed.  This finished with Baked Apples, and a variety of alcoholic fruit, again to be found in the shed-cum-pantry.  A moment to rejoice in that Summer-Autumn of perpetual preserving!

Redcurrant Jelly and Pickled Crabapples

Before dining: long milling over Mulled Cider.  The Cider, a dream, made by a friend and sweetened slightly in its flagon with the addition of Honey.  It was mulled with Quince, Allspice, Cinnamon, Cloves, Lemons.

The Lentils I failed, once again, to photograph in their steaming glory.  Simply: cooked the night before with Onions softened in Butter, Garlic Cloves in their skins, Thyme, Bay Leaves, Juniper and Water, flavoured nearing the end with Balsamic Vinegar, Red Wine, some Apple/Rosemary Jelly, a touch of Soy Sauce, Salt and Pepper.  They sat luxuriating in their sauce for a day, and were then heated up.

Sliced Terrine and Cabbage

The Cabbage was cooked in batches on the day, first with onions in Olive Oil, then slowly in a light, homemade Cider Vinegar, and masses of Caraway.  Reheated at the last minute, laid on Cabbage leaves and topped with roast Pumpkin Seeds.

An enormous Pumpkin

The enormous Pumpkin, was chopped into big beautiful chunks, and doused in a Marinade of Olive Oil, Chilli, Demarara Sugar (for lack of Maple Syrup), and a touch of Balsamic and Soy Sauce, and French coarse Sea Salt.  After about an hour of marinating it was roasted at high heat in the oven, and served hot.  The idea for the recipe (minus Soy and Balsamic) came from a fortnight spent in November back ‘midst the gales on Clare Island, a recipe for Pumpkin Crisps made with Uchiki Kuri.  I shall tell about the fortnight anon.

...chopped in big, beautiful chunks, sat in marinade

The Bread, all five loaves, were cooked as per the previous recipe.

Bread

Great sloshing bowls of Pickled Apples, Pickled Crabapples, Bar-Le-Duc Redcurrant Jelly and Rosemary Jelly were lain between bowls full of Butter.

Apples baked in Gin-soaked Bullace

Following on from that Baked Apples, stuffed with Figs (Norfolk Figs – oven dried) and Sultanas soaked in Quince Brandy.  Cooked in a bed of Gin-soaked Bullace, these the remnants from the Bullace Gin.  With those, to feed the multitude, Potted Brandy Figs, and a selection of post-Christmas chocolates of all varieties, Satsumas, and bowls of Hazelnuts and Walnuts (again from local gardens).

Potted Brandy Figs

Oh ‘twas a feast indeed…

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...breakfasting on leftovers

Winter Feasting (ii) - Venison and Game Terrines

In a moment of over-zealous Christmas jollity, a last-minute festive feast was planned, friends were invited, crockery searched out, rugs shook, candles borrowed, firewood cut, a Christmas Tree erected.  Long debates necessarily ensued over the menu, how to seat and feed such numbers, more to the point, on what… So it was that we settled on a variety of cold Terrines, and on Boxing Day, while others slept off their Christmas indulgence, banqueted languorously on cold cuts, on Tongue and the previous day’s Plum Pudding, or set themselves up for a serious bout of telly-watching, we mopped our brows and set to concocting Terrines.

Now, it has to be said that a Terrine, like a Chutney, improves with age.  If covered with Goose fat, or clarified butter, it can happily last a week, longer even.  Time however, had pressed us to last minute structuring, and I have to say these seemed none the worse off for having sat a mere twenty-four hours.  Both of us claiming to be experts, and each distrusting the other’s method, cookery books – Elizabeth David, Constance Spry, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall – were heavily consulted.  Eventually we took ideas from all, a hefty pinch of common sense, of foody inspiration and adoration… and the recipe that follows is what we came up with.

Before I begin however, two things:  Firstly, a Terrine is simply a Pâté, made in a terrine dish.  Once you have the method you can adulterate it as you wish, adding and removing ingredients according to preference or what is available.  That said, I have known a Terrine to fall apart, so I do suggest having at least equal quantities of farce to chopped meat.  Secondly, in a burst of immodesty, I have to say these were the best Terrines I have ever eaten, not only did they look sublime, but the flavourings, the texture, the moistness, all combined to make them taste utterly heavenly, and quite worthy of French charcuterie…  Whether this is repeatable simply by following a recipe, I don’t know – but do have a go, and do let me know.

