River Cottage Canteen, Axminster

Somewhere out in that vast, cold, English wilderness lies my lunch. That's not to say it's waiting to be trapped, shot or enticed into the back of a windowless van; it's actually in Axminster, which is pretty much wilderness country given the length of time I'd spent holidaying recently in the hubub of London. Axminster, located in Devon, is home to the River Cottage Canteen, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's eatery, offering nosh made from goods and produce sourced from both River Cottage HQ and its locale, the south west of England. I'm a big fan of the lad, and wanting to see what was on offer, found myself seated on a train with my sister, hurtling across Britain's cold bottom for a spot of lunch.

Duck Scratchings

One of my jobs at the restaurant is to contribute ideas which, after some tinkering, could end up as viable, tasty dishes on the tapas menu. One day, I was watching head chef prepping duck legs for service, trimming off the excess skin and fat, when it occurred to me: duck scratchings! Just like pork scratchings, except more ducky! Crisp, puffy duck skins, roasted in the oven, dusted with salt and served as a tapa with beer - how unique! No one else in the world could possibly have come up with such an awesome idea!

68,203 results on Google proved me wrong.

Make Your Own Branding Iron

"Make your own branding iron?", you say? Absolutely! Using materials found lying around the house, you too can act out those fantasies of riding, roping and branding people who pop their collars delicious cuts of meat! Watch your next barbecue take on the sights and sounds of a genuine Texan ranch.

Beer Can Chicken (with a Lime & Paprika Rub)

Hello! Just a quickie post today - I made beer can chicken on the barbecue for dinner and thought I may as well grab the camera and show you how it went. It's super easy to do (this is the first time I've ever made it), with the most splendidly juicy outcome!
All you need is an uncooked chicken, a can of beer and an oven or barbecue to cook it in/on. I also made a rub for the chicken:

• 2 teaspoons of coriander seeds
• 2 garlic cloves
• 2 teaspoons paprika
• zest of 2 limes
• juice of 2 limes
• salt

Roughly grind the seeds with a mortar and pestle. Add garlic and zest; grind until you have a rough paste. Add juice, paprika and a smattering of salt, mix well and apply to the chicken. I used this particular rub because I thought it would go well with my choice of beer, Monteith's Radler, a zesty lemon and lime flavoured lager. Seeing as it only comes in bottles, I poured it into another can I happened to have handy.

On to the chicken: remove the giblets, rinse the chicken inside and out and dry with a paper towel. Apply some of the rub to the interior and the remainder on the outside - use your hands, rub vigorously. Now, you'll only need half a can of beer for cooking purposes, so discard the portion you won't need down the nearest throat. Once that's done, punch another two holes in the top of the can.

Now for the tricky part: holding the chicken upright, lower it onto the beer can so the can fits into the cavity (see photo above). The chicken's legs should be leaning forward with the brunt of its weight supported by the can.

This is best cooked on a barbecue with a hood; failing that, your oven will work just as well. If you're using gas, turn the heat on full while you're prepping, and turn down to medium or medium/low when placing the chicken on to cook. Place the chicken on a dish (this will collect the juices, otherwise they'll run off and onto the flame causing flareups). Pop it on the heated barbecue plate, away from direct heat and leave to cook with the hood down for 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 hours. Test the meat with a thermometer poked in the thickest part of the chicken - it needs to be 85 degrees celsius to be cooked. You can also jab it with a fork - if the juices run clear, it's ready.

Once done, grab some oven gloves and remove from the heat. Using tongs, carefully remove the can from the chicken - bear in mind everything will be very hot and the can will still have some (hot) beer in it. Once done, leave the chicken to rest for ten minutes before carving.

There are German businessmen who'd pay good money to have this done to them...

And there we have it! A wonderfully crisp, juicy and aromatic chicken. It really was quite simple to do and was very tasty - give it a whirl!

There are concerns about subjecting aluminium cans to heat due to possible toxicity arising from the can's plastic lining, metals and paints. According to this article, the risks are negligible, due to the relatively low heat involved in the cooking process, compared to that of its manufacture clickety.

