Toad in the Hole, with Perils of the Night

Toad in the Hole - don't you just love the name?  I have long wanted an excuse to make this dish, without even knowing what it was or having tasted it.  Why, you might say?  Who needs an excuse?  However, be that as it may, whilst reading Sidney Chambers and The Perils of the Night, by James Runcie, Toad in the Hole was mentioned.  That was the trigger, or excuse for making it. Canon Sidney and his friend, Inspector Geordie Keating were frequently having a pint and a pub meal, perhaps Spotted Dick or Toad in the Hole, before one of their weekly backgammon games, often discussing the latest murder.

This book is 356 pages, similar to his other four Grantchester books, and consisting of six longish short stories, connected by the place, the characters and approximate, sequential time.  They follow the adventures of full-time priest, and part-time detective Canon Sidney Chambers, in late 1950s Cambridge.

I love Runcie's thoughtful, intelligent writing as the occasionally absent minded priest goes about his parish business, unable to resist helping out his detective friend with solving various mysteries.

My Haggis Adventures for a Belated Burns Night

Our oh so very daring Daring Cooks' challenge this month was to make Haggis.  Yes, this had to be from a Scots person, and so it was, Ruth of Cakey-Makey.  And, being at least half Scotch myself, it was something I had always harbored way in the back of my mind.  Like what is this strange ancestral food? Here you can see our clan tartan. True haggis calls for using the "pluck", of a sheep or lamb, which should include the heart, the lights (aka the lungs), the liver and the stomach, which is the casing for it all.    Really dears, we're just making a large sausage.  Not too hard to make if you happen to know of or can find anyone butchering a sheep or lamb.  Usually they do not want the innards  and will possibly off load it to you upon request.  Or, at least as in my case, the friendly meat specialty person at your regular grocery might help to secure one.  He had just purchased a whole lamb, and when I asked, called the grower to see if he could get the pluck as well, which had not been included.   Well, when I got the bag of innards de-frosted, and a good look taken, there was some lamb's skin, some cleaned intestines, heart, and liver, but no stomach or lungs.  Great, it was back to sourcing. Just for those of you interested in Scottish tradition, and food lore in general, I am giein' forth the real thing recipe here.  It seems to be one of the less complicated methods around as well.  Further. you might enjoy, as I did, the Guardian's pictorial by Tim Hayward, a step-by-step guide to making Haggis at home, with background info.  I incorporated a few of their additions to the following recipe, i.e. rosemary, sage, thyme (could use even more of that), and beef suet for extra flavor and texture. Lady Login's Traditional Haggis (1856)                  (With my notes, additions in brackets) 1 cleaned sheep or lamb's paunch (stomach) 1 lb (450g) dry oats (should be pinhead or steel-cut) 1 Lamb's liver 1 lamb's heart 1 lamb's lights (lungs) 1 large finely chopped onion (1/2 cup beef suet) ½ teaspoon each: cayenne pepper, ground allspice, 1 1/2 tablespoons salt 1 tablespoon pepper (1 tablespoon each of, rosemary, sage, thyme, or parsley) 1/2 pint stock Cook the liver, heart (trimmed) and lights in salted water to cover and cook for about 1½ hours. (Leave to cool overnight in the stock).  Strain, but reserve the broth, and chop the meats up finely, or mince. See that the paunch is well cleaned, then soak it in salt and cold water overnight as well.  Take out and let it dry. (I used cheesecloth, lined with tripe on sides and bottom, as was not successful in procuring a sheep's stomach, but you might also use ox bung.)  Put the oats on a baking tray in a low oven and let it dry out and crisp up a little.  (I did 10 min. at 350F) Mix all ingredients (except the paunch) together and season well. Then add the stock. Put into the cleaned paunch (fill to about half) and sew up loosely, but securely. (or tie off with butcher's string) Have ready a large pot of boiling water mixed with the rest of the liver stock, prick the haggis all over with a small knitting needle to prevent bursting, then cook in the water and stock, at a slow simmer uncovered, but keep up water level, for about three hours. Serves about sixteen. Since my stomach search narrowly missed two, I went with cheesecloth, as recommended by a local chef, who also suggested tripe, so lined the bottom and sides of my cheesecloth with that, then filled with the haggis mixture, tied it up with string, and proceeded as above. Uploaded onto a plate, and garnished with parsley, it doesn't present too badly.  As Tim Hayward says after making it: "I've never been to a Burns Night dinner so I've never had the full experience of the piped in pudding, the declaiming, the toasts, but having cooked a full-sized battle haggis I'm beginning to understand it. This is a genuinely monumental piece of food. There's something about the steaming, bulging shape of it, the astonishingly welcoming smell that could easily inspire ritual and poetry in a nation less emotionally constipated than the English. And the taste…. oh the taste. I can't remember ever eating anything quite so rich. The grains absorb the fats and flavors, the powerful aromas of the meat are dispersed throughout; the velvet liver is offset by a slight nutty texture - it's a comprehensive and completely astonishing sensory assault. With the combination of fat richness and slight livery aftertaste I found myself thinking of foie gras - but more fun. Am I converted? Absolutely. I was led astray by cheap ersatz haggis, by fear of guts and generations of bad jokes but now I see the light. I'm completely sold on haggis ... so string me up." Don't know that I would go so far, but did enjoy me giant haggis experience, and no one could now accuse me of being a Sassenach. Served it up with the traditional mashed tatties (potatoes) and neeps (turnips) alongside steamed kale.  To make your Burns Night complete, have whisky for toasts whilst someone reads aloud: Address to a Haggis             by Robert Burns
	Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o the puddin'-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy of a grace As lang's my arm. The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin wad help to mend a mill In time o need, While thro your pores the dews distil Like amber bead. His knife see rustic Labour dight, An cut you up wi ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin, rich! Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive: Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive, Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve Are bent like drums; The auld Guidman, maist like to rive, 'Bethankit' hums. Is there that owre his French ragout, Or olio that wad staw a sow, Or fricassee wad mak her spew Wi perfect sconner, Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view On sic a dinner? Poor devil! see him owre his trash, As feckless as a wither'd rash, His spindle shank a guid whip-lash, His nieve a nit: Thro bloody flood or field to dash, O how unfit! But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread, Clap in his walie nieve a blade, He'll make it whissle; An legs an arms, an heads will sned, Like taps o thrissle. Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups in luggies: But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer, Gie her a Haggis. There was a tremendous amount of it, so I made up some sausage patties for breakfast with eggs, and will be bringing some to a party for everyone there to have the experience.  Actually the whole amount could be made into patties and frozen in separate zip lock bags.  Thanks for the truly challenging challenge Ruth!

