Fortnum & Mason: Christmas & Other Winter Feasts

Fortnum & Mason: Christmas & Other Winter Feasts Tom Parker Bowles Capturing the magic and finest festive traditions of Fortnum & Mason, Christmas and Other Winter Feasts gathers together everything you need to enjoy a truly delicious winter.A joyous celebration of Fortnum & Mason’s love for extraordinary seasonal food, Christmas and Other Winter Feasts is filled with flavoursome recipes for Christmas and New Year’s Eve, as well as Guy Fawkes and Burns’ Night.From seasonable soups to hearty January eating, and featuring exclusive stories from the Fortnum & Mason archives, Christmas and Other Winter Feasts is the essential accompaniment to any party, gathering or feast. Copyright (#uf59e83a6-8f18-5655-bfc9-3022b92f8108) 4th Estate An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.4thEstate.co.uk (http://www.4thEstate.co.uk) First published in Great Britain by 4th Estate in 2018 Copyright © Fortnum & Mason Plc 2018 All photographs © David Loftus 2018 Fortnum & Mason assert their moral right to be identified as the author of this work. Design by BLOK http://blokdesign.co.uk/ (http://blokdesign.co.uk) A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780008305017 Ebook Edition © August 2018 ISBN: 9780008305024 Version: 2018-09-21 To the Weston family, for their passion and careful custodianship since 1951, and all of the Fortnum’s family: past, present and future CONTENTS Cover (#udafe128e-a51e-5311-9e04-19aa22bf9a6d) Title Page (#u9032f9e2-d970-5d31-af72-abd759b038f9) Copyright (#uf0697425-f2fa-5447-9a60-781bdc1183cf) Dedication (#ue53cf58c-b0d1-5861-9b86-197603af7956) Edward Bawden (#u54aca3d9-d912-5c40-bfae-5ef9d068f83d) Introduction (#u7d71c91f-2f25-5657-8542-0fcf7bfb6f60) Ingredients (#u83049214-6056-5f3c-9a71-b77bb5cc258e) Guy Fawkes (#u5991207e-3ba8-50d7-81f8-c53002aaf600) Spicy Lentil and Chestnut Casserole with Venison Sausages (#ulink_ae378b6a-3275-5c02-95d0-1bff719f7814) Game Pasties (#ulink_6cfe4b8c-98f8-5ee6-b609-0be6b58d08ca) Baked Jacket Potatoes with Lemon Cr?me Fra?che and Caviar (#ulink_52a1940d-72a4-5159-9a47-6a5af97bbeaa) Baked Jacket Potatoes with Smoked Salmon and Dill Cream Cheese (#ulink_43e10c35-5ee3-56e0-81b7-d5382c00d093) Baked Jacket Potatoes with Pumpkin and Coconut Curry (#ulink_55e49477-b400-55f7-b717-3ef13425e460) Brownies with Dark Chocolate Ganache and Honeycomb (#ulink_07387b71-0fa9-56f7-b2e2-b0609d8d945c) Caramelised Bramley Apple Pancakes (#ulink_9994528a-ba29-591b-af16-64a1c83ad047) Glorious Game (#u18a8cf2d-c20d-566a-a4df-ef09898b0eb4) Grouse and Pearl Barley Broth (#ulink_256ef5a8-d419-5845-be27-c53eff4f6841) Pappardelle with Venison Rag?, Red Cabbage and Pecorino (#ulink_0c346e19-853f-5f18-a157-9c943b5f7ebc) Duck Ras El Hanout with Duck Samosas and Saffron Couscous (#ulink_3f76f958-e3a0-5e14-bf1e-d43f52555a6c) Roast Partridge, Salsify and Savoy Cabbage with Port and Fig Sauce (#ulink_bc81fd77-1e2c-56a5-bc00-56b51eff7943) Pot-Roast Pheasant with Pearl Barley, Braised Red Cabbage and Swede Sauce (#ulink_7762903c-4f19-59e6-b081-de37907eb78b) Game Faggots with Celeriac Pur?e and Carrots (#ulink_9d0e392c-08dd-5b02-843f-c1b312db7559) Game Suet Pudding (#litres_trial_promo) Traditional Roast Grouse (#litres_trial_promo) Bread Sauce (#litres_trial_promo) Grouse and Foie Gras Pie with Blackberry Chutney and Malt Gravy (#litres_trial_promo) Guinea Fowl Breasts with Fennel, Red Cabbage and Oakleaf Salad (#litres_trial_promo) Rabbit Fillets with Beetroot and Kale Salad, Sage and Shallot Dressing (#litres_trial_promo) Skating (#litres_trial_promo) Mutton Scotch Broth (#litres_trial_promo) Beaufort and Stilton Fondue with Thyme Garlic Toasts (#litres_trial_promo) Tartiflette (#litres_trial_promo) Welsh Rarebit Toasties (#litres_trial_promo) Mushroom and Raclette Burger (#litres_trial_promo) Salt Beef Sandwiches with Sauerkraut on Rye (#litres_trial_promo) Poutine (#litres_trial_promo) Sharing Chocolate Fondue (#litres_trial_promo) The Big Event Baking (#litres_trial_promo) Festive Fruit Cake (#litres_trial_promo) Chestnut, Almond and Rum Cake (#litres_trial_promo) Cinnamon and Orange Biscuits (#litres_trial_promo) Malt and Five-Spice Biscuits (#litres_trial_promo) Boozy Christmas Cake (#litres_trial_promo) Shortbread Dusted with Clove Sugar (#litres_trial_promo) Pistachio Brioche (#litres_trial_promo) Marmalade Bread and Butter Pudding (#litres_trial_promo) Millionaire Shortbread (Vegan) (#litres_trial_promo) Drinks (#litres_trial_promo) Sloe Negroni (#litres_trial_promo) Fortnum’s Hot Toddy (#litres_trial_promo) Ampersand (#litres_trial_promo) Hot Chocolate with Salted Caramel Marshmallow (#litres_trial_promo) Hot Chocolate with Butterscotch Schnapps (#litres_trial_promo) Hot Chocolate with Sloe Gin (#litres_trial_promo) Christmas Eve (#litres_trial_promo) Poached Pears with Stilton and Truffle Honey (#litres_trial_promo) Noble Welsh Rarebit (#litres_trial_promo) Sausage Rolls (#litres_trial_promo) Mackerel and Caviar Taco (#litres_trial_promo) Christmas Day (#litres_trial_promo) Truffled Scrambled Egg (#litres_trial_promo) Spiced Granola with Apricot Relish and Coconut Yoghurt (#litres_trial_promo) Highland Scramble (#litres_trial_promo) Mulled Wine-Cured Salmon (#litres_trial_promo) Halibut with Caviar, Parsley and Vermouth Butter Sauce (#litres_trial_promo) Roast Turkey with All The Trimmings (#litres_trial_promo) Roast Potatoes (#litres_trial_promo) Honey-Glazed Parsnips (#litres_trial_promo) Swede and Carrot Mash (#litres_trial_promo) Sprouts and Bacon (#litres_trial_promo) Roast Venison with Celeriac Dauphinoise and Chocolate Sauce (#litres_trial_promo) Roast Goose with Apple Sauce and Cavolo Nero (#litres_trial_promo) Portobello Mushroom Wellington (#litres_trial_promo) Chocolate Trifle with Glac? Fruits (#litres_trial_promo) Marmalade and Almond Tart (#litres_trial_promo) Christmas Pudding Souffl?s with Orange Ice Cream (#litres_trial_promo) Banana and Yule Log Profiteroles with Hot Chocolate Sauce (#litres_trial_promo) Stem Ginger Pudding (#litres_trial_promo) Boxing Day (#litres_trial_promo) Braised Oxtail with Dumplings (#litres_trial_promo) Fortnum’s Beef Tea Broth (#litres_trial_promo) Potted Ham Hock (#litres_trial_promo) Grilled Aubergine with Crushed Chickpeas (#litres_trial_promo) Roasted Squash, Feta and Pine Nut Salad (#litres_trial_promo) Salmon En Cro?te with Chive Butter Sauce (#litres_trial_promo) Bubble and Squeak with Stilton (#litres_trial_promo) Puff Pastry Case Of Glazed Parsnips with Morel Cream Sauce (#litres_trial_promo) Winter Vegetable Curry (#litres_trial_promo) Pineapple Tarte Tatin (#litres_trial_promo) Lime Curd and Pistachio Tart (#litres_trial_promo) Prune and Almond Tart (#litres_trial_promo) Cherrilossus Sundae (#litres_trial_promo) Black Forest Log (#litres_trial_promo) Muscat Grapes In Port and Apple Jelly (#litres_trial_promo) Waste Not, Want Not (#litres_trial_promo) Turkey Broth with Dumplings (#litres_trial_promo) Turkey Scotch Eggs (#litres_trial_promo) Turkey and Gruy?re Croquettes (#litres_trial_promo) Fish Pie with Carrot and Parsnip Mash (#litres_trial_promo) Goose Cassoulet (#litres_trial_promo) Sage Toad-In-The-Hole with Pigs In Blankets and Onion Gravy (#litres_trial_promo) Black Pudding on Fried Bread with Duck Eggs and Tomato Jam (#litres_trial_promo) Turkey, Red Cabbage and Chestnut Pie (#litres_trial_promo) Brussels Sprout and Kale Tart with Caramelised Shallot and Thyme Sauce (#litres_trial_promo) New Year’s Eve (#litres_trial_promo) Scottish Langoustine with Saffron A?oli (#litres_trial_promo) Gin, Orange and Coriander Gravadlax (#litres_trial_promo) Beef Fillet and B?arnaise Sauce (#litres_trial_promo) Mini Beetroot and Apple Burgers with Jackfruit Salsa (#litres_trial_promo) January Eating (#litres_trial_promo) Mussel Minestrone (#litres_trial_promo) Spiced Parsnip Soup (#litres_trial_promo) Sea Bream Ceviche with Chilli and Basil (#litres_trial_promo) Grilled Mackerel with Gooseberry (#litres_trial_promo) Sea Bass with Jerusalem Artichokes and Tomato Salsa Verde (#litres_trial_promo) Scallop Ceviche with Stem Ginger (#litres_trial_promo) Lamb Skewers with Couscous and Mint Yoghurt (#litres_trial_promo) Cauliflower Couscous (Vegan) (#litres_trial_promo) Vegetarian Kedgeree (#litres_trial_promo) Salsify, Beetroot and Chard Salad (#litres_trial_promo) Rainbow Chard with Girolles and Parmesan (#litres_trial_promo) Warm Salad Of Jerusalem Artichoke, Cauliflower and Harissa (#litres_trial_promo) Roasted Sweet Potato and Red Onion Salad (#litres_trial_promo) Burns’ Night Cock-A-Leekie Soup (#litres_trial_promo) Burns’ Night Haggis with Neeps, Ayrshire Tatties and Whisky Jus (#litres_trial_promo) Clementine Jelly (#litres_trial_promo) Apple, Ginger, Pineapple and Fresh Turmeric Juice (#litres_trial_promo) The Green Smoothie (#litres_trial_promo) ABC (#litres_trial_promo) Credits Index Acknowledgements About the Author About the Publisher Edward Bawden (#uf59e83a6-8f18-5655-bfc9-3022b92f8108) For many, Fortnum & Mason is all about the food. And rightly so. But back in the 1920s, it added another rather lovely string to an already elegant bow. Because it was then, among the cold, parsimonious monotony of post-war Britain, that a glorious burst of colour exploded throughout the relentless, gunmetal-grey gloom. In the form of the Fortnum’s Commentaries, lavishly illustrated, beautifully written booklets created by Colonel Charles Wyld, the legendary Fortnum’s managing director, in partnership with Hugh Stuart Menzies and Marcus Brumwell, whose advertising agency held the Fortnum’s account. At heart, the Commentaries were direct mail catalogues, expressly designed to boost sales. But they were done in such style, with such wit and verve, both visual and written, that they far transcend their commercial roots. ‘I visualised little booklets,’ said Menzies a few years later, ‘sent to a carefully chosen mailing list; booklets as readable as something bought at a bookstall or drawn from the library. Every preconceived notion of a trade catalogue was to be violated. Space was to be sacrificed to pure fun in every direction …’ Their enduring appeal is testament to the brilliance of Wyld, Menzies and Brumwell. And it is many of the pictures from the Commentaries that help illustrate this book. Artists such as Rex Whistler were contributors, and in 1932 Edward Bawden (now, at long last, being rightly revered) started working on a regular basis with Fortnum & Mason. Menzies, in addition to holding the store’s advertising account, was also in charge of the firm’s Invalid Department, a place where all manner of restorative broths and gentle blancmanges were sold to the well-heeled weak and poshly poorly. In the words of Robert Harling, ‘Bawden’s drawings were exactly attuned to Menzies’ almost carefree yet cunningly persuasive prose.’ The relationship continued until the late 1930s, when the war put a swift end to any advertising. Among many other things. Life in post-war Britain was, in many ways, harder, with increased rationing and a country crippled and on her knees. But with the end of rationing in 1955, the relationship with Fortnum’s resumed. Colonel Wyld was dead, Hugh Stuart Menzies would soon follow, and Fortnum’s had been bought by Garfield Weston, a Canadian multi-millionaire for whom the store became a hobby, and then a passion. The advertising firm was now Colman Prentis & Varley, managed by a friend of Bawden’s called Jack Beddington, who had worked with John Betjeman on Shell’s brilliant ‘Shell on the Road’ ads in the 1930s. Bawden now worked with Ruth Gill’s crisp and clean lettering, instead of Menzies’ witty prose, and the results are astounding. As Mary Gowing wrote, ‘You have only to look at the impeccable yet lively and varied typography of the Fortnum & Mason catalogues (page after flawless page of it) to realise the demands that must have been made on the compositor. The colour, too, with its exciting juxtapositions of cool pinks and luminous scarlet, of blue greens, and green blues, must have been equally demanding of the printer.’ The first Christmas catalogue Bawden did for Weston was in 1955, and he produced some spectacular work each year until 1959. The 1958 catalogue is an extended pun on the word cat, and is full of witty and playful drawings – and one dog. Cats were a passion, and they strut and mewl, dance and grin their way through these remarkable works, along with chickens and sturgeon, elephants, ants and bees. His clean lines, bold colours and whimsical wit delight to this day. And will endure for generations to come. Now, of course, Bawden is seen as one of Britain’s great painters, printers, illustrators and graphic designers. Part of his enduring appeal is his combination of modernism and tradition. He always believed that a good piece of design was as valuable as a painting (he was endearingly self-effacing and never took anything too seriously), and his work took in everything from iconic London Transport posters in the 30s, to film posters (‘The Titfield Thunderbolt’ being a particular favourite), illustrations for books (his pen and ink drawings for Ambrose Heath’s Good Food series are sublime), as well as book jackets, linocuts, wartime watercolours (from uniformed police officer to Ahwad Abdulla, son of Abudulla the coffee man), even wallpaper. He’s one of those artists you will have come across endlessly, without actually knowing it was him. Bawden’s association with Fortnum’s was as fruitful as it is eternal. His illustrations have the same immediate appeal now as they did then. He not only learnt his trade at the store but managed to perfect it too. A marriage made in design heaven. Because at Fortnum & Mason, it’s never just about the food. Introduction (#uf59e83a6-8f18-5655-bfc9-3022b92f8108) Christmas at Fortnum’s. It’s the pure, 175-proof spirit of the festive season, the quintessence of Yuletide delight. ‘Is greediness a forgivable sin at Christmas time?’ gasped a smitten journalist, waxing lyrical about the store, some time towards the start of the twentieth century. ‘It ought to be, seeing how many well-nigh irresistible temptations one is exposed to at that delectable season.’ As a child, it was less shop, more glittering, spice-scented Xanadu, a sugar-coated stately pleasure dome. With the added advantage of being real, and sitting, ever-merrily, at 181 Piccadilly. Stepping into the shop, past the tail-coated doorman, was the nearest one could get to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. ‘At no time as now do the confectioners’ windows glisten with more enticing bait,’ sighed another scribe, in 1876. ‘Fortnum and Mason’s exhibition is enough to drive the whole race of children wild with delight.’ But this isn’t a book about childish delight, nor is it about Christmas alone. Not that we’d ignore the seasonal essentials, the likes of Norfolk turkey and York ham, porcelain pots of Stilton, sticky dates, smoked salmon, glorious griottes and Elvas plums. As if. Winter feasting, though, is at the book’s heart, feasting in its every guise. Once the nights draw in, and the temperature plummets, so the pleasures of the table, the age-old act of sitting down and breaking bread together, come to the fore. Food as succour, satisfaction, the great unifying force. Keats rather nailed it (for a change) in ‘The Eve of St Agnes’, falling on 19 January: ‘… he forth from the closet brought a heap/Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;/With jellies soother than the creamy curd,/And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon;/Manna and dates, in argosy transferr’d/From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,/From silken Samarcand to cedar’d Lebanon.’ A particularly Fortnum’s-esque feast. We explode into Guy Fawkes night, with its fireworks, flaming anti-Papist pyres, pasties and caramelised apple pancakes, before gliding through the Somerset House ice rink, and SKATE!, with a cheese-drenched, Alpine-inspired sm?rg?sbord of Stilton fondue and tartiflette. Game, that much under-rated British seasonal star, has its own section, with everything from braised venison pappardelle to pot-roast pheasant. There’s an entire chapter on Christmas baking, things to munch on Christmas Eve, and things to devour on Boxing Day, too. Leftovers are given the Fortnum’s treatment, from austere to revere. And the recipes take in both traditional and modern, much like the store itself. So there are Christmas spiced sausage rolls alongside scallop ceviche, roast goose next to gin and orange gravadlax. It’s not all rich winter succour, either. January may be a time for a new start, and a rather lighter menu, but that doesn’t mean that flavour and joy have to be thrown out with the tree. At Fortnum’s, the first month of the year is about vibrant eating, delight without any of that ghastly guilt. Because this is a book entirely devoted to the pleasures of cooking and eating in the colder months, a volume that embraces influences British and international alike. Above all, though, this is about celebration. Of winter feasts and Christmas, rib-sticking tucker and salads both light and lithe. ‘Baby, it’s cold outside,’ crooned Dean Martin. All the more reason to stay inside and feast. Eat, drink, and be truly merry. Ingredients (#uf59e83a6-8f18-5655-bfc9-3022b92f8108) BURFORD BROWNS Our eggs of choice. The yolks have a deep yellow hue, and are wonderfully creamy, too. HONEY Show me the honey. Every variety has its own taste and character, and at Fortnum’s we have not only a range of London honeys (produced in our own hives), but types from all over Britain and around the world. BUTTER We have some amazing butter at Fortnum’s, but one we particularly like is Abernethy butter, churned by hand in Ireland. POTTED STILTON A perennial Christmas essential, this classic English cheese is rich, creamy, with the most elegant of bites. And if it’s not produced in Leicestershire, Derby or Nottinghamshire, it isn’t the genuine article. SMOKED SALMON One of the great fridge fallbacks, this is another Yuletide star. Serve with scrambled eggs for an easy Boxing Day dinner, wedged into a fat sandwich, or simply as it is, with a squeeze of lemon and a liberal dose of black pepper. GLENARM BEEF This magnificent beef, produced in Northern Ireland, is sold exclusively at Fortnum’s in the UK. It’s aged in a Himalayan salt chamber, which intensifies the flavour, producing some of the finest beef you’ll ever taste. SINGLE CASK MADEIRA This fortified wine is one of the great unsung heroes of the drink world, with hints of caramel, walnut, raisin and coffee. It also has a fresh acidity that balances all that richness. CAVIAR For me, the ultimate edible treat – the salted eggs of the sturgeon fish. Eat it on top of baked potatoes, on homemade blinis or simply on its own, with the merest drizzle of lemon. STEM GINGER A wonder spice, ginger is said to help everything from morning sickness to muscle pain. It also tastes sublime, especially when kept in sugar syrup. Add to ice cream or crumbles, or simply eat on its own. DOUBLE CREAM Slather it over Christmas pudding, drizzle it into coffee, whisk it into thick peaks. No fridge is complete without double cream. TIPS ON BUYING GAME Trust your butcher, because they will know how old the bird is (important when it comes to buying grouse, as you want a young bird for roasting), and how long it’s been hung. If it stinks to high heaven, it’s been hung for too long. Fireworks and Papist plots Ah, Bonfire Night. The dazzling fireworks, burnished sausages, steaming paper cups of searing mulled wine. Children, crazed by cola, their eyes agleam with sugar and glee, their spirits as high as those rockets above. All centred on that roaring, crackling inferno, spilling warm light into the inky black gloom. So it seems a little incongruous that this merry night commemorates not the start of winter, nor some pagan feast, but rather the ritualised burning of a Papist plotter. Which is, of course, the very reason for its existence – a celebration of the death of Guy Fawkes, who, along with his fellow conspirators, had planned to blow up King James I and the whole House of Lords. Gunpowder Treason Day, as it was originally known, was actually a mandatory day of celebration, enforced by the introduction of the Observance of 5th November Act. But as ever in matters of the Protestant church, it quickly became a focal point for anti-Catholic abuse. While Puritans ranted and raved about the perils of popery, the common folk saw it as a time to rejoice, inspired more by the spirit of gin than that of the Lord. And, like the Christmases of old, festivities became increasingly drunken and raucous, with effigies of popular hate figures being burnt, including the Pope himself. As time moved on, children would go begging with effigies of Guy Fawkes, a strictly seasonal money-making opportunity. Hence ‘a penny for the guy’. And so the 5th of November transformed into Guy Fawkes Night. By the nineteenth century, things were getting a little more violent, with confrontations mired in class hatred. ‘A chance,’ according to an 1850 article in Punch, ‘for the lower classes … to pit disorder against order, a pretext for violence and uncontrolled revelry.’ In Lewes, there was ‘lower class rioting’, and the intimidation of ‘respectable householders’, while in Guildford, ‘gangs of revellers who called themselves “guys” terrorised the local population’. Lewes still sets alight an effigy of Pope Paul V, an act of remembrance for the town’s seventeen Protestants burned at the stake during the sixteenth century. During this ‘close to the knuckle’ celebration, they also incinerate various villains du jour. But for the rest of us, it’s the chance to wrap up warm, pray that the rain will hold off, and stare for hours into the flaming pyre. And at this chill, dark time of year, the sort of hearty, belly-sticking tucker that Fortnum’s sent out with intrepid climbers and explorers is exactly the sort of food one craves. Rich venison sausages, jacket potatoes stuffed with all manner of delights, and a very Fortnum’s take on the Cornish pasty … where the steak is replaced by game. ‘Fun food’, in the words of Hugh Ruttledge, that great Everest explorer, to lift the spirits and soothe the soul. Bonfire Night may have its roots in attempted regicide. But these days, it’s more about feasting. With a bang. SPICY LENTIL AND CHESTNUT CASSEROLE WITH VENISON SAUSAGES (#ulink_3f29d398-aaa1-564b-9724-f395120b519b) Venison sausages would be ideal, but don’t sweat too much if they’re difficult to find – any decent pork sausage will do fine. The key is to cook them slowly, over a low heat, turning them occasionally in a languorous manner. This could take up to 20 minutes, but the wait is well worth the bother. & the perfect accompaniment – a glass of Crozes Hermitage SERVES 4 · 3 tablespoons olive oil · 8 venison sausages · 1 onion, chopped · 25g fresh ginger, grated · 2 large garlic cloves, chopped · 1 teaspoon ground cumin · 1 teaspoon ground coriander · ? teaspoon ground turmeric · 2 teaspoons paprika · 2 teaspoons tomato pur?e · 150g plum tomatoes, skinned and chopped · 100g cooked chestnuts (vacuum-packed ones are fine), roughly chopped · 250g Puy lentils · 650ml brown chicken stock · 2 teaspoons chopped coriander, to serve Heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil in a large pan, then add the sausages and cook until browned all over. Remove the sausages from the pan and set aside. Add the remaining oil to the same pan, stir in the onion and cook until tender and lightly coloured. Stir in the ginger and garlic and cook until the aroma rises. Then stir in the spices and tomato pur?e and cook for 2 minutes longer. Add the chopped tomatoes and cook for a few minutes, until softened. Return the sausages to the pan and stir in the chestnuts, lentils and chicken stock. Bring to a simmer and cook gently for 20 minutes, until the lentils are tender and the sausages are cooked through. If the mixture gets too dry, add a little more stock or some water. Season with plenty of salt and pepper, and mix in the coriander to serve. GAME PASTIES (#ulink_6450d933-0c93-58cb-a78d-69ac4b78dac1) Now before Cornwall, that great and most western of counties, rises up in abject horror, this is NOT a Cornish pasty. There’s sweet potato in there, for Pete’s sake. Game, garlic, bacon and veal too. No, this is the Fortnum’s game pasty, a fine way to use game of any kind, all wrapped in a golden shortcrust pastry. Hand-held delight at its best. & try these with Fortnum’s Damson, Blackberry and Apple Chutney and a glass of Barossa Shiraz MAKES 6 · 300g mixed game (such as venison, duck breasts, pheasant breasts) · 150g lardo (or streaky bacon), cut into small strips · 250g minced veal · 3 garlic cloves, chopped · ? teaspoon four-spice powder · 6 sprigs of thyme · 1 egg, lightly beaten, to glaze FOR THE PASTRY · 500g plain flour · 1 teaspoon salt · 250g butter, cubed and chilled · 150ml milk FOR THE STOCK · 500ml good beef or game stock · 100g sweet potatoes, diced · 100g swede, diced · 100g carrots, diced · 100g onions, diced First make the pastry. Sift the flour and salt into a bowl, then add the cold butter and rub it in with your fingertips until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Gradually stir in enough milk to form a soft but not sticky dough; you might not need all the milk. Wrap the pastry in cling film and chill for an hour or so. Bring the stock to a simmer in a pan, then add the diced vegetables and cook for 6–8 minutes, until they start to feel tender. Remove the vegetables from the stock and set aside. Boil the stock until it has reduced to a thick, syrupy coating consistency. Set aside to cool a little. Cut the game into thin strips, then cut across to make small pieces. Place in a bowl with the lardo, minced veal, garlic, four-spice powder and the leaves from the thyme sprigs. Mix well and season generously with salt and pepper. Stir in the reduced beef stock to give a moist mixture, but don’t make it too wet. Divide the pastry into 6 pieces and roll each one out into a circle about 3mm thick; you could use a plate or an upturned bowl to trim it to shape. Spoon the filling generously along the centre of each one. Brush the edges of the pastry with a little beaten egg, then bring the sides up over the filling and press together firmly to seal, crimping them by pinching between your thumb and forefinger. Place the pasties on a baking sheet lined with baking parchment and brush with beaten egg. Chill for about 20 minutes, then brush again with egg to give a good golden finish. Place in an oven heated to 200?C/Gas Mark 6. Bake for 15 minutes, then reduce the temperature to 180°C/Gas Mark 4 and bake for another 20–25 minutes. Serve warm or cold. BAKED JACKET POTATOES WITH LEMON CR?ME FRA?CHE AND CAVIAR (#ulink_f6bfd6a7-b539-5d24-a7fc-103c17b62f19) I know, proper caviar is expensive. Ruinously so. Although not, as it once was, ruinous to the environment, because all caviar sold in the UK is now subject to CITES rules, and farmed. Wild is illegal. The quality gets better and better every year, and at Fortnum’s they are obsessed with the best. I prefer Oscietra to Beluga, thanks to its delicate nutty tang, though Sevruga is recommended here, as it’s marginally more affordable. You could also use trout or salmon caviar, which is rather cheaper but still has its crisp, clean, ovoid charm. & perfect with a glass of Brut Reserve Champagne SERVES 4 · 4 medium baking potatoes (about 150g each), such as Maris Piper · 120ml cr?me fra?che · 2 tablespoons chopped chives · grated zest of 1 lemon · 60g Sevruga caviar Wash the potatoes and rub a little sea salt over the skin while they are still damp. Prick each one with a fork a few times and place in an oven heated to 200°C/Gas Mark 6. Bake for about an hour, until tender when pierced with a knife. While the potatoes are baking, mix the cr?me fra?che, chives and lemon zest together. Slice the top off each potato and, holding it in an oven-gloved hand, carefully scoop out the flesh into a bowl, placing the skins on a roasting tray. Mash the potato with a fork, then mix in the cr?me fra?che and season to taste. Fill the potato skins with this mixture and put them back into the oven for 5 minutes at the same temperature. Remove the potatoes from the oven and spread the caviar over the top. BAKED JACKET POTATOES WITH SMOKED SALMON AND DILL CREAM CHEESE (#ulink_6fae1a7d-a1c5-50c8-8886-5d21a0074b42) The key to this delectably simple dish is that mixture of hot, fluffy potato, strips of gently smoked salmon, and cool, lactic cream cheese. Horseradish adds a hint of heat, while dill brings a touch of strident Scandinavian allure. & delicious with a glass of Blanc de Blancs Champagne SERVES 4 · 4 Maris Piper potatoes (about 150g each) · 70g full-fat cream cheese · ? a bunch of dill, plus more for garnishing · 2 teaspoons creamed horseradish · 140g smoked salmon, cut into strips Wash the potatoes and rub a little sea salt over the skin while they are still damp. Prick each one with a fork a few times and place in an oven heated to 200°C/Gas Mark 6. Bake for about an hour, until tender when pierced with a knife. While the potatoes are baking, mix the cream cheese with the dill and horseradish. Taste and add salt and pepper. Slice the top off each potato and, holding it in an oven-gloved hand, carefully scoop out the flesh into a bowl, placing the skins on a roasting tray. Mash the potato with a fork, then mix in the cream cheese and season to taste. Fill the potato skins with this mixture and put them back into the oven for 5 minutes at the same temperature. Remove the potatoes from the oven, top with strips of smoked salmon and sprinkle over a little dill. (See photo (#litres_trial_promo).) BAKED JACKET POTATOES WITH PUMPKIN AND COCONUT CURRY (#ulink_ee34a240-7a46-5f80-8a22-fe96933005a9) This takes the humble baked spud on a far-flung journey to exotic, spice-scented tropical shores. Serve with a punchy chutney and, for those of a more carnivorous bent, fat slices of York ham. SERVES 4 · 4 Maris Piper potatoes (about 150g each) · 2 tablespoons coconut oil · 2 shallots, chopped · a small thumb of fresh ginger, diced · 2 garlic cloves, chopped · ? teaspoon ground turmeric · ? teaspoon ground cumin · ? teaspoon mild curry powder · 1 star anise · ? of a pumpkin, diced (about 200g) · 400g tin of coconut milk · parsley, chopped, to serve Wash the potatoes and rub a little sea salt over the skin while they are still damp. Prick each one with a fork a few times and place in an oven heated to 200°C/Gas Mark 6. Bake for about an hour, until tender when pierced with a knife. While the potatoes are baking, heat the oil in a large saucepan over a medium-low heat and cook the shallots, ginger and garlic until soft, fragrant and translucent but without letting them take on any colour. Add the spices and diced pumpkin to the pan and add a pinch each of salt and pepper. Cook for 2–3 minutes, until the spices