week 42 - Lakeland Cookery

The last part of the Cumbrian Trilogy was, unlike many final instalments, a stone cold classic; the cheese scone. It's not a spoiler to reveal that I am currently sans a main oven at home (mainly as I have written about it almost constantly since the fan finally gave up the ghost), and so I made good use of the well-equipped kitchen we had in the Lakes. We even baked a bloody Christmas cake, which the Ewing has been feeding religiously with cherry brandy weekly since we got back home.

The recipe was given a Cumbrian twist by the fact it came from my latest purchase - Lakeland Cookery 'compiled from recipes supplied by readers of Cumbria'. While the original point of #cookbookchallenge was to utilise the many cookbooks I already possess, inevitably I have bought several (exact number unknown. Not that I'd disclose anyway, in case my wife is reading this...) since the challenge has begun. 

I saw this gem in a charity book shop in Kendal, so how could I refuse. And we picked up two St Michael cook books; the height of 80s dependability which adorned the bookshelves in both our mother's kitchens as we were growing up.

The scones received a further local boost by being filled with not one, not two, no not three, but four different types of Cumbrian cheese. The Holbrook (goat) and Fellstone (cow) came from Cartmel Cheeses (picked up after our visit to L'Enclume). While the Thornby Cumbrian Farmhouse (cow) was made down the road from where we were staying, and was left for us by our hosts. The final cheese was a gooey Eden Valley brie, that added some welcome ooze.

Cumbrian Cheese Scones - adapted from Lakeland Cookery

225g self-raising flour, plus extra for dusting

pinch of salt

1 tbsp finely chopped chives

1 tsp baking powder

55g chilled butter, cut into cubes (you can also grate if you put into the freezer for half an hour before you need it)

120g hard cheese, grated

30g brie or similar soft cheese, chopped into small chunks

90-100ml milk, plus 1 tbsp for glazing

Heat the oven to 180c with a baking tray inside. Sift the flour, salt and baking powder into a bowl.

Add the butter to the bowl and lightly rub in with your fingertips to make breadcrumbs. Add 100g of the hard cheese and all the soft cheese and gently stir in.

Make a well in the centre of the mixture and slowly pour in the milk it comes together into a dough.

Flour a surface and shape into a round. Place on baking parchment, cut into six wedges, glaze with milk and sprinkle with the remaining cheese. 

Place the baking parchment onto the hot oven tray and bake in the oven for 15-20 mins or until golden brown and cooked through.

I also made a bonus batch of Buttermere biscuits, and gave some to our hosts next door to say thank you for their hospitality. I was originally drawn to the recipe as they sounded very similar to a Shrewsbury biscuit - a crisp buttery biscuit flavoured with currants and lemon zest - which is one of may faves. When I Googled it afterwards I released the a Buttermere biscuit is a Shrewsbury biscuit. What's in a name? That which we call a cookie by any other name would smell as sweet.

Buttermere Biscuits - adapted Lakeland Cookery 

220g plain flour

110g butter

90g caster sugar, plus more to sprinkle on top

80g currants

½ tsp baking powder

1 large egg

Grated zest of one lemon

Rub the butter into the flour until you have fine breadcrumbs. Stir in the flour, currants, baking powder and zest.

Beat the egg in a bowl and add to the dry ingredients, cutting in with a knife. 

Bring the dough together with your hands. If it's dry, add a little milk or water.

Roll out to the thickness of a pound coin and cut into circles.

Brush the tops with milk and sprinkle a little sugar over the top. 

Place on lined baking sheets and bake for 15-20 minutes at 180c, or until a pale golden.

Week 16 - British Food - Jane Grigson

This was the week that lock down began to bite. This happened in the most middle-class way possible after I discovered, late on a Saturday afternoon, that I didn't have all the ingredients I needed for the majestic pork pie I was planning. This became both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because I decided we should walk to our great local butcher (about two and a half mile round trip, up a vertical hill), and a curse as we have gone there every weekend since. Completely derailing project #eatthefreezer and actually managing to contribute to the original problem. Ironically, they also sell extremely good pork pies. And scotch eggs and sausage rolls, if you're into that sort of thing.

I've made a hand raised pie before, a fancy number with chicken and apricots, but this time I went back to the old school with the pork pie from Jane Grigson's seminal English food. First published in 1974, and updated by Grigson in 1990, a year before her death, it's an anthology that celebrates and resurrects the reputation of English food, with recipes that range from rib-sticking puddings, pies and stews to summery soups, seafood and salads.

