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Archive for the ‘Winter’ Category

Don’t get me wrong here folks, I have huge admiration for Michelin-starred chef/restaurateur/TV presenter/cookbook author Richard Corrigan, with his salt-of-the-earth bonhomie, clear-eyed yet unjaundiced worldview and his solid, down-home cooking style.  But I did a double-take when I saw his latest publication, The Clatter of Forks and Spoons placed next to Big Flavours & Rough Edges: Recipes from the Eagle – wouldn’t you?

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It’s a terrific image so I don’t begrudge it at all – that’s my charity-shop-chic silver plate cutlery! – and Corrie’s text is so environmentally and politically astute, I can even find the recycling of a cover idea eco-fabulously forgiveable.  It’s almost a shame he couldn’t have borrowed the title too, but the rattle of battered flatware on a hard surface is even more gorgeously evocative of his writing.  Not a plain celebrity chef collection of restaurant recipe formulae, this book follows the current fashion, being a collation of discursive thoughts and memories, favourite dishes and discoveries: recipes sharing equal space with long tracts of text and a smattering of mood-evoking photographs; similar to Georgio Locatelli’s Made in Italy, for example.  To which I say hooray, by the way – who ever learnt anything about food or cooking from a mere recipe book?

On the other hand, I was going to recommend David Eyre’s excellent-in-parts Eagle gastro-pub-grub book – for its informative recipes but not its crummy index – until I realised it’s out of print and £95 – bloody hell! – so I’ll just be wiping the spills and splashes from my precious copy a little more assiduously in the future.  I will however, soon be sharing its best recipe: root vegetable & greens soup.  Prosaic-sounding, I know, but absolutely ambrosial, and to which I return time and time again: a soup apart.
Big Flavours & Rough Edges: Recipes from the Eagle
The Clatter of Forks and Spoons

And if you’re not into reading or cooking, sample Richard Corrigan’s hospitality at Bentley’s Oyster Bar 11-15 Swallow Street, London W1 (just off Piccadilly) – bliss – or scroll down and watch this captivating video of him talking about this book
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His new place sounds pretty nice, too: Corrigan’s Mayfair 28 Upper Grosvenor Street London W1

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duck fat galoreFollowing the laziest roast crispy duck in history my duck fat jar runneth over … almost.  So it should see us through the coming winter unless we take it into our heads to make confit and, considering the mess involved, I rather hope we don’t.

Duck fat is by far the best medium for roasting potatoes or greasing Yorkshire pudding tins and it’s ever my fat of choice for browning winter casseroles or starting off any dishes from the Basque or Languedoc regions.   Now I know goose fat is supposed to be even better, but given the price of a goose you might as well resign yourself to buying a tin of it and forego the satisfaction of making your own.  But duck fat is different: easier to come by and a most inconvenient waste product to dispose of if you can’t be bothered to save it.  If prepared with a modicum of care and kept in a reasonably cool and dark place it will survive for yonks outside the fridge: I keep mine on a shelf in the garage.

Just pour off the rendered fat during and after roasting a duck plain and slow (eg 6 to 7 hours at 140C) and leave it to cool overnight in the fridge.  Lift the fat away from any stray juices lurking underneath then reheat it to liquify.  Any moisture will bubble away, so when its puttering stops strain the liquid fat through a sieve lined with a couple of layers of muslin or even kitchen roll into a sterilised preserving jar and seal.  Discard the brown bits!  Enjoy its golden glow fading to white as it cools then hoard and scoop out as needed with a clean, dry spoon.

Depending on size one easily-available Gressingham duck should render at least 250ml fat. If you do nothing else with it, use a couple of tablespoons for roasting potatoes and greasing your Yorkshire pudding tin: you’ll be glad you did.

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