Pork Pie

I am now officially 80% pork fat. My Dad reckons that the other 20% is made up of beer. Yet again I have stuffed myself to the button-popping threshold of what is socially and physically acceptable and gained more than I care to mention. It all started with this pork pie.

Every year mum and I have a Christmas cook-off – the entire day is spent in the kitchen churning out essentials such as sausage rolls, glazed ham, bread sauce and this year, an absolute monster of a pie. She was big, golden brown and stuffed with three cuts of pig. She was beautiful; bubbling and spluttering with porky juices as we sat there and actually watched her cook and yet, she would also prove rather tricksy.

First I had to contend with a smelly trotter. Worried I wouldn’t have time to pick one up back home, I boarded the coach with a previously purchased cloven hoof for my companion, but when I came down to making the stock, the thing seriously kiffed and had to go in the bin. I’d been sold a funky foot. Unable to find another, it was a very small hock which eventually came to the rescue; we simmered it as you would the trotter, with some bones, herbs and onion, and it made a stock which set to a rich savoury jelly. Phew.

Jelly crisis averted, things looked up with a hot water crust which came together easily despite the fact that the recipe in front of you reads contrary to everything you know about making any kind of pastry. Butter and lard are heated with water then added to the flour; it comes together into a very soft and pliable play-doh like ball, before being stuffed to the brim with three kinds of pork; 1.3 kg of diced shoulder, 250g minced belly, and 250g back bacon.

A proud little bay leaf preserved a hole through which to pour the jelly later, and she went in the oven for an hour and half, before coming out of the tin for glazing and going back in for a further 15 minutes to go all shiny. The re-heated jelly stock is then slowly funnelled into the top of the pie once cooled and, if you are unlucky like me, three hours later it bursts out the bottom. My mum discovered the pie on her way to bed, sitting in a clear pool of partly set liquid and, thinking it would make the pastry soggy (as would I), tipped the jelly away and crossed her fingers. In the end though, a pie that blew any shop bought version out of the water. At one point, we got so emotional that the pie was actually described as ‘resplendent’. Annoyingly, the jelly in particular was incredibly tasty; some at least was retained around the base and quivering gems studded the meat where the liquid had seeped into every available space.

I will be making another pork pie, certainly next Christmas, if not before. The meat inside was seasoned just how I like it, because obviously I made it; heavy on the white pepper, hints of mace, sage and thyme in the background. Most of all it’s full-on pork. The remaining jelly was savoured and a lesson learned: there is only so much pork one can ever get into a pastry case. You’ve just got to accept it. A big fat wedge made a very welcome addition to the ‘pork plate’ alongside my mum’s glazed ham with Cumberland sauce and a couple of crisp, buttery sausage rolls; pickles must of course be close at hand. A porky goodbye to 2009 and here’s to a slightly less porky me in 2010. Stranger things have happened.

I hope you all had a delicious Christmas too and a very Happy New Year!

Pork Pie

(makes one absolute beast of a pie which fills an 18 or 20 inch cake tin)
It is easiest to start the pie the day before you want to eat it.

For the Stock

A few pork bones
A pig’s trotter or a very small hock
1 onion, halved and studded with six cloves
A stick of celery, chopped in half
Six black peppercorns
Parsley, thyme and bay leaves
Roughly 2 litres of water

Put all the ingredients in a pan and then gently simmer for 3-4 hours, skimming off any scum as necessary. Strain the stock then leave in the fridge overnight or until well chilled and set to a jelly. Scrape off the layer of fat on top and the stock is then ready to be re-heated. You will need about 250ml for the pie (don’t try to get any more in, trust me). The rest is a very valuable addition to your freezer.

For the Crust

The crust recipe I used comes from this site.

100g butter
100g lard
200ml water
550g plain flour
1.5 teaspoons salt
2 large eggs, plus another for glazing later
1 bay leaf

Melt the butter and lard with the water over a gentle heat. Meanwhile, mix the flour with the salt in a large mixing bowl then add the eggs. Use a knife to start cutting it together as you normally would when making pastry. Begin adding the melted fat and water mixture a little at a time until it starts to all come together like this. Then go in with your hands and bring it together into a ball. Knead very briefly until smooth then wrap in cling film and refrigerate while you make the filling.

For the Filling

1.3 kg pork shoulder
250g smoked back bacon
250g belly pork, minced
1 heaped tablespoon chopped sage
1 tablespoon chopped thyme leaves
1 generous teaspoon salt (don’t go overboard as the bacon is salty)
1 generous teaspoon black pepper or to taste
1 generous teaspoon white pepper or to taste
Half a teaspoon of ground mace (substitute nutmeg if you don’t have it)

First, finely dice the pork shoulder, removing any sinewy bits. I went for quite a coarse dice, about 1/2-1cm square. Then finely dice the bacon too and mix all three meats together in a large mixing bowl. Add the rest of the ingredients and combine well. Take a little bit of the mixture and form into a small patty about the size of a 50p piece, then cook in a frying pan to check the seasonings and adjust to taste as necessary.

Assembling the Pie

Preheat the oven to 180C. Cut off a third of the pastry and set aside for the lid (back in the fridge), then roll out the remaining two thirds on a lightly floured surface. You want a circle big enough to cover the base and edges of your cake tin. Mould the pastry into the tin, making sure that there are no gaps, then stuff with the filling. You can pack it down well as it will shrink during cooking, leaving room for the jelly.