The following link discusses beers worth experimenting with when making beer can chicken - the article is American, but their core advice is sound clickety.

First, catch your rabbit...

Warning: there are some graphic photos in this post.

You needn’t starve working on an orchard. Leaving aside the veritable fruit salad growing on the trees, the orchard serves as home to all manner of edible flora and fauna: wild blackberries, mushrooms, puha, watercress; eel, duck, peacock (use the feathers to enhance the appearance of a hat!), sheep (make sure they’re yours), cattle (they have to be on your side of the fence), hare and rabbit.

Rabbit is an under-appreciated meat in this country. It is, unfortunately, abundant and easily accessible. Rabbit cooks well and lends itself to rich, bold sauces. Young rabbit isn’t particularly strong in flavour, almost resembling factory-reared chicken; older rabbit is much more flavoursome while not being overly gamey.


With spring having sprung, rabbits are plentiful. The beasts are also looking rather plump too, and not having eaten rabbit in a long time, it seemed the perfect opportunity to reacquaint myself with the taste.

Kerry, being the resident hunter and firearms expert, agreed to take me out hunting. Armed with a .22 rifle, it was into the station wagon - being nice and low, it made it easy to spot rabbits under the apple trees (stealth however was sacrificed for comfort). We set off, two men engaged in the age-old struggle of man versus small cute furry beast.


We saw a lot of hares but no rabbits. Night would have been a more ideal time for hunting as they are nocturnal (er, rabbits are actually crepuscular - most active around dusk and dawn) but I wanted photos. Two hours later, Kerry bagged a couple and it was back to the house for skinning. This is best done outside as the smell can be quite musky.


Removing the pelt is relatively easy. With the rabbit lying on a flat surface, pinch the skin on its underside and carefully insert your blade there, cutting to create a slit. Put the knife aside and insert your fingers, separating the skin from the rabbit. Go all the way around the rabbit (see below). Now tear or cut the skin so it is separate from the head.


Grasping the loosened edges of skin, pull down until the front legs are free.


Continue pulling down until the back legs are free.


To remove the organs and digestive tract, carefully insert the knife at the base of the stomach and slowly move the blade up until you reach the sternum, being careful not to cut the intestines. Pull apart the covering and remove the contents starting from the top and working your way down to where you started with the blade.


Examine the organs for anything unusual, such as lumps, bumps, odd-looking growths or cysts - discard the rabbit if you find any. Carefully pull the lower intestine through the anus and discard the guts in a secure rubbish bin - failure to do so may result in your neighborhood pets spreading their stinky goodness around your yard. Composting them may be an option but I'm not sure how - ask around or take a look online.

Cut off the head and the lower joint of all four legs. To remove the tail, cut a V at the point where the tail connects with the body.

Now check the body for cysts or lumps and again discard the animal if you come across anything unusual. Give the rabbit a quick rinse under running water, then cut into sections. Place in a sealable bag and leave in your fridge to settle for a few days.



Voila! Fresh rabbit, prepped for cooking.



After going to all this effort, I wanted to do something rather fancy. After digging through my library, I found this recipe in an old English game cookbook. Butter, eggs, cream, brandy... Ignoring the sudden crushing sensation in my chest, it was off to the kitchen.
Rabbit in Mustard Sauce

2 rabbits (about 2 1/2 pounds each), cut up
Salt
About 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup butter
3 tablespoons brandy, warmed
1/2 cup thinly sliced green onions
1/4 cup minced parsley
1 pound small whole mushrooms; or large mushrooms quartered
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 cups whipping cream
2 tablespoons lemon juice
3 egg yolks, lightly beaten
Chopped parsley

Rinse rabbit and pat dry. Sprinkle rabbit pieces with salt, then dust with flour. Melt 5 to 6 tablespoons of the butter in a wide frying pan over medium-high heat. Add rabbit, a few pieces at a time (do not crowd pan); cook, turning as needed, until browned on all sides.


