Salmon Wellington by Tom Kitchin

by www.schnappsphotography.com

People are always looking for dinner party and special-occasion ideas, and this recipe ticks all the boxes. You can get the dish prepared in advance, allowing you to relax and enjoy the evening as much as your guests, as all you have to do is bake and then carve the salmon. Just be careful to really squeeze all the excess water out of the spinach after cooking. Also, when you’re carving use a really sharp knife or serrated knife. I’m sure if you try this it will become a favourite in your family, too.

Serves 4

100g spinach, thick central stalks removed
100g watercress sprigs
1 garlic clove, peeled but left whole
olive oil
1 shallot, finely chopped
30g cream cheese
2 teaspoons chopped dill
1½ tablespoons creamed horseradish
300g puff pastry, thawed if frozen
plain white flour for dusting
2 salmon fillets, about 250g each, skinned and pin bones removed (page 27)
1 free-range medium egg, beaten
sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper

First prepare the spinach and watercress for the filling. Rinse the spinach and watercress well and shake dry. Spear the garlic clove with a fork. Heat a well-seasoned sauté or frying pan over a medium-high heat, then add a splash of oil. When it is hot, add the spinach and watercress with just the water clinging to the leaves, season with salt and toss with the garlic fork until the spinach is just wilted. Tip into a sieve and squeeze out the excess water, then transfer to a bowl and set aside.

Wipe out the pan and reheat over a medium-high heat, then add another splash of oil. Add the shallot with a pinch of salt and sauté for 1 minute before adding the spinach and watercress and mixing together. Remove the pan from the heat, transfer the spinach mixture to a bowl and leave cool completely.

When the spinach is cool, stir in the cream cheese, dill and horseradish, and adjust the seasoning, if necessary. Line a baking sheet with greaseproof paper and set aside. Make room in your fridge for the baking sheet.

Roll out the puff pastry on a very lightly floured surface with a lightly floured rolling pin into a 30cm square, about the thickness of a £1 coin. Pat the salmon fillets dry and season them with salt and pepper, then place one fillet in the centre of the pastry. Spread the salmon and watercress mixture over, then top with the remaining salmon fillet.

You now want to completely enclose the fillets in pastry. Use both hands to carefully lift the pastry and fold inwards to meet at the top, so both ends just overlap. Trim off any excess pastry to avoid a layer of unbaked pastry. Brush the edges and press together firmly to seal. Brush the pastry on both short ends with beaten egg and press together, again cutting off the excess pastry. You want about a 0.5cm gap between the edge of the salmon parcel and the pastry seals.

Carefully transfer the salmon parcel to the prepared baking sheet, seam side down. Brush the pastry all over with the beaten egg and chill for at least 20 minutes. When you are ready to bake, preheat the oven to 200˚C Fan/220˚C /Gas Mark 7. Place the baking sheet in the oven and bake the salmon Wellington for 35 minutes, or until golden brown. Leave to rest for 5 minutes before slicing.

Cook more from this book
Crispy Fish Goujons and Pickled Red Cabbage Tacos
Octopus, Mixed Bean and Black Olive Salad

Read the review
Coming soon

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Tom Kitchin’s Fish and Shellfish

Crispy Fish Goujons and Pickled Red Cabbage Tacos by Tom Kitchin

Fish goujons tacos Tom Kitchin Fish & Shellfish-898

Whenever my kids have play dates and their friends come to our home, this dish is always a favourite. I don’t think it’s any secret that most kids (or adults for that matter!) like fish fried in breadcrumbs, but the red cabbage is a good way to bring in vegetables and really cuts well against the richness of the fried fish. Because the red cabbage is pickled it will keep in the fridge for a couple of weeks, if you store it in a well-sealed container. You’ll find this makes more red cabbage than you need for four tacos, but I don’t think any will go to waste. I also like to drop it through salads or just serve it on its own alongside grilled fish.

Serves 4

50g plain white flour
2 free-range medium eggs
50g dried breadcrumbs or panko
sunflower or other vegetable oil for deep-frying
4 haddock fillets, about 160g each, skinned and each cut into finger-sized strips
sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper

For the pickled red cabbage
1 red cabbage, cored and finely shredded
1 red onion, thinly sliced
50ml extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
balsamic vinegar

To serve
1 green apple
8 taco shells
100ml soured cream mixed with finely chopped coriander

First make the pickled red cabbage, which can be made in advance, covered and chilled until required. Place the red cabbage and onion in a non-reactive bowl and season with salt and pepper. Add the olive oil, red wine vinegar, mustard and a splash of balsamic vinegar, and mix together. Set aside until required.