The following should fill three two pint Terrine dishes.

For the Farce:

2lb Sausage Meat

½ lb Pheasant Livers

8 Chestnuts

6 Dried Figs

6 Dried Apricots

Sage

Rosemary

Thyme

15 Juniper Berries

2 Blades Mace

1 Egg

1 tea-cup White Wine

Black Pepper

Chop the Pheasant Livers; Roast the Chestnuts; 

Soak the chopped Figs and Apricots

The Farce is literally the stuffing, it holds the Terrine together.  To make it, first chop the Pheasant (or Chicken) Livers very small, keeping any blood; Roast the Chestnuts and peel them, breaking them into small bits; Soak the chopped Figs and Apricots in hot water; Crush the herbs and spices (to taste).  Then mix all ingredients, including the blood from the Pheasant Livers.  Season with Black Pepper.  If you find you want to further moisten the mixture, you can use the water the fruit soaked in.  If you want to dry it or bulk it out, use stale Breadcrumbs or Oatmeal.

Crush the herbs and spices

For one Venison Terrine, one Pheasant Terrine, one Venison and Pheasant Terrine:

1 ½  lb Pheasant meat

1 ½   lb Venison

21b streaky Bacon

Bay Leaves

Thus using about 1lb of meat in each Terrine.  The meat should be in pieces, but chopped thinly so it can be lain in layers through the Terrine.  Stretch the Bacon on a chopping board using the back of a knife.  Any Bacon Fat or bits that break off can be added to the Farce.  Line Terrine dishes, or Loaf Tins with the Bacon, leaving enough so it can fold over the top and wrap around the whole Terrine.  You can place Bay Leaves or other Herbs in the base, these will produce a pattern when the Terrine is turned out.

Line Terrine dishes with Bacon

Now layer Farce, followed by meat in thin layers, to fill the Terrine.  Aim to commence and finish with Farce, so that the Terrine holds together.  In the Venison Terrine I added a layer of Bar-Le-Duc Redcurrant Jelly, made this Summer, after the Meat, this added a tart sweetness to the Terrine.  

Finally the Bacon is wrapped around, tucked in and the Terrines are covered and cooked for 1 ½ to 2 hours in a Bain-Marie at 160-180C until firm, shrunken from the sides, the juices running clear when a knife is stuck in.

Any juices will eventually form a jelly when the Terrine cools.  If you are fortunate this might even enrobe the sides and top of the Terrine when turned out and provide a delicious glaze – ours slipped off.  The Terrines are then left, pressed under a weight to finalise the togetherness of the Terrine and to create a flat base for when they are turned out.   Leave for up to three days, or, if longer cover with a fat, or freeze. Turn them out prior to serving using a butter knife to slip around the edges.

When sliced, all the layers of meat and farce, as well as the fruits and nuts become apparent:

...to follow: the entire feast.  

Winter Feasting - Partridge; Beef Stouties; Celeriac Gratin; Woodcock on Toast

I haven’t blogged this last month, but I have certainly been eating.  Winter staples, repeated ad infinitum, which we fail to bore of, and so banal I haven’t photographed them are:  Puy Lentils, seasoned with Herbs, Garlic, a dash of Balsamic, of Soy Sauce, of Red Wine, sometimes Bacon... and Cabbage, cooked long and slow in home-made Apple Cider Vinegar, with Carrots or Onions, Beetroot or Marrow, Caraway or Sage, whatever comes to hand.  These bring repeated joy and are quite my favourite foods of a frugal winter, nourishing and full of simple vitamins, piping hot coursing right to the soul…

There have however been occasions of more flamboyant feasting, and, while I failed to note down the exact recipes, I have some photos, and share them here:

Perdriz aux Choux - Patridge cooked in Cabbage

The Partridge a gift, the recipe was taken directly from Elizabeth David's French Country Cooking.  It is the same recipe I used for the Rabbit in October, and you can find it here.  The only adulterations were the additions of Russet Apples and Jerusalem Artichokes to Mrs David's recipe, to not use Sugar, and to cook it in Apple Cider Vinegar.

