week 39 A Bird in the Hand - Diana Henry

Joining the litany of average things to happen this year, my oven has now given us the ghost. Well, that's not strictly true. The fan has gone in the main oven, but the top oven - which is the size of a shoe box, and has an average temperature setting 'Hades' - is still working. Oh, and two of the four hobs don't work and two heat up slowly and ineffectively. Mirroring the general mood.

Not to be too downbeat about things though - in a short list of good things to happen this year, we now have our new gas barbecue (overlooking the fact it was mainly purchased because we couldn't go on our summer holidays), which means we can now cremate things that won't fit in the top oven while standing in the drizzle and dreaming of fairer climes.

After making this recipe I have subsequently realised a chicken will just about squeeze into said tiny oven, but I've also realised there's nothing exciting about cooking a chicken in the comfort of your own home. Even if you own a copy of the wonderful Diana Henry's Bird in the Hand, which makes the humble chook seem fancy. No, it's far more stressful fun precariously trying to balance it upended on a tin can on a blazing hot grill.

While the most well-know incarnation of this dish is 'beer butt chicken' - which, as the name suggests, is made with a can of lager - this version uses ginger beer. While I'm a big fan of shoehorning alcohol into pretty much anything, here I think the sugary, spicy soda works even better. And it means you can drink the beer while tending the dinner.

The original recipe sits the can directly on the grate of the grill, but I placed mine in a disposable aluminium tray, so that I could baste the bird with the tomato marinade. That way the juices at the bottom can also be mixed with some of the leftover marinade to make a spiced gravy to soak into the coconutty rice and peas. Add coleslaw for crunch and health. And maybe a dark and stormy.

Ginger beer can chicken - adapted from Diana Henry

For the tomato sauce

1 tbsp olive oil

1 onion, finely chopped

2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

400g can of tomatoes/ six ripe medium tomatoes, roughly chopped

Salt and pepper

¼ tsp soft light brown sugar

For the ginger beer chicken

1.8kg chicken

330ml can of ginger beer

125ml tomato sauce, preferably home-made (see above)

40g root ginger, peeled and grated

6 garlic cloves, grated

4 red chillies, finely chopped (I leave the seeds in)

1 tbsp smoked paprika

leaves from 8 sprigs of thyme

3 tbsp soft dark brown sugar

Method

To make the tomato sauce, heat the olive oil in a saucepan and gently sweat the onion until soft but not coloured.

Add the garlic and cook for another minute. Stir in the tomatoes, 125ml of water, the seasoning and sugar. Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for 30 minutes, making sure it doesn’t become too dry. Leave to cool, then blend.

Mix 100ml of the beer in a large bowl (keep the rest in the can, and put in the fridge), big enough to contain the chicken, with all the other marinade ingredients. Put the chicken in the bowl, too, and rub the marinade all over it inside and out. Cover loosely with foil or cling film and put in the fridge for at least four, and up to 24, hours

Prepare a lidded barbecue to the stage where the coals are hot but no longer flaming/switch on a and preheat the gas grill to 180.

Shake the marinade off the chicken Place the chicken on the opened ginger beer can so the can is in the cavity.

Place the can and chicken into a tray then onto the barbecue grill.

Close the lid and cook for about an hour basting with the juices every 15 minutes, or until the juices run clear when you pierce the thigh. If you see pink, continue to cook.

Carefully take the chicken off the can, add the juices to the remaining tomato sauce. Leave, covered lightly in foil, for 15 minutes, carve and serve.

Bucks bites: batter up

I’m not quite sure why the global schnitzel/escalope/tonkatsu phenomena hasn’t taken off on these shores. Sure, we have nuggets and kievs and breaded chicken strips (a box of 5 Maccy D’s Selects, with sour cream dip, is my new jam), but a flattened piece of meat, bread crumbed and fried, still remains elusive. And what isn't better breadcrumbed and fried.

After visiting Australia a few times to see my family, I'm often asked ‘why don’t you move there?’ To which I reply the weather (I’d melt); the history (I love old stuff, just ask my wife…); and the football (have you seen the A League…). 

But, as well as the fam, when I get back home I do miss being able to get a schnitty at the pub. Even if you have to drink your grog in schooners. For me it’s a near perfect pub meal, something you wouldn’t make at home – a proper schnitzel really requires shallow frying and involves much mess with all the double-dipping and dredging – and is also perfect to soak up the booze.

The Poles have a rich history of beating and breading things, which has made Syrena my second favourite place to go and eat in High Wycombe (almost next door to Dosa Special, which still remains my absolute favourite). 

It's a simple set up with a handful of tables, a counter at the back where you order and pay, and a short menu which includes both pork and chicken schnitzels (and sometimes a special of a breadcrumbed minced meat cutlet), which you can also order topped with cheese and mushrooms. 

I’m not always a traditionalist, but haven’t looked past the classic pork yet. The cutlets are crisp and hot and greaseless, with the thin carapace of breadcrumbs perfectly billowing up from the tender meat as they are fried to order.

Although the escalope covers most of the plate, there’s still room for a couple of scoops of potatoes, that exist somewhere in that perfect place between boiled and mash and strewn with dill. Salad won’t fit, so comes on the side. Normally two different types that may include their excellent coleslaw, beetroot, sauerkraut or pickled cucumbers.

The schnitzel topped with a layer of sauteed mushrooms and a layer of melted cheese is served with fries, garlic sauce and salad and is also pretty great, if not quite as great as the classic version. It's certainly a good post-pub choice (as the restaurant closes at 8, it would have to be an afternoon session).

Another favourite are tender slices of roast neck of pork that come with Silesian dumplings; bouncy potato dumplings traditional to the Upper Silesia region of Poland with a distinctive depression made with a thumb for gravy. The dumplings, which are similar to gnocchi, are boiled in salted water before being covered in the aforementioned gravy. Proper rib-sticking stuff that is especially good with their braised sweet red cabbage.

When we took Stealth along for dinner, she had one of her favourites, beef goulash. I think her favourite is still Mummy P's beef stroganoff, but she still seemed very happy with her choice. The beef and red pepper stew, with its deep paprika-spiked gravy, comes with buckwheat - an underrated grain that doesn't get the love it deserves.

Homemade deserts include pancakes served with sour cream and sugar - they can also be ordered as a savoury course with mushroom gravy or goulash - and crepes with cheese jam or Nutella. They also have a glass cabinet, like the ones my sister and I would press our noses up against when on holiday as children, with a variety of cookies, choux buns, brownies and waffles.

Even though I'm still off the sweet stuff, I have sampled their 'cheesecake' on several occasions before the sugar ban. I use the word loosely, as it's a behemoth featuring a pastry base, a fluffy cream cheese filling and a layer of fruit (I've tried plum and apricot), before being topped with a layer of crisp meringue. Unsurprisingly it's also very, very good. In fact, the only way to improve it would be to roll it in breadcrumbs and fry it.