On Digging & Second Thoughts

The good thing about being your own boss is that if a deadline's missed, you shan't be fired. September looms on the horizon and there is still Border 1 to be emptied and the fences to be done.

So, as boss, I'm extending the deadline till end of September, by which point I hope to have, as labourer, raised some beds and filled trenches dug with wonderful compost-rich soil.

This digging malarkey is time consuming. Emptying Border 2 has interfered with two of my favourite pastimes: the drinking of wine and reading of books. But, with spade in hand, and possibly more clarity of mind, I have decided to dedicate my garden in its entirety to the growing of vegetables. With the exception of a few climbing roses here and there, the garden shall run amok with the likes of runner beans, artichokes and radishes. And many herbs. Next year.

Borders 1, 2 & 3 shall feature superior raised beds from Harrod Horticultural (if you order online, you can enjoy 10% off the display price for now). Raised beds because Willow has acquired a taste for greens and soil, so with any luck the small wooden walls shall keep him out of the veg, whilst preventing the veg from spilling onto brick paths. 

The lean-to-greenhouse I had imagined at the back of the garden has also grown much larger. There shall be space in it, I hope, for potting up, a table & 2 chairs; perhaps those espied at the recently re-opened West Six. A stone's throw from the Chiswick High Road, w6 is a garden centre I highly recommend, as not only is it inspiringly beautiful, but is managed by a dear dear friend. The district line trains rumble overhead as you peruse their fare, but more of that later.

Having not given the front garden much consideration, this neglected area, which is currently occupied by 3 trees (mimosa, conifer and willow) shall be dedicated to a composting section and planters of root vegetables that shan't suffer much from being nearer the main road. I shan't be getting a worm cafe after all - far too small - but the twin-composters here. I might keep the mimosa, but conifer and willow shan't be missed, one being half dead and t'other having outgrown it's spot planted 4 years previous in ignorance. The willow shall be repurposed into supports for the beans. And if my handiwork should look rubbish, I shall chuck them on the fire.

In a bid to define 'spaces', the patio directly before our lounge shall be dedicated to outdoor dining. Not to be at the mercy of the weather, I would very much like a Victorian awning here, and it just so happens that these folk make them. They are described as 'a very British awning' and are beautifully made. Admire them along New Bond Street, at Moxon Street's La Fromagerie or Odette's in Primrose Hill. My awning shall either be in black or charcoal grey, so currently I am contending with swatches & which bank to rob.

On the theme of money being no object, a water butt would also be prudent. Haven't done the maths to prove to husband that it shall pay for itself, but the most handsome on the market comes from here. There is a shortage of reasonably-priced & good-looking water storage solutions... So I suppose I should be grateful that this one exists at all. And that it isn't round! I haven't much patience for round things. Particularly in my fridge too - a small moan here permit - why on earth if our fridges are square are the receptacles designed for them mostly round? And the world can do without more plastic tupperware, so don't you dare recommend that. Argh!

Back to the butt. If, as I suspect, it is unaffordable, I shall be making my own. And when I do, you can read about it here.

Garden seating had also been something of a dilemma. Until I went to The Stables market in Camden that is, and saw these wonderful cast iron numbers partout. They are ideal for the garden, shan't mind the rain, can be used to rest pots on when wanted out of the way, and quite comfy. Honest.

I have emailed the powers that be, but have yet to hear from them. On a final note, a shout-out to Ronnie, whom Willow befriended at the market. Ronnie is 4 months old and a little darling.

Duncan Cruickshanks' Slow Cooked Belly of Dingley Dell Pork, with Braised Beetroot Leaves

This recipe hails from a Masterclass I attended at The Hospital Club, which featured Pig's Head Terrine to start. Both recipes, by Duncan Cruickshanks, use Dingley Dell pork. You can read the previous post by clicking here, or click here to contact Dingley Dell to purchase their pork, arrange a group visit to the farm, or a nose to tail butchery demo.

Butchery demos are very important. As my dear friend Kelly Garet observed, it is 'important for when I have a farm and need to slaughter my own pigs.' Right she is too: skills like this will always come in handy. Here's Duncan's recipe. It is divine and serves 6

Ingredients:

Dingley Dell Pork Belly (slaughtered at 24 weeks)               

Smoked Bacon                              

Shallots                                         

Garlic                                              

English Mustard Powder             

Ground Mace                      

Fresh Sage                            

Salt & Pepper                       

For the Braised Beetroot Leaves:

Beetroot Leaves                  

Smoked Bacon Lardons      

Shallots diced                       

White Wine                         

Garlic crushed                    

Salt & Pepper                       

Pre-heat oven to 220°c, then trim the skin from the pork belly and retain.

Trim the underbelly, the layer of fat above the ribs, and then the ribs (the ribs you can roast with the skin & treat yourself to later).

trim the underbelly

remove ribs

remove underbelly for dicing

Dice the underbelly with the bacon, garlic, shallots, mustard powder, ground mace, sage and several good pinches of salt and pepper.

Cut a square of baking parchment and foil big enough to leave 5cm around the outside of the pork belly.