Beef Stouties with Flageolet Beans

These come from Charcutier Jules of De-Lish.  The Stouties I believe are Beef and Horseradish Sausages soaked in Stout - he'll no doubt correct me.  I cooked them in Onions and a can of Bitter, added the liquid to some Flageolet Beans (cooked previously with herbs), then plunged the whole lot together and baked it in the oven.  This was eaten with Jerusalem Artichoke and Potato Mash and slow-cooked sweet vinegary Cabbage.

Celeriac and Marrow Gratin

This recipe is originally, I hear, a Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall creation.  I picked it up on Clare Island, and added the Marrow to fill the pot.  Steam thinly sliced Celeriac and fry off peeled half moons of Marrow.  Layer the lot with Olive Oil, Creme Fraiche, Yogurt, Garlic, Chilli, Salt and Pepper in an ovenproof dish.  Cover and cook slowly for about forty minutes. At the last minute top with Curd or similar Fresh Cheese and place under the grill.

This is very rich and doesn't really need an accompaniment - some bread perhaps to mop it up, or a bowl of rice.

Woodcock on Toast with Pickled Crabapples

Le Piece de Resistance - I have always thought Woodcock on Toast quite the sexiest rustic dish, though, need I say, it is utterly inappropriate for the squeamish.  The bird is cooked with all its innards minus the gizzard (remove using your little finger once plucked), its beak spiked through the body, holding the legs together and a piece of bacon over the breast.  A mere eight to twenty minutes, if that, then the Bacon is removed, the guts scraped out, fried with the chopped Bacon, Butter and Port, Salt and Pepper, then spread on toast.  The Woodcock is sat beside, on a separate piece of Toast.

The whole bird is eaten and the ritual approaches that of the Ortolan Bunting.  It is an utter dream, the flavours are rich, indeed, exquisite.   Despite being miniscule, the dish is very filling, often served as  a starter I would suggest this as a main, perhaps with something sharp and light aterwards to cut through the heavenly richness.  Serve with a deep peppery and robust Red Wine.  Here we ate it with the Pickled Crabapples, which stood up superbly and smartly complemented the rich flavours of the bird.

Mutton and Quince Tagine

Partly inspired, I have to admit, by Hugh FW’s Lamb and Quince Salad, which featured in The Guardian a fortnight ago, I endeavoured last week to concoct a Mutton and Quince Tajine.

It was a feast of medieval charm.  The meat falling off the shoulder of Mutton, the Quince a fragrant, if slightly tart companion to the meat.  Spicing the dish Morroccan style gave it an edge, cutting through ingredients that might otherwise have verged on stodgy.

The recipe I concocted was as follows:

Marinade

Toast 1 tbsp Cumin Seed, 1 tbsp Coriander Seed, crush.  Chop 2 Chillis.  Slice 1 Lemon.  Crush and peel 1 head of Garlic with the back of a knife.  Mix the lot in Olive Oil, adding a sprinkle of Salt, lots of Black Pepper, 1 tsp Paprika.  Rub into the shoulder of Mutton and leave to marinade for two to three hours.

Mutton in Marinade

Meanwhile cut 1 large Quince into 8 slices.  Poach very gently in water with a sprig of Rosemary, 2 tbsp of Honey for about 20 minutes.  (Normally I wouldn’t cook the veg prior to placing it in the Tagine, but Quince being such a stubborn fruit, I decided to do so.)  Remove Quince, saving liquid and mix it into Marinade with Mutton.

While these are marinating prepare the Bread Dough

I use a Nigella recipe, which I adapt only slightly.  500g White Flour (mixture Strong White and French) sprinkled with 1tsp Yeast.  Mix.  Mix 2 tbsp Yogurt with 2 tbsp Olive Oil and add a touch of warm water.  Add this to Flour mix, adding more warm water, stirring with a wooden spoon into a dough.  Knead gently.  Leave ten minutes.  Knead again.  Rise in a warm place covered in a plastic bag.

Tagine

A couple of hours before eating layer 1 large Onion, or in my case several Torpedo Shallots, in the bottom of the Tagine.  Follow this with some large slices of Pumpkin.  Seal the shoulder of Mutton.  If your Tagine is not large enough cut part of the meat off to bake separately.   Place the Quince and Mutton in the Tagine with a handful of Olives and Chillies.  Pour on the remainder of the Marinade and bring to heat.  Once the Tagine is hot, pour on the liquid saved from the Quince, adding more water if necessary to bring to reach the edges of the Tagine base.   Lid, bring to the boil, then simmer very slowly for one to two hours.