Duck Roulade with Sweet 'N Sour Ginger Passion Fruit Sauce

 I will start off this post with a disclaimer about sausages.  They are not my favorite food.  Also, grinding meat and stuffing pig intestines is not my idea of a fun cooking project.  To begin with, our old grinder is a bust, as opposed to "the bomb", just so you know.  And secondly, I do not possess a sausage stuffer, nor have any plans to get one.  But it's okay, there were alternatives in our Daring Cooks' challenge for this round.

For the January-February 2013 Daring Cooks’ Challenge, Carol, one of our talented non-blogging members and Jenni, one of our talented bloggers who writes The Gingered Whisk, have challenged us to make homemade sausage and/or cured, dried meats in celebration of the release of the book Salumi: The Craft of Italian Dry Curing by Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn! We were given two months for this challenge and the opportunity to make delicious Salumi in our own kitchens!

As discerning readers may have noticed, I do have a fondness for duck, so thought I would give Michael Ruhlman's Duck Roulade, from his book Charcuterie, a try.  Though it is a fairly difficult process, which briefly stated, involves removing the skin in a piece large enough to envelope the rest of the duck, which has been ground into a filling, augmented with pieces of sauteed duck breast, herbs, seasonings, etc.

Hawaiian Grines - Wild Big Island Boar Sausage for Charcutepalooza

Grines is a term for food in Hawaii, in this case pork....ground.  I guess it makes sense in a way.  Finding them was the big deal, however, as I was not at all happy with the last bit of piggy we sourced.  Should have driven out to the scene of its undoubtedly sad upbringing, several hours away, down the coast to Hamakua, and checked things out  for myself.  Well, this time I was determined, one way or another to get some free range, wild and happy boar.  If I had to go hunting myself, with my trusty Glock.  Ha ha.  Just kidding folks.  I'm not into that really....  Unless sorely pressed.

I was walking away from the store yesterday when an employee came running after me, "Claudia, your pig came in."  Likely any vegetarians in the area were cringing, eyes squished closed.  So, back I went to collect my wild boar bits.

From free as a boar can be, in the forests of the Big Island, brought to the slaughterhouse by Mr. Hunter, to the store and then to me.  I cut the meat in half, ground one part for Breakfast Sausage and the rest for Chorizo, since the challenge for this issue of Charcutepalooza was grinding your own sausage.  Then added the seasonings and put both portions away in the fridge to chill up again.  We are using the authoritative book on the subject, Charcuterie, by Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn, as a guide, and I pretty much stuck with his recipes, excepting as noted below.