Spread a thin layer of the mince over the pork belly.

Place the pork belly on the parchment on foil. Then, using the parchment & foil, roll the pork belly tightly in on itself and wrap the foil and the parchment around the rolled pork belly.  

Twist the ends in opposite directions to tighten the foil and parchment.

Place on a baking tray and into the oven for 20 mins.  After 20 mins. reduce the heat to 150°c and cook for a further 3 hours. 

While you are waiting for the pork to cook, make your crackling by cutting the pork skin from earlier into strips and coating with salt (you can do the same with the ribs). Place on a wire rack at 150°c for 45 mins.

For the braised beetroot leaves, wash the leaves 3 to 4 times and drain thoroughly

Place the shallots, lardoons and garlic in a pan and gently sweat ensuring the shallots do not colour.

Roughly chop the beetroot leaves and add to the pan along with the white wine, cooking slowly, uncovered until the stems are tender.

To Serve place a healthy spoonful of the braised beetroot on each plate. 

When you take the pork out of the oven and cut open the foil, be sure to collect the juices that will spill forth in a pan.

Evenly slice the rolled pork belly into 6 pieces and place on top of the beetroot leaves and pour over the juices from the foil.

To help you slice it evenly, you can wrap the pork in clingfilm to help keep the shape.

Place the strips of crackling on top of the sliced pork belly and serve.

Pig's Head & Pork Belly Masterclass at The Hospital Club

There is a lawnmower in my kitchen, so what's a girl to do? Go to The Hospital Club for a Masterclass on how to handle the extremities of pig. Obviously.

The closest I've got to a pig's head is 4am at Smithfield Market. Without knowing where to start, I've always wanted to take one home... I signed up immediately and in enthusiasm phoned Oli (who set the tutorial up) to ask if I should bring my sharpest knife. 'No', Oli replied. 'Best not.'

This is serious stuff. Mustn't be faced single-handed. Better to have witnesses. Hail possee of 4: the Blonde, Vic Lee, Kelly Garet and myself. At helm, Hospital Club Head Chef, Duncan Cruickshanks. And, on chopping board, Dingley Dell pig.

Glass of wine in hand, tutorial started with provenance of the pig - a video presentation hosted by Mark Hayward, one of two brothers who established the Dingley Dell brand in 1999. You can watch the video here. Their outdoor pig farm sits in Deben Valley, Suffolk. It is also one of the few 'Ambassador Farms' for Freedom Foods, their emphasis being on taste and welfare. 

The Digley Dell pigs live outdoors and 'are free to express all their natural instincts', including graffiti. No. Not really - the sty art being part of a community project - although laugh I did when Vic Lee cleverly commented 'Pigsy'. 

Five minutes in and we couldn't help ourselves - we ahh'd and oo'd at the sight of the piglets and then volleyed the Dingley Dell panel with questions like 'have you ever kept one of your pigs as a pet?' or 'have you found yourself attached to one in particular?' This was all met with much mirth. As it so happens there was a pig called Badger who used to jump fences to meet the brothers every morn, but Badger is no more. Hannah Roberts, who also works on the farm, brought us into order: of course you care for your pigs, but you are also proud that they will go on to be really tasty pigs.

We were not heckling! Honest! Yet it is almost impossible not ask these questions which seem all the more prevalent when standing by the butcher's block. We certainly had no problem tucking in later, so why the guilt?

If you read Genesis, meat eating appears as a consequence of the Fall. Adam and Eve were veggies, given the right to 'every herb bearing seed'. There's not one mention of roast. The rules did change after the Floyd - oops - the Flood: Noah was advised that 'every moving thing that liveth shall be meat for you'. As biblical characters go, I have a great deal of respect for Noah. After sailing about for endless days on a raft shared with London Zoo, the first thing he did on terra firma was plant a vineyard and proceed to get pissed...

...but really the point I was wanting to make is the respect that every great chef deserves, for if the eating of meat is at all unnatural, chefs and chefs alone make it more than possible. Particularly if their name is Duncan Cruickshanks. Duncan guided us through how to prepare Pig's Head Terrine, and then Pork Belly with Crackling. And he didn't swear at us. Not once.

We started with pig's head, destined for terrine.

A: Pig's head 

B: Pig's Head Terrine

So how to get from A to B - Duncan began by butterflying the pig's head, a process that involved removing the jaw... The butcher had already taken the tongue from this particular head, but Duncan stressed that this should be kept in, as should the brain.

The ears and snout were then removed. They should be poached for hours to soften the cartilage, then breadcrumbed and deep fried.

To head (skin-side down) Duncan added white pudding and a generous melange of finely ground spices: mace; garlic powder; onion powder; Colman's mustard powder; white pepper and salt.

Then said head was rolled over from ear to ear, and then rolled again tightly in clingfilm, so that it resembled a big sausage.

This was slowly poached for 4-5 hours (not boiled mind) and refrigerated overnight so that it could finely sliced, preferably on a machine. Duncan had made one earlier so we could have a taste. It was served with caper berries, morning radish and a thin slice of crispy bread. It was delicious, so I shall be trying this one at home with the Blonde for as long as there's light, we're brave enough.