have released their fragrance. Add the coconut milk and cook for 15 minutes, or until the pumpkin is soft to the point of a knife. Slice the top off each potato and, holding it in an oven-gloved hand, carefully scoop out the flesh into a bowl, placing the skins on a roasting tray. Mash the potato with a fork, then add to the curry pan. Taste and adjust the seasoning, then remove the star anise. Fill the potato skins with the curry mixture and put them back into the oven for 10 minutes at the same temperature, until the skins are crispy. Sprinkle with chopped parsley to serve. (See photo (#litres_trial_promo).) BROWNIES WITH DARK CHOCOLATE GANACHE AND HONEYCOMB (#ulink_638a2b58-1337-5e21-8724-0add74f37587) Forget the Papist politics. This is a serious brownie, covered with honeycomb and rich chocolate ganache. An explosive combination. Guy Fawkes would be proud. & try these with a glass of Tokaji or a cup of Fortnum’s Assam tea MAKES 18 · 250g dark chocolate (70% cocoa solids) · 100g plain flour · 35g cocoa powder · 3 large eggs · 340g caster sugar · 190g butter FOR THE TOPPING · 120g dark chocolate (55% cocoa solids), chopped · 85ml double cream · 50g honeycomb Chop 50g of the chocolate into pea-size pieces and set aside. Chop the rest a little smaller and set that aside too. Sift the flour and cocoa powder into a bowl and set aside. Put the eggs and sugar into a large bowl and beat with an electric mixer until pale and very thick. Melt the butter in a saucepan. When bubbles appear around the edge, remove the pan from the heat and stir in the 200g of chopped chocolate until melted. Fold this mixture into the eggs and sugar with a large metal spoon. Fold in the flour and cocoa powder in three additions, then finally fold in the remaining chopped chocolate. Pour the mixture into a baking tin, roughly 23cm x 30cm, lined with baking parchment, and spread it out evenly. Place in an oven heated to 160°C/Gas Mark 3 for 15–20 minutes, until the edges are slightly risen but the mixture is still slightly soft in the centre (a skewer inserted in the middle should come out with a little mixture attached to it, but it shouldn’t be liquid). Remove from the oven and leave to cool. For the topping, put the chopped chocolate into a bowl. Bring the cream to a simmer in a pan, then pour it over the chocolate and leave for a few seconds. Stir gently until smooth. If your honeycomb is in large pieces, put it into a plastic bag and bash gently with a rolling pin until you have small chunks. Spread the chocolate ganache over the brownie, then sprinkle on the honeycomb. When the chocolate has set, cut the brownie into 18 squares or rectangles. CARAMELISED BRAMLEY APPLE PANCAKES (#ulink_6569a437-7a69-5d8e-b852-e723cb0ed7cd) The Bramley apple has a wonderful sharpness, which cuts a dashing swathe through all that caramel. These can be made in advance: simply prepare and fill the pancakes, then reheat in a moderate oven in a baking tin covered with foil. & delicious with a glass of Fortnum’s aged brandy de Jerez, or a cup of finest Darjeeling tea MAKES 8 PANCAKES, SERVING 4–8, depending on appetite · 4 Bramley apples, peeled, cored and cut into slices about 5mm thick · 50g caster sugar · 40g butter · cr?me fra?che or whipped cream, to serve FOR THE PANCAKES · 100g plain flour · 20g caster sugar · a pinch of salt · 2 large eggs · 250ml milk · 25g butter, melted · a little vegetable oil, for greasing First make the pancake batter. Put the flour, sugar and salt into a large mixing bowl and make a well in the centre. Crack the eggs into the well, then add a little of the milk and mix with a balloon whisk, gradually drawing the flour into the centre. Once all the flour has been incorporated into a smooth mixture, gradually whisk in the rest of the milk. Finally, whisk in the melted butter. Set the batter aside while you prepare the filling. Heat a large, heavy-based frying pan and add the apple slices. Allow them to caramelise a little in the dry pan, turning them over from time to time. Add the sugar and cook over a medium heat, stirring occasionally, until it caramelises and the apples are golden brown. Add the butter, toss gently with the apples and cook for a few minutes longer. To cook the pancakes, heat a 24cm pancake or frying pan over a moderate heat. Grease it by wiping it with a wad of kitchen paper dipped in oil. Ladle some batter into the hot pan, tilting the pan so the batter spreads in a thin, even layer. Quickly pour any excess batter into a jug (you can add this to the rest of the batter in the bowl while the pancake is cooking), then return the pan to the heat. Cook for about 30 seconds, until the pancake is golden underneath, then flip it over with a palette knife. Cook for another 30 seconds or so, until the second side is golden, then turn it out on to a warm plate. Make the remaining pancakes in the same way; you should have 8 in total. Reheat the caramelised apples if necessary. Divide them between the pancakes, then fold the pancakes in half, and in half again. You can do this as you cook the pancakes, serving each one as it is ready, or cook all the pancakes, then fill them. Serve with cr?me fra?che or whipped cream. The Shoot Lunch We need to talk about pheasant. And grouse, partridge and snipe. Oh, and rabbit, hare and venison, too. Game, the furred and feathered stars of British seasonal food, the true nobles of our national larder, the envy of serious eaters across the globe. Low in fat, high in flavour, sustainable, and relatively cheap too. What’s not to adore? Well, everything, according to the vast majority of Brits. Too visceral, they cry, and ‘difficult’, before blithely retreating to the bland indignities of the cheap chicken breast. So much safer, and less … well, threatening. Like offal, game is seen as something at the more hardcore, debauched end of British food. An ingredient that is best left to the adventurous. And I suppose one can see their point. Our taste buds have become so dulled over the years that anything with even a modicum of meaty might is treated with suspicion. The Victorians had a taste for ‘high’ game, meaning they hung the carcasses until the maggots started to drop off. And the flavour, as you might imagine, was a touch testing. But that first taste of young grouse just after the Glorious 12th of August is as close to subtle perfection as any food on earth. Simply roasted (and to do anything else at this time of year is tantamount to heresy), you get that sweet, succulent flesh, scented with the merest whisper of heather. It’s about as far removed from the stinking flesh of popular imagination as Helen of Troy is from Medusa. Then there’s the discreet charm of the partridge. Sadly, the native grey leg is a rare beast these days, supplanted by the farmed red leg or ‘Frenchie’. My father is convinced that the grey is far superior, in eating terms, to the red, with a deeper flavour and rather more depth. He knows of what he speaks. But the red leg is a fine bird, either roasted with unsmoked bacon draped across its breast, or transformed into a partridge pepper fry, where that delicate flesh is piqued by exotic spices. Admittedly, pheasant can veer towards the dry, especially towards the end of the season. But it makes a fine stew, and the breasts, if cut off, can be breaded and turned into gamey goujons. Or even cured, over salt, as ham. Woodcock, with its molten brown eyes and rapier-like beak, is the most beautiful of birds. And its flavour is certainly a little more pronounced than that of its cousins. Oh, and some may not approve of the way it’s traditionally presented, the beak tucked under the wing, the head split open to reveal a tiny spoonful of winsome brain. A treat indeed. But one, perhaps, for the more seasoned game aficionado. Still, who could resist the charms of rabbit in a punchy mustard sauce, or venison fillet, lightly seared. Hare is a magnificent beast, with the flavour going from majestic to downright fierce. These are not ‘extreme’ foods, but rather ingredients to be worshipped and adored. And Fortnum’s has long done a roaring trade in game, and also all manner of game consomm?s and pies (not least, the glorious Christmas Pye), plus the relishes we Brits consume with such, um, relish. ‘Every bird we sell is hung to perfection,’ cries a piece in a 1930s’ catalogue. ‘In fact we have arranged with the Duke not to so much as fire at a bird unless it has been properly hung. That’s how Fortnum’s do things.’ They have been and remain masters of the game pie – ‘Perhaps the finest things we do,’ according to the same catalogue. Francis Law, in A Man at Arms: Memoirs of Two World Wars, writes of the food in his officers’ mess: ‘expensive and superlative. Most of it came from Fortnum & Mason. Delicious p?t?s and ham … salmon and game in season … such bounty was never to be seen again’. They plucked game, and even had a department that supplied game to the gentlemen’s club of St James’s, right up until the late 1940s. Occasionally, the supply would go the other way around, with Fortnum’s buying the game sent to the club by their members, and transforming it into pies and terrines. Fortnum’s also had a whole department devoted to shooting, selling their own shotguns, and cartridges too. Plus all manner of caps, waxed jackets, plus-fours and picnics. They also maintain a tradition of catering for the shooting lunch, that claret-soaked happy hiatus where the morning’s sport is discussed and debated, over rich venison stews, shepherd’s pie, steak and kidney pudding, or even local fish and chips. My aim is not particularly true, but in the winter months, there are few places I’d rather be than in some rugged field, be it Dorset, Devon or Durham, with good friends, awaiting the flutter of wings. Far from being some bloodthirsty slaughter for ruddy-faced toffs, proper shooting is as much about conservation as it is about killing. And it goes without saying that every single bird killed is gutted, plucked and sent to the dealer. To be trussed, and sold on to those who crave their winged wonders. So abandon squeamish preconceptions, and embrace game. Start with a taste of partridge, and before you know it, you’ll be craving civet ? la royale, and lusting after that woodcock. Ditch the dullard chicken breast, and, to quote a famous advert for American fags, Come to