The Cassoulet Reigns

“The cassoulet is indisputably native to Castelnaudary. A certain Bringuier perfected the recipe, under rather indefinite circumstances. It is made with fresh pork, ham or pork knuckle, some sausage meat and fresh bacon rind. In Carcassonne, they add a shortened leg of mutton and, in the hunting season, a partridge. In Toulouse, in addition to these basic ingredients, they add some breast of pork, country sausage, mutton and especially preserved goose or duck (confit d’oie ou de canard). As for beans, they consider beans from Cazères and from Pamiers the best, not to mention the white beans from Alsace.”  Christian Guy, An Illustrated History of French Cuisine. New York: The Orion Press, 1962, 208.

I'm just wondering what the "indefinite circumstances" were in the above reference.  Someone looked in their larder (they had those then - no fridges) and there were some bits of pork, a confit nestled nicely in a little crock, sausages hanging from the ceiling, dried beans - lots of them, and said to themselves, voila?  Let's throw it all together. Probably a bunch of people were expected for dinner.  Reported by some to have been a communal meal in 14^th century  Languedoc, France, where the townspeople prepared a big stew for soldiers on their way to war.

With that in mind, for Daring Cooks out there, our January 2011 Challenge comes from Jenni of The Gingered Whisk and Lisa from Parsley, Sage, Desserts and Line Drives. They have challenged the Daring Cooks to learn how to make a confit and use it within the traditional French dish of Cassoulet. They have chosen a traditional recipe from Anthony Bourdain and Michael Ruhlman.

I have made duck confit several times and it ranks as one of my all time favorite foods, something I would like in my personal larder at all times. And a really authentic Cassoulet was on the list of dishes I've wanted to make, but just never found the right recipe, got around to it, looked for one, was lazy. Take your pick.  So, this was a welcome opportunity as well as a delicious challenge.

The first step was breaking down the duck, rendering its fat and making confit with the legs.  Actually, the first step is making a confit, but due to the fact that we cannot buy duck legs here, only whole ducks, the one step evolved into several.  That's  a good thing though.  The "extras" made a lovely dinner of Seared Duck breasts with Orange Olive Vinaigrette, some duck stock, which morphed further into a seriously good soup, more beautiful duck fat, and yet to come, Rillettes of confit and duck liver.  Ha, and so there.

The legs are curing in salt, pepper, fresh marjoram and garlic for 24 or so hours before the slow cooking confit process.  I made a half recipe as #1 - I did not want to deal with 2 ducks, and #2 - Several folks mentioned the recipe made a large amount anyway.

Here they are, covered with lovely duck fat.  Most of that was rendered from the last duck I did.  For some reason, this baby was not a really fatty duck.  It is ready to go into the oven at about 190F for 8 to 10 hours. I go by the old school, low temperature, long cook method.  I checked it with my digital temp. ray gun from time to time, with the oven set at just above "warm."

To me this is actually easier than some of the "easy" (merely faster) recipes I've read where you pierce the skin all over and cook it with foil, take it out turn it over, take off the foil, cook some more, etc.  Or, the like.  What could be simpler than sticking your duck in a pot, cover it with duck fat and let it cook slowly at a low temperature until nicely done, falling off the bone succulent?  8 to 10 hours later.  Just forget about it in there and do other stuff.  Just my opinion.  Admittedly you need to plan ahead on this recipe.  Now it rests in the fridge for however long you need it to.  If you're clever, you'll make lots and have it for other things all winter.  That is if you can buy just the legs or want to break down 4 or 5 ducks.

The next step, ( which can be up to several months later, or on the same night you do your duck cure in salt) is to soak your white beans (Broad, Great Northern, etc.) overnight.  The beans are supposed to be white.  I was unable to get the dried ones, so used what I had, plus some black beans, which kind of gray up the works.  But, what can you do?  The following day you cook the beans, fry up the pork bits (aside from sausages I just used bacon) assemble the Cassoulet components together, bake for 2 hours, then let it cool and rest until the finishing day, at which time you do a final bake, topped with breadcrumbs.  It is not all that difficult unless you attempt to do everything in an hour or two right before dinner.  I don't recommend that technique.  You would have to buy some canned duck confit, canned beans, a container of duck fat and skip the overnight mellowing of flavors.  The recipe and adaptations for...