Just before you are ready to cook, preheat the oven to 180˚C Fan/200˚C/Gas Mark 6. Place the flour in a shallow bowl and season with salt and pepper. Beat the eggs in another shallow bowl, and place the breadcrumbs in a third shallow bowl. Peel, core and cut the green apple into thin matchsticks for serving the tacos with, and set aside.

Heat enough oil for deep-frying in a deep-fat fryer or a heavy-based saucepan to 190˚C. Pat the haddock pieces dry with kitchen paper and lightly season all over with salt. One by one, dip them into the flour to cover completely, shaking off excess, then dip them in the egg mix and finally in the breadcrumbs, patting the crumbs on well.

Carefully add as many goujons as will fit into the fryer without overcrowding and fry for 3–4 minutes until golden brown and crisp. Transfer to a plate lined with kitchen paper and sprinkle with salt. You’ll have to cook all the fish pieces in several batches, so keep the goujons warm in the oven while you continue frying. Return the oil to the correct temperature between batches, if necessary.

Meanwhile, warm the taco shells in the oven. To serve, divide the pickled cabbage among the taco shells, then add some apple strips and place the goujons on top. Serve the soured cream mix on the side for spooning over.

Cook more from this book
Octopus, Mixed Bean and Black Olive Salad
Salmon Wellington

Read the review
Coming soon

Buy this book
Tom Kitchin’s Fish and Shellfish

The Mushroom Cookbook by Michael Hyams and Liz O’Keefe

The Mushroom Cookbook coverWhat is it? A directory of the most widely available mushrooms, both wild and cultivated, plus a collection of 50 mushroom- based recipes. Michael Hyams, based in Covent Garden Market, is apparently known as The Mushroom Man and supplies markets and restaurants with fungi while co-writer Lix O’Keefe is a chef, recipe developer and food stylist.

What’s the USP? From morels to mousseron and portobello to pom pom, Hyams describes in detail 33of the most widely available wild and cultivated mushroom varieties, listing alternative names, their Latin name, where the mushroom can be found and when, along with a detailed description of its appearance, flavour and texture and how it should be prepared and cooked. In the second half of the book, O’Keefe provides 50 ways to cook your fungi.

What does it look like? It’s a game of two halves. The first half that contains the directory is a reference work with the emphasis on providing simple, clear and well organised information. The photos are mainly of unadorned mushrooms against a white or grey background accompanied with step by step illustrations of how to clean and prepare them. By contrast, in the second recipe half, there is a serious amount of food styling going on with all manner of folded napkins, trays, boards, slates and other props to liven up proceedings.

Is it good bedtime reading? Although there is plenty of text, this is more of a reference work than a relaxing read. 

Will I have trouble finding ingredients? That will depend on how keen you are on foraging. You could substitute easier to find mushrooms for some of the more obscure varieties, although that would seem to defeat the whole object of the book.

What’s the faff factor? There’s a fair amount of wrapping and stuffing going on, but for the most part, the recipes are quite straightforward.

How often will I cook from the book? How much do you love mushrooms? For most readers, the book will come in handy for when they want to cook something a little different for a dinner party or find themselves with a sudden fungi fixation.

Killer recipes? Chinese mixed mushroom curry; Asian mushroom and pork ramen; wild mushroom and boar sausages

What will I love? The price. A 250 page, full-colour illustrated hardback cookbook for £15 is excellent value.

What won’t I like? Some of the recipes, like mushroom sushi, are a little gimmicky, there are some odd flavour combinations (Camembert and blackberry fondue on your mushroom burger anyone?) and some of the dishes like whole roast salmon with garlic pesto and truffle look messy and unappetising.

Should I buy it? At the knock-down price, it’s worth picking up for the mushroom directory alone.

Cuisine: International
Suitable for: Confident home cooks
Cookbook Review Rating: 3 stars 

Buy this book
The Mushroom Cookbook: A Guide to Edible Wild and Cultivated Mushrooms – And Delicious Seasonal Recipes to Cook with Them
£15, Lorenz Books

First, Catch by Thom Eagle

First catch

 

What’s the USP? When is a cookbook not a cookbook? When its a ‘hymn to an early spring meal’, all 226 pages of it. This is food writing in the purest sense, a series of extended essays ruminating on the process of cooking a single meal; a sort of exercise in culinary mindfulness.

