The Viking Sausages – Filiberts’ Toad in the Hole With Onion Gravy

You may remember that a month or two ago I asked you what you would say if, when questioned, you were asked “what is mankind’s greatest invention?”  You’ll also remember that at the time I proved conclusively that, despite strong entries from ‘The Wheel’, ‘The Computer’ and ‘Kriss Akabusi’, the humble sausage was indeed mankind’s greatest achievement. 

Of course, you’ve got your sausage, perfect in its simplicity, but sometimes a sausage can be, well, a bit too run of the mill.  You can’t blame it, it’s been around since the 6^th Century in one form or another and I think that you’d be a bit knackered too if you’d been knocking about for the better part of 1,500 years.

Thankfully, in the 18^th Century, someone in England by the name of Hannah Glasse wrote a book called ‘The Art of Cookery’.  In it, she presented a recipe for ‘Pigeons in a Hole’ – pigeons cooked in Yorkshire Pudding batter.  Come 1861, a gentleman called Charles Elme Francatelli made a similar recipe – again eschewing sausages like some kind of madman – with “bits and pieces of any kind of meat, which are to be had cheapest at night when the day's sale is over.”  And then, after years of experimentation, and shrouded in secrecy as no one person can actually lay claim to the decision to place hog tubes in batter, mankind was given the one, the only, the unbeatable Toad in the Hole – the dish that makes the sausage better.  You may hear it referred to as ‘Frog in the Toad’.  If you do, you must report the person that uttered that obscenity to a member of your local constabulary at once.  People like that aren’t welcome in polite society.

So, as no one has yet claimed the invention of Toad in the Hole, I come to you with a revelation.  It was invented by my great great great great great great grandfather on the English side.  His name was Filibert Harvey, and he was a master cook, raconteur, swordsman, lover and cad.  He invented this incredible dish to sustain himself through periods of immense exertion: mental, physical and otherwise.  The recipe itself has been handed down from generation to generation and now, finally, the Food Viking is honoured and proud to present to you:

The Viking Sausages – Filiberts’ Toad in the Hole With Onion Gravy

First of all, as usual, you’re going to need STUFF.  On the shopping list this week:

For the Toad:

- Sausages – nice, thick, porky tubes of brilliance

- Milk

- 2 eggs

- Plain flour

For the Onion Gravy:

- A red onion, sliced

- Beef Stock

- 2-3 cloves of garlic, chopped

- A spoonful of Dijon mustard

For the Mash:

- Potatoes

- Milk

- Butter

You’ll notice in the pictures above that I included cheese and spring onions – I had planned on making champ.  For some reason, lost in my memory, I chose not to.  So if you want to make champ, go ahead.  If, like me, you have the memory of a…  a… something that has a short memory, you forget, then normal mash will do just as well.

Anyway, moving on.  Now that you have all of your bits and bobs, let’s get cooking!

Method:

Before anything else, you need to make your hole.  I mean batter.  You need to make your batter.  Here is my foolproof recipe, which is enough to cover 6 sausages. 

·         3 tablespoons plain flour

·         Crack 2 eggs in to flour

·         Add a splash of milk

·         Add a splash of cold water

·         Beat together until smooth

·         Add more milk if needed

·         Leave in fridge for about half an hour so the mixture is well chilled – this is important for fluffiness of end product!

Now that’s done, let’s get on to the Toady part of the evening:

·         Preheat oven to 220c/Gas mark 7

·         When the oven is heated, pour a good glug of olive oil in to a heavy bottomed pan or pot, and put in the oven.  Leave to get very, very hot

·         Fry off sausages in a medium hot pan for about 8-10 minutes until nearly cooked.  Ideally, you want some almost black bits on the skin for extra flavour.  This also helps keep the sausages whole in the next part of the cooking process

·         Remove pot from the oven – the oil should be so hot it is shimmering

·         Arrange sausages in pot

·         Pour over batter

·         Quickly place back in the oven, and leave for 30 minutes.  Do not open the oven door!  He change in temperature will result in saggy hole (batter, I mean batter) if you do!

 Toad done?  Hole baking?  Then let’s make a gravy!