Where the Flavour Is. GROUSE AND PEARL BARLEY BROTH (#ulink_2ec3fb21-d39d-5706-a6a5-12ba9666026b) This is an old-fashioned recipe, no doubt about that. Not in terms of being stolid and dull, rather thanks to the clarification process. But do persevere, as the end result is a glimmering, topaz-hued broth with the most rich and deep of flavours. SERVES 4 · 2 leftover grouse carcasses · 2 litres good-quality chicken stock · 500g chicken wings · 1 large glass of brandy · ? a star anise · 1 bay leaf · a sprig of thyme · 60g pearl barley, soaked overnight in cold water and drained · ? a carrot, diced · 1 stick of celery, diced · 1 teaspoon chopped parsley FOR THE BROTH · 2 boneless, skinless chicken thighs · 1 carrot, roughly chopped · 1 shallot, roughly chopped · 2 garlic cloves, chopped · 2 sticks of celery, roughly chopped · 100g button mushrooms · 2 medium egg whites Pick the leftover meat from the grouse carcasses and set aside. Break up the carcasses, then put them into a large saucepan with the chicken stock and leave over a low heat to infuse. Meanwhile, put the chicken wings into a roasting tin and place them in an oven heated to 190°C/Gas Mark 5. Roast for about 30 minutes, until golden brown. Remove from the oven and pour in the brandy, stirring and scraping the base of the tin with a wooden spoon to deglaze. Add the chicken wings and pan juices to the stock, together with the star anise, bay leaf and thyme. Bring to the boil and simmer gently for 1 hour, then strain into a clean pan and leave to cool a little. Discard the wings and herbs. For the broth, blitz the chicken thighs in a food processor. Remove from the processor to a plate, then blitz the carrot, shallot, garlic, celery and mushrooms. In a clean bowl, whisk the egg whites until they form soft peaks. In a bowl, mix the chicken with the blitzed vegetables and fold in the egg whites. Add this mixture to the stock and slowly bring to a simmer, stirring very gently from time to time so it doesn’t catch on the bottom of the pan. Once the solids reach the top of the pan and form a crust, poke a small hole in the centre. Now leave the stock to simmer gently, undisturbed, for 45 minutes. Strain through a double layer of muslin, discarding the crust. Taste and check the seasoning. Transfer a little of this consomm? to a clean pan and simmer the pearl barley in it for about 25 minutes, until tender. Cook the diced carrot and celery in a little of the consomm? in a separate pan. When they are tender, mix with the pearl barley and add the parsley. To serve, divide the pearl barley mixture between 4 soup plates. Scatter the reserved grouse meat on top and pour the hot consomm? over. PAPPARDELLE WITH VENISON RAG?, RED CABBAGE AND PECORINO (#ulink_db52e4a5-ada9-5420-a16d-d1e6d53469e2) This is a no-nonsense winter warmer, slow-cooked venison rag? with a kick of spiced red cabbage. Sure, the purists may balk, but eating is believing. The sauce has majestic richness and a wonderful acidic kick. Fortnum’s make their own pappardelle for this – a deeply luxurious version using a mighty eighteen egg yolks. But feel free to use a good-quality dried pappardelle or tagliatelle. Just check the ingredients list to make sure that it contains a decent ratio of egg yolk. & perfectly matches a glass of Valpolicella SERVES 6 · 2 carrots · 1 onion · 3 garlic cloves · 2 sticks of celery · 1 tablespoon olive oil · 600g minced venison · 50g butter · 500ml red wine · 500ml beef stock · 250ml chicken stock · 1 teaspoon thyme leaves · 1 bay leaf · 500g good-quality dried pappardelle FOR THE RED CABBAGE · ? a small red cabbage, sliced · 50g dark soft brown sugar · 100ml red wine · 1 cinnamon stick TO FINISH · 3 tablespoons olive oil · 200g Pecorino Romano cheese, grated · 2 teaspoons chopped rosemary · 2 teaspoons chopped parsley · 2 teaspoons crushed juniper berries Peel the carrots, onion and garlic and cut them and the celery into rough chunks. Place in a food processor and blitz until finely chopped. Heat the tablespoon of olive oil in a large, heavy-based frying pan, then add the minced venison and sear over a high heat until golden brown. Remove from the pan and set aside. Reduce the heat, add the butter, then stir in the vegetables and garlic and cook gently until soft. Return the venison to the pan, pour in the red wine and simmer until reduced by two-thirds. Add the beef stock, chicken stock, herbs and some salt and pepper and simmer gently for 1?–2 hours, until most of the liquid has evaporated and the mixture is moist and well-flavoured. While the venison is cooking, put all the ingredients for the red cabbage into a separate pan, cover and cook gently for about 1 hour, until the cabbage is tender and most of the liquid has evaporated. Season to taste and drain off any excess liquid. Cook the pasta in a large pan of boiling salted water until al dente, then drain. Stir the cabbage into the venison rag?. Toss with the pasta, half the olive oil and half the cheese and adjust the seasoning if necessary. Divide between serving bowls and scatter over the rest of the cheese, the chopped rosemary, parsley and the crushed juniper berries. Drizzle over the remaining olive oil and serve straight away. DUCK RAS EL HANOUT WITH DUCK SAMOSAS AND SAFFRON COUSCOUS (#ulink_61cfe141-c6f9-519e-bb1a-2f298a15886a) This is a dish scented with North African promise, subtly spiced, with ras el hanout and rose harissa paste and couscous studded with dried fruit and nuts. It may initially look a little overwhelming, but don’t fear this recipe, because, as ever, it’s all about the prep. The samosas can be prepared in advance, and fried just before serving. & try this with Fortnum’s soy and ginger dressing and a glass of Alsace Pinot Blanc SERVES 4 · 4 teaspoons rose harissa paste · 1 teaspoon ras el hanout · 35ml olive oil · 4 duck breasts, skin scored 3 or 4 times with a sharp knife FOR THE SAMOSAS AND SAUCE · 1 tablespoon sunflower oil · 2 duck legs · 1 small carrot, diced · 1 stick of celery, diced · 1 small onion, diced · 1 garlic clove, chopped · 1 teaspoon ras el hanout · ? teaspoon coriander seeds · 70ml Madeira · 700ml good-quality chicken stock · a sprig of thyme · 3 spring onions, sliced · 3 tablespoons chopped coriander · 4 sheets of feuille de brick pastry · 1 egg, lightly beaten · sunflower oil, for deep-frying FOR THE COUSCOUS · 400ml chicken stock · a small pinch of saffron strands · 320g couscous (or mograbia/giant couscous) · 50g golden raisins (or sultanas) · 35g flaked almonds, lightly toasted in a dry frying pan · 3 teaspoons chopped coriander · Tenderstem broccoli, to serve Mix the harissa paste, ras el hanout and olive oil together. Put the duck breasts into a shallow dish, rub the mixture all over them, then cover and leave to marinate for at least 6 hours or overnight. Heat the sunflower oil in a small, heavy-based casserole into which the duck legs fit neatly. Season the legs, then put them into the pan and fry over a medium heat until golden brown all over. Remove from the pan and set aside. Add the diced vegetables, garlic, ras el hanout and coriander seeds to the pan and cook until lightly coloured. Pour in the Madeira and let it bubble until reduced by about two-thirds, stirring to deglaze the base of the pan. Add the stock and bring to a simmer. Return the duck legs to the pan with the thyme, ensuring the legs are submerged in the stock. Bring back to a simmer, then cover the casserole and transfer to an oven heated to 150°C/Gas Mark 2. Cook for 1?–2 hours, until the meat is very tender and comes away from the bone easily. Remove the duck legs from the liquid and leave to cool. Reserve the liquid. Flake the duck meat into a bowl, discarding the skin and bones, and mix in the spring onions and coriander. Strain the cooking liquor through a fine sieve into a clean pan and simmer until it has a slightly syrupy, sauce-like consistency. Stir about 4 tablespoons of this reduced liquor into the duck mixture; it should be enough to bind it lightly together. Press this mixture into a small baking tray lined with baking parchment so that it forms a layer about 1.5cm thick. Cover with a piece of baking parchment and chill thoroughly. Set aside the rest of the sauce. To make the samosas, cut the duck leg mixture into 4 triangles. Brush each sheet of feuille de brick with beaten egg, put a triangle of filling on top and fold up into a parcel, making sure you have at least a double thickness of brick pastry around the filling. Brush the edges with more beaten egg to seal. Pour 4cm of sunflower oil into a deep, heavy-based pan and heat it to 170°C. Fry the samosas for about 2 minutes, until golden, flipping them over halfway through. Drain on kitchen paper and set aside. To prepare the couscous, bring the chicken stock to the boil. Mix the saffron with a tablespoon of the hot stock, then add it to the rest of the stock and stir well. Put the couscous and golden raisins into a bowl. Return the stock to the boil and pour it over the couscous. Cover the bowl tightly with cling film and leave for 5 minutes, then fluff up the couscous gently with a fork. Stir in the flaked almonds and coriander and season well with salt and pepper. To cook the duck breasts, put a large, heavy-based frying pan over a medium heat. When it is hot, remove the duck breasts from their marinade and place them, skin side down, in the pan. Cook until the skin is golden brown, then turn the breasts over and cook for a minute longer. Transfer the pan to an oven heated to 180°C/Gas Mark 4 and cook for about 8 minutes; the duck meat should still be pink in the centre. Leave the duck breasts to rest for 5 minutes, then cut each one lengthways in half at an angle. Divide the couscous between 4 serving plates, place the duck on top and add a samosa to each plate. Heat the remaining sauce and pour it around. Serve with Tenderstem broccoli. Christmas essentials The list here is a sort of Christmas survival guide, an exhaustive collection of everything you need to have on hand to deal with those last-minute drop-ins. Or late-night hunger pangs. Or mid-afternoon snacks. It takes in the obvious (Champagne, coffee, wine, cheese, mince pies, brandy butter), through to the more exotic (glac? fruits, marrons glac?s, Elvas plums and pruneaux d’Agen), and right up to the lavishly lovely (caviar). Christmas has never