Not that I am stuck in the past, but my new reading is Parson Woodforde's diary, or at least the Folio Society's selections from it. Somewhat less than brilliant observations: how did the middle classes and above actually manage to stand in the 18th century? The good parson drank vast quantities of wine, cider, beer, arack, punch, rum and brandy, yet it was his brother Jack who was the sot. And what did it do to their livers? One wonders if the frequent reports of deaths of apoplexy were the terminal points of organ damage caused by alcohol.
From the foodie point of view (or has foodie become as unacceptable and derogatory as luvvie now?) there is much to be gleaned from the pages of his journal. He lived well, and his guests could generally rely on a table laden with several major main-course components - a fowl, boiled pork, rost (his spelling) beef, perhaps a leg of mutton.
Somewhat inspired by this at the weekend I served visiting friends a roast chicken and a venison and beef pie, along with vegetables various. Not unsurprisingly the pie was the hit - everybody loves a pie. Please someone commission me for that TV series/book/world pie-tasting tour. Venison from Lidl, beef from Henry Rowntree, both meats cooked together in a low (125C) oven with bay, thyme, carrots and onions for two and a half hours, then freshly cooked onions, carrots and turnips added and the lot covered with cheaty Jus-Rol puff pastry. I am a fan of own brands, but for some reason the Jus-Rol stuff seemed better than the last lot of Sainsbury's I used - though they may be made together for all I know. The juice from the oven cooking was reduced and thickened with cornflour (how terribly unfashionable) then half of it spooned into the meat and veg before the pastry lid went on. About 30 minutes at 180C finished the thing off, the puff pastry lifting clear of the filling at the end. This was a pie, a Great British Pie.
Showing posts with label brandy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brandy. Show all posts
Tuesday, 1 January 2013
Tuesday, 20 November 2012
One Flame Flambeing - Flash in the Pan
The recent post about pancakes set me thinking about the flambe (how do you do accents on this thing?). I was tempted when cooking crepes the other night to get showy and squeeze some more flavour in by using rum or brandy on a couple of them. As the late great Kenneth Williams sang "Ah, ma Crepe Suzette."
It's a good skill to have in your locker, especially if you are cooking on one burner and you want to do something special. But this is one to practice with very great care - 20 years back I nearly fire-bombed our neighbours' newly decorated kitchen when cooking pud for them - a foolish combination of too much alcohol in me and too much in the ladle I was using to warm the spirit. Flames a good four feet up. Happily they were out of the room and when they came back everything was under control.
For bedsit sophistication it is worth learning, though. On a single pancake I'd only use a tbsp of cognac, my method being to pour it in a metal ladle, warm that over the hob or flame, then either tip it to use that flame to light it, or use one of those lighters you have to ignite gas flames, or a long match (take care! do it from the side not above!). You get a nice blue flame on the liquid, which when you tip it in the pan - I guess suddenly increasing the surface area thus the oxygen - whooshes rather alarmingly and burns itself out after sending flames a foot or so up. Alternatively, and generally less dramatically, pour the spirit on the food in the medium-hot pan and ignite it in there. The benefits in culinary terms are some caramelization of the food's surface, and a residue of the spirit's flavour.
A pork steak lends itself to this method, and whisky, cognac or ideally Calvados all do nicely. Gin is great with seafood, but so more surprisingly is whisky. Steak Diane was a Seventies classic, beef fillet that was finished at the table by flambeing it in brandy. The waiter always had a moustache, and knew that to keep it the head needed to be well away from the flames.
If you want to try this, my suggestion is get someone who has it off pat to teach you in person, or at the very least study a few YouTube videos on how to do it. And on your own head be it by the way.
A few rules: you need a steady hand; never try it if you would not be fit to drive in blood-alcohol terms; you need less alcohol than you think; for goodness' sake never try to be clever and contain the flames in a covered pan - think about it; and don't use spirits that don't suit the food. Fun though the technique is, you need to be serious when doing this, otherwise you are literally playing with fire.
It's a good skill to have in your locker, especially if you are cooking on one burner and you want to do something special. But this is one to practice with very great care - 20 years back I nearly fire-bombed our neighbours' newly decorated kitchen when cooking pud for them - a foolish combination of too much alcohol in me and too much in the ladle I was using to warm the spirit. Flames a good four feet up. Happily they were out of the room and when they came back everything was under control.
