Thanks for opening this weeks Gristle newsletter...It feels like last years rhubarb season happened only yesterday and yet so much has happened since I made chutney with unruly fronds of the stuff all those months ago. I threw out what remained of the jar last week and replaced it with fresh preparations, I dare say it felt cathartic. Read on for one such preparation and a few other dishes cooked throughout the week that owe their origins to a place I hope to still call home for many rhubarb seasons to come. Any shares/email forwards are, as always appreciated xx
I live somewhere between West Hampstead and Kilburn, in a leafy green oasis part-isolated from the city’s pressures, people and uncomfortable pace of life. In a recent advert for a new housemate the best I could muster was “if you want to live in London, but don’t want to feel like you live in London, we may have a room for you” - the hard sell has never been for me. I had many concerns about moving from Brixton, the anthesis of our current dwelling - most of which surrounded the availability of good food.
I have written before about Brixton’s culinary virtues and still think back fondly on them now. Around this time of year, crates upon crates of Jerusalem artichokes caked in soil would start to appear on Electric Avenue. I remember taking some home and slowly crisping them up in a generous puddle of aged beef fat. A rich almond cake cut with sharp rhubarb found on the outskirts of Brixton’s sprawling covered market made for a fitting end to a simultaneous celebration of late winter and South London.
I needn't have worried about the move North of the river. The contrast between West Hampstead, where you can find two sourdough specific bakeries within a stones throw of each other, and Kilburn - home to north London’s most reasonably priced Guinness has inspired some of my most creative work to date. I was reminded of this while reflecting on all that I had cooked in the week previous.
MALA CHICKEN GIZZARDS // Serves 2
Monday bought with it a hankering for brains, seriously. A week spent eating instant noodles had me itching for something a little more complex, but still buttery and comforting all the same. West Hampstead was out of the question for such a purchase, I’m sure Archie would sooner eat his Conservative membership card than chow down on a brain. My hopes hinged on the Hilal Food Centre in Kilburn - my go to spot for anything jarred, tinned, syrup soaked or from a lamb. I made my way through the crowd for a cursory glance over the meat counter hidden at the back of the shop. Little luck in the way of brains, but much promise in the form of fresh looking gizzards. I picked up a couple of handfuls along with healthy looking bunch of spring onions, a thumb of ginger, then paid up. Three pounds would provide a generous supper for two once thrown together with a few “essentials” - god bless Kilburn.
300g chicken gizzards, split and cleaned
2 tbsp Shaohsing rice wine
2 tbsp soy sauce
1 egg, beaten
3 tbsp corn flour
1.5l vegetable oil
5 spring onions, thinly sliced
10g ginger, peeled and cut into matchsticks
4 cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
2.5 tbsp Sichuan pixian chilli bean paste
1 tbsp Sichuan peppercorns, crushed
2 tbsp black vinegar
1 tbsp light soy sauce
0.5 tbsp caster sugar
50g dried mild chillies, deseeded
Sticky rice
Toss the gizzards into a small bowl with the rice wine, soy sauce and egg. Mix to coat them fully. Scatter in the corn flour and give everything a good mix to coat them in a light batter.
Heat the oil in a large pot or wok over a medium heat to around 160°C. Fry the chicken in batches for 3-4 minutes, until pale golden. Transfer to a plate lined with kitchen towel. We will fry them again later.
Heat another wok or frying pan over a high heat and tip in 2 tbsp of the chicken’s frying oil. Once the fat starts to smoke, tip in the spring onions, ginger and garlic. Fry for 2-3 minutes, until the garlic starts to colour at the edges.
Chuck in the bean paste and fry for a further 2-3 minutes, until dark and sticky. Toss through the peppercorns, vinegar, soy sauce and sugar. Take the pan off the heat while you fry the chicken again.
Heat the oil from earlier back up over a high heat to around 180°C. Fry the chicken once more, until deep golden brown. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the golden nuggets into the pan with the onion, garlic, ginger and paste.
Add the chillies and fry everything together, tossing all the while over a high heat until the chicken is coated fully in the paste but still remains crisp in places.
Tip onto a plate and serve with steamed rice.
PICKLED RHUBARB
I stumbled into the house late on Wednesday night and initiated a routine fridge raid, a charade that almost always ends in eggs on toast smothered in tahini and chilli oil. In a drunken haze I knocked a rogue stalk of rhubarb into a jar sending it hurtling towards my kitchen floor with quite some velocity. My outstretched foot cushioned its fall, but left me with a rather embarrassing pickle related injury. I promised to finally do something with the fantastically pink and expensive rhubarb we had picked up on a whim from my favourite green grocers in West Hampstead the weekend before.
Forced rhubarb
Sugar, 10% weight of the rhubarb
Cider vinegar, 20% weight of the rhubarb
Cut the rhubarb into lengths and spread them out in a large frying pan you have a lid for, they should form 1 layer.
Add the sugar and vinegar, ensure everything is well dispersed and laid out.
Cover with a lid and place over a medium heat. Slowly bring everything to a boil then immediately take the pan off the heat.