tasted so good. BISCUITS TO GO WITH CHEESE I hardly need to explain this one. But if you’re insisting on the finest cheese (which you are, naturally), find biscuits to match. Fortnum’s has a range to suit every cheese, but I’m also a fan of the Highgrove oat biscuits, and of the classic water biscuits. BRANDY BUTTER For me, brandy butter is easily the best thing about Christmas pudding, and makes it just about bearable. In fact, I could eat it straight from the jar. But it’s a Yuletide essential, and just as good melted over mince pies, crumble and other classic puddings. CAVIAR AND (FRESH) BLINIS OK, so caviar is not exactly cheap. But then this is Christmas, the time to splash out on the things you really love. And that includes the divine eggs of the sturgeon. It’s now illegal to sell wild caviar in this country, but the farmed stuff is so good these days that even the great experts would be pushed to tell the difference. Beluga is the most expensive variety, as it’s the rarest, and has the biggest eggs. Gunmetal grey in colour, it has a subtle, slightly creamy taste with the merest hint of walnut. My favourite is Oscietra, with smaller eggs but a more pronounced nutty taste, whereas Sevruga has a distinct tang of the sea. Caviar is best eaten with a non-reactive spoon, as metal tends to give an unpleasant tang. So go for spoons made of horn, mother-of-pearl, or even plastic. If you must. Caviar works beautifully with eggs of any kind (scrambled, boiled, even fried), and with smoked fish, too. I like it piled high on a homemade blini (you can buy decent shop-bought versions, too, which keep well, and are also good with smoked salmon and soured cream) or fresh Melba toast. Some folk like to sully their caviar with chopped egg and onions. Sacrilege! Although each to their own, I suppose. For me, though, caviar needs nothing more than the merest drizzle of lemon. When you’re eating something this rare and exquisite, you want to keep it blessedly simple. CHAMPAGNE There is, of course, a Champagne for every mood and moment, from the elegantly light Blanc de Blancs to the rather more nutty, rich and complex Fortnum’s Vintage, made by the great Louis Roederer. And there should always be a couple of bottles sitting chilled in the fridge, ready for any eventuality or hospitality emergency. See it as Christmas First Aid. CHEESE WITH MULLED WINE JELLY Another addictive addition to your groaning cheeseboard, this Christmas spiced wine jelly confection works wonders with anything it touches. Add a little to your gravy, for sweet, subtle depth. CHRISTMAS CAKE If you can’t face making your own, then leave the heavy lifting to Fortnum’s. They have cakes that taste every bit as fine as those made at home – and some, dare I say, that taste even better. CHRISTMAS MUSTARDS, BOXING DAY CHUTNEYS These are the essential Christmas artillery, no-nonsense troopers that add all manner of pungent, pickled and vinegar-drenched magic to anything they touch. Seriously, imagine York ham without a splodge of sinus-clearing English mustard, or cold turkey minus a neat pile of seasonally spiced chutney. Although they might be seen as unglamorous store-cupboard staples, their role is paramount. The saviour of leftovers, they add vim and vigour, light and life to every part of the Christmas feast: yesterday’s curry, warmed up and anointed with a dollop of hot mango chutney; Chilli Lilli pickle with cold roast potatoes; hot garlic pickle with cold lamb; pickled beetroot and red cabbage chutney with roast duck, green tomato chutney with a brace of fried eggs. And, just like a puppy, they’re not just for Christmas. They continue to delight the whole year round. CHRISTMAS PUDDING Like the mince pie, the beloved Christmas pudding started off with a distinctly savoury appeal. Known in the fifteenth century as plum pottage, the recipe contained chopped beef or mutton, as well as onions, dried fruits, wine, herbs and all those exotic spices brought back from the Middle East. By the Crusaders, some will say. And far from being the merry globe it is now, this pottage had the soft, runny consistency of porridge. As time passed, and breadcrumbs and eggs were added, so the mixture thickened. And the meat was gradually replaced by suet. It was then wrapped in a cloth, and became the shape we know today. Fortnum’s has a long pudding tradition, supplying either the ingredients or complete puddings to military clients on overseas service. As ever, a taste of home in the outposts of Empire. But they didn’t actually make and sell their own puddings in store until the First World War. Yet from the very start, the shop filled with muscatel raisins, currants and sultanas, China oranges, lemons and candied peel, fragrant cloves, and dark sugars and treacle from the West Indies. Customers from across the globe placed large orders for the vital exotic ingredients needed to create enough puddings for their families and guests. It’s a tradition that goes on to this day. And you can find a pulchritudinous pudding in store for every single taste. The choice is ever dazzling. Whether you make it yourself, or buy it ready to steam, you can be sure of one thing – no one knows the Christmas pudding quite like Fortnum & Mason. COFFEE Since writing the first Fortnum & Mason cook book, I’ve become a coffee bore. Meaning I buy my beans whole, grind them fresh for each cup, then use a Chemex drip coffee maker to produce a cup that fills me with pure caffeinated delight. Fortnum’s has a huge range of both beans and ready-ground, from the delicate, fragrant notes of Jamaican Blue Mountain to the rather more robust (but ever elegant) Guatemalan Santa Clara. I could bang on and on about the idiosyncrasies of each different variety, the beauty of blends, and the niceties of roasts. Before moving on to a deep discussion about the joys of drip brew versus machine. But I’ll spare you the lecture, and offer one last piece of advice – instant may be easy, but it’s certainly no match for the real thing. DUNDEE CAKE The classic fruit cake, unadorned, save a topping of fresh almonds, this is no-nonsense teatime tucker. One for the purists, who see a Christmas coating of marzipan as an unnecessary embellishment. ELVAS PLUMS A Fortnum’s Christmas classic so beloved it even inspired its own sugarplum fairy. And 200 years back, Fortnum’s would take out an advertisement in The Times, announcing their arrival in store. And still do. They were that popular, and remain so to this day. They’re not actually plums, but rather greengages, grown in the Upper Alentejo region of Portugal. Hand-selected in June, they’re then steeped in vats of sugar cane syrup for two months, before being washed, sun-dried and packed into beautiful wooden boxes. They go really well with port (which makes sense, as they were made popular by the British port-producing families who were once so powerful in the region), as well as with Cognac and Armagnac. Cheese too, both hard and soft. As I said, a true Christmas classic. FIG CHEESE Not a cheese, rather a rich and wonderfully fruity addition to the cheeseboard, this is especially good with soft cheese. Though I find it ever versatile, something to bring out previously unknown depths in everything from good Cheddar to Manchego and anything goaty. FLORENTINES Cupboard essentials, and one for the stocking, too. In fact, I find these chewy, chocolate-coated, dried-fruit-studded delights near impossible to walk past. They add a touch of Italian glamour to any tea, and magic to a midnight feast. FOIE GRAS Certainly a somewhat controversial ingredient, the Fortnum’s version uses livers from outdoor-bred farms in Strasbourg. It’s available tinned, potted, studded with truffles, flavoured with spices and even as a whole lobe, ready to cook. Serve with Champagne or pudding wine. FONDANT FANCIES These delectable iced sponges have come a long way since they sat prettily in the window of our local country baker, available in a mere handful of flavours. At Fortnum’s, they come in every variety from Earl Grey tea to marmalade. You can also bake them yourself, and it’s one of those recipes that children adore. But if, like me, your baking abilities are somewhat lacking, there’s no shame in relying on Fortnum’s rather superior skills. GLAC? FRUITS I’m never sure whether to eat these crystallised fruits. Or display them in a case, such is the jewel-like beauty of every one. My favourites are the amber glac? clementines that glow like some rare crystal. The Corsican fruits are cooked, then steeped in a sugar solution for two weeks, creating something that is wonderfully sweet, with a crisp exterior, yet still contains the very soul of the fruit. You can also find glac? pears, figs, plums, apricots, and even chillies. Devour them with a cup of mint tea, or serve them after pudding. Hell, serve them as a course on their own, allowing dinner to stretch on languidly until deep into the early hours. GRIOTTES Another sweet delight, this sees Kentish cherries steeped in brandy for a whole three years, then de-stoned by hand, enveloped in the most soft of fondants, and hand-dipped in dark chocolate. So it’s a treat that is literally years in the making. And there’s a limited supply, too, so order early, as they say, to avoid missing out on boozy, chocolate-covered cherry joy. HAM Christmas just isn’t the same without a great leg of ham, preferably York, with its dry texture, subtle sweetness and pale pink tinge. The story goes that it got its name thanks to the ham being smoked in the ruins of York Minster, many centuries ago. But, charming as that tale is, it’s also untrue. Traditionally, the ham can be smoked or unsmoked, but either way, it’s a classic, perfect for slicing thickly and serving with fried eggs, chutney or mustard. In fact, I find it very hard to even pass by without hewing off an impromptu snack, at any time of day or night. A true Christmas essential. HANDMADE ENGLISH AFTER-DINNER MINTS Always have a few boxes of handmade English mint chocolates – not just the perfect present, but something no house should ever be without at Christmas. MARMALADE Fortnum’s probably has one of the widest ranges of marmalade in the world, from the thick-cut, deeply-flavoured charms of Sir Nigel, through to the tangy, medium-cut thrills of Old English Hunt, to the dark, rum-infused punch of