Roll out the remaining pastry to make the lid and brush the sides of the pie with beaten egg before putting the lid on top and crimping and sealing well with your fingers. Use a bay leaf to make a hole in the top of the pie and bake on the centre shelf for 30 minutes. After this time, reduce the heat to 160C and back for another hour. Then remove the pie from the tin and brush all over with beaten egg before baking again for 10-15 minutes.

Leave to cool for 30 minutes before removing the bay leaf, then re-heat 250ml stock and slowly funnel it into the top of the pie. This takes some time as you have to do it bit by bit. Allow to cool completely and refrigerate to allow the jelly to set completely.

Glazed Ham

Olive Magazine asked me to ‘challenge Gordon’ in their December issue, with a Christmas recipe of my choosing; I went for the glazed ham. A reader and their mates then tested both his recipe and mine and decided on a winner.

The idea of a straight ‘glaze-off’ seemed a bit dull and predictable so I decided to mix things up by using the cola method, which I’ve tried before and loved. The ham is covered and bubbled in the syrupy liquor, resulting in a ham infused with an addictive spicy caramel sweetness, helped along a bit by a couple of star anise and the humble onion. I kept the glaze simple with marmalade (zesty bits essential) and teeny hints of ginger and cinnamon. The cola makes the edges caramelise to a sticky, tooth-tacky sheen . And that’s what it’s all about. I burnt my fingers several times trying to pull off the edge bits.

It was a dead heat between mine and Ramsay’s ham, by the way. I can’t say I wasn’t hugely relieved not to lose. I bet he’s quaking in his sweary little boots…

Sweet and Spiced Glazed Ham

1 x 2kg mild-cure gammon
1 x 2litre bottle of cola
1 onion, peeled and halved
2 star anise

For the glaze

Cloves, for studding
225g marmalade (with zesty bits if possible)
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

Bring the gammon up to room temperature, then put it in a large pan, skin side down, add the onion and star anise and cover with the cola. Bring to the boil, reduce to a simmer and rest the lid on top so that it is not fully sealed. Let bubble for about 2 1/4 hours.

Discard the cooking liquid, remove the ham to a plate and allow to cool slightly.

Preheat the oven to gas 7/210 C. Remove the skin from the ham, leaving a thin layer of fat. Score the fat in a diamond pattern and push a clove into the point of each diamond.

To make the glaze, put all the ingredients into a pan and let it bubble up to the boil then simmer for a few minutes until syrupy.

Brush the glaze all over the ham and bake for 10 minutes. Remove the ham, brush on some more glaze and bake for a further 10 minutes. If you do this more often then the outside will be even stickier. If you want to let the ham cool and then glaze it the next day, it will need longer in the oven – about 30 to 40 minutes.

Salt Fish Fritters

The Jamaican name for this dish, ‘Stamp ‘n Go’ is said to come from the behaviour of impatient, fritter-hungry customers who would stamp their feet for attention and then simply leave the shop if they didn’t get it. Leave without the fritters? Eh? There must be another part to that story; I’ve only eaten them once and I’m hooked. This is the kind of recipe you know you’re going to love but just never get around to making and then you kick yourself repeatedly once you do. Piping hot, fresh golden batter bombs explode with poofs of salty, spiced steam ready for the mighty plunge into bud-tingling chilli sauce.

With a big bag of fillets left over from the okazi soup and a trick up my sleeve for preparing it quickly, these were a doddle to knock up on a school night. I gave the fillets just two boils in fresh changes of water this time to keep a chewier texture and slightly more salt, before adding the flakes to a batter along with spring onions, chilli, garlic and parsley. Tablespoon by tablespoon they dropped into a skillet of shimmering oil, spreading out just enough before crisping quickly to ‘eat-me-now-dammit’ brown. Inside, the salt fish brings an insanely satisfying toothsome chew, surrounded by the fluffy flavour sponge of batter. We inhaled the lot in minutes and not many of them.

I took the simplest approach possible when it came to the sauce and lobbed a can of chopped tomatoes, about 5 regular red chillies, a few cloves of garlic, some salt, some vinegar and some sugar into a pot and cooked it down on the tame side of furiously for about 20 minutes, before half heartedly stabbing at it with a stick blender; it repaid me way too generously for my meagre efforts.

That said, as soon as the first fritter began its inevitable and rapid journey towards my belly, there was talk of spicy sweetcorn relish. I honestly cannot think of any better accompaniment; I kicked myself once more. In my future right now, I see fritters: great towering piles of steaming fritters accompanied by bowls, no, vats, of hot sweetcorn relish. I won’t hesitate to stamp until I get them.

 

Salt Fish Fritters

350g salt fish fillets, boiled in two changes of water for five minutes each time and then flaked (removing skin and bones)
1 small white onion, finely chopped
3 spring onions, white and green parts finely chopped
1/2 – 1 scotch bonnet chilli, de-seeded and finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed (to be honest, I’m not sure I actually used this in the end so it’s up to you)
A small handful of parsley leaves, finely chopped
115g plain flour
2 eggs
120ml milk
Groundnut oil, for frying

Soften the spring onions, onion, garlic and chilli in a little oil until soft but not coloured. Add to a bowl with the salt fish and parsley. Beat the flour, milk and eggs together in a separate bowl until smooth then combine with the fish mixture. Season with black pepper (no salt).

Heat a 2cm depth groundnut oil in a skillet or frying pan and drop tablespoons of batter in, turning once, until golden brown on both sides. Drain on kitchen paper and serve.