Bread

The bread should be punched down, salted one hour before eating.  It is stretched on an oiled baking tray in a warm place to prove for twenty minutes.  Then cooked at heat for 20-40 minutes until browning and bubbling.  Wrap in a tea-towel when removing from the oven to keep the crust soft.

Mutton and Quince Tagine for dinner

Serve the Tagine with Bread, a simple Cucumber Yogurt.  If necessary pour off some of the juice from the Tagine at the last minute and reduce with Rosemary to make a jus.  Serve baking hot, don’t be afraid to eat with the hands, and extra Harissa.

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The Following day

A Mutton and Chilli Sandwich in Flatbread, leftovers were packed up for lunch-break working at the bookshop.

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For other Quince Recipes, see my Pheasant Roast with Autumn Fruits and my Quince Brandy.  For another Tagine see:  Lamb and Fig Tagine. 

Got a Rabbit ... Lapin aux choux

Joy that is the coming of winter, lengthy, frosty nights spent hunkered down by the fire.  Autumn, ‘midst forays for wood, mulching of the garden or hanging heavy curtains has obliged late night fireside feasts…and this weekend it was themed: Rabbit.

For a mere fistful of coins, P & S Butchers in Holt – one reputed for its panoply of wild bird and beast – handed over a large Wild Rabbit, skinned, gutted and jointed and with that a slip of Pork Belly…

Unsure of how then to cook the creature, Amelia pronouncing Rabbit Satay to be quite the best manner in which to eat a rabbit, I shied once again from the fusional towards the provincial. Keen to use Cabbage and in my thoughts the eternal Pot au Feu, staple of the French home, I came across a recipe for Partridge in Elizabeth David’s French Country Cooking: Perdrix au choux, which proved the source of inspiration.

The recipe reads thus:

Brown the birds in Bacon fat; blanch the cabbages in boiling water for 7 or 8 minutes; drain them carefully, cut out the stalks and the hard inner part.  Cut the cabbages in fine slices and put a layer at the bottom of a large earthenwear pot; on top put the bacon, cut in large slices, the carrots, the sausages and the partridges; season with salt, pepper, a few juniper berries, 2 or 3 cloves of garlic, 2 lumps of sugar, nutmeg and a little grated lemon peel.

Cover with the rest of the cabbage, moisten with stock to half way up the cabbage, cover the casserole and cook in a very slow oven for 4 or 5 hours.

Cabbage layer topped with veg, bacon etc

My rabbit variation went thus:

Briefly sauté chunks of Pork Belly with Shallots in pan.  Remove.  Deglaze with Red Wine.  Brown rabbit.  Remove.  Sauté slices of Apple, Sage Leaves and whole cloves of Garlic in same pan, adding butter.  Meanwhile blanch Cabbage, retaining water, and chop as above.  Layer half the Cabbage in bottom of coverable oven dish.  Then layer on Pork, Shallots, Apples, Sage, Garlic, Rosemary, Thyme ,half Carrots, followed by Rabbit. Cover the lot with remaining Cabbage.  Mix 50ml Balsamic Vinegar, 50ml Cider Vinegar, 50ml Apple Juice/Cider, 50ml Red Wine, Pour over dish, topping to half way with Cabbage Water, season with Black Pepper.

Cook covered at 150C for about 3 hours, topping up with liquid and basting as necessary.

...and browned Rabbit

...finally, smothered with cabbage.

The ultimate in rustic fireside feasting, a near emulation of Russian peasantdom in its quintessential rurality.  Served as it was with a touch of Wholegrain Mustard, the Rabbit was delicious, if a touch dry, the vegetables a dream.   Perhaps placing the Rabbit lower in the pan, stacking it more and even stuffing the Saddle with fruit and veg that it remain moist, or as it is again a lean meat, enrobing it in Bacon as we did the Pheasant, would keep it tender.  On Sunday we cooked it for a further two hours, by which time the vegetables were of a sweetness near’ caramel, the rabbit meat falling from the bones, served with baked potatoes and a jus made of the Rabbit juices, Rosemary, Garlic, Red Wine…

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The following day:
Luncheon of Pasta and Rabbit - serve, terribly continental, with the jus, the remaining veg and rabbit on a bowl of  hot pasta.