Alongside the classic mix of pork belly (Grigson actually uses spare rib, but obviously I didn't ready the recipe properly before setting off (really? that's unusual darling - TE)) and green streaky bacon, I added a couple of chicken thighs (to make up the weight) and chopped the meat and fat by hand for a chunkier texture. I also added a little allspice, cinnamon and nutmeg, as per Grigson's recipe. She calls for the addition of anchovy essence, and so I added a scant teaspoon of Gentleman's Relish, a gift from some foodie friends.

Jelly in a pork pie is a controversial thing, which I think most of us come to appreciate more as we get older. Grigson has a recipe for a traditional jelly, with split pigs trotters, but I decided I lacked the dedication to boil bones for hours to make something that will most likely be discarded on the edge of a plate and so plumped for stock, set with some leaves of gelatin. Originally I was going to use chicken, but I found some porcini stock cubes from a recent trip to Sicily, that I thought would add a heady, savoury note and turned out to be an inspired addition.

Of all the pastries, I think a hot water crust is by far the easiest. Melt the fat (lard, or a lard and butter mix) with water, then stir into flour and salt. The pastry can then be pushed up the sides of a loose bottomed cake tin, or fancy pie mould if you have one, leaving about a quarter to roll out for the lid, and that's about it. The lard adds a lovely crispness and a savoury edge and the pastry, with a little help from a beaten egg brushed on top, should bronze like a daytime TV presenter.

While the recipe may appear intimidatingly long, it's really very easy to follow, and the results are very impressive. Plus it tastes far better than a mass produced pie ever could. Although, I must confess I still have a fondness for the pink-paste stuffed pastry snacks, picked up from motorway service stations.

Hand raised pork pie

Adapted from Jane Grigson's English Food

For the filling

750g pork belly, shoulder or spare rib

250g streaky green bacon

250g skinless boneless chicken thighs (or just use 1kg of pork)

1 tsp salt

1 tsp black pepper

1 tsp Gentleman's Relish (or anchovy essence)

1/4 tsp ground allspice

1/4 tsp ground cinnamon

1/4 tsp grated nutmeg

Large sprig of thyme, finely chopped

for the pastry

500g flour

175g lard

200g water

large pinch of salt

1 beaten egg

for the stock

1 stock cube (porcini, ham or chicken)

2 leaves gelatin, soaked in cold water for 5 minutes

400ml boiling water

For the best texture chop the pork into small cubes, about 5mm in size. Or you could chop half, then whizz the other half briefly in the food processor.

Finely chop the bacon and chicken (if using)

Mix the thyme, salt, pepper and spices into the chopped meat.

Make the pastry

Put the lard and water into a saucepan and bring to the boil. 

Sift the flour and the salt into a large bowl. 

Pour the hot lard and water into the flour, mix well then leave until cool enough to handle. 

Don't allow to cool down too much, or you won't be able to shape it.

Pre-heat oven to 180C. Lightly grease and flour a 18 cm loose-bottomed cake tin. 

Take a quarter of the pastry and roll it into a lid that will fit the top of the cake tin. 

Place the the remaining pastry in the base of the tin, and then firmly push the dough up the sides with your fingers. If it slides down, leave it to cool a bit more. patch up any tholes otherwise the jelly will leak out. 

Spoon the filling into the tin and press it down. It should come almost to the top of the pastry.

Brush the edges of the pastry above the meat with beaten egg. Lower the lid into place and press tightly to seal with the edges. Poke a small hole in the lid (I used the handle of a wooden spoon) to let out the steam and put the tin on a baking sheet. 

Bake for 30 minutes, then lower the heat to 160C and bake for 60 minutes until the pastry is pale gold. Brush with the beaten egg and return to the oven for 30 minutes (the temperature should read 65c in the centre of the pie). Cover with foil if the top is browning too fast.

When the pie has cooled, add the boiling water to the stock cube and stir until dissolved.

Add the gelatin leaves and stir again.

Allow the mixture to cool a little and then, using a funnel, slowly pour the stock into the hole in the top of the pie. You may have to do this in stages to give the stock time to work it's way through the pie filling and settle .

Leave the pie to cool in the fridge, preferable overnight.

Serve with English mustard and a glass of bitter.