Who’s the author? Thom Eagle is the head chef of Little Duck: The Picklery, a ‘fermenting kitchen and wine bar’ in East London (unsurprisingly, there is a fair amount on fermentation in the book) and writes the food blog ‘In Search of Lost Thyme’. First, Catch is his debut in print.

What does it look like? A novel. Forget glossy photographs, this is all text interspersed with some black and white line drawings of pots, pans and assorted ingredients by artist Aurelia Lange.

Killer recipes? Here’s the thing, Eagle says ‘recipes are lies’ so there aren’t any. At least not in the list-of-ingredients-followed-by-a-method format that we all know and love. Instead, they are snuck in by stealth, so for example, a recipe for quick-cured lamb loin, complete with measurements for the simple salt and sugar cure appears spread over three pages at the end of chapter one, ‘On Curing With Salt’ and one for salsa verde is nestled quietly in chapter 10 ‘On Wild and Domestic Celeries’.

What will I love? Eagle is a thoughtful sort of bloke with a particular view on all things culinary which gives the book a distinctive tone. When was the last time you heard someone say that they ‘go out of their way’ to visit old salt-pans’? Eagle has travelled from Kent to Sicily to look at the damn things, trips which have helped him, and now, in turn, his readers ‘appreciate the importance of salt throughout our history’.

What won’t I like? Eagle is very self consciously ‘a writer’ (he studied American Literature at uni) and consequently there is a fair bit of ‘food writing’ to get through; raw vegetables aren’t seasoned but ‘subjected to the violence of lemon and salt’ which you’ll either think is incredibly creative writing or just plain irritating, depending on your taste in literature.

Should I buy it? It may be a little pretentious and overwritten, and it’s debatable whether the ‘stealth’ recipes are an improvement on the traditional format, but Eagle has genuine insight into the practical and philosophical sides of cooking, as well as extensive knowledge of international cuisines and culinary history, making First, Catch well worth reading.

Cuisine: Modernist British
Suitable for: Anyone really interested in cooking and food writing
Cookbook Review Rating: 3 stars

Read an extract

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First, Catch by Thom Eagle
£16.99, Quadrille

 

 

 

Book extract: First, Catch by Thom Eagle

First catch

I seek out and devour food writing in all of its forms – from lengthy and flowery introductions, through drily academic histories to the tersely scribbled instructions you sometimes find tucked into old cookbooks. But when I think of all the recipes I have read, professionally or otherwise, stacked up as it were in one gigantic pile on an overflowing workbench, the main sensation I feel is frustration.

All those neat little lists – take this, take that – as if cooking begins when you pick up an onion, or finishes as the dish goes on to the plate. So much more surrounds a meal and its making than just the bare facts of its enumerated parts. At the top of the page it just says ‘two onions,  chopped’, but someone had to grow them, to pick them, to store and transport and buy them, all before you take them from the vegetable rack or the fridge, halve them from root to tuft, and peel off the outermost layers of brown parchment; before you cut first in a wedging arch and then across, remembering the cook who taught you to let the onion fall into its own layers rather than force it apart into rigid dice, and wondering perhaps in passing why you are doing so, when the other recipe said sliced, when the other recipe contained no onion at all. The Koreans have a description for the specific qualities of a person’s cooking which translates as something like ‘the taste of your hands’; they know, I suppose, that knowledge rests in muscle and bone, which is never written down.

I have nothing against recipes. In fact I use them all the time, and am suspicious of cooks who claim never to do so. Recipes are a record of social and emotional histories as well as a means of travelling to almost any country or place you care to name, including, of course, the past. Anyone who tries to separate food from all of these things cooks for reasons I do not understand; it can only, I think, be vanity, trading the deep satisfaction of time for immediate gratification.

Yet, while useful to cook from, there is so much that recipes miss. The satisfaction of peeling a ripe, thick-skinned tomato, for instance, or unzipping a pod of broad beans; the smell of rosemary hitting gently warming olive oil; the yielding of a wing of skate to a gently pressing finger; the sight of a simply laid table in spring, awaiting the arrival of both people and lunch. None of this can be captured in a written recipe. These are sensations we feel behind the lines of our cookbooks, but the rigid lists that now fill them leave little room in which to do so, let alone to think about what we will do with this dish once we have cooked it. ‘Serve immediately’, these instructions end, but who to? Even a thousand recipes don’t make a meal.