Transfer rabbit to a shallow 3 1/2 to 4-quart baking pan. Move frying pan into an open area, away from exhaust fans and flammable items. Add brandy and ignite (woohoo!); shake or tilt pan until flame dies. Pour brandy mixture over rabbit in baking pan; set aside.

Melt remaining 2 to 3 tablespoons butter in frying pan over medium heat. Add onions, minced parsley, and mushrooms; cook, stirring often, until onions are soft, about 5 minutes. Stir in mustard, cream, and lemon juice and bring to a boil. Pour sauce over rabbit. Cover and bake at 190 degrees C (375 degrees F) until rabbit is tender when pierced, about 45 to 55 minutes.

Drain cooking liquid into a wide frying pan and bring to a boil; boil for 1 minute. Beat some of the hot liquid into egg yolks, then return yolk mixture to pan. Cook, stirring constantly, until sauce is thickened - do not boil. Season to taste with salt. Transfer rabbit to a serving dish. Pour sauce over rabbit and sprinkle with chopped parsley. I served this with sugar-glazed carrots with sesame seeds, and creamy mashed potatoes.


It was delicious! Very creamy and rich, and the rabbit had sufficient strength of flavour to hold its own amongst the clamour of the other ingredients. Well done, me!

Dessert was a vat of blood thinner.

From the Kai Lab: Bacon!

From the top: UK & US pork cuts (pics courtesy of Wikipedia)

If pork is the king of meats, then bacon would be like Princess Diana: loved by everyone, not around for long but enjoyed to the utmost while it was (I'm not sure where Dodi Fayed fits in here - a good foreign sausage, perhaps?).

Lovely bacon takes effort to find and can be rather expensive. Store-bought bacon, while not as pricey, doesn't cook well, releasing water and foam the moment it hits the pan. As for the taste, well, there's a good reason why you don't come across many poems titled, "Ode to Bog-Standard Bacon".

Imagine my delight then, when a few weeks ago I came across this intriguing post (via Metafilter) showing how you could make your own wet cure, resulting in the best tasting bacon in existence. It seemed relatively straightforward too, so with that it was off to the butcher and the supermarket.


I bought half a pork belly which I then cut in half again at home. A pork belly makes for great streaky bacon, as you can see below.



The ingredients: with two pieces of belly to play with, I decided on using Dave's maple syrup mix on the first piece:

1/2 cup maple syrup
1/2 cup salt
1/2 cup brown sugar

and with the other, manuka honey (3/4 cup) and salt (1/3 cup). Honey is ideally suited for use in a wet cure. It serves the dual purpose of adding flavour, as well as being hygroscopic, which allows it to absorb moisture from the meat (more on this later). Working in action with the salt, this would prove to be a very effective cure.

Combine your ingredients and then rub into the raw pork bellies.


Once your belly is coated, pop it inside a sealable bag. Lay on a flat surface inside your fridge - its home for the next seven days - and turn the bag every two days. Oh, and don't use the crappy, over-priced "zip slide" bags you can see in the picture below. The wet cure seeped out of the end where the zipper-thingy was located.


Time for a science lesson. As mentioned before, the salt and honey serve to lower the moisture content in the meat. This will hopefully prevent bacterial spoilage and maximise the effectiveness of the smoking process. Salt is a deliquescent material; that is, it absorbs moisture from a material and forms a liquid solution.

In the case of the honey, there are two principal sugars involved in achieving this end, glucose and fructose. According to Peter Brey from Airborne Honey, the amount and ratios of these two sugars varies from honey type to honey type. Fructose is hygroscopic and glucose is not. In the initial instance, the fructose would absorb moisture from the bacon up to a point of equilibrium.

In terms of imparting flavour, Peter suggests putting some thought into the honey you choose. Mild-flavoured honeys would not add any flavour other than sweetness, while medium-flavoured honeys could add a certain "something" and strong-flavoured honeys could make or break the flavour.

