Chilli venison casserole with chocolate

I made this Mexican 'mole' inspired casserole in the slow cooker at the weekend and, apart from having to deal with all the shallots, it was very easy indeed. What's more at this time of year it's so useful to literally throw several ingredients in the pot and a few hours later, as if by magic, have a delicious warming meal. My slow cooker was a Christmas gift from my parents last year and we use it constantly. As well as being an incredibly efficient bit of kit, there is something deeply reassuring about knowing that dinner is taken care of and you can get on with your day.

This is based on a recipe from Slow Cooking: Best New Recipes by Annette Yates and Norma Miller which doesn't look or sound terribly inspiring, but has become my slow cooking bible. It serves 6 people.

900g stewing venison, cut into cubes
3 rashers of streaky bacon
12 shallots, peeled and sliced into quarters
2 red chillies, seeds removed, finely sliced
150g cranberries
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp ground allspice
1 bay leaf
1 cinnamon stick
400ml stock (ideally venison or beef)
150ml port or red wine
freshly ground black pepper
55g dark chocolate

Firstly preheat the slow cooker to High. Place everything apart from the chocolate in the slow cooker, cover with the lid and cook on Low for 6 to 8 hours. Everything goes straight in without having to fry the meat or shallots/onions first. Just before serving stir through the chocolate and check the seasoning. You might need to thicken the sauce slightly if it's a bit thin with some cornflour mixed with water.

The ingredients cook down beautifully resulting in a warmly spicy dish and meltingly tender venison. As a crunchy garnish I made a gremolata with a handful of breadcrumbs fried until golden with butter and a crushed clove of garlic, combined with finely grated orange zest and chopped parsley.

Served with steamed cabbage and a bottle of Rioja Reserva, it was a perfect winter meal.

Duck, cherry and beetroot salad with Lambrusco

A couple of weeks ago we were treated to a particularly memorable meal at Quo Vadis that featured a main course salad of duck with cherries and beetroot, topped with crunchy toasted breadcrumbs. It was the perfect dish for a warm summer evening. Grown up and satisfying, yet not too earnest – large pieces of crisp, salty duck skin were a deliciously naughty touch.

We had friends round for dinner last Friday and I recreated it as a starter. Flicking through my new copy of Diana Henry's A Change of Appetite I noticed a recipe for goat's cheese and cherry salad in which she macerates the cherries in brandy or grappa, along with olive oil, white balsamic vinegar and lemon juice. I used kirsch, olive oil and apple balsamic (I don't yet have any white balsamic) and found the dressing didn't need any lemon juice, leaving them for a couple of hours or so before combining with salad leaves, sliced cooked beetroot and the flesh and skin from duck legs I'd roasted earlier. The crunchy breadcrumbs were made by roasting chunks of bread in the pan used for the duck. Once they had dried out I scraped the pan thoroughly to incorporate all the tasty duck bits and then pounded the toasted bread in a pestle and mortar.

We enjoyed it with a bottle of Albinea Canali Lambrusco Ottocentonero from the Wine Society (a steal at £7.95) – dry, fresh and appetising with plenty of lush cherry fruit and spot on with the salad. It was a steal at £7.95, but has (not surprisingly) sold out. However, their other Lambrusco would also be worth trying, but keep an eye out elsewhere, especially while dining out, for proper dry examples (not to be confused with the naff sweet versions of the past). Following New York's lead, interest in this 'forgotten gem' is growing in the UK where, for example, Ottolenghi restaurants report booming sales. Great news for summer drinking.

Home-made orange curd

At this grim, energy sapping time of year, citrus fruits really help perk you up, with those fresh tangy flavours and all that Vitamin C. With my annual batch of marmalade out of the way, I was flicking through a magazine and a recipe for orange curd made my mouth water. I was also making a birthday cake for a friend and it seemed the ideal filling.

The recipe (from the January issue of Waitrose Kitchen) suggested Seville oranges, but I'd used up all mine in the marmalade, so used Navel oranges instead. The directions were quite straightforward. Place all the ingredients in a large saucepan: the zest and juice of 3 oranges and 2 lemons, 4 large eggs, 350g caster sugar and 225g unsalted butter, cubed. Heat the pan gently to melt the butter and beat with a whisk to combine the ingredients, then allow the mixture to gradually thicken, still whisking, until it is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. In my case, this took a lot longer than the suggested 10 minutes and I had to keep changing hands. It was quite a workout. A bit more whisking was required as it cooled down. Finally, pour the curd into a couple of warm, sterilised jars, seal and store in the fridge. This recipe suggests using the curd within a week, but, as I'd cooked mine for so long (more than half an hour), I'm hanging on to it for a bit longer – I'm enjoying it as a breakfast treat on toast and might throw together an orange meringue pie inspired by my adaptation of the River Café's lemon tart my husband occasionally makes.