Old Navy. In fact, Fortnum’s is so marmalade-mad that it even sponsors the Dalemain Marmalade Awards, where the winner gets a place in the Fortnum’s line-up. In 2018 the winner was Janice Miner’s G&G, which mixes grapefruit with gin to produce a marmalade with a wonderful sweet/sharp balance. But whatever your taste, make sure it’s proper marmalade, rather than some sorry, mass-produced mountebank. MARRONS GLAC?S More sugar-coated succour, this time candied chestnuts. Eat them on their own, pur?e them to make Mont Blanc (not exactly the easiest of puddings, but well worth a try), or simply eat with ice cream. MINCE PIES An utter Christmas essential, and available in all manner of sizes. Once made with minced meat and suet, most of the carnivorous ingredients have now gone. But all they need is a few minutes in the oven, and you have wonderfully spiced comfort, encased in crumbly, buttery pastry. A dollop of brandy butter never goes amiss either. At Fortnum’s, as ever, the range is dizzying, covering everything from traditional mince pies to the almond-topped. NAPOLITAINS Serious, grown-up chocolate, flavoured, individually, with salt, ginger, peppermint, lemon or orange, and individually wrapped. Blissfully addictive and eternally popular for any time of day or night. NUTS AND DRIED FRUITS For as long as I can remember there’s been a packet of dates that come out for Christmas then seem to disappear back into some distant cupboard for the rest of the year. But one taste of Fortnum’s soft, succulent Medjool dates, known as ‘the king of dates’, and you know these won’t hang around for long. Nuts are another essential, from the humble peanut right through to the delicately spiced wonders of their Scheherazade’s almonds. PANETTONE An Italian Christmas classic, this sweet Christmas cake (originally from Milan) contains the usual candied citrus peel and raisins, and can be served with sweet wine, amaretto or crema di mascarpone. It keeps well, so can be used as emergency teatime supplies too. For unexpected drop-ins. At Fortnum’s their version is made by the legendary Cipriani, of Harry’s Bar restaurant fame. And it’s used in the recipe for Marmalade Bread and Butter Pudding (#litres_trial_promo). Damn good it is too. Eat it warm for breakfast, with a cup of good coffee. PICKLED WALNUTS As English as David Niven strolling down Jermyn Street in a three-piece and a bowler hat and whistling ‘Rule Britannia’, pickled walnuts are a soft, sharp delight. Serve with thick slices of ham, or a great chunk of Stilton. PORK PIES A proper pork pie is a thing of pure porcine majesty: properly seasoned, peppery pork, surrounded by wobbling pork jelly and clad in a crisp, lard-based pastry. Triple pig, and all the better for it. You could, of course, make your own, but that hand-raised crust can be hard work. I tend to leave it to the experts. And buy a huge pie. The problem is, I find it very hard not to snack on it, slathered with piccalilli, or a great smear of proper English mustard. It’s also a Boxing Day stalwart, although in my house it rarely makes it through Christmas Day. PORT This fortified sweet wine makes a perfect end to any dinner, be it Vintage (rich, redolent and deeply complex), chilled Dry White (full-flavoured but fresh), Crusted (matured, then bottled without any fining or filtration, to retain that delectable fruit concentration), or Tawny (served chilled, it’s rich, sweet and silken). So far from being the old club buffer’s tipple, it’s a wine with a version for every occasion. PRUNEAUX D’AGEN Ente plums, a rare local variety found only in the South of France (and grown by a small co-operative of farmers), are stuffed with a sweet, succulent prune pur?e. They’re soft, juicy and, alongside a good cup of coffee, the perfect way to round off a long and languorous dinner. SHERRY Forget the days, long past, where a glass of sherry meant a tot of your Granny’s oversweet stuff, poured from an old dusty bottle. Because at long last we’re starting to appreciate the endless glories of this wonderful Spanish fortified wine. A chilled glass of dry, delicate Fino, the perfect aperitif, which also stands up to the most robust of flavours, taking on garlic and chilli with equal aplomb. Oloroso VORS (very old and robust sherry) has been aged and is rich and nutty, while Manzanilla is less rich, with a saline whiff of the sea. For those looking for a bit more oomph, then Pedro Xim?nez VOS (very old sherry) is the perfect end to dinner, deeply flavoured and intensely fruity, to be drunk with blue cheese, or with chocolate puddings, and equally wonderful poured over ice cream. SLOE GIN A stalwart of British winter, this deep purple libation manages to mix the sweet with the tart. A nip or two is an essential winter warmer, but it also makes a wonderful cocktail ingredient, used in Sloe Negronis and sloe toddies, too. Fortnum’s sell their version, but I always make my own. You’ll find the berries in late autumn: simply take a few handfuls (around 500g), freeze them overnight, then mix them with gin (good-quality please) and caster sugar (about 2 tablespoons) in a sterilised bottle. Leave for a couple of months in a dark place, and this regal concoction will be ready in time for Christmas. SMOKED SALMON The proper stuff, elegantly smoked (rather than choked with a bitter bonfire of fake oak flavouring), resolutely ungreasy, and elegantly, expertly sliced. Quality is everything: try to find a variety that uses fish farmed to the highest standards, as they do at Fortnum’s. The very best needs little more than a drizzle of lemon and a dusting of freshly ground black pepper, plus a great pile of thickly buttered brown bread. Or do as my mother does on Christmas night and make a huge pot of runny scrambled eggs, to sit atop a few slices of serious smoked salmon. Simple, and simply sensational. STEM GINGER Ginger was once one of the most important spices imported by Fortnum’s, and by the mid-nineteenth-century, they offered ‘preserved West Indian Ginger, clear and young, in original jars and bottles in various sizes,’ as well as East India Preserved Ginger, in small china jars. And a pickle called Chou Chou. During the Great War, preserved ginger from Fortnum’s was a staple of parcels sent out to the Western front, and officers could share cubed glac? ginger, pickled Chinese stem ginger, Chyloong stem ginger, Piewoong Stem Ginger, Manloong Stem Ginger as well as that West India Ginger ‘beautifully clear and free from string,’ in heavy syrup. And Chow Chow (the spelling of this pickle had changed by 1914). Ginger is one of those wonder spices, said to help everything from upset tummies to morning sickness. Which is why it’s so useful to have a jar of the stuff, preserved in syrup. You can add it to puddings, scatter it over ice cream, even eat it straight from the bottle. A store-cupboard essential. STOLLEN CAKE A classic German Christmas bread, you want to buy the big version, which should last you through the festive morass. It’s traditionally packed full of citrus peel, raisins and almonds, then sprinkled with a flurry of icing sugar. I rather like it toasted, and slathered with salty butter. TURKISH DELIGHT One glimpse of these lovely, heaven-scented lumps of pink, green and yellow delight, dusted liberally in icing sugar, and you see exactly why Edmund, in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, was so enamoured of the White Witch. The Dark Side has never seemed more delectable. Fortnum’s Turkish delight has been handmade by the same Istanbul family for over twenty years, meaning it’s a true taste of that great and glorious city. And there’s something about those smart wooden boxes that make this simple sweet seem all the more exotic. VACHERIN One of the great seasonal cow’s milk cheeses, Vacherin is made in both France and Switzerland, mainly in villages of the Jura region. Packaged in a spruce box, it should be left at room temperature until it becomes almost liquid. It has a rich, deep flavour and is also wonderful hot, simply heated in the oven with a few slivers of garlic, a couple of sprigs of thyme, and a splash of white wine. Serve with bread, potatoes and cornichons for the easiest fondue you’ll ever find. WAXED CHEDDARS AND POTTED STILTONS This is the sort of Christmas present that makes me very happy indeed. Proper Cheddar (as different from that crass mass-produced rubbish as truffle oil is from fresh white truffle), encased in a wax shell. The potted Stiltons look as good as they taste, filled with cheese made by the last family-owned producer in the country (and made with milk that by law must only come from Derbyshire, Nottingham or Leicestershire), this is a cheese that is rich, luscious and packed with blue-veined depth. WHITE TRUFFLE For me, the Alba truffle is the greatest of them all, and certainly the most expensive. And it’s not so much about the taste (the black truffle has more actual flavour), but rather that heady, sexy, slightly filthy scent that caresses the nostrils, and gets the taste buds priapic with anticipatory lust. Grate it over scrambled eggs, risotto, fresh pasta, or even, as they do in 45 Jermyn St., scatter it over a toasted cheese sandwich. Truffles will keep for about four days in a cool place, or longer, if you wrap them in kitchen paper and store them in a sealed glass jar in the fridge. Or, better still, store them with eggs, or risotto rice, where that divine scent will be absorbed. A walnut-sized truffle will cover about four portions of pasta. Fewer for the truly ardent truffle addicts. Like me. WINES Where do I start? The soft, silky beauty of a classic Margaux, or the light, strawberry-scented charms of a proper Proven?al ros?. The complex, spiced depths of a serious Burgundy, compared to the rich, honeyed elegance of its white counterpart. There are Rieslings with the most luscious of finishes, flinty Chablis, vibrant Spanish Albari?os, thrilling, berry-packed Australian reds, and fresh, slightly fizzy Vinhos Verdes. There’s a wine for every taste, a blend for every palate, some of them made for drinking alone, others that come alive when matched with food. Call the concierge or wine department for your own selection. You’ll all have your favourites, but sometimes, be bold, and try something new. Christmas Day is the one time of the year where it’s