The Viking Pies - Pig and Potato Pie!

If someone said to you, completely out of the blue: “Hey, what’s mankind’s greatest ever invention?” you might panic and, without a moment’s thought, reply “The wheel!” or “The telescope!” or “The Internet!”

You would, on all three counts, be wrong.  Very wrong.  I am about to demonstrate why.

As early as 589 BC, humans had invented something so incredible, so beautiful in its simplicity, so mouth –watering that it has endured to this very day.  Sure, it’s not particularly fashionable – but in terms of taste, texture, variety and sheer culinary wizardry it beats almost all comers.  When you’re down, eating a few of these can make you feel happy, when it’s cold, they can make you feel warm.  Greek philosophers have written plays about them.  Civilisations from all over the world have had their own kinds – from China to Europe to the Americas and probably even the Moon.

I present to you the humble Sausage – mankind’s greatest invention.

The sausage can be so much more than just lips, bumholes and trotters.  It can be so much more than a hog tube slopped next to lumpy mash.  It doesn’t have to be a rancid pink tube filled with the cast offs of the farmyard’s most noble beast.  If you take time, and pick carefully, you too can have a sausage that is meaty, herby and divine – the delicate skin of the casing bursts against the press of your teeth, releasing coarse, tender, flavourful chunks of lovingly crafted sausage in to your gullet.  Make no mistake, despite the £1-for-six supermarket abominations, sausage making is an art form and one that I intend to take up before the year is out.  In the meantime, I am prepared to spend a few pence more and get something of really high quality, to turn out everything from the classic British “Soss, eg ‘n chips” to Toad in the Hole to Sausage and Leek Risotto.  I am particularly partial to a Cumberland Ring, myself, but every butcher has their own specials.  There’s a butcher in Essex around the corner from my Mum (http://www.iessex.co.uk/profile/292124/Chelmsford/C-Humphreys-and-Sons/) that does the best ever sausage – Beef, Mustard and Guinness.  I had better carry on before I hurry away from my desk and by a load of them.

So this week, I present to you Pig and Potato Pie with Spring Veg!

Firstly, you will need STUFF:

- Good quality Cumberland sausages (about three per person should do it)

- Mushrooms, quartered

- A couple of carrots, chopped

- 5/6 shallots, peeled and halved

- 1 or 2 red onions, peeled and quartered

- 1 chilli, chopped

- 2 cloves of garlic, chopped

- A pinch of cayenne pepper

- Potatoes for mash

- Kale

- A knob of butter

- A splash of milk

- Mustard – good, fiery, English mustard!

- Beef stock – half a pint to a pint – enough to make a good gravy with

- BOOZE!  I used half a pint of Guinness, but a good ale or a glass of red wine would be just as good.

Firstly, gently sweat the shallots, carrots and garlic in a pan until softened.  Then, add the quartered onions until they gain some colour.  Finally, add the sausages and fry them off for about 10 minutes until they are brown and nearly cooked.  Depending on the amount of sausages you’re using, you may need to do this in batches.  Once you have done this, remove the sausages and place to one side on a plate.

Now add the chilli to the shallots, carrots, onions and garlic and cook for a minute over a medium heat.  Then add your stock, booze, and a generous pinch of cayenne pepper and bring to the boil.  When boiling, add your sausages back to the pan, and bring the mixture down to a steady simmer, making sure that the sausages are completely covered by the gravy.  Try to reduce the gravy so it thickens, but not too much.  Cover with a lid, and turn your attention to the potatoes.

Bring them to the boil, and then simmer for around 20 minutes, or until you can prick them with a fork.  Meanwhile, wilt some kale (my ingredient of the moment) in a pan.  When the potatoes are done, mash them and stir in the kale with a generous helping of mustard, depending on how fiery you like it.

Spoon the sausages and vegetables in to a ovenproof dish, taking care not to add too much gravy – you want some, but you don’t want the potato to get sloppy.