Since making the orange curd, I've consulted other recipes and several suggest stirring, rather than whisking which I'm prepared to try next time to save energy. Nigel Slater feels that using a whisk makes the curd lighter and more wobbly. Leith's in their Cookery Bible use a wooden spoon and Pam Corbin in the River Cottage Handbook on Preserves whisks the mixture together and then stirs it until it thickens, as does Marguerite Patten in Jams, Preserves and Chutneys who also points out that you shouldn't cook the curd for "too long" as it continues to thicken once it has cooled down.

Whichever way works best for you, homemade orange or lemon curd is a fabulous winter treat (particularly if followed by a back and shoulder massage if you choose to whisk it).

Turkey, pea and ham risotto

It's almost New Year, but you might still be wondering what to do with all the leftover turkey. Each year I make turkey and ham pies to freeze, but last night we used some of our leftovers in a risotto. I finely diced an onion and sweated it until translucent in some duck fat, then added the rice, stirring it for a while. Shredded turkey and ham came next with frozen peas and some fresh fennel (which had been used in a salad earlier in the week), gradually stirring in turkey stock. Once the rice had cooked and the consistency was creamy, I served the risotto with more fresh herbs and a slick of olive oil. It was delicious with our bottle of fresh, fragrant Guardiolo Falanghina from The Wine Society, although it would also be good with a fuller bodied, even oak-aged white – Burgundy would be a especially good. Happy New Year!

Oxtail stew: soothing and so simple

I've had a few memorable meals out recently, but there aren't many things that beat a soothing home-cooked supper. At this time of year a rich, hearty casserole goes down really well and you can leave it to cook itself. In this  instance, we went to the theatre for a matinee performance of The Lion King while our stew cooked.

This recipe is based on the one in the Leith's Cookery Bible. They suggest cooking in two stages – two hours, then skimming, adding the tomato purée and lemon juice and cooking for another three hours. I prefer to simply leave it alone for about 5 hours until the meat is tender and falling away from the bones. If you like you can take a peek from time to time and skim as necessary.

2 oxtails, cut into 5cm lengths (total weight about 1.35kg)
seasoned plain flour
30g beef dripping
340g carrots, thickly sliced
225g onions, sliced
150ml red wine
570ml water
a large sprig of fresh thyme
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon tomato purée
a splash of balsamic vinegar
juice 1/2 lemon

Wash and dry the oxtail and toss in the seasoned flour. Fry the oxtail in the dripping, a few pieces at a time, turning them around so they gain plenty of colour. Place them in a large casserole dish. Brown the carrots and onions in the same pan and add them to the casserole. Pour the wine into the frying pan and allow it to bubble, scraping any bits off the bottom of the pan. Pour into the casserole and add the water. Add all the remaining ingredients, stir, cover and cook at 150°C/Gas Mark 2 for about 5 hours (see note in introduction).

Keeping things simple and wintery, and making the most of the unctuous gravy, I served the stew with suet dumplings. Make them according to the instructions on the packet and cook on the surface of the stew. All that leaves is perhaps another vegetable – an easy and very satisfying winter meal.

To drink
Any big hearty red will do nicely here – muscular and flavoursome. We had a gutsy Grenache-Syrah blend from the Languedoc.

Moules frites at Chez Hortense, Cap Ferret

Last year I enthused about Chez Hortense, a favourite restaurant of generations of visitors to Cap Ferret. The Cap Ferret peninsular and the town of Cap Ferret itself is the kind of place that people return to year after year for their summer holidays, and Chez Hortense oozes the kind of reassuring, traditional charm that draws people back. Perched on the water's edge at the very tip (La Pointe) of Cap Ferret, and with stunning views across to the Dune de Pyla, it's rather dreamy. It ticks those fantasy French holiday boxes. (This little film on You Tube sums it up delightfully.)