perfectly acceptable to have a glass of wine (or Champagne) for breakfast. Eat, drink and be merry. There’s always January for regrets. YULE LOG There’s a recipe for the rather lovely Black Forest Log (#litres_trial_promo) in the book. But whether you make your own, or simply buy one in, this divine log is as much symbolic as it is delectable. Back before the Victorians changed Christmas from wild bacchanalia to respectable family feast, a huge log, the largest that could fit in the fireplace, was lit on the first day of Christmas and expected to last twelve days. That tradition is long gone, but the edible Yule log remains. ROAST PARTRIDGE, SALSIFY AND SAVOY CABBAGE WITH PORT AND FIG SAUCE (#ulink_ec897813-46f7-5a55-b4d4-221c7e9fa677) Partridge has the most delicate, sweet flavour, a game bird to embrace, rather than fear. Throw in a rich, bacon-studded port reduction sauce, and you have a main course of true magnificence. & lovely with a glass of fine claret SERVES 4 · 4 partridges · 80g butter · 100g silverskin onions, peeled · 4 garlic cloves, crushed · a few sprigs of thyme · 100g baby button mushrooms · 80g smoked bacon lardons · 250ml port · 500ml beef stock · 250ml brown chicken stock · 2 fresh figs, cut into quarters FOR THE SALSIFY AND SAVOY CABBAGE · 4 salsify sticks · a squeeze of lemon juice · 1 head of Savoy cabbage Remove the legs and breasts from the partridges (save the carcasses to make stock or soup, if you like). Heat 50g of the butter in a heavy-based saucepan. Season the legs, add them to the pan and sear until golden brown all over. Add the onions, garlic, thyme leaves, mushrooms and bacon lardons and cook until lightly coloured. Pour in the port and simmer until reduced by two-thirds. Now add the beef and chicken stock, bring to the boil and simmer gently for around 45 minutes, until the legs are tender. Remove the legs from the pan and set aside. Next prepare the salsify and Savoy cabbage. Peel the salsify until you have removed all the brown. Bring a pan of salted water to the boil, add a good squeeze of lemon juice, then add the salsify and simmer for about 15 minutes, until tender. Drain well and cut into 3cm lengths. Blanch the Savoy cabbage in a separate pan of boiling salted water for 3–4 minutes, then drain, refresh in cold water and set aside. Season the partridge breasts with salt and pepper. Heat the remaining butter in a large frying pan, add the partridge breasts, skin side down, and cook over a medium-high heat for about 4 minutes, until golden brown underneath. Turn and cook the other side for about 1 minute. Remove from the pan and leave to rest while you finish the dish. Add the salsify to the frying pan and cook until golden brown all over. Add the Savoy cabbage and warm through gently. Season with salt and pepper. Reheat the sauce, returning the partridge legs to it and adding the fig quarters. Check the seasoning. To serve, put the cabbage and salsify in the centre of 4 plates. Arrange the partridge breasts and legs on top and generously spoon the fig sauce over. POT-ROAST PHEASANT WITH PEARL BARLEY, BRAISED RED CABBAGE AND SWEDE SAUCE (#ulink_8a86bfba-d49b-5e06-9ec0-356ff31e6f32) Pheasant is a bird that can tend towards the dry, thanks to a lack of natural fat. But pot-roasting is the ideal solution, as all that succulence is kept sealed inside the pot. Spiced red cabbage adds its vinegary kick, while the whole thing is soothed and mollified by a creamy swede sauce. This dish is the very essence of old-fashioned winter feasting. & try with a glass of Fortnum’s Argentinian Malbec SERVES 2 · 1 pheasant · 3 tablespoons duck fat · 1 onion, diced · 1 carrot, diced · 1 stick of celery, diced · 2 garlic cloves, chopped · 1 bay leaf · a few sprigs of thyme · 500ml brown chicken stock · 80g pearl barley, soaked overnight in cold water and drained · 30g butter · 1 teaspoon chopped parsley FOR THE RED CABBAGE · ? a small red cabbage, sliced · 50g dark soft brown sugar · 1 cinnamon stick · 1 star anise · 3 cloves · 1 bay leaf · grated zest of 1 orange · a large glass of red wine · 100ml red wine vinegar · 200ml brown chicken stock · 2 tablespoons redcurrant jelly FOR THE SWEDE SAUCE · ? of a small swede, diced · 1 small carrot, grated · 120ml milk · 1 garlic clove, crushed · 1 small bay leaf · 25g butter · grated nutmeg, to taste Prepare the red cabbage. Put the cabbage into a saucepan, add the sugar, spices, bay leaf, orange zest, red wine, red wine vinegar and brown chicken stock then bring to a simmer. Cover with a tight-fitting lid and cook gently for about an hour, until the cabbage is tender and nearly all the liquid has evaporated. Stir in the redcurrant jelly and season to taste. Season the pheasant with salt and pepper. Heat the duck fat in a heavy-based casserole, then add the pheasant and cook over a medium-high heat until golden brown all over. Add the vegetables, garlic, herbs and stock. Bring to a simmer, then cover the pan and place in an oven heated to 180°C/Gas Mark 4. Cook for 15 minutes. Stir in the pearl barley, then return the casserole to the oven for another 25 minutes, or until the barley is tender and the pheasant is cooked. Remove from the oven and check the seasoning. The pearl barley mixture should have the consistency of a risotto; if it is too runny, simmer on the hob until reduced and thickened. Stir in the butter and parsley and set aside. While the pheasant is cooking, prepare the swede sauce. Put the swede into a small saucepan with the grated carrot (this will help maintain the pale orange colour), add the milk, garlic and bay leaf and cook over a very low heat for about 15 minutes, until the swede is tender, stirring frequently so it doesn’t catch on the base of the pan. Remove the bay leaf, transfer to a blender and pur?e until smooth. Return to the pan, stir in the butter, nutmeg and some salt and pepper and heat through gently. To serve, transfer the pheasant to a board and cut off the breasts and legs. Divide the swede sauce between 2 plates, pile up some pearl barley next to it, then place the pheasant legs and breasts on top. Add a spoonful of braised red cabbage to each plate. GAME FAGGOTS WITH CELERIAC PUR?E AND CARROTS (#ulink_9f693451-5b97-5d4f-becf-824672e10519) This thrifty British classic is a fine way to use up any game you have left in the fridge or freezer. These faggots have a wonderful succulence, thanks to the pork. It’s important that you make sure there’s at least 25 per cent fat in your mince. Caul fat is the feathery lining of the pig’s stomach. It may sound a little visceral, but worry not; it simply holds the faggots together and adds subtle richness. You should order it from your butcher in advance. & try with cranberry sauce or redcurrant jelly and an Argentinian Malbec SERVES 4 FAGGOTS · 3 large shallots, chopped · 2 sprigs of thyme, leaves removed · 1 garlic clove, crushed · 2 juniper berries, lightly crushed · 50g butter · 100ml red wine · 250g fatty minced pork · 250g minced game meat, such as pigeon, pheasant, venison, hare, or a mixture · 100g fresh white breadcrumbs · 75g caul fat · 1 teaspoon chopped parsley PORT SAUCE · 1 teaspoon olive oil · 20g butter · 12–16 small round shallots, peeled and trimmed · 100ml port or full-bodied red wine · 250ml good dark beef or game stock · ? teaspoon cornflour, if needed FOR THE CELERIAC PUR?E · 1 small celeriac · 100g butter · 75ml double cream · freshly grated nutmeg FOR THE CARROTS · 6 large carrots, cut lengthwise into quarters · 1 teaspoon light soft brown sugar · 25g butter Gently cook the shallots, thyme, garlic and juniper berries in the butter until soft. Add the red wine and simmer until reduced by two-thirds. Remove from the heat and leave to cool. Put the pork, minced game, breadcrumbs and shallot mixture into a bowl and mix well, seasoning with salt and pepper. To check the seasoning, cook a small spoonful of the mixture in a frying pan, then taste it. Add more salt and pepper to the rest of the mixture if necessary. Divide it into 8 and shape into balls. Wash the caul fat in cold water, then dry on kitchen paper. Tease it out gently into super-thin, stretchy pieces. Cut them into squares large enough to wrap around the faggots. Gently wrap a square around each faggot, then chill the faggots for about 30 minutes. Meanwhile, to make the sauce, heat the oil and butter in a small, ovenproof frying pan, then add the shallots and cook over a medium heat for about 5 minutes so they start to colour. Transfer to an oven heated to 180°C/Gas Mark 4 and roast for about 20 minutes, until tender and golden. Season with salt and pepper halfway through the cooking time and stir well so that they colour evenly. Simmer the port or red wine in a small pan until reduced by half, then add the meat stock. Continue to simmer until the mixture has reduced by two-thirds and thickened slightly. If it is not thickening, mix the cornflour with enough water to make a paste, stir it into the sauce and simmer for a minute longer. Add the roasted shallots to the sauce, check the seasoning and set aside. Put the faggots into a small roasting tin and place in an oven heated to 200°C/Gas Mark 6. Cook for about 20 minutes, until well browned, turning them halfway through cooking. Meanwhile, cook the vegetables. Peel the celeriac, cut it into small chunks and cook in boiling salted water for about 15 minutes, until tender. Drain well, then return it to the pan and stir over a very low heat for a few minutes to drive off any excess water. Transfer to a food processor, add the butter and pur?e until smooth. Heat the cream in the pan, return the celeriac to it and heat through gently, seasoning with salt, pepper and nutmeg to taste. Cook the carrots in a pan of boiling salted water for about 4 minutes, until al dente. Gently heat the sugar in a non-stick frying pan until dissolved and beginning to caramelise. Add the butter, then remove the pan from the heat and tilt it gently so the butter and sugar emulsify. Return the pan to a low heat, add the carrots with a little of their cooking water and cook for 2–3 minutes, until lightly coated. Season with salt and pepper. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/tom-bowles-parker/fortnum-mason-christmas-other-winter-feasts/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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