Once that’s done, use a couple of spoons to dollop the potato on top of your filling.  Whack the whole lot in to an oven that has been preheated to 220c/Gas Mark 7 and leave it for half an hour, or until the potato topping is golden brown.

There is no neat way of presenting this.   Spoon out even portions of potato, sausage, gravy and veg in to bowls or deep plates.

Serve with a big grind of black pepper on the top, a nice bottle of Hopping Hare by Badger Brewery (trust me, you’ll want wine but this beer is the Bees Knees and its distinctive, hoppy flavour lends itself really nicely to these herby sausages…  Give it a go!) and sit back and revel in the contended munching sounds your guests will invariably be making.  Sheer, utter bliss.

And that’s it, the end of another blog.  Once again, be sure to give this a try, and let me know how the results are.

The Viking Roasts - Slow Roast Spring Lamb with North African Spices

So, looking out the window it appears that Spring has finally sprung.  Daffodils are in bloom, people are smiling again, and the first signs of hay fever are already beginning to show.  How better to celebrate the arrival of the best time of year, then, than to grab a cute little critter like this:

"Pardon me?"

…and eat it?  There is no better way, this I can promise you.  So this week I am going to do yet another roast, but this time with a North African flavour.  I love a simple roast leg of lamb as much as the next Viking, but if you really want to show people that you really paid attention during River Cottage, then this is the meal for you.

Firstly, let’s talk meat.  Try not to think of the little lamb, happily gambolling through the fields, generally being happy and enjoying life.  And, if you must think of that, at least be content in the fact that this gorgeous little beast gave its life for a higher purpose.  You could make this dish with a leg of lamb if you were so inclined, but I think that the shoulder is by far the best cut, for several reasons.  Firstly, the meat is so very tender, meaning that when it comes to carving you won’t even need a knife, you’ll just be able to pull the meat off of the bone with a couple of forks.  Secondly, the flavour of the meat in the shoulder is so deliciously sweet and fresh that as soon as you bite in to it you could very well convince yourself that you’ve landed up in heaven.  Thirdly, the shoulder of lamb is a much cheaper cut than the leg – and that can’t be a bad thing.

Shouldering the responsibility of a good roast...

So, get yourself down to the butcher, or a local supermarket with a good meat counter.  I can’t emphasise the following enough, though: if you have a local butcher, use them.  Butchery really is a dying art form in this country, and the Supermarkets aren’t going to suffer if you spread your business around a bit more.  Please try and support industries like this, because having a local supplier (be it of meat, vegetables, or anything else) who has expert knowledge built up over years of working with the product is invaluable, and it would be a crying shame if we as a nation were to lose this expertise just because a Supermarket can supply produce at a marginally cheaper rate.  Also, buying your meat from a butcher helps to support the farmer – Supermarkets (some of them anyway) have an atrocious record of following the consumer and not the supplier, and that’s wrong.  It’s offensive to us as consumers (after all, wouldn’t you pay a little more for your meat and know that both animal and farmer have been well looked after) and, moreover, it’s offensive to the animal that you’re about to eat.  But anyway, rant over.  Anyhow, once you’re there, a whole shoulder will feed four people well, and you’ll still have enough left over for a meal in the week.  A half shoulder will feed two hungry people quite comfortably.

You’ll also need, for the spice paste:

- Coriander seeds

- Fennel seeds

- Black Peppercorns

- Rock salt

- Cayenne pepper

- Paprika

- Rosemary, leaves of 2 sprigs, chopped

- 2 cloves of garlic, chopped

- Olive oil

Other things on your grocery list should be:

- Potatoes

- Parsnips

- Broccoli

- Carrots

- Lamb stock

- A glass of red wine

- Bisto

The Usual Suspects

A lot of that you might have in your store cupboard already, and if you do have to go out and get some then at least you will have some left over for more deliciously spiced recipes.