A Pheasant - Roadkill roast wi' Autumn Fruits

The roads again amok with Pheasants and the like, driving in the country at this time of year is akin to running the gauntlet, obliging severe and intrepid manoeuvring to avoid the creatures.  Last week however, I hit one.  And, as etiquette prevails, fast wrung its neck.  Unwilling to not eat a bird I had unwittingly killed, I took it home.

Sometime, and yet I haven’t the courage this morning, I shall write a treatise detailing my views on wild and reared meat… Here instead, let me simply say, I had never before eaten roadkill pheasant. 

I hung the hen pheasant in the shed for three days.  On Sunday, returned to the cottage and, as dark fell, put a pot of Lentils on the stove, plucked the bird.  I was lucky to have hit it in the neck/head region as the body was undamaged, the bird clean.

Plucking a Pheasant

On Preparing a Pheasant:

Remove all the feathers, pulling in the direction they grow so as not to tear the skin.  Then take off the Feet and the Head, discard, leaving the Neck intact.  Next remove as much length as possible of the Neck – this is a tasty piece of meat ideal for a stock, a stew or soup.  The Crop where the Pheasant momentarily holds its food (often corn) can be slipped out, the Windpipe likewise extracted from the neck end of the Pheasant.  Any yellow lumps of gathered fat should also be removed as these are not pleasant to eat.  The base of the Pheasant is then slit open.  Plunge a hand in and drag out the insides, of this the edible parts are: the Heart, the Liver, the outer layer of the Gizzard. The Gizzard is a delicious Muscle, which to be eaten has to be peeled off the inner part of the muscle where food is ground.   On one occasion, having gutted and spatchcocked a dozen Pheasant for a New Year’s party, I gathered all the Gizzards and prepared them in a Goose Fat Confit as the French might Gésiers de Canard.  These would then be served hot on Salad leaves with Croutes and Goat’s Cheese for a Provençal feel.

Prepared, the Pheasant was stuffed with chopped Apples, Onion, and Quince.  A knob of Butter, some Garlic Cloves, a bunch of Thyme.  Pheasant is a lean meat with very little of its own protective/ cooking fat, so it was covered in Bacon.  A sudden moment of inspiration led us to fill the tray with chunks of Pumpkin, Swede, Marrow, Parsnip, and more Fruit.  The lot was doused in Apple Juice, more Butter, Salt and Pepper and loads of Rosemary.  Put in the oven about 200C for roughly 30 mins, then 150C for 20 or so until cooked. Rested for ten before serving.

Despite the chaotic end to its life, the bird was beautifully tender, no doubt the Fruit and layers of Bacon kept it thus.  Served on a bed of Puy Lentils with the apple-juice-roasted fruits and veg, the meal was a joy, part medieval banquet part reminiscent of the provincial food of French Wayside Inns.

Pickled Crab Apples - a flamboyant addition to the winter table

Fed up of endless yearly Jelly-Making…Indeed, does it not seem a pity to see the fruits thrown, only the liquid kept, not to mention the vast amounts of sugar demanded?  I was delighted to come across a recipe for pickling Crab Apples.  The idea came from quite one of my favourite forage books: Suzanne Beedell’s Pick Cook and Brew… I picked it up second-hand on the Charing Cross Road years ago, the name alone won me over, and at the time I thought it a gift suited to my father.  It has since been relinquished, and found a home in the cottage here as if meant to be. It's particularly appropriate, as the forager herself lived in North Norfolk - what she found in the seventies can likely still be found locally today.

So, amidst recipes and illustrations for Crab Apple Pudding, Crab Apple Wine…there I read: Crab Apple Pickle.  An incorrigible pickler, this could not fail to whet the appetite.

