Naughty Scrumpets

Scrumpets

Like a dog with a bone, refusing to let go, I've been wrestling with the whole crumpetgate saga for a couple of weeks now. Ever since that night, my life has been a montage of long walks in the park, contemplative pints supped alone, cigarettes lit but unsmoked with ash snaking down to the butt and spent hours in grey light, wallowing under crumpled sheets.

"Epigrams. Who the hell has ever heard of epigrams?" That's all I've been muttering under my breath.

Of course, it never was epigrams, I got the spelling wrong, which grates even more. It was actually épigrammes, dug out from Elizabeth David by some young, snotty nosed, Oxbridge educated researcher no doubt. Tosser.

So yes, readers, the whole episode has hit me hard.

But thankfully, I am now over it, for this weekend I got off my backside and set to make what I know as 'scrumpets', a word gleened from Mark Hix's Oyster and Chop House cookbook. A word trapped in the inner recesses of my mind, a word that was the source of confusion all along.

In terms of simplicity, this dish really couldn't be easier. Take some breast of lamb, season and slow cook with herbs and garlic and then leave to cool. Then cut into strips, batter with breadcrumb and deep fry. The result is ridiculously toothsome, with a lovely outer crunch that yields to soft, tender meat inside. Mark Hix suggests an accompanying dip of wild garlic mayonnaise to serve with the scrumpets (he also suggests using breast of mutton too) but I think that would be a step too far. What these lamb goujons need is something acidic to cut through their inherent fatty richness, so I would serve them up with a green sauce or salsa verde. And this will be the gameplan as scrumpets are on the menu for my next supper club.

Going back to the word itself, I have to say that I would take 'scrumpets' over 'épigrammes' any day of the week. There is something bawdy, riotous and devilish about 'scrumpets', whereas 'épigrammes' seems poncy and sniffy by contrast. Not that I have anything against Fronch cooking and Elizabeth David, no not at all. It's just that scrumpets is definitely better. Definitely. And if Kirsty Wark had used it in the quiz, then I wouldn't have looked so stupid.

Hmm, I still haven't let go of that bone have I?

Le breast d'agneau

Lamb Scrumpets - serves 4

300-400g boneless breast of lamb

salt and roughly ground pepper

1 head of garlic, halved and roughly chopped

a few sprigs of rosemary and thyme

2 free range eggs, beaten

60-70g fresh white breadcrumbs

vegetable oil for deep-frying

method

Preheat the oven to 160c/gas mark 3. Place the lamb into an ovenproof dish (with tight fitting lid). Season well and scatter over the chopped garlic and herbs. Cover and cook for 2 hours or until very tender, basting regularly and turning down if necessary. Leave to cool overnight.

Scrape away any fat residue from the lamb and any fat that hasn't rendered down during cooking. Cut the breast into 1 cm wide strips, 5-6 cms long.

Have 3 bowls ready, one with flour, one with eggs and one with the breadcrumbs. Season the flour. Heat a 6 cm depth of oil in a deep fat fryer or other suitable deep, heavy pan to 160-180c.

Pass the lamb strips through the seasoned flour, shaking off excess, then through the egg and finally coat in the breadcrumbs. Deep-fry the strips in batches for 2-3 minutes, moving them around in the oil until golden and crisp. Lift out with a slotted spoon and drain on kitchen paper.

Serve with lemon wedges and (in my opinion) a healthy dollop of salsa verde .

'Erbs and Garlick

Tender

Absolutely battered

A Good Wife Always Forgives Her Husband When She's Wrong.

When it comes to cooking a meal, you really can take inspiration from almost anywhere. And if you enjoy food, the inner tinkerings of your mind are forever engaged. What can I have a go at next? What should I try out this time? What haven't I done yet? These questions in turn are governed by a myriad of influences. The seasons, the weather, recipe books, articles, blog posts, trends, the contents of your fridge etc etc. As a culinary adventurer, a gourmand, an epicurean artiste who devotes his life to the pursuit of eating, the journey from field to plate is joyful and boundless. Truly, what a wonderful thing it is to cook.