You’ve got all of your STUFF, then, so first you need to make the spice paste.  You can do this on the day, but as this is a long, slow roast you might not want to get up ridiculously early in the morning to make it if you’re aiming for lunch.  I made my paste the evening beforehand.  So, in a hot dry pan, toast a couple of teaspoons worth of coriander, fennel and black peppercorns for about a minute until they are fragrant.

Empty in to a mortar and pestle, and add two teaspoons of paprika, a nice large pinch of cayenne, two teaspoons of rock salt and your chopped rosemary and garlic.  Add two tablespoons of olive oil, mix thoroughly, and you’re ready to go. 

TOP VIKING TIP: You might not have a mortar and pestle.  I don’t, despite repeated requests.  So here’s an easy way to make your own, makeshift spice crusher.  Get some good, strong tin foil and tear off a piece about A4 size.  Fold in half, and then double fold along the edges so you have a little pouch.

Put your spices in there, and then double fold the top so that it’s sealed.  Place on a sturdy chopping board, and find yourself something heavy like a rolling pin.  Apply lots of pressure and roll the pin across the parcel – you’ll be able to hear the seeds and corns breaking and it’s very satisfying.  Then, summoning up all of your stress, rage, fear, hatred of that guy on the tube and Justin Bieber, hit the parcel with the rolling pin.  Hit it again and again and again.  Hit it like Nora Batty hits Compo.  Enjoy the noise and release of tension.  When the parcel is flat, ta da!  You have ground spices!

The foil I used this week wasn't quite as strong as I needed...

Now you have your spice paste, lightly score the skin of the lamb with a sharp knife.  Massage the spice paste in to the lamb, top and bottom, making sure you get a nice even covering.

If you’re doing this the evening before you intend to cook, place on a board and cover with foil, and store in the fridge overnight.  Remove the meat from the fridge 30 minutes before you start cooking on the day to allow the meat to come up to room temperature.  If you've got the time you should definitely try this method – having the meat marinade in the spices overnight really adds to the depth of flavour you’re creating.  If you’re doing this on the day, transfer the meat to a roasting tin and you’re ready to get cooking – don’t worry, you’re still going to get some really good flavours out of this dish!

Preheat your oven to 220c/gas 7.  Once hot, place your lamb in the oven, uncovered, on the middle shelf.  Cook for half an hour and then turn the oven right down to 120c/gas mark ½ - if your oven has a slow cook setting use that.  Add a cup of water to the pan, cover with foil, and then cook for at least five hours – six ideally.  So go out, have a run, walk the dog, sneak off to the pub, whatever you want to do – these six hours are yours.  Just make sure you have:

- Potatoes peeled and quartered ready for roasting (in water)

- Parsnips peeled and halved (in water)

- Broccoli prepped (in water)

- Carrots scrubbed and washed (in water)

After the cooking time is up, remove from the oven and uncover.  Your lamb will be cooked; you’ll be able to tell just by looking at it.  The bone will be protruding from the meat, and if you use a couple of forks the meat will tear apart beautifully.

The temptation to forget veg entirely and whack this straight
in to a crusty loaf with some mint sauce is almost - almost - unbearable

Cover again, and leave on the side.  Turn the oven right up to 220c/gas 7 again and put a roasting tin with a good slug of oil in the oven for your potatoes and parsnips.  Once the oven is to temperature and the oil is good and hot, add the potatoes and parsnips to the roasting tin making sure they all get a good covering of oil.  Season to taste, then roast for 45 minutes, turning half way through.  Carrots and Broccoli need no more than 10-15 minutes at the simmer so they retain their colour and, more importantly, crunch.