·         In a small saucepan, sweat down your sliced onion and garlic

·         Then, add beef stock.  For a quick beef stock, here is a cheat that isn’t all Bisto-y.  Knorr, and that charmer Marco Pierre White, have a range of stock pots.  Dissolve one of these in about 400ml of hot water and BANG! Brilliant stock very quickly!

Seriously, the guy's like my idol. even if Mrs Viking said after meeting him, and I quote:
"Ooh, he was very charming. Very attractive."
Well played, Marco, well played.

·         If you like, add some red wine or a little dark ale

·         Bring to the boil, and then switch back to the simmer

·         Add a heaped spoon of Dijon mustard and stir

·         Simmer gently until the Toad in the Hole is cooked

 We’ve covered mash before, but in case you missed it:

·         Boil potatoes for 20-30 minutes til cooked

·         Drain

·         Mash with a masher (or a potato ricer for perfect mash)

·         Add a knob of butter and a splash of milk

·         Finish mashing process with a wooden spoon – stir vigorously and add more milk or butter as desired – careful not to add too much, you don’t want sloppy spuds!

I know that seems like it’s a bit of a faff – I promise that it isn’t – give it a go and see for yourself!

There’s no posh way to present this dish, and nor should there be.  A mountain of mash served next to a valley of Toady Holiness with a lake of shimmering onion gravy.  You eat this and I promise you, with my 100% Viking Guarantee, that you will instantly be happier.  It’s a very comforting dinner and sure, it isn’t one for every day, but by crikey it’s good.  I promise you this, Kriss Akabusi would love it, and there's no finer recommendation than that.

And so that’s it from me once again!  Have a great weekend of cooking in the sunshine – you deserve it.

Til next week,

Viking! 

The Viking Takes on the Big Boys: Peri Peri Chicken with Spicy Rice and Garlic Peas

Apparently, according to a piece I read in The Observer, there is a thing called a Tinchy Strider.  He is friends with a Chipmunk it seems, and they go to a restaurant with a whole bunch of other celebrities to eat fine food.  Such fine luminaries such as, er, JLS and N-Dubz, David Beckham and Pixie Lott.  Mary J. Bilge.  Oprah Winfrey.  A gentleman called Jay-Zed, who I’m told has one less than a hundred problems, but thankfully a female canine is not one of them.

So where to these towering giants of human endeavour go to eat?  Perhaps they flock, followed by a press of paparazzi, to Heston’s new place?  Maybe they sprint, for fear of being unable to get a table, to Raymond’s gaff (and who would blame them)?  Or do they travel in cars with blacked out windows to restaurants too unspeakably cool to name, to be cooked for by chefs whose signature dishes involve piles of swan marinated in the tears of unicorns?

No.  They all wander down their local high streets, and they go to Nando’s.

Nando’s.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I enjoy a Nando’s as much as the next person (as long as the next person really enjoys Nando’s), but now I have to run the risk of bumping in to JLS when I go to get a half chicken (hot, natch) and spicy rice, and that’s not on.  Before I know it, Justin Bieber will be eating in Byron or Miley Cyrus will get a taste for the food at the Half Moon in Shaftesbury, and then I’ll be stuffed.

"Massive Cocks"

In 2010, there were over 200 Nando’s restaurants throughout the UK, serving a whopping 800,000 customers every week.  Some of them are apparently not celebrities, and all of them seem to have a fierce brand loyalty that some chains of fast food restaurants can only dream about.   But what if you don’t want to run the risk of walking in to a Dizzee Rascal?  What you do is, you make it at home.

Gone are the bottles of mass produced hot sauce!  Celebrities will be conspicuous by their absence!  No more queuing for ages at a till while a tourist works out if they want medium or hot!  This week:

The Viking Takes on the Big Boys: Peri Peri Chicken with Spicy Rice and Garlic Peas

First thing’s first, then, you’re going to need STUFF. On the shopping list this week:

1)      Chicken legs (one per person, unless you’re ravenously hungry)

2)      Peas (about a cupful will be enough for 2 people)

3)      Rice

4)      Red Chillis (between 6 and 10, depending on how hot you want it)