Well, I returned this summer and wasn't disappointed second time around. What's more my husband and daughter, who missed out last year, were fully in agreement, with 6-year-old Alice declaring "This is a superb restaurant!". We had a selection of dishes including some magnificent langoustines, but my favourite is their decadent mussels enriched by jambon de Bayonne and almost certainly goose or duck fat. Our reasonably priced bottle of Graves, Graville Lacoste 2010, was appetisingly fresh and zesty with all this rich seafood and kept things nicely local.

Apparently, the moules frites recipe has been a well guarded secret at Chez Hortense for several decades, but this should result in something similar:

Wash and de-beard 4 litres of mussels. Mince or finely chop 4 thick slices of Bayonne ham (prosciutto, Serrano or thick cut smoked bacon would be fine) or a skinned Toulouse sausage. Add 4 tablespoons of oil (or goose or duck fat) to a large sauté pan and briefly fry the ham, bacon or sausage with 5 crushed garlic cloves. Finely chop half a bunch of flat leaf parsley and add to the ham and garlic, along with 2 tablespoons of breadcrumbs. Leave to cook for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Over a high heat, quickly cook the mussels in some white wine (about a glass) – dry white Bordeaux is the authentic choice, but any other crisp, fresh white would be good (whatever you fancy drinking with the finished dish). Once the mussels have opened up, add them and their juices to the other pan, stir well to combine everything thoroughly and serve hot – ideally with mounds of frites and a sea view.

Smoked garlic and anchovy butter

Garlic – I love it and can't bear the idea of not having any handy in the kitchen. Not only does it transform dishes, but it's good for you, too, being high in Vitamin C and with properties that may help prevent heart disease and certain forms of cancer. As it's also antibacterial, it's useful for fighting colds so, as winter sets in, a warming bowl of vegetable soup, seasoned with some garlic, ginger and citrus juice will do you more good (and will certainly taste better) than the odd mug of Lemsip (which often makes me feel worse – vile stuff). You could even go the whole hog and have garlic soup.

Recently in Swanage I bought some gorgeous oak smoked garlic from The Purbeck Deli. This mouthwatering shop likes to focus on local produce and the garlic came from the Isle of Wight, which, on a bright day you can see across the water from this magnificent stretch of the Jurassic Coast. Back in London some of it was included (whole cloves with skins on) in a chicken roast, but ideally I wanted to preserve it in some way. It's such a rare treat. I decided that the best way to do this was to make a garlic and anchovy butter which could be tucked away in the freezer for using to dress up steak or vegetables. It's ideal for the busy Christmas period when you might need to conjure up an impromptu supper with friends or want spoil yourself with something a bit special. This 'cheffy' detail – despite being incredibly easy – can put a dish into another league.

In a food processor blitz a pack of unsalted butter with the peeled cloves from a head of smoked garlic. Once smooth and creamy, add two tins of drained anchovies and continue blending. Finally season to taste with lemon juice, freshly ground black pepper and a pinch of sea sea salt (I use Maldon). Turn out, roll into a log shape and wrap generously with clingfilm. You might need to leave it in the fridge to firm up, supported on each side. Freeze and, when required, unwrap one end and slice with a hot knife (you can warm it up in a jug of boiled water – don't try to use a knife straight from the drawer as it won't pass through the hard, frozen butter). Absolutely delicious.

Sourdough bread: cooking doesn't get more satisfying than this

I've been a keen cook for longer than I care to admit, as I started baking cakes on Sunday afternoons from the age of about seven. Personally, I've always found it very satisfying. I guess it taps into something quite profound. We eat to live, so I strongly believe that cooking is an important life skill; I also consider it an expression of love. It is also a wonderful way to unwind after a stressful day. When I hear people blithely admit to not being able to cook, I feel they are missing out on one of life's great pleasures. There is something soulful and primal about cooking and I like to think it helps foster a healthy relationship with food.

Since I started regularly baking bread earlier this year, my satisfaction levels have reached new heights. And, for me, baking sourdough bread is the most profoundly satisfying cooking imaginable. Creating your own starter is exciting enough, but there is something startlingly satisfying about making such a fundamental foodstuff. You can't believe that you have created such a wondrous thing! And merely from flour, water and salt. The fact that it makes you feel like a magician is probably a sad reflection of our modern food buying habits and the industrialisation of food.

Here is how I bake a sourdough loaf. They all come out a bit different as, sometimes, I don't let them prove sufficiently, but I'm working on my patience. A sourdough loaf takes about a day – but please don't be put off by this. There isn't much work involved, just the initial mixing together and the odd light knead, but, as you are using natural yeasts, time is the key factor as they take much longer to ferment or rise than commercial yeasts. This is why sourdough bread tastes so much better.