You might want to return the lamb to the oven for a few minutes to heat it through again, but it’s not really worth it – if you have covered it with a reasonably tight seal it will hold the heat from its cooking while the potatoes are doing.  If it needs a quick heat up, give it ten minutes in the oven on the bottom shelf, and time it so that the meat can come out ten minutes before your potatoes are ready.  Once you’re happy, place the meat on a chopping board to rest.  Skim the fat off of the juices in the roasting tin, and place on the hob.  Add a pint of lamb stock, a glass of red wine, and some bisto or plain flour for thickening.  Bring to the boil, and then return to the simmer until everything else is ready.

Using the two fork technique, shred the shoulder up to in big chunks, and serve with a big fruity red wine or, as I did, with a lovely cold bottle of Hobgoblin Ale. 

Mouth-wateringly tender meat...

Shown sans gravy, but still a beautiful sight...

Sooner or later, you will have meaty juices running down your chin, you’ll be talking and laughing with your companions and you will know, as you take another sip of beer to wash down that lovely tender meat, that you have made something that is truly wonderful – a brilliant, North African twist on a classic British mealtime.  If you want to forego the British element, drop the gravy and the vegetables and serve with a big old pile of spiced couscous for a more authentic African flavour.

I do hope that this recipe, and the accompanying pictures, has got your saliva glands working overtime.  Why not get out there this weekend and give it a try?  You won’t be disappointed.  Please let me know if I’m writing about roasts too much – they’re something that I really care about and what they represent to me is very important…  the coming together of family and friends around a dinner table to share good food, good wine, and each other’s company.  There’s very little in this life that is more important than that. 

Have a great week, and a brilliant weekend.  I’ll see you next time with more big flavours, impressive food, and minimal faffing.

A Viking Mini-Blog: Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport!

Not that I’ve got anything against marsupials, this week’s mini-blog is, once again, about Kangaroo meat and what to do with it.  My friends at Kezie (www.keziefoods.co.uk) had previously supplied me with some lovely Kangaroo striploin, out of which I had already made a pie which you can see elsewhere on the blog.

So what to do with this lean meat?  As far as I could see it, there was only one thing to do.  And so, if you happen to have some Kangaroo hopping about the place, you could try:

Pan-Fried Kangaroo Striploin with Sauté Potatoes, Garlic and Chilli Kale and a Red Wine Reduction

Of course, you’ll need STUFF:

- Kangaroo striploin (this recipe will work just as well with fillet or sirloin of beef)

- A glass of red wine

- Potatoes

- 2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

- 2 chillies, sliced

- 2 Shallots, finely diced

- A knob of butter

- Kale

- Olive oil

Start off by peeling and chopping the potatoes up in to cubes.  Par boil them, as you would when making roasties.  Once that’s done, drain and place the potatoes on some kitchen roll and pat dry.  Transfer to a pan that has a good amount of hot olive oil in, and fry until golden.  This can take 10-15 minutes.  Once done, place in a roasting tray in a hot oven (220c/Gas 7) while everything else is cooking.

Now, pan fry the Kangaroo steak.  I find that the timings are almost exactly the same as they are for beef.  For this recipe, I seared the meat on a high heat on all sides, and then turned the heat to medium and cooked for a further two minutes on each side. 

 While you’re cooking the Kangaroo, gently sweat the chopped shallots in a pan.  After a minute or two, add a glass of red wine and bring to the boil and reduce down until thick.  Add a knob of butter and a dab of Bisto to give meatiness and shine.  Keep warm, and stir regularly, but do not bring back to the boil.

Now the Kangaroo has been cooked on both sides, place on a tray and put it in the oven with the potato for five minutes.   Remove after this time and leave to rest.

Now, gently cook the garlic in olive oil in a saucepan.  When tender, add kale leaves and garlic and wilt this down.  Give a good stir to make sure the garlic and chilli is running right through the kale leaves, and season with salt and black pepper.

On to a warm plate, place the Kangaroo steak, a pile of sauté potatoes and a good helping of garlic and chilli kale.  Use a spoon to drizzle that lovely red wine reduction all over the meat and around the edge of the plate.