I altered her recipe to suit me, and pickled as follows:

Heat 750ml Cider Vinegar, 250ml Apple Juice, 600g Sugar in a pan stirring until sugar dissolves.  Add 1kg Crab Apples, washed, the blossom end removed, I chose to keep the stalks on an aesthetic whim.  The liquid should cover the Crab Apples.  Add 2in. grated Root Ginger, a few Cloves and Peppercorns, 3 All Spice, 3 Star Anise, 2 Cinnamon Sticks,1tbsp Mustard Seed, and her recipe also calls for garlic cloves wrapped in muslin, to be removed at the end.  (The terrible stench of pickled garlic made me think I would choose onions on another occasion).  Simmer until Crab Apples are tender.  Pot fruit in sterilised jars and reduce syrup if necessary.  Pour syrup over Apples, making sure they are well covered.  Seal immediately.  Leave a few months to mature before eating.

These beautiful pickled yellow fruits would look glorious adorning Beast and Fowl in winter months.  Try also on a Cheese Plate, with Pork, even Suckling Pig.  A sharp bite they make a statement both in taste and looks, cutting through fats and rich flavours… I cannot recommend enough for adding a touch of the ostentatious, the extraordinary, the medieval to a winter banquet.

For other alternate Crab Apple uses, see: Hedgerow Syrup and Carl Legge’s Blackberry Chutney.  Carl also has a recipe for DIY Cider Vinegar, hope maybe to get to that this afternoon..

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I also pickled some beautiful tiny Epicurean Apples.  These were windfalls, and have a great flavour, but are small enough to fit whole in pots.  I used this Recipe, which I used for the Pear windfalls of last year, only replacing the distilled vinegar with White Wine Vinegar and adding some All Spice.

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Follow this link for all the Chutney and Pickle Recipes on this blog.

Part-Cured Pig with Greengages and Apples

Unfazed by a pheasant, by gizzards or liver, I have to admit to being slightly nervous about cooking cuts of meat, particularly when it comes to reared livestock: Pig, Sheep, Cow.  But De-Lish, the North-Norfolk Coast charcutier was sporting some pics of shopmade Petit Salé, and, when I saw it in life, I couldn’t resist.  I admitted my ignorance and the charcutier advised:  Wash, rinse, wash again.  Leave overnight in clean water.  Bake.  

Qu’est-ce qu’un Petit Salé?  Whence the term originates I know not, but I imagine it would be better literally translated as a little bit salted, than, as I would be tempted: small salted thing.  In English one might call it Salt Pork, or, as in a book I am currently reviewing: Simple French Cooking for English Homes (republished by Quadrille), Pickled Pork.  I quite like to think of it as Part-Cured Pig, as, I assume, were it fully cured it wouldn’t need to be cooked.

Here’s Alexandre Dumas’ recipe for Petit Salé, in one lengthy but eloquent sentence from Le grand dictionnaire de cuisine:

Pour faire le petit salé, vous coupez des poitrines de cochons en morceaux ; frottez-les de sel fin comme le lard, ajoutez-y un peu de salpêtre, arrangez-les au fur et à mesure les uns après les autres dans un pot, ayez soin de les bien fouler pour éviter qu’elle ne prennent le goût d’évent ; bouchez les vides que pourra laisser le sel, recouvrez le vas d’un linge blanc et fermez le plus hermétiquement possible et servez-vous au bout de huit ou dix jours pour mettre sur des choux ou sur ce que vous voudrez.

Otherwise, Monsieur le Charcutier suggested looking to Jane Grigson and Lindy Wildsmith for recipes.  I would imagine these are slightly more adventurous than Duras’ simplistic version above.

 Washing petit salé

So, simply:  Wash, rinse, wash. Leave overnight in clean water.  The following day however, I did get adventurous, and laid the piece of meat on a bed of Greengages and Chopped Apples, whole cloves of Garlic a knob of Butter, salt and some Red Onion before baking it at 180C for about half an hour, until cooked.  Deep pink, with a ham-like consistency, lovely and flavoured, surprisingly sweet and not too salty.  

Were I to do it again, I would sweat the onions and garlic first, and lay the Greengages etc on a bed of buttered onions.  I ate it as it was with only a spoonful of Pickled Gooseberries, to cut through any fat and aggrandize the medieval theme.

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Next I’ll have to attempt that Petit Salé m’self…

Lamb and Fig Tagine - and Moroccan meanders

I haven't the camera to persuade you of the sumptuous delight that was last night's Lamb and Fig Tagine...She writes, swallowing down the last leftovers in a bout of shovelling, smiling, chop-licking.  But picture: sweet nuggets of Lamb, slow cooked in North African spices with whole homegrown Figs, Patisson and Squash... the lot layered in a ceramic Tagine in an expression of artistic diligence and decadence...Oh, had I but the photo to share.