The amount of liquid in the bags increased markedly as the week progressed. At weeks end, they came out of the fridge, were drained and the bellies removed from their bags. Looking at them both, the pieces had shrunk considerably in size and were noticeably darker in appearance (see below), with the maple syrup-cured belly being the most changed.

At this stage, you should rinse them thoroughly, place them uncovered on a rack, and put them back in the fridge for twenty four hours. What's going to happen here is the development of the pellicle on the surface of the meat. This is a sticky, tacky layer that will perform a few key functions. Firstly, it seals the moisture remaining in the flesh; it prevents oils and fats in the flesh from rising to the surface and spoiling during smoking; and lastly, it provides a layer for the smoke to adhere to (information courtesy of Jay Harlow).


With the twenty four hours up, it's time for the hot smoking! Ordinarily, I would have used my little smoker, but I needed to be able to maintain a low heat for a longer period of time than it would have allowed. So with the beta-bacon in hand, it was off to Kerry's house to use his gas barbecue for the hot smoking process.

I planned on using different wood chips to smoke the meat; manuka chips for the manuka honey-flavoured bacon, and apple wood for the maple syrup-flavoured bacon. The apple wood isn't as strongly scented as manuka chips, ideal if I didn't want to overwhelm the flavour of the maple syrup.

Kerry lined the grill plate with foil and placed the first batch of wood shavings on top. These were formed into a mound, so as to prevent it from catching alight. The barbecue was lit, and kept at a low heat. Once the mound of chips started to smoke, the rack supporting the first pork belly was placed over the top.


Place your meat skin-side up so the smoke will rise and permeate the meat. Also, as the heat rises, the substantial layer of fat and collagen will gradually melt, basting the belly. We're trying here to achieve an internal temperature of 70 degrees celsius (150-ish fahrenheit) - use a meat thermometer and poke it in the thickest part of the belly. Put the lid back down when you're finished so the smoke can work its magic.


Voila! Looking like this, it's little wonder the ancient Spartans ate it four times a day, believing it helped them to victory in so many battles*. Now, it could be eaten as is, but we are making bacon after all. Allow to cool and then cut to the thickness your heart (medical premiums up to date, hmm?) desires. Pop into a heated pan - no oil needed, there's quite a bit of fat on the belly - and fry away.


*patently untrue
And here we have the end product: thick slices of the most juicy, flavoursome bacon you will have this year.



Both pieces came out tasting wonderful. The maple syrup-flavoured bacon had a rich, sweet flavour with a pleasantly salty aftertaste. The manuka honey-flavoured bacon had a delicious woody flavour enhanced by smoking, with a distinct honeyed aftertaste. Both were smoked perfectly. This is now going to be a regular occurrence in my household - who can resist proper bacon! Let me add too, with hand over heart, that I will never buy bacon from a supermarket again. It would be interesting to try this with free range pork, or better still, wild pork - interesting flavours to be had from those two quarters.

A big "huzzah!" to the following folk: Kerry for the use of his barbecue and his smoking skills; the helpful (and hot!) Irish lady with the gorgeous accent at the PPCS meat store in Hastings; Peter Bray from Airborne Honey; and Dave Selden at BS Brewing, his home-made bacon being the inspiration for this post.

PS. For the curious and those with a bit of time on your hands: bacon placemats!

Hanging out for Hangi

Putting down a hangi can be a lengthy, labour intensive business. Done properly however, it can result in the most glorious outcome (just like sex, except dirtier). Imagine then, the effort required to feed 120 people! With the apple harvest at the orchard finally winding down after two long months, a hangi was put down as a way of saying 'thank you' to the staff for all their efforts. Thanks to the expertise of John and Fish, you'll see how it all took place, step by step.