Except for when you are trying to create a dish that you have seen on the TV.

Now I have done this sort of thing before but to fully appreciate the most recent 'journey' I had, this really is the best way to communicate my first experience with cooking breast of lamb. Or at least this is how I came across this brilliantly cheap and simple recipe by Tristan Welch. And how I very nearly got it wrong. So this was the conversation that I had with my good wife the other day, leading with my first line:

Oooh I saw this great looking dish on telly the other day.

Oh yeah?

Yeah, Tristan Welch did it. It was breast of lamb, it looked lovely.

Oh right, what did he do then?

Well, you get some breast of lamb, lay it out, rub chopped herbs and garlic into it....oh and some rapeseed oil, roll it back up, tie it and then you pan fry it....oh and then you slice it into rounds and then fry both sides. He served it up with crushed potatoes and mint sauce, it looked beautiful.

Hmm that does sound good, we've never tried breast of lamb before have we?

No, shall we get some for Sunday?

Yeah......so wait, hang on a minute, he just did all that and rolled it up and fried it? He didn't cook it first.

What do you mean? No, he just put it in a pan with some butter....

But did he do anything else to it first, I think you have to slow cook breast of lamb don't you?

Well he just fried it.

No but Dan (slowly) did he do anything to it first?

No I'm bloody telling you he just fried it. I should know I watched the bloody programme.

What programme was he on?

.......er I can't remember.

Well shall we have a look online and check the recipe, what was it Saturday Kitchen?

I don't know but listen I watched the fucking programme right, he just pan fried it, believe me....

Hmm doesn't seem to be on BBC website.

No listen, you don't have to look on the poxy pc, it's very simple, you just take the lamb, season it and roll it up and then fry it (under breath) for fuck's sake

Dan! I am only checking, why do you have to get so precious about things?

Because I saw him fucking cooking it!!!!

Is this it? Rolled lamb breast with Jersey royals and mint sauce?

Yes! Probably! I don't know...

On Market Kitchen?

Yes! That's it! He did it on Market Kitchen, he fried it on fucking Market Kitchen!

Recipe says to poach lamb in chicken stock for 3 hours first.

Does it?

Yes.

(deafening silence of shattered male pride)

And so after a period at the bottom of the garden, I decided that this was still worth trying out. We had this last Sunday and it tasted just as delicious as it looked on the telly. This cut cost just £3.60 and could have easily served 4 people, served up with allotment Charlottes dug up a few hours earlier and roasted and some frozen peas (boiled naturalment). The mint for the sauce came from our garden. It is probably even fattier a cut than pork belly and could have benefited from properly cooling as per the recipe for the joint to firm up properly. But time just didn't allow, when it came to the 'frying' part, it was still lukewarm (if only you really could cook as quick as they do on the square box eh). However, a superdooper meal to try at the end of the month when the pennies are running low. Just remember that you do indeed have to slow cook the joint first.

Breast of Lamb

Slather meat with chopped thyme, rosemary, garlic, salt, pepper and rapeseed oil.

Poach in chicken stock with onion, celery and herb bouquet garni

Cool, wrap in foil to keep shape (my idea) and leave in fridge to cool completely. Seriously let it cool completely

Charlotte Potatoes

See, I told you Tristan f***ing fried it!

Breast of Lamb (cooked correctly)

Always Read Instructions First

After hearing the recent revelations of Jamie Oliver's cock-ups in the kitchen it got me thinking about my own misdemeanours behind the stove, not that I've ever steamed my own sausage mind. I did once attempt to do a barbecue wearing nothing but a jock strap but was promptly frogmarched back into the house, told to get dressed properly and to stop scaring the neighbours. That was the closest I've ever got to cooking au naturel but there have been plenty of other incidents.