5)      4 cloves of minced garlic

6)      Garlic sauce

7)      Tabasco sauce

8)      Dark Soy sauce

9)      Coriander leaves, chopped

10)   Curry powder

11)   4 tbsp olive oil

12)   Lemon juice

13)   Salt

This is alarmingly, terrifyingly easy to do.  It doesn’t look the same as it does in Nando’s  (that’s down to the fact that everthing here is chopped and mixed together rather than being made in to a paste, and even then that’s only because I don’t have a blitzer in my arsenal at the moment.  Besides, this looks, I think, rustic and a little more authentic.  But maybe I’m just making excuses) and it’s a bit sweeter while retaining all of that lovely heat.  What it is, though, is home-made, and that’s a bonus.

One final excuse – this chicken should be grilled on a charcoal grill for the best effect.  I don’t have a BBQ at the moment, so this is a roasted Peri Peri, which again brings out the sweetness in the Chilli, but doesn’t give the Nando’s type colouring on the skin of the chicken.  I’m sure you understand.

Right, let’s cook!

Method

First, make your Peri Peri sauce.  In to a bowl, place the chopped chilli (make sure to chop most of it finely, but leave some large pieces too), minced garlic, soy sauce, olive oil, coriander, lemon juice, salt, parsley and Tabasco sauce.  Mix well together, and then add the chicken legs.  Make sure they are well coated in the marinade, cover, and then leave for 24 hours in the fridge.

*24 Hours Later*

Preheat your oven to gas mark 7 (220c).  Roast the chicken legs for about 40-45 minutes, until the juices run clear when the thickest part of the meat is pierced with a fork.

And now, a big old hairy cheat of a cheat.  Get some Uncle Ben’s boil in the bag rice.  Follow the cooking instructions on the packet (usually about 10 minutes at the simmer).  In the water, add a heaped spoon of curry powder.  This will give the rice a vibrant, yellow colour and a nice, spicy flavour.  Drain, empty the cooked rice back in to the pan and fluff with a fork.  Stir through some bits of chopped chilli, parsley and some finely chopped spring onion, and you’re done!

Finally, the peas.  Again, I don’t care if you think it’s weird, but frozen peas are the absolute best.  Boil for 2-5 minutes until bright green, drain the water, and then mash the peas lightly with a potato masher.  Add a glug of garlic sauce, a dash of Tabasco, and a few bits of chopped chilli.

Serve all together on the same plate.  Great, big, hungry Viking sized portions packed full of spicy, aromatic flavours are the order of the day here.  Best eaten with a cool European lager – if you’re really after that authentic Portuguese experience then I recommend you try a bottle of Sagres, it’s very nice indeed.

If you eat this out in the sunshine, you might almost be able to fool yourself that you’re on holiday, soaking up the rays and forgetting about the rest of the world.  And if you can achieve that for about five minutes after a hard day at work, then so much the better.

I’ll be back next week with a Great British Classic.  Yes, folks, summer’s here, so what better way to celebrate than by making a Toad in the Hole with Onion Gravy?  Don’t answer that, I already know.

Til then,

Viking

Chamakh! The Viking Tagines - Lamb Kefta with Egg and a (Sort-of) Tabbouleh

“Eeeeh, Chamakh!” cried the hotel porter as I clambered from the coach.  It was 10pm, and the air in Morocco was oppressively hot.  I was feeling harassed, after already having paid a man £5 tip to carry my case the seven yards from the airport to the coach, after having my suitcase emptied out by Moroccan immigration in search of who-know-what.  After a 45 minute bus journey, driven by a man who (judging by the speed he maintained) had missed his calling in F1, narrated by an endlessly chirpy holiday representative who did nothing to improve my mood.  This was not a good start to my honeymoon.

“Eeeeh, Chamakh!” he cried again, and it was only then that I realised that an Arsenal tag was hanging from my bag.  Marouane Chamakh, Moroccan international, had recently signed for Arsenal, and this was obviously part of a limited English vocabulary. 