And there it is – a lovely, fresh and tasty meal in under half an hour.  And a blog that can be read in less than five minutes!  I’ll be back, probably tomorrow, with a full-length entry about the springiest of spring foods, Lamb!

In the meantime, many thanks once again to the guys at Kezie for supplying the meat.  I would probably never have tried cooking with Kangaroo had it not been for you!

Until tomorrow, then…

The Viking

The Viking Gets Pie-Eyed - Skip-Pie with Kale Mash and PSB

Pie.

I don’t really need to say any more than that do I, really?  The pie, in almost all forms, is possibly mankind’s greatest achievement.  The motor car?  Pah.  Flight?  Get out of town.  The Microchip?  When I get hold of the person who thought that Microwaved Chips would be a good idea I’m going to string them up by the goolies.  Whereas a Pie, well, a pie can truly astonishing.

I love pie in all of its forms – from the humble pork pie through to a fish pie.  I’m happy with a piece of Chicken and Mushroom, or with a great hunk of apple pie.  What I’m saying is, is that if you want to guarantee my friendship for life, there’s only one thing you need to do.  Get some pastry, some gravy and some meat, wrap it all up in a shortcrust blanket, feed it to me and I’m yours.

Last week, then, was my ideal week.  Great British Pie Week came and went with shamefully little media coverage.  I must confess that I could have timed this blog better, but as it is I’m a little late to present to you:

Skip-Pie, served with Kale Mash and PSB.

Yes, if you interpreted that awful pun correctly, this week’s offering is a Kangaroo pie.  Nowadays, Kangaroo might not be as uncommon as it used to be (you can even get a Kangaroo Burger in a Walkabout, should you be so inclined to go in to one of those places), but I still got a few raised eyebrows when I told people what I’d be cooking.  My friends at Kezie (www.keziefoods.co.uk) supplied the meat – a few lovely fillets of Kangaroo Striploin, delivered direct to my office ready to be thawed out and made in to a delicious treat of a pie.  I was surprised when I opened the meat – it is very lean, dark and extremely tender; as I was dicing the meat during the prep phase, I was stunned how easily the knife ran through it.

Of course, you’ll be needing stuff.  To make this Skip-Pie (I do love a good pun, don’t you?) you’ll need:

- Kangaroo Striploin fillets (I used four of these, making a pie for four people)

- 4 Shallots

- A handful of Chestnut Mushrooms

- Beef Stock

- A Bottle of Beer (I used London Pride, but you can choose your own)

- Cayenne Pepper

- Potatoes

- Kale

- Purple sprout Broccoli

- A packet of Short crust Pastry (do try not to judge me too harshly – if it’s good enough for Saint Delia then it’s good enough for me)

- Milk

- Butter

Firstly, you’ll need to dice up your meat.  Don’t be stingy, go for nice, chunky lumps of meat:

One of the fillets...

Place in to a pan, and then cover with water:

And now light a high heat under the pan, and bring the water to the boil.  I will admit, at this stage you’ll probably look at what’s happening in the pan and think that it’s never going to come good.  There’s going to be a certain amount of scum rise to the surface and you, young Pie Adventurer, you need to power through.  Grab a spoon and a bowl, and scoop the offending nastiness from the top of the pan.

Boil for only a minute or two, and then add half a pint of beef stock, a good slug of beer, chopped shallots and a big shake of cayenne pepper depending on how spicy you want your gravy to be.  Return this to the boil and then simmer over a low heat for a minimum of two hours or longer if you have the time.

Come back every now and then for a stir, and make sure that your mix doesn’t go dry.  If it does, just add a bit more stock.  Top tip – don’t add your mushrooms until about ten minutes before you’re going to put your filling in a pie dish.  This stops them from shrinking too much and helps them retain a nice bite.

Half an hour before you intend to lid your pie, get the pastry out of the refrigerator.  Allow it to come to room temperature (or near enough) before rolling it out to the thickness and size that you require for your pie dish.