Like the time we were housesitting my brother-in-law's flat and I had lovingly prepared a meal for my wife. When it came to plating up, the chicken breast that was perched on the edge of the fish slice I was using had the gall to fall on the floor. In a fit of fury I lashed out at the offending piece of chicken with my foot, missed and firmly planted it into the dishwasher leaving a massive dent. That took some explaining to do.

Our Imperia pasta machine in particular has been a nemesis of mine. On various occasions I have nearly thrown it through the kitchen window, apoplectic with rage as the ravioli attachment ruins yet another batch by bursting my butternut squash and ricotta filling all over the counter top. And even when I do successfully make tagliatelle, you can always guarantee that I don't leave it to dry out for long enough so that when I do plop it into a pan of boiling water it comes out resembling some kind of pasta basketball.

And of course thinking about it I have burned myself, plenty of times. Normally on the handle of the frying pan for instance that I've carefully taken out of the oven with a tea towel, put to the side, turned to chop something up and then returned to the handle sans tea towel. The crazy thing is that it can sometimes take a few seconds to register what is going on. "Hmm this feels strange, what is that sensation? OH GOD MY HAND ON IS FIRE, MY HAND IS ON FIRE!" and then clang, the pan drops to the floor. I really must go to the doctor to see if he can tell whether my neurons are firing fast enough.

More often than not though disasters in the kitchen arise simply because I have neglected to read recipes through and have forgotten to buy key ingredients. I recently bought "A Year in My Kitchen" by Skye Gyngell for an absolute bargain in a bargain bookshop and after skimming through the beautiful photography and mouthwatering recipes, decided that I should try her recipe for Baked Aubergines with Tomatoes, Tarragon and Crème Fraîche so I raced to the shops to get all the stuff I needed. Hopscotching happily into the kitchen, I set everything up and get to work. I take the aubergines and it's slice, slice, slice. Grab the tomatoes, chop, chop, chop. Smell the tarragon, like all the contestants on Masterchef do, hmm what an aroma, sniff, sniff, sniff (I am waiting for the day when they film someone smelling an egg on MC at Borough Market). OK now lets make that crème fraîche sauce. Crème fraîche? Where's the fricking crème fraîche? And so I frantically search through the bags, can't find the crème fraîche, check the receipt and see that despite being a key ingredient and in the title of the recipe, I neglected to pick some up. What an idiot.

However I like to think of myself being the resourceful type and have a rummage through the fridge and find some natural yogurt. "Yes yogurt, that will do, you find it pretty much down the same isle anyway". To make the sauce I need to heat the crème fraîche, sorry yogurt, up to boiling point, reduce and then add chopped herbs including the tarragon, plus some parmesan so I empty the pot into the saucepan. It pretty much splits straight away. "You idiot, why did you use yogurt, I knew that would happen (no I didn't), crap, crap, crap!"

At this point I start to feel all precious and despondent and can barely contain a tear from falling down my face when my wife, ever the voice of reason, pipes up and says "why don't you just make a béchamel sauce and use the herbs in that?". "But that's not how Skye would do it" I whinge. "Go on, I'm sure it will be lovely" she coos and so I duly pull out some flour and butter to make a roux and then slowly add some milk, stir till it thickens up and then add the herbs and cheese. I pour the sauce over the top of aubergines which have been griddled and tomatoes which have been simmered down, which have been placed within a shallow dish and bake in the oven for 30 minutes. Of course it tasted delicious especially with lamb steaks as recommended in the book, cooked medium rare.

I suppose the moral of the story here is to keep a calm, clear and improvisational head when cooking as these little incidents in the kitchen will crop up all the time, even to the professionals as Jamie's tale testifies. Although when a fella burns his old chap that's something to really cry about, not the fact that he forgot to buy the fricking crème fraîche in the first place.

Baked Aubergines with Tomatoes and Tarragon Béchamel sauce (not crème fraîche)