Firstly, a definition. A hangi is a traditional Maori way of cooking food, done in a pit using heated stones and/or pieces of iron, with water or leafy vegetation thrown on to to produce steam. Wire baskets of food wrapped in foil and muslin are put on top of the hot stones and iron. The baskets are covered with wet sheets and then wet sacks. All this is then covered over with soil. The water in the sheets and sacks is turned into steam by the hot stones; with the steam trapped under the sacks and soil, the food begins to cook.
A lot of preparation is required for a hangi. Before you start, you'll need to find out the fire regulations for your area, so call your local council - during the summer for instance, fire bans are often in place. When choosing a site, two key factors to consider are wind direction and the proximity of buildings and vegetation. Finding yourself engaged in battling a rampaging bushfire alongside the emergency services while caught in the full glare of the nation's media is embarrasing but can be avoided as long as you plan ahead. Finally, you'll need ready access to water, for soaking the sheets and sacks you'll need later on, as well as for controlling the fire if the need arises.

So, what to cook? Typically, you'll find pork, beef, lamb, mutton and chicken in the hangi basket. Root vegetables such as potatoes and kumara (sweet potato) as well as others like pumpkin and carrot cook well in a hangi too. Steamed puddings and stuffing are are also well suited.In the days leading up to your hangi, you'll need to hunt down some special material. Look around for some metal baskets - old deep freezer baskets stripped of their plastic are ok - these will hold the food to be placed in the pit. It also protects it from the weight of soil that'll be piled on top, as well as allowing space for steam to circulate. Keep an eye out for at least five or six hessian sacks (make sure they haven't been used to hold chemical of any description) and put aside some old cotton bedsheets. A supply of muslin or mutton cloth for wrapping the food prior to placement in the baskets is essential (oven bags work just as well but muslin allows the hangi odour to permeate the food, as well as being inexpensive). An old tub or drum is useful for soaking the sheets and sacks. Find some heavy gloves which you'll need to protect your hands from the heat while shovelling embers. A large bag of watercress or cabbage leaves for placing on the stones once hot (they'll produce steam). Finally, make sure you have a good supply of firewood (enough for a couple of hours burn time), kindling and some newspaper.

Finding stones and iron may be tricky but once found, they'll serve you well for an unbelievably long time. The best stones to use are volcanic or igneous rock which, once white hot, retain their heat for a long time. Some of this rock finds it way into rivers and is identified by its 'glow' under the light of a full moon (!). Maori Food lists the types, locations and how to gauge the suitability of stones here (scroll down to " 3. Gear Check List : Stones". The section is part of a well written page on hangi - well worth a read). Pieces of iron, such as cut-up railway track, heat up quicker than stones but the heat dissipates rather quickly too. The number of stones needed depends on the size of your pit. As a very rough guide, you'll need enough to loosely cover the bottom of the pit.Where possible, try and prepare as much as you can the day before: cutting the firewood (cover the pile if it's to be left overnight to protect it from rain or overnight dew); digging the pit (cover this as well); soaking the sacks and sheets in water; preparing the meat and vegetables (with meat, make sure it is WELL THAWED); rounding up your stones and irons, spades, rakes, shovels and a hose or large water container.
Soaking the sacks overnight in water allows them to become thoroughly saturated. This is essential because it aids in generating steam as well as keeping the steam trapped inside the pit (not to mention keeping soil off the food). Do the same with the sheets - soaking provides water for steaming the food as well as preventing burning. Have them all soaking in your tub or drum near the hangi pit.

When digging your pit, use your baskets as a guide to the size you should dig your hole (keep in mind too that you may end up stacking your baskets). Place them on the ground, mark out the area around them, and when digging, make it a little bit bigger so you can tuck the sheets down the side. The hole should be big enough for the stones and over a third of the depth of your baskets.

Having dug the pit, fill the hole with newspaper and kindling. Layer your firewood on top in a latticed pyramid formation; bear in mind that you'll need sufficient fuel for the fire to be burnt down to embers within one and a half to two hours - enough time for the stones to become white hot (red hot for iron). This level of heat is required for the stones to be able to thoroughly cook the food, thus minimising the risk of illness from bacteria. Once the firewood is stacked, place the stones and iron on top of the wood. Again, if you're doing this the day before you fire up, cover it so as to protect the pit and firewood from surprise rainfall or overnight dew.