Ensure to try and leave some extra pastry to make shapes to stick to the top of the pie.  Traditionally this would be a leaf motif, but I am a maverick and am obsessed with branding, so this pie has a Viking Helmet on it.  Feel free to add your own design!

Make sure you have your potatoes peeled, halved and placed in water ready for boiling.  In a separate pan, again in water, add a few handfuls of Kale leaves.  In yet another pan, add some stalks of broccoli, again covered with water and a little seasoning.  The cooking times for each are as follows:

Potatoes – 25-30 minutes simmering (or until a fork can be stuck in to a potato meeting no resistance)

Kale – 10 minutes simmer

Broccoli – 10 minutes simmer

But that’s all to come later.  Once you’re satisfied with the pie filling, get your pie dish and lightly grease or butter the edges.  Use a slotted spoon to transfer the pie filling in to the dish.

Drain out as much gravy as possible, as you want a moist but not wet pie.  Once that’s done cut an ‘x’ in to the centre of your pastry and quickly lay over the top of the meat.  Press down at the edges with either your fingers or a fork, give it a quick milk wash and then whack it in the oven for about half an hour at 200c – or until the pastry is crisp and golden.  Don’t worry if your pie is ready before your veg, it can sit in a warm oven just ticking over.

Once the pie is in, turn on the heat for the potatoes, and 20 minutes later do the same for your kale and broccoli.  Purple sprout broccoli loses its purple colour and turns bright green when cooked, and the kale will be soft and tender.

Now the pie is cooked, the veg is ready, and there’s one more step before plating up.  Use a masher to mash the potatoes down, and then add a knob of butter and a splash of milk.  Finish the mashing process with a wooden spoon, stirring vigorously.  For a perfect mash you should get yourself a potato ricer, which, if used instead of a masher, delivers smooth and silky mashed potato every time.  Remember to add milk and butter bit by bit because too much of either will result in wet slop.  It’s easier to add a bit more than to take a lot out.  Once the mash is done, drain the kale and shake as much moisture as you can out of it.  Throw in to the mashed potato and give it a good stir.  You can also, at this stage, throw some crushed garlic and some pepper in to the mash depending on your level of addiction to garlic.

In the meantime, warm up the gravy that is left in the pan from making your pie filling, adding more stock and a spoon of bisto if you need more gravy to go around.  Bring it gently to the boil, and then simmer until you’re done, stirring regularly.

Cut the pie in to four and, contrary as it may seem, gently lift the crust away from the meat inside.  This isn’t essential, but it does help with the final presentation.  Spoon the meat filling on to a plate and then lay the pie lid on top.

Arrange your PSB next to the pie, and then whack on a nice, buttery dollop of kale mash.  If you want, you can be all arty like I have been here and use a little pot for the gastro pub effect, but I’ll be honest – soon after this picture was taken, that bowl was emptied out and was replaced by a pile of potato so large it could have shown up on the next Ordinance Survey map.

The result, then, will hopefully be a pie with golden, crumbly pastry that is filled with tender, melt-in-the-mouth Kangaroo meat complemented by woody mushrooms, spicy, rich and beery gravy working together to produce an aroma that is to die for.  Green, crunchy broccoli gives way to soft, buttery mash that has a bitter, peppery bite delivered by the kale.  This is real feel good food, and is the perfect way to end your week.

Kangaroo was a very pleasant surprise indeed.  The flavour is more gamey than you might expect – closer to Venison than it is to beef – and despite the lean quality of the meat it stands up to cooking very well indeed.  If you have a few spare pounds and would like to try something different from beyond these shores, then I highly recommend Kangaroo.  Similarly, if you don’t want to mess about cooking a pie, I’ll do another mini-blog later in the week that plays down the faff and up the simplicity.

And so ends another little blog.  I do hope you have enjoyed it, so please – tell all of your friends!