For bedsit sophistication it is worth learning, though. On a single pancake I'd only use a tbsp of cognac, my method being to pour it in a metal ladle, warm that over the hob or flame, then either tip it to use that flame to light it, or use one of those lighters you have to ignite gas flames, or a long match (take care! do it from the side not above!). You get a nice blue flame on the liquid, which when you tip it in the pan - I guess suddenly increasing the surface area thus the oxygen - whooshes rather alarmingly and burns itself out after sending flames a foot or so up. Alternatively, and generally less dramatically, pour the spirit on the food in the medium-hot pan and ignite it in there. The benefits in culinary terms are some caramelization of the food's surface, and a residue of the spirit's flavour.
A pork steak lends itself to this method, and whisky, cognac or ideally Calvados all do nicely. Gin is great with seafood, but so more surprisingly is whisky. Steak Diane was a Seventies classic, beef fillet that was finished at the table by flambeing it in brandy. The waiter always had a moustache, and knew that to keep it the head needed to be well away from the flames.
A few rules: you need a steady hand; never try it if you would not be fit to drive in blood-alcohol terms; you need less alcohol than you think; for goodness' sake never try to be clever and contain the flames in a covered pan - think about it; and don't use spirits that don't suit the food. Fun though the technique is, you need to be serious when doing this, otherwise you are literally playing with fire.
Thursday, 15 November 2012
The Juice on Jus - Maxing One Flame Flavour
An aspect of the post yesterday about cooking a steak or a lamb chop set me to thinking about how much flavour can be won or lost after the meat has been lifted from the pan. Unless you have cooked it too long you are likely to have some of the juices glistening in the skillet in front of you, and maybe some scraps adhering to the surface where the flesh caught briefly. The austerity cook, or any decent cook really, wants to make the most of these, and with just a tiny effort you can capture them in a simple sauce to accompany the meat. My apologies to anyone for whom this is second nature.
The first method is deglazing: add a good dash of alcohol to the hot pan, scrape the bits up and stir in the juices, then reduce for a second and pour over the chop. Wine is ideal, white or red, if you have some on the go, or the dregs of a bottle saved with a Vacuvin. Cider is good, and suits say thin pork escalopes done this way. From reviewing I have loads of brandies and rums that I find useful for this, though only a small amount is needed, the flavour being powerful - and take care you don't inadvertently flambe yourself. Best of all is dry vermouth with the bonus of herby notes. The resulting liquid can be thickened with butter, a dab of French mustard, a slurp of ketchup - tomato or mushroom - or a slurp of cream (not creme fraiche for me). If no suitable alcohol is to hand water's ok, but you gain no taste.
Alternatively a pat of butter or some cream will mix with the juices, but be conservative as otherwise you'll not taste anything else, and here the pan must not be too hot or you'll waste juice and all.
It doesn't have to be just meat. During a press trip on Islay chef Francois Bernier seered locally dived scallops in a dry pan, then used Bunnahabhain whisky to stretch the juices, and in that case to flambe the scallops, with if memory serves a spoon of butter to bind the results together. This was one of the best things I have ever eaten, and with all due respect to Francois, so simple. He, by the way, was using a single Calor Gas burner to cook at the distillery.
The first method is deglazing: add a good dash of alcohol to the hot pan, scrape the bits up and stir in the juices, then reduce for a second and pour over the chop. Wine is ideal, white or red, if you have some on the go, or the dregs of a bottle saved with a Vacuvin. Cider is good, and suits say thin pork escalopes done this way. From reviewing I have loads of brandies and rums that I find useful for this, though only a small amount is needed, the flavour being powerful - and take care you don't inadvertently flambe yourself. Best of all is dry vermouth with the bonus of herby notes. The resulting liquid can be thickened with butter, a dab of French mustard, a slurp of ketchup - tomato or mushroom - or a slurp of cream (not creme fraiche for me). If no suitable alcohol is to hand water's ok, but you gain no taste.
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| Bunnahabhain Distillery |
It doesn't have to be just meat. During a press trip on Islay chef Francois Bernier seered locally dived scallops in a dry pan, then used Bunnahabhain whisky to stretch the juices, and in that case to flambe the scallops, with if memory serves a spoon of butter to bind the results together. This was one of the best things I have ever eaten, and with all due respect to Francois, so simple. He, by the way, was using a single Calor Gas burner to cook at the distillery.
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