Instead, let me share the Recipe.

I learnt to make Tagine having found myself living in a dustblown village on the edge of the Moroccan Sahara five, perhaps more, years ago.  Tagine was a staple, a simple dish, prepared by roughly chopping a few veg, placing them in the Tagine with Water, Cumin, Paprika and Olive Oil, and then leaving sat on the stove slowly cooking.  Effortless, delicious.  On grander occasions, a chunk of meat, often Lamb or Chicken was added, some Fruits or Olives.  The lesser members attending the feast would eat the vegetables and the guest of honour, a well-married aunt perhaps, would take the meat, leaving a smidgen for the others.  We ate with our hands of one bowl.  We broke one bread.  Memories are now vague, but, as often when travelling, the food remains, the flavours, the tastes and textures, and the communal act of sharing a meal with the people of that land.  Morocco draws memoryscapes heavy with rasping sweet Mint teas; Rose and Orange scented Sweetmeats; Oases where Pomegranates grow; Dates ripe, sweet and large as your fist; Rooves lain with Apricots sundrying... Those, Polenta bread at dawn eaten dripping with Honey and steaming milky Coffee.  Or, Loubia a streetfood not unlike classy baked beans, Round baked breads dipped into endless bowls of Harira ( a lentilly/chick-pea Soup mad with beef or Lamb or... Thick and Yellow and sustaining); on the coast Sardines fresh grilled.  I have no memory of eating Couscous, nor did I ever try Bastilla (sweet Pigeon Pie) 'til quite recently in Norfolk, but, need I say, falling deeper into reveries, the Hashish sticky and black as Opium, the Opium...
Somehow I hefted a ceramic Moroccan Tagine all the way back overland to Norfolk...

So, the recipe for a basic Tagine:

Chop onions in large rings, place on base of Tagine with Olive Oil, Paprika and Whole Cumin.  Heat without the lid.  Meanwhile seal the meat.  Then layer Meat, Veg (keep large), Legumes, Fruit, Nuts, Olives, whole Cloves of Garlic, whole Chillies artistically - a sort of Food-Mandala in the dish.  Placing the veg that need more cooking lower down, those that need less higher.  Top with a few half-Lemons, more Chillies, fill to rim with water,adding salt, spices, Harissa, Chermoula, and cook lidded for an hour to an hour and a half, until meat cooked, veg tender but not fallen to pieces, juice full of flavour.  I tend to serve with Couscous or a large Flatbread (actually Nigella's recipe from Domestic Goddess), perhaps some Yogurt and extra Harissa.

For Lamb and Fig Tagine I used: Onion, Garlic, Shallots, Florence Fennel, Pumpkin, Patisson, Courgette, Fresh Figs, Black Olives and Fresh Chillies.  Paprika, Cumin, Ground Ginger, Harissa and Ras-el-hanout.

Otherwise, root veg are great in Tagines, Cinnamon and Apricots are nice additions, as is Pheasant or Chick Peas.  Once again, when you have the basics, you can put in what you best like.

Saucy additions to  Tagines come in the form of:

Chermoula (Sauce for tipping on your Tagine and for cooking Morroccan style fishes, meats etc)
2 Cloves Garlic, Salt, Chilli Powder, ground Cumin, Pepper, Fresh Coriander and Flat Leaf Parsley, Juice of 2 Lemons, 1 tsp Vinegar, 1 Tbsp oil.  

Crush Garlic and Spices to a paste in a Pestle and Mortar.  Mix with rest of ingredients.  Heat gently to release aromas, do not boil.

(Recipe from a great, seemingly authentic Moroccan Cook Book A Taste of Morocco, published Hachette)

Harissa
There are a million recipes, my favourite a basic blend of Olive Oil, Whole Cumin, Crushed Garlic, Coarse Salt and Loads of crushed Chilli.
But otherwise Roast Garlic, Red Peppers, Chilli, and blend with Olive Oil and ground Cumin.

....

I had meant to combine this post with recipe and pics of part-cured pig with apple and greengages, but it'll have to wait...

Likewise, photos to be posted someday soon.