The Viking 

The Viking Gets Shellfish - Moules Mariniere

For about the last six months I’ve had a recurring dream.  Not the wake-up-screaming-and-sweating kind of recurring dream in which I see my own death, but the kind where I wake up in the morning and slowly stretch before padding downstairs.  It’s only when I’m half way through brushing my teeth that I realise that my dream was, in fact, a dream and now I’m going to have to deal with yet another day.

I bet you’re thinking that in my dream I am a racing car driver, or  an astronaut, or a Norse God rending the very heavens themselves asunder with my power and glory – but if I’m honest with you I’m dreaming of being a butcher.  Yes, in my dream I’m running my own business, supplying fresh meat to a delightfully middle class village somewhere in the countryside.  I’ve got one of those red-and-white pinnies, a straw boater, a great big twirly moustache, ruddy cheeks and powerful forearms.  I’ve got a German Shepherd called Corben Dallas who is quite dopey and, occasionally, goes on daring raids in to my shop – only to emerge seconds later trailing a string of plump sausages from his maw while I run after him screaming cartoon obscenities such as “@!!#*” and “@@!*”, which doesn’t impress the vicar very much at all, I can tell you.  At the end of the day, I close my shop, climb in to my car, and drive home to my lovely country cottage to find my wife painting in her studio.  We eat pie, we go the local for a pint of “Mother Hendry’s Gallbladder”, and eventually retire home to our big, comfy bed.  I am a butcher, and I am happy.

I rather suspect that I have over romanticized a) country living and b) butchery as a career, but I do think that this dream I keep having is in some way indicative of the fact that I need a change.  Perhaps that’s why I started this blog – a new chapter, if you like, a new adventure in which I learn new things, try out new ideas, and ultimately that might point me to where I want to be in life.  You never know do you, eh?

In the spirit, then, of learning new things, I spent the last weekend in Essex with my parents and my grandparents.  For some reason, I have been craving one thing and one thing only for around a month – Mussels.  I’ve only ever had them once before, but that sensational burst of sweet, salty flavour coming ready packaged in its own cutlery was something that I could no longer rationally ignore.  So I got on the ‘phone:

“Mother,” spake I “I am coming to visit upon you this weekend and I have a menu request. “

“Stop speaking like an idiot.” She said.

“Sorry.  I’m having this craving for mussels, any chance we could have them for tea on a Saturday?”

“Sure, we’ll have Gran over as well, and you can write about them on that blog that you do.” she replied.

Which was fine, but for two things.  One, I had never cooked shellfish before I cooked those prawns a few weeks ago and two, I’m pretty sure that if I visit my mum I don’t have to cook.  But, such is life, and so it was that I came to find myself stood in a kitchen, my step dad as a teacher-come-head-chef to one side of me, with the following STUFF:

- Mussels – a whole heap of them.  We bought three little bags of them from the fishmonger, feeding 5 people

- Two large onions

- A whole garlic

- White Wine

- Parsley

- Some good crusty bread

- A couple of knobs.  Of butter, that is, not the people who are cooking it

The first lesson I learned on Saturday was that mussels really are nature’s fast food.  Besides the prep time – and to be honest, I would think that some fishmongers might do some of the prep for you – these little beauties will be ready to eat in less than 15 minutes.  Be prepared to eat with your fingers and to abandon all pretences.  This will not be a clean meal to eat but in terms of fun, sociability and togetherness it’s an absolute winner.  Do you want to know exactly how pretentious this meal shouldn’t be?  Look at our setup for the dining:

Yes.  What you can see there are – 2 bowls from a Wagamama gift set, a salad bowl, 2 items of Tupperware and a microwave dish.  We haven’t been deliberately bohemian, nor is this a desperate attempt to appear ‘ironic’ or ‘edgy’.  No.  Simply put my mother amazed me by not having enough bowls for five people.  But we are Vikings, damn it, and we want mussels in our faces and the vessel in which is presented to us is unimportant.  You watch, Heston’ll be doing this soon and the critics will go mad for it.  There.  I think I’ve defended the lack of bowls enough now.

