with cold water. Bring to the boil and then drain,
discarding the liquid. Cover again with cold water, bring
to a simmer, then add the onion, carrots, leek, celery and
herbs. Simmer very gently, from time to time skimming off
any scum or grease that comes to the surface and ensuring
that the meat is always covered, adding fresh water if
necessary. Continue cooking until the meat is very tender
and a skewer moves in and out of the joint like soft butter:
this will take about 21⁄2–3 hours. It is best to let the meat
cool in its broth, then place in a bowl and strain enough
of the broth back over it to cover. Reserve the rest of the
bouillon for the soup.
Serve the meat sliced in a little of its broth with some of
the vegetables, and your choice of condiments and pickles.
For the soup, heat the olive oil in a heavy, flameproof
casserole dish and add all the vegetables except the
cabbage. Turn the heat down and allow them to sweat
gently for 15 minutes. Add the cabbage, together with
a good seasoning of sea salt and freshly ground black
pepper, and cook for a further 5 minutes. Add the beans,
bouillon and thyme and continue to simmer for another
30 minutes.
Before serving, taste the soup for seasoning. Add a
few drops of soy sauce to accentuate the seasoning and
improve the colour. Grill the bread under a hot grill, then
sprinkle with sea salt and dried rosemary before rubbing
with the cut garlic and dousing in olive oil.
Serve the hot soup in bowls with the toast.
16
In a Nostalgic Moment
Kipper Pâté
Kippers have proved a resilient food. Despite their strong
taste and even stronger aroma, those of us who love them
have managed to keep them going. They are still made on
the Norfolk and Northumberland coasts, the Isle of Man
and at various other sites dotted around the British coast.
There is no better breakfast and, like Bertie Wooster, one
is inclined to think they are good for the brain.
Given that they are still plentiful, it is surprising how
clandestine the business of getting a whole kipper can be.
Everywhere, if offered kipper, one is given fillet. Good
hotels will generally offer them, but the true devotee will
know the overwhelming thud of disappointment when
served a couple of miserable little fillets because someone
thinks we cannot be trusted with a whole kipper.
Buying kippers for this recipe occasioned a visit to a
fishmonger who had none. The biggest local supermarket
only sold fillets in a vacuum-packed bag, with butter
thoughtfully provided. The next supermarket had fillets on
ice. I asked, despairingly, about the availability of whole
kippers. The young man appraised me, winked,
disappeared to a cold room and returned with a small box
from which he produced two fine specimens. I felt like a
thirsty man in prohibition-era America who had procured
a bottle of proper proprietary gin. I almost kissed him.
There are two reasons for making a fuss. A kipper
cooked on the bone has a great deal more succulence,
as fillets shrink and dry easily without the bone. Just as
important, fillets are cut away from the main backbone
with the result that, paradoxically, a fillet is full of the tiny
bones, which can be lifted away when cooked on the bone.
Even with a whole kipper, getting rid of these little
bones takes care but is essential, whether you are
philosophically probing your specimen over a leisurely
weekend breakfast or making a kipper pâté. In a nostalgic
moment, and in tune with my penchant for reviving
forgotten dishes, I decided to put kipper pâté on the menu
when we opened Le Cafe Anglais (2007), mainly because
I was serving kippers and thought it would be a prudent
economy to process them every couple of days to preserve
them. Now I buy kippers just to make the pâté, since what
started as a whim has become a stalwart and a good
number of my customers would be reluctant to go without.
17
January
KIPPER PÂTÉ
Although they look more attractive on the other side, I
always present and tackle my kippers skin-side up as it is
easier to peel away the skin and lift the fillets from the bone.
Serves six or eight.
2 large kippers
200g (7oz) unsalted butter,
softened
juice of 2 lemons, strained
3 tablespoons double cream
a pinch of cayenne pepper,
plus extra for sprinkling
black pepper
Preheat the oven to 200°C (400°F, Gas Mark 6).
Place the kippers, skin-side up, in a large ovenproof
dish and place 50g (13⁄4oz) of the butter on top. Bake the
kippers in the oven for 15 minutes, then remove and allow
to cool slightly, pouring the rendered butter into a large
heatproof bowl.
Once the kippers are cool, very gently peel back the
skin and discard it. Edge the fillets apart from the ‘frame’
– the back fillet can be lifted away easily and should have
no bone. The belly fillet should be turned over and the pin
bones gently removed with tweezers. Getting every single
piece of bone out is time-consuming but it is important.
Place all the filleted fish in the bowl, add the strained
lemon juice, a twist of black pepper and 100g (31⁄2oz) more
of the butter.
Melt the