“Take your case, Chamakh?” he said, winking at me for reasons I have yet to understand.  Resigning myself to another tip, I handed it over.  “This way, Chamakh!” was the last I heard from him as he scuttled around the corner.  Finally, Mrs Viking and I reached our room, along with bag and minus another £5 (“English money, Chamakh, Moroccan no good!”), and we collapsed.  Here we were on the North African continent, and what a relentless taste explosion it would be.  Souks, piled high with spices and fish!  Endless bubbling tagines!  Mountains of Lamb Kefta!  Heaven!

I am sorry to report that, thanks to the rules set down by ClubHotel Riu Tikida Dumas, this did not come to pass.  The daily buffet was little more than meat, pasta and chips with the occasional Kefta thrown in.  There was a classic Moroccan restaurant, but you could only eat there once during your stay and you had to book it at least 24 hours in advance.  Sure, we could have gone to the local village – but the fact is we were on a shoestring (hence all-inclusive) and had kind of counted on a hotel in Morocco actually serving Moroccan food.

So, back to London we trudged (now colder, wetter and greyer), and I decided that if the mountain wasn’t going to come to Chamakh, then Chamakh would come to the mountain, so to speak.  And so I went to the shops, and I got myself one of these bad boys:

…I then proceeded to sit this on top of my fridge – where it has been for the last year or so, looking pretty but not actually getting used - until this weekend.  Somewhere, a wedding was taking place (I’m not sure if you heard about it, it was a much understated affair), so I took advantage of the quiet in the streets and went to Bromley (sometimes, a Viking needs to make an escape from Penge) and did some shopping.  I returned with a bag straining with various bits and pieces for a weekend in the kitchen – but my main goal, my prime concern, was to dust off my tagine for the first time and get ruddy cooking. 

I grabbed it from its perch, and thrust it on the hob with what I imagine was a go-getting, no-nonsense, I’m-about-to-do-something-different attitude.  I looked at my tagine.  It looked at me.  It was like Rocky facing Ivan Drago.  It was like KITT versus KARR.  Mr. T versus Hulk Hogan, only with less lycra and more spices.  And thus, a tagine was born:

The Viking Tagines – Lamb Kefta with Egg and a (Sort of) Tabbouleh

Thos of you who have read me before will know that you need STUFF.  So, for the shopping list this week:

For the Kefta (serves 4, or 2 really hungry, people)

- 500g Minced Lamb (about 20% fat content)

- 1 Onion, finely chopped

- 4 garlic cloves, grated

- 1 tsp ground ginger

- ½ tsp mild chilli powder (you can do it with hot if you like loads of spice, but it might overwhelm the other flavours)

- 1tsp ground cumin

- Handful of coriander leaves, chopped

- Handful of parsley, chopped

- 1 egg yolk (Free range, of course.  I like Happy Eggs or, even better, eggs from Granddad’s farm!)

- Salt and Pepper

And now, for the Tagine:

- Olive oil

- 1 sliced onion

- Tomato puree (2tbsp)

- 400g (ish) of chopped tomato (Sainsbury’s do a great one in a box, with all the lovely juice, and it’s not too watery…)

- A couple of tbsp of honey

- 4 eggs

- Chopped Parsley

- 1 tsp Ras el Hanout (this is a Moroccan spice that I should think you can get in most Supermarkets.  Waitrose definitely do it.  It’s a couple of quid and so, so worth it!)

Finally, for the Sort-of Tabbouleh:

- Bulgar wheat

- Lemon juice

- Chopped spring onions

- Chopped parsley

- Olive oil

Got all that?  Good.  I’ll do my very best John Torode impression now:

Ladies and Gentlemen… Let’s cook!

 Method (Kefta):

1)      In a mixing bowl, place the Lamb, onion, garlic, ginger, chilli, cumin, coriander and parsley.  Use your hands to mix it all together

2)      Then, add the yolk of an egg to bind it all, and form it in to a big ball

3)      Wash your hands, and leave them damp.  Use damp hands to form smaller meatballs, slightly larger than a golf ball in size

4)      Place on to a tray for use later on

Now then, let’s make the tagine, eh?  If you don’t have a tagine, a large saucepan with a lid will do.  Follow these simple steps:

1)      In a measuring jug, pour 400ml of chopped tomato and juice, the tomato puree, honey, parsley and Ral el Hanout