Sourdough bread (based on 'white leaven bread' from The Handmade Loaf by Dan Lepard)

200g white leaven at 18°C
325g cold water at 16°C
500g strong white flour
1 and a half teaspoons good sea salt crushed in a pestle and mortar
vegetable oil
semolina for dusting the baking tray

You will also need a clean, damp tea towel, a second clean tea towel, a large baking tray, a craft knife or Stanley knife, a small water spray bottle.
Optional, but helpful: a scraper, a flour dredger, a basket for proving the dough.

1. Before you start it's worth preparing a surface in your kitchen as your dedicated 'kneading surface'.

2. In a large bowl weigh out and mix together the ingredients, except the oil and semolina. This is best done with your right hand (if you're right-handed), squeezing it through your fingers to get rid of any lumps of flour. Use your left hand to scrape the dough off your right hand as the dough is very sticky. Cover the bowl with the damp cloth and leave for 10 minutes. Wash your hands.

3. Remove the dough from the bowl and place on your lightly floured 'kneading surface'. I keep my flour dredger handy to prevent the dough from getting too sticky to move around. Knead the dough for 10–15 seconds (about 12 quarter turns). Try to keep the dough as sticky as you can bear, otherwise it will end up more dense and less likely to have the distinctive open, bubbly texture. Shape into a ball and leave covered on the surface while you clean out the bowl and lightly oil it.

4. Knead the dough for 10–15 seconds. Shape into a ball, place in the bowl and leave covered for 10 minutes.

5. Knead the dough for 10–15 seconds. Shape into a ball, return to the bowl and leave covered for 30 minutes. (The proving periods gradually get longer and you can get on with other things in the meantime.)

6. Knead the dough for 10–15 seconds. Shape into a ball, return to the bowl and leave covered for 1 hour.

7. Knead the dough for 10–15 seconds. Shape into a ball, return to the bowl and leave covered for 1 hour.

8. Knead the dough for 10–15 seconds. Shape into a ball, return to the bowl and leave covered for 2 hours.

9. Prepare your dry clean cloth by rubbing generous amounts of flour into one side of it. You'll need plenty of flour to stop the dough from sticking. Floured side up, use it to line a bowl or, ideally, a proving basket (I use a cheap plastic one with a 30cm diameter – see below). Knead the dough for 10–15 seconds, shape into a ball and, seam side upwards place into the cloth-lined bowl or basket. Either fold the cloth over the dough or cover it with your damp cloth and leave for 5 hours or for as long it takes to almost double in height. This obviously depends on the weather and how warm it is in your kitchen.

10. Preheat the oven to 220°C/425°F/Gas Mark 7. Dust the baking tray with semolina. Upturn your loaf onto the tray. With the craft knife, cut a four line grid shape or a circle into the surface of the loaf. Before putting it in the oven, spray the surface with water. Be generous with the water and also spray into the oven. The moisture helps the loaf to rise.

11. Bake the loaf for about 45–50 minutes. Check to see whether is has cooked by knocking on the bottom – it should sound hollow. Allow to cool on a wire rack. As this makes a large loaf, it's worth cutting it in two, wrapping one half in plenty of clingfilm and freezing it for another time. I do like to prolong the satisfaction!

Hot cross buns

It's been like high summer this week in London – very un-Easter like – and I had the surreal experience of making hot cross buns in such unseasonal conditions. Their spicy comfort seems much more suitable to cool weather, yet I forged ahead and gave them a whirl.

I used Daniel Steven's recipe from the River Cottage Handbook as for the soda bread I made earlier and was surprised how easy it is to bake hot cross buns yourself using a food mixer and dough hook.

Makes 8

250g strong white bread flour, plus extra for dusting
250g plain white flour
125ml warm water
125 warm milk
5g powdered yeast
10g salt
50g caster sugar
1 medium free-range egg
50g butter
100g raisins, currants or sultanas (or a mixture)
finely grated zest of half an orange (I doubled this)
1 tsp ground mixed spice (I used mainly cinnamon with some ginger and cloves)

For the crosses:
50g plain white flour – I kept adding more flour as the paste was too runny and it was still too runny!
100ml water

To finish:
1 tbsp apricot or other jam, sieved (I used quince jelly)
1 tbsp water

Combine the flours, water, milk, yeast, salt and sugar in the bowl and fit the dough hook. Add the egg and butter and mix to a sticky dough. Now add the dried fruit, orange zest and spice and knead on a low speed until silky and smooth.