So, you have your mismatched bowls, the wine is cooling, and your family are safely ensconced in the sitting room watching Saturday Telly.  Get yourself a sharp knife, and let’s cook.

Moules Mariniere – The Viking Gets Shellfish

Firstly, take your mussels and plunge them in to cold water, like this:

Then pick one out of the water, and locate the beard of the mussel – little hairy or tendrilly bits at the edge of the shell.  Use a short, sharp knife to trim the beard from the mussel.  What always freaked me out about mussels was the various different rules and regulations that one must adhere to when cooking a mussel.  “Only ever stand with one foot on the floor while cooking them” some people yelled at me “never look a mussel in the eye on a Tuesday” others sang, before dancing off in to the fog of my imagination.  As it turns out, it’s pretty simple.

One: If a mussel is open before it’s cooked (as in, when you’re trimming it), give it a tap with the back of a knife.  If it closes on its own, it’s fine to eat.  If it doesn’t close, it’s dead.  Throw it away unless you have some kind of desire to be extremely ill.  I can’t emphasise enough how much I don’t recommend that.

Two: If a mussel remains closed after it has been cooked, then throw it away.  It is dead, and it will make you most sick indeed if you eat it.

Three: When you are picking a mussel out of its shell to eat, if it’s really stuck in there then don’t eat it.

And, the overreaching rule: If In Doubt, Leave It Out.  Or, as I did, repeatedly show mussels to your Mum saying “is this one alright?  How about this one?  Or this one?”

Right, so.  Your mussels have been shaved, and now on to what to cook them in.  Finely dice 2 large white onions, and peel all the cloves out of a bulb of garlic.

In a large pan (or two, depending on how large your large pan is) over a low heat melt your butter.  Once that’s done, add the onions and cook slowly until soft.  Crush in  the garlic, and carry on cooking gently for two or three minutes.

Add a good slug of wine (around a quarter of a bottle), and then chuck the mussels in to that winey, steamy, garlicky pan along with a handful of parsely.  Increase to a medium heat, and cover immediately, ideally with a pan lid that has a little escape hole for steam.

Steam for 2-3 minutes, uncover, and then stir with a wooden spoon to get all of that onion, garlic and wine coating the mussels.  Put the lid back on, and steam for another 2 or so minutes.  You’re ready to go when all of the mussels have opened nice and wide.

Spoon in to bowls and serve with thickly sliced crusty white bread – and be generous with the broth that the mussels cooked in, that’s the second best part.  Find an empty shell, and use it as a pincer to pick the mussels out of their shells.  Eat.  Devour.  Get all dribbly on your chin.  Enjoy, because it’s bloody amazing.  

I suspect this is the first and only time my Gran's hands
will appear on the internet...

Drink with a medium white that has lots of zingy lemon flavours, sort of like this one:

And hey, why not throw in a bottle of red?

Follow up with a good spread of cheese and crackers, and what an evening you shall have!

I'll be honest, I just wanted to put this picture up...

This is so very simple, and extremely impressive.  There was at least one in our party who isn’t the biggest fan of fish, shellfish or otherwise, who gladly ate all that was put in front of her and didn’t even look at the emergency ham sandwich that had been prepared.  What followed was an evening of family – eating together, drinking together, and laughing together – and that is something very special, and very important.

And so ends another entry in to this little old blog of mine.  Special thanks this week must go to Viking Mother and Stepdad who a) paid for the ingredients, b) put Mrs Viking and I up in their house for the weekend and c) taught me how to cook mussels – with minimal swearing and a lot of Port. 

I’ll be back next week, belatedly celebrating British Pie Week (well, in blogging terms anyway, it’ll be pie week when I’m cooking).  Until then!