2)      Bring a medium to hot heat under your tagine.  Let it warm through before you start cooking

3)      Drizzle a little olive oil in to the pan, and add your onions.  Cook them down until tender

4)      Add the Kefta.  Cook for about 10 minutes until nicely browned

5)      Pour over the sauce, and gently stir so it is covering everything nicely

6)      Cover, and cook for 10 minutes

7)      After 10 minutes, uncover, and use a spoon to make four wells

8)      Crack whole eggs in to the wells, recover, and cook for a further 10 minutes

9)      Done!  Uncover, and check the eggs.  If cooked, you’re finished, if not, give it another couple of minutes until they are fully poached

Meanwhile, you’ll need to be making your sort-of Tabbouleh:

1)      Take 125g of Bulgar wheat, and add it to boiling water

2)      Cover, and simmer for 10 minutes until the wheat has soaked up all the water

3)      When that’s done, chop some spring onions and stir through the wheat along with a drizzle of olive oil, chopped parsley and a glug of lemon juice

4)      Done!

I’ve listed this as a sort-of tabbouleh as I didn’t have any fresh tomato, which I am told you need to make it an actual tabbouleh.  In this case, I don’t think it’s that much of an issue as the sauce in the tagine has a rich tomato flavour already.  Serve by spooning large helpings in to a deep bowl, making sure the kefta are evenly shared and that everyone gets an egg.  I guarantee (100% or your money back) that this riot of flavour will bring a smile to the face of the people who eat it the moment it passes their lips.  It is, I’ll be honest, a conversation killer – but as a cook, there’s nothing better than the cacophony of knife-and-fork-against-plate.  There’ll be time for talking, and for much drinking of beautiful, fruity red wine, later on.

And so I leave you, dear reader, for another week.  Next week I return with how to make home-made Nando’s (for half the cost).  I hope to see you then!

Cheers,

Viking

P.S – Have you seen that programme on the Food Network called ‘Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives’?  There’s something almost hypnotic about it.  I’m not sure if it’s the presenters shock of platinum blonde hair, or if it’s the piles of home cookin’, or if it’s just that there’s nothing on between 10 and 11pm, but I’m an addict.  Well, until Man vs Food starts again, anyway.  If ever anyone wants to make a UK version of those shows, you know where to find me! ;)

Finally - the FoodViking twitter feed was mentioned this month in the BBC's Olive Magazine...  Page 115 of the June Edition!  Tell your friends!

The Viking Roasts (Again!) - Stuffed Breast of Lamb with Minted Potatoes and Green Sauce

Another sunny spring weekend has been and gone – this time with the added benefit of two days of holiday thanks to the escapades of a man in the Middle East some 2,000 years ago – and with it came the chance to get hold of a nice piece of lamb and eat it in the sunshine.

"Seriously? What's your problem, guy?"

So, I hied my hide to the butcher and spent the princely sum (well, if the Prince in question was on a very tight budget, anyway) of £3 on a piece of lamb breast.  I walked home, the lamb weighing heavily in a plastic bag swung casually from my wrist, the sun beating down on the top of my head. 

“I’ll do a tagine,” I thought, the first few notes of a whistle escaping my lips “or a curry, something different, something that’s not a roast,” I assured myself, the spring in my step threatening at any moment to upgrade itself from ‘merry walk’ to ‘full blown skip’ – a step that isn’t lightly undertaken in South East Twenty, I can tell you.  Around five hundred feet from home, however, my plans – well laid and meticulously thought out – did gang aglay.  Someone, an inconsiderate and callous someone at that, had left their windows open, allowing the scents of their cooking to flow, unannounced and uninvited, in to the street.  Complicit in this olfactory crime was the light spring breeze that lifted the smell of roasting meat, herbs, and gravy in to my unsuspecting nostrils.  It was an assault, friends, although you will be surprised to learn, I am sure, that the Police didn’t take my complaint of “that git at number 63 put me right off making a curry” very seriously at all.  Some might say there was a degree of sarcasm in the constable’s voice as he put the ‘phone down on me.