Cover the dough and leave to rise for about an hour, or until doubled in size.

Knock back the dough and divide into 8 equal pieces. Shape into rounds and dust with flour. Place on a floured board and leave to prove, covered with a linen tea towel (or in a large plastic bag) for about 30 minutes until doubled in size.

Preheat the oven to 200°C and make the paste for the crosses by beating the water into the flour until smooth (add enough flour to make a fairly thick piping consistency – mine was too liquid). Transfer the paste into a piping bag or plastic food bag and snip off a corner to make a small hole.

Pipe crosses on to the risen buns and bake for 15–20 minutes.

In a small saucepan, melt the jam with the water. Brush over the buns to glaze them while they are still warm. Allow them to cool on a wire rack and serve warm, cold or toasted (and, ideally, spread with decent butter).

Sobrasada: a spicy delight for meat lovers

When my in-laws first came to visit from Menorca, among other local goodies, they brought a sobrasada sausage. I'm a fan of all things meaty and it was my first experience of this Balearic delicacy: a versatile cured pork sausage with a good kick of paprika. I hadn't tasted anything quite like it before and really loved it. The picture below shows the picant version, with its red string, whereas the regular dolç version has a white string (see above).

Recently I finally got to visit Menorca and we enjoyed sobrasada with my in-laws who served it sliced with drinks. We also had it spread on small bocadillo rolls as a lunchtime snack – this is particularly tasty as some of the peppery oil leeches into the spongy white bread.

I was also keen to bring some back to London to try out in a recipe I'd noticed in Rick Stein's Mediterranean Escapes where sobrasada appears melted into a tomatoey sauce. The results were great: tasty chicken and vegetables with a spicy, well textured sauce. Lots of fresh, lively flavours. As in the recipe, we used chicken breasts, but next time I will use thighs instead and cook them for longer. (I'm not convinced about the breasts as they always seem dry and lacking in flavour.)

Chicken with sobrasada, courgettes and butter beans

100g dried butter beans, soaked overnight (or 225g butter beans from a tin or jar, drained and rinsed)
300ml tomato sauce (see below)
4 free-range chicken breasts
2 tablespoons olive oil
a good pinch of crushed dried chillies
75g sobrasada, sliced
350g courgettes, trimmed and sliced diagonally
a small handful of flat-leaf parsley, chopped
salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the tomato sauce
6 tablespoons olive oil
2 large cloves of garlic, thinly sliced
2 x 400g tins chopped tomatoes (or 1kg fresh ripe tomatoes)
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Serves 4

If using soaked, dried beans, drain and tip them into a pan. Cover with fresh cold water, bring to the boil and simmer gently for 25 minutes, until almost tender. Add half a teaspoon of salt and continue cooking for another 5 minutes or so until tender. Drain and set aside.

Make the tomato sauce. Gently heat the olive oil, add the garlic and cook until just colouring. Tip in the chopped tomatoes and simmer for 20 to 30 minutes until thickened. Season with salt and pepper. Set aside. Left-over tomato sauce can be frozen and is ideal served with pasta, grated parmesan and a few torn basil leaves.

Season the chicken breasts on both sides with salt and pepper. Heat the olive oil in a large sauté pan. Add the chicken, skin side down, and cook for 5 minutes over a medium heat until golden brown. Turn over and cook for another 5 minutes. Move the chicken to the side of the pan and add the chilli flakes and sobrasada, and allow the sobrasada to melt into the oil.

Turn the chicken over in the now spicy oil until well coated, then reduce the heat, scatter over the courgettes, cover and leave to simmer gently for 15 minutes.

Uncover the pan, add the butter beans and tomato sauce, re-cover and simmer for a further 5 minutes until the beans are heated through.

Scatter with chopped parsley and serve. (We had ours with some plain boiled rice.)

Wine recommendation

This dish is absolutely perfect for showing off a decent Rioja. I was amazed how well paprika goes with this type of wine – it melds beautifully with Rioja's sweet, smoky oak. Try this for yourself by nibbling some spicy chorizo while sipping a glass of even quite straightforward Rioja such as Crianza or a young Reserva. Wonderful.