Week 2 - River Cottage - Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall

After finding some elusive new season scrag end of lamb (the old-fashioned cuts have the most romantic names) on the butcher’s counter in Waitrose I knew I had to make Ivan’s neck of lamb with lemon and thyme. A recipe that was originally published in the first River Cottage book, this was later adapted by Hugh F-W to include barley and kale, which is the version I have gone with here. Partly because I absolutely adore pearl barley with lamb and partly as the Ewing had just discovered a clump of kale that has escaped the interest of the rabbits on the allotment.

Growing up my mum’s lamb stew with barley, carrots, swede and suet dumplings was the one dinner the whole family always agreed on. There is something of Proust’s madeleines when I think back to days of getting home from school and eating a big bowlful while sitting around the fire watching Neighbours. Before fighting with my sister over who would get the last dumpling (me, of course).

I love lamb neck and lemons, and thyme, and barley and kale, I did worry slightly that it wouldn’t quite live up to my Mum’s lamb stew. But, worry not; while it was a simpler affair (the original recipe has just five ingredients) it was still a big, sticky hug in a bowl. The lemons brought a pleasing astringency to the fatty lamb, cooked long and slow until the meat divested itself from the bone. Proper, old-fashioned cooking that gets the maximum flavour from the fewest ingredients.

Lamb neck with lemon, barley and kale

serves 4

1kg scrag end or neck of lamb on the bone, cut into slices (I couldn’t find enough neck on the butcher’s counter, so I also added some lamb neck fillet, cut into big chunks)

1 tbsp of vegetable oil

Juice of 1½ lemons

4–8 sprigs of thyme

Water or lamb stock to cover

A big handful (200g-ish) of pearl barley or pearled spelt

A handful of, kale, shredded savoy cabbage or spring greens, roughly chopped, tough stems removed, per person

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Season the lamb with salt and pepper. Heat the oil in a large, heavy-based flameproof casserole, add the lamb and allow it to brown (you may have to do this in batches), turning until it is lightly browned all over. Tip out any excess oil, add the browned lamb, lemon juice, thyme and some salt and pepper, then enough water or stock to barely cover the ingredients.

Bring to a gentle simmer, cover and put in an oven preheated to 140°C. Cook for an hour and a half, then add the pearl barley or spelt, check the liquid, adding more if needed (the pearl barley / spelt will swell up as it cooks) and cook for a further hour or until it is nearly tender and the lamb is falling from the bone.

Remove the casserole from the oven. If you want to serve it straight away put the pan on the hob, skimming any extra fat from the top if there seems like a lot, and bring to a simmer. Add the greens and simmer for a couple of minutes, until they are just cooked through. You could also steam the greens separately, or any other veg of your choice, and serve alongside the stew.

If you want to make in advance, as I did, to allow the flavours to improve, then cool the stew once it is cooked and chill in the fridge overnight. The next day reheat thoroughly (removing any fat on top beforehand, if you wish) and cook the veg as above.

Bites: Gone to the Dogs

When I was younger my parent's used to tell us the story of their honeymoon - taken at the holiday park in Ilfracombe, Devon - where the newly married couple pressed their noses against the glass of a restaurant in town and dreamt of coming back and eating all the fancy seafood dishes they couldn't afford. By the time me and my sister were born the family finances were much improved, but this bittersweet and touching tale remained a favourite. 

Which brings me to David Ramsey's the Dogs - recently opened on our first visit, now a doyenne of the stripped back food scene - where I stood outside with the Ewing exactly six years ago - not quite penniless, but certainly rather financially constrained - and dreamt of going inside for dinner. (While, ironically, the Dogs may be known for their value grub, our diet on that trip mostly consisted of stocking up on unseemly amounts of hotel buffet breakfast followed by scotch pies and snowball cakes.)

But, as Gabrielle sung, dreams can come true; so after a long and slightly soggy day in Auld Reekie, a change of socks and forty winks, I was looking forward to a few beers and a menu that 'champions Scottish and British ingredients, in dishes that will comfort and excite'.

Staying with the Scots ale trail theme we both chose Williams Bros beers; Grozet a gooseberry-infused wheat ale, for me and the Fraoch heather ale for the Ewing. The latter was particularly interesting, being based on the Gaelic recipe for 'leann fraoich' (heather ale) - purportedly the oldest style ale in the world - with it's peaty, malty notes.

Perfectly pan fried hake, sat atop a pile of cockles and mussels in a creamy, dill-flecked broth bobbing with chunks of potatoes and turnips, was as lovely as it's list of ingredients suggested - the only thing missing being a hunk of crusty bread to mop up every last drop.

The 'venison, sausage casserole and barley' was a gratifyingly simple affair. The deer had been slow cooked to a sticky sweetness alongside winter veg and while the Scots have a penchant for beef sausages - one of the only things the Ewing is not keen on (the other being me singing 'Saturday Love') - this was served with a pork snag and a big mound of fluffy, spiced barley to soak up all the gravy.

Side orders of honey roasted carrots and in-house pickled cucumbers hit the spot, the zingy cukes being a surprisingly good match with both the venison and creamy fish broth. In an attempt to eat as much of the menu as possible, we also asked for roast spuds with bacon, although were probably rather relieved the order didn't make it to the kitchen.

The Ewing's green apple trifle was a sight out of the seventies, with it's wonderfully bright swirling layers and crisp bruleed top. Despite the lurid appearance and the slightly incongruous choice of filling (an apple never strikes me as a particularly 'trifle-able' sort of fruit) this was great fun.

Toffee rice pudding, mined with chunks of honeycomb and dark chocolate, was as close to a hug in a dish as is possible. Add a wee dram of of Macallan 10 year fine oak and I was very glad I was on the inside looking out.