I sat in my lounge, staring at this piece of meat, it looking back at me with a sort of embarrassed expression (which was remarkable for something that didn’t have a face), until I could resist it no longer.  Heady with the scents of rosemary and gravy and meat and mint and potatoes (from the git at number 63), I sprang to my feet and pointed accusingly at the meat in front of me. 

“I am going to stuff you!” I cried. “I am going to ruddy well stuff you full of rosemary and garlic and then I am going to roast you until you’re all meaty and tender and juicy, and how do you like that, eh?”

The lamb remained silent, although my wife did mutter something and leave the room without looking backwards.  She seems to be doing that a lot, lately.

Anyway, the lamb was suitably mollified, and I was happy that everything finally seemed to be going to well, so it was time to cook.  And, after 500 words of my rambling, I would think that you’re ready for me to get going.  So:

The Viking Roasts (Again!) – Stuffed Breast of Lamb with Minted Potatoes and Green Sauce

For this wonderful, springy offering, you’re going to need STUFF:

"Hey! HEY! Are you a leg or a BREAST man?"

- A breast of lamb (a large one should feed about four people)

- Rosemary (3-4 sprigs)

- Garlic (5-6 cloves)

- Shallots (2-3, chopped)

- New Potatoes

- Breadcrumbs (you can buy these in pots, but I used about a quarter of a loaf of day-old French bread)

- Olive Oil

- Salt

- Pepper

- Nutmeg

- Mint

- Parsley

For the Green sauce, you’ll need:

- A handful of Parsely

- A handful of Basil

- A handful of mint

- 3-4 garlic cloves, grated

- 1 tsp Capers

- Olive Oil

- Pepper

Now, I am going to experiment with something I’ve never done before.  Here is your method, numbered and everything, for your cooking ease:

1)      Pre-heat oven to gas mark 4 (180c)

2)      In a bowl, combine breadcrumbs, finely chopped (or grated) cloves of garlic, finely chopped rosemary, chopped parsley and chopped shallots.

3)      Add olive oil bit by bit (remember, it’s easier to add a little at a time than it is to take it out), until the mixture is bound.

4)      Season with a little salt and pepper.

5)      Add half a teaspoon of nutmeg and mix again.

6)      Place the lamb on to a cutting board, and spread the stuffing mix over it.

I got a little extra meat, so stuffed the meat with meat!

7)      Roll the lamb breast up, and use some butcher’s string to tie it together in three places.

8)      Place in to a roasting tin with half a cup of water in the bottom of it, cover (with a lid or with foil) and roast for an hour and a half.

9)      Uncover, and roast for another 30 minutes

10)   Place potatoes and a good handful of roughly-chopped mint in to a pan of boiling water.  Simmer for about 20 minutes, or until tender (if a fork presses easily in to the potato it’s cooked)

For the green sauce, which can be made beforehand or during the last half an hour, your method is as follows:

1)      In a blender, add mint, parsley, basil, capers, garlic, and pepper

2)      Blitz, and add olive oil a little at a time

3)      The end result should be a little thicker than mint sauce, I also quite like it when the capers haven’t been completely broken down

Now, it’s time to plate up.  Carve the breast in to nice, thick slices (you may need to use a knife with a serrated edge as this helps the meat and stuffing keep its shape).

Watch out for those tiny bones.  You need to remove them
before you start cooking...

Serve next to minted potatoes, with a drizzle of green sauce and thin gravy made from the juices in the roasting tin.  Eat, and to go with it I would recommend a slightly chilled bottle of Doombar, a most excellent ale that has particular fond memories for me as I drank about six too many of them the night before my wedding.

Potatoes can be improved by melting a little butter over the top...

The great thing about this roast is that it is fairly light, so you don’t feel like you need to have a nap for the rest of the afternoon.  And, with the weather the way it is, that means that you can fuel yourself up and get out there in to the sunshine.  Make the most of it; the summer is all too brief!

I hope that, once again, you give this a go, and let me know how it works out for you.  Last week, I got a picture of a Shooter’s Sandwich that someone made, and I am not ashamed to say that it made me quite proud.  So, get cooking, tell your friends, and I will see you again next week, hopefully with a dish that isn’t another roast. 

But I can’t promise anything!  :)

Til then,

Viking