It should be mentioned at this point that many Maori heat their stones next to the pit, not in it as shown here. The reason why John prefers lighting the fire in the pit is that heated stones placed in a warm pit retain their heat more readily: heat is not being leeched from the stones by the surrounding cold earth. The principle is similar to that of a good barista serving hot coffee in a heated cup - it stays warmer longer. However, you must be careful to remove all of the embers and ash from the pit otherwise the food will taste overly smokey.

Time to light the fire. Ignite and allow to burn until all the wood is burnt to embers and ash in the pit (again, taking one and a half to two hours). Use the shovels to reposition any rocks that fall out of the fire. The rocks should be white hot (iron, red hot). Keep a close eye on your fire and make sure you have water handy. Replenish the fire as needed, and ensure the tub of wet sacks and sheets are nearby.

While the fire is burning, organise your food. Place food into mutton cloth or oven bags and place in baskets. The order of placement is important because everything will be cooking at the same time. Place the large dense meats such as mutton and pork on the bottom, fat side down, with chicken on top of that. Place your root vegetables on next with the stuffing and steamed puddings on top. Once you've gotten word that the stones are ready, round up some helpers and bring the baskets out to the hangi pit.Once the fire has burned down, don your gloves and use the shovels and rakes to scoop out any smoking embers and ash - only the stones and iron are to be left in the pit. This is hot work. Rake the removed material away from the pit and into a pile. Dowse with water. Spread the rocks out into an even layer.Once the pit has been cleaned, throw some water (a cup or so) on the stones - this will generate steam. Sometimes too much water can be used, resulting in rapid cooling. Placing watercress or cabbage leaves on the stones minimises that risk while generating the desired effect, the moisture being released from the leaves more slowly and steadily.
Moving quickly, place the baskets on the bed of stones and iron, large items first; stack anything smaller on top of this. Get the wet sheets and lay them over the baskets, draping the sides - ensure everything is well covered.Place the wet sacks on top of the sheets. Make sure they cover the sheets, but do not allow them to go down the sides of the baskets; they must lay on the top of the ground.Start shovelling soil on top of the sacks. Any areas where steam can be seen to be escaping must be covered with more earth: escaping steam means escaping heat. Ultimately, you'll end up with a small mound.

The cooking time depends on the number and size of rocks, the amount and size of food baskets, as well as the size of the largest cuts of meat but generally speaking the cooking time will be three to four hours. It's quite difficult to overcook a Hangi as the longer it stays in the ground, the more the rocks cool. This stands in contrast to cooking in an oven where the temperature is kept at an even and constant rate.Time to uncover the food. Remove the soil from the sacks - steam rising from where you've dug is a good sign!Once uncovered, pull the sacks back off the sheets being very careful not to get dirt on them. Pull back the sheets (it will still be hot - keep those gloves handy), again being careful not to get soil on the baskets.Remove the baskets from the hangi pit and take them to the kitchen. When removing the meat, check the centre to ensure that it's cooked thoroughly. Serve and eat!The annual end of harvest hangi has been a feature of orchard life for the last three years - this was the best yet. Succulent pork (so enticing that people were snaffling samples as it came out of the pit!), moist chicken, fragrant bread stuffing, lightly smoked potatoes, sweet steamed pudding with enough cream to make a heart specialist swoon - brilliant! The evening ended with drinks, dancing (the table kind mostly) and an unscheduled bonfire. Children may have been conceived that night...


A twenty one gun salute to John, Fish, Di, Sarah, Doug and all their hangi helpers - the day was all the more special for their hard and tireless work.

And a huge thank you to Sarah, photo journalist and table dancer extraordinaire, for taking photos throughout the day (I had people to look after, pffft).

Click here to see Sarah's hangi photo set on Curious Kai's Flickr page - a whole days worth! Or click here to be taken straight to the Flickr slideshow of the hangi.

Keen on planning a hangi? The New Zealand Food Safety Authority has a great page on good food safety practice in preparing and cooking a hangi (also available as a downloadable PDF file).