Set the pan aside and allow the rhubarb to steam in the residual heat.
Once cool, transfer to a container and store in the fridge for at least a day before serving with cold meats and cheeses.
HAM HOCK AND STRONGBOW TERRINE // Serves 8-10
I briskly jammed a bag of ham hocks and some liver for lunch into my backpack. It had been a while since I had wandered down to Hartes butchers on Kilburn High Road. While the Hilal Food Centre had me covered for most things, when it came to pork they were understandably less forthcoming with a well stocked offering.
Friday came around all too fast and since my gizzard success I had largely neglected the kitchen owing to a few meals out and the obligatory bowl of instant noodles. I wanted to make something that could be picked on throughout the weekend and would pair well with the pickled rhubarb. A ham terrine seemed entirely appropriate. I dropped into the off-licence on the way home from a successful hock hunt, Strongbow would have have to serve as a cooking liquor. In any case, the drink’s amped up sweetness would push against the iron rich meat and vinegar heavy cornichons well. A prime example of a low-high amalgam I have come to love from shopping between two boroughs.
2 unsalted ham hocks, bone-in
1l Strongbow
1 large bunch parsley, finely chopped
75g cornichons, roughly chopped
4 tbsp capers, finely chopped
2 shallots, peeled and finely diced
Pickled rhubarb
Toasted sourdough, buttered
Add the hocks to a large pot and cover with water. Bring everything up to a boil, then drain. Wash any scum from the hocks, then return them to the pan.
Tip in the cider and enough water to cover the meat once more, season with a generous pinch of salt.
Bring everything up to a boil, then turn the heat down to low. Cover with a lid and simmer for 2-3 hours, until the meat falls from the bone when it is given a light tug.
Transfer the hocks to a large bowl and turn the heat up under the remaining stock. Boil and reduce by half while you finish the terrine.
Pull the meat from the hocks. Discard most of the skin and all of the bones. Break some of the bigger bits of meat up with two forks.
Fold the parsley, cornichons, capers, shallots and enough of the reduced stock to moisten everything (around 200ml) through the meat. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Push the terrine mix into a loaf tin or container and weigh it down with another. Leave in the fridge overnight to set.
Slice the terrine and serve with pickled rhubarb and toasted sourdough.
LAMB SHANK, SMOKED PANCETTA AND CANNELINI BEAN STEW // Serves 2
Saturday had come around and we were in need of a walk to shake off Friday night. We dipped in and out of well stocked bakeries, green grocers and butchers all the way up West End Lane, West Hampstead’s main drag. At each stop we would pick up an item or two that might contribute to the evenings meal. Lamb shanks, dried cannellini beans and surprisingly dear anchovies would make for a mighty supper. The sort of ingredients that can be bought on the go in the knowledge that the store cupboard will fill in the blanks.
Before heading back I picked up a hunk of heavily smoked balkan pork belly and a bottle of good Normandy cider to cut through it. A peace offering to right my Strongbow wrongs.
150g cannellini beans, soaked
150g smoked pancetta, cubed
2 tbsp olive oil
2 small lamb shanks
2 shallots, peeled and sliced
1 bulb garlic, halved
150ml white wine
1 bay leaf
Good chicken stock
Anchovy dressing, read down
Mint
Preheat the oven to 150°C.
Rinse the cannellini beans and tip them into a pan. Cover by at least 3cm of water. Place the pan over a high heat and boil for 30-35 minutes, until nearly soft and buttery while you start the stew.
Add the pancetta and oil to a medium casserole pot and place it over a medium heat. Allow the fat to render from the pancetta slowly, then fry till golden. Once ready, transfer to a bowl with a slotted spoon.
Season the shanks liberally with salt. Crank the heat up to medium-high under the bacon fat, then fry the shanks on all sides, until deep golden brown. Add them to the bowl with the pancetta.
Chuck the shallots and garlic into the pan and fry everything for a further 5-6 minutes, until golden in places. Deglaze with the wine and reduce by 2/3.
Drain the beans and tip them into the pan with the shallots. Add the shanks, pancetta and add enough chicken stock to just cover everything.
Bake uncovered in the oven for 2.5-3 hours, until the meat is spoon tender, the beans are buttery and the sauce has reduced slightly.
Serve with mint and generous spoonfuls of the anchovy dressing.
ANCHOVY PARSLEY DRESSING // Serves 2
I whipped this up much as an afterthought. A whole tin of anchovies, and their accompanying oil may seem a lot for two people. But once vinegar is added, some of the intensity is neutralised leaving behind a deep savoury hum that lasts.
1 small bunch parsley
1 tin anchovies, in oil
1 small clove garlic, peeled
3 tbsp cider vinegar
Blitz everything together until smooth.
Hello there, Ben. How are you. Thank you for your posts. I love the latest recipes, especially the gizzard and the lamb shank dishes. If you don’t mind which sourdough bakeries are in Kilburn? I use the west hampstead trains every now and then. It will be great to pick up some sourdough bread on my way.