I know a lot of people who'd enjoy a bacon sandwich but balk at handling a pig's head. If this tactile approach still registers as some sort of primal crime, then the next recipe will challenge such a stance, for whilst our appetites may not be driven by biological need, who can deny the pleasure crackling rewards?

And so that this doesn't become the longest post in world history, you can click here for Duncan's recipe for Slow Cooked Belly of Dingley Dell Pork. As for crackling, here's how Duncan does his: cut pork skin into strips, coat with salt & place on a wire rack at 150 °c for 45 mins.

In this line of work, it is important to have a robust sense of humour. Specially if you are taking the nose to tail route. An anecdote here comes to mind: Grimod de la Reymiere (1758-1837) recalls the story of monk Capuchin who was set a peculiar challenge by some rascal youths. Presenting him with a suckling pig to eat, they put forth that whatever the monk did to the suckling pig, they would do to him. Should he remove a limb, they would his, and so on & so forth. Monk Capuchin promptly stuck his finger up the pig's anus and sucked it. 'Gentlemen', he returned 'I heartily beg of you to carry out your menaces'.

On a final note, it came as a relief that we were not obliged to eat our own handiwork. At the end of the trial run I had succeeded in turning substance into accident. I also have the Blonde to thank for recalling some of the finer details of the event as there was much free-flowing of wine.

Over dinner we discussed possible future Masterclass themes. 'Eels next time', I squeeled. 'Eels!'

Well, dear reader, it's not eels. It's a Fish Masterclass, featuring a deluxe soufflé with lobster.

For more events, check it out: The Hospital Club. Amen.

Consider This, and Oyster Tempura

Lately I have been considering that if I ate less I would get more work done in the garden.

 birthday postcard from Mr. Peach

Matters would be helped further if I didn't go to Billinsgate at 4am so often, but I can't help it: once there you can purchase a box of 25 Maldon oysters for £11 from Bard Shellfish. So do it I tell ya. Do it.

my trusty shucker

Opening an oyster is a bit like breaking and entering.You will need one of these to shuck them, (I got mine in the 90s from Carrefour) but a flat, blunt knife works too. Beware: a blunt knife is the most dangerous item one can possess in the kitchen. Because you think it's blunt. Try not to aim for the wrist.

I well remember my first jaunt to Billingsgate. I was 16 and it was the idea of my dear friend, Mr. Peach. The fishermen were delighted. Post-Billingsgate we returned to  NW3, where, in her parents' kitchen (yes, he is a she) I tackled my first oyster and near took my thumb off. Having had a sip or two of something strong both before and after the incident, it wasn't wailing that woke the parents, but wake they did, and find us they did, tipsy and surrounded by blood and crustacea. It turned out to be a kosher home. And a school night too. Correction: school morning. It's true what they say: you always remember your first.

A Maldon Oyster from Bard Shellfish

I have always been an oyster purist, and still consider myself so. I would not make any allowance - that is until I had my first tempura oyster in Kyoto Garden Sushi, Cape Town way (no website, but it can be found at 11 Kloof Nek Rd). I didn't order the tempura oyster. It came on the house as husband and I turned up with a bottle of Haute Cabriere Pierre Jourdan Brut Sauvage, which impressed Tamo, who was working there and happened to be the son of Haute Cabriere's owner, Achim von Arnim. This was some time ago. Tamo is now the Brand Ambassador at the family vineyard. But it was a meal to remember and the tempura oyster so good we ordered it thrice. It was also the first time my husband put an oyster in his mouth, managed to keep it there and swallow. So I have Kyoto Garden Sushi to thank for his initiation. And for their green tea ice cream, which I dream about. And Haute Cabriere for their wonderful sparkling wine.

This recipe will not make you green tea ice cream, but a very good tempura batter for oysters (and skate knobs). Just a quick whisk and hey-presto, batter done. Sometimes I use a little less sparkling mineral water, adding in an ice cube instead, as it does well to keep the batter cold. Imperative to have Kikkoman for dipping:

2 egg yolks

100g plain flour, sifted

200ml cold sparkling mineral

If you happen to be in Franschhoek do take the Haute Caubrière champagne tour & tasting as not only is their sparkling wine divine but Achim von Arnim has something of Floyd's joie de vivre about him. If he happens to be hosting the tour, he will open the champagne with a sword. The Brut Sauvage is lovely, but I particularly look forward to their Pierre Jourdan Belle de Rose whenever I visit. You can buy either here.

Anyone wondering where the green-fingered element of the blog has got to shall be answered thus: it is here: logs have been chopped; border 3 has been emptied in its entirety, as has the back border, which shall be cemented over to make way for a greenhouse; and the garden shed has been got rid of. It was mostly rotten with woodworm, so less of it shall go for kindle than previously hoped.

border 3

said shed

back border

From border 3 I am keeping this handsome fern.

And another thing. There is a lawnmower in my kitchen.