Of all the contexts surrounding the acquisition and transformation of food, I think the meal itself is the most often forgotten. We cook in competition with ourselves now, imagining some bespectacled judge pacing around our chopping board and offering disparaging comments on our knife skills, our plating and our personal hygiene, while we collect and compare recipes of so-called genius and perfection, to be followed to the last detail. Whatever tortured dish emerges from such a process is designed not to be dug into with a questing fork, but to sit as it were under glass, to be admired one-on-one, alone. A plate is one part of a course, which is one part of a meal, so why fuss over the recipe so? I’d rather have, for example, a litre of wine, a pile of fresh pea pods, and many hands to peel and pour – with maybe a piece of cheese for afterwards.

Extracted from First, Catch: Story of a Spring Meal by Thom Eagle (Quadrille, £16.99)

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First, Catch by Thom Eagle

The Mushroom Cookbook by Michael Hyams & Liz O’Keefe

The Mushroom Cookbook cover

What is it? A directory of the most widely available mushrooms, both wild and cultivated, plus a collection of 50 mushroom-based recipes. Michael Hyams, based in Covent Garden Market, is apparently known as The Mushroom Man and supplies markets and restaurants with fungi while co-writer Lix O’Keefe is a chef, recipe developer and food stylist.

What’s the USP? From morels to mousseron and portobello to pom pom, Hyams describes in detail 33 of the most widely available wild and cultivated mushroom varieties, listing alternative names, their Latin name, where the mushroom can be found and when, along with a detailed description of its appearance, flavour and texture and how it should be prepared and cooked. In the second half of the book, O’Keefe provides 50 ways to cook your fungi.

What does it look like? It’s a game of two halves. The first half that contains the directory is a reference work with the emphasis on providing simple, clear and well organised information. The photos are mainly of unadorned mushrooms against a white or grey background accompanied with step by step illustrations of how to clean and prepare them. By contrast, in the second recipe half, there is a serious amount of food styling going on with all manner of folded napkins, trays, boards, slates and other props to liven up proceedings.

Is it good bedtime reading? Although there is a lot to read in the book, it’s more of a reference work than something you’d want to cuddle up to last thing at night.

Will I have trouble finding ingredients? There are a decent selection of fresh and dried mushrooms available in supermarkets these days and doubtless, you will find suppliers online (none are given in the book however) but for the more obscure varieties like lobster and saffron milkcap you might have to head out on an expert-led foraging trip (don’t try it by yourself – as the introduction points out, the book is not designed to be an identification guide for foraging and there are lots of poisonous varieties out there).

What’s the faff factor? A mix. There’s simple like creamy mixed mushroom and tarragon soup and there’s I’m-simply-never-going-to-make-that (mushroom sushi).

How often will I cook from the book? It really depends how much you like mushrooms; for most people, once in a while.

Killer recipes? Chinese mixed mushroom curry; Asian mushroom and pork ramen; wild mushroom and boar sausages

What will I love? The price. A 250 page, full-colour illustrated hardback cookbook for £15 is excellent value.

What won’t I like? Some of the recipes, like mushroom sushi, are a little gimmicky, there are some odd flavour combinations (Camembert and blackberry fondue on your mushroom burger anyone?) and some of the dishes like whole roast salmon with garlic pesto and truffle look messy and unappetising.

Should I buy it? At the knock-down price, it’s worth picking up for the mushroom directory alone.

Cuisine: Modern eclectic
Suitable for: Confident home cooks
Cookbook Review Rating: 3 stars

Buy this book
The Mushroom Cookbook: A Guide to Edible Wild and Cultivated Mushrooms – And Delicious Seasonal Recipes to Cook with Them
£15, Lorenz Books

Room for Dessert by Will Goldfarb

room-for-dessert-2d.jpg

What is it? Will Goldfarb has worked in the kitchens of Ferran Adria, Tetsuya Wakuda, Paul Liebrandt, and Morimoto. He is one of the top pastry chefs working today and is featured in the fourth series of acclaimed Netflix series Chef’s Table. In his first book, he shares 40 recipes, plus additional basics like sorbets, gelatos and mousses, from his acclaimed Room4Dessert restaurant in Bali.

What’s the USP? Along with the highly complex and bizarrely-named recipes called things like ‘Footsteps, or Burbur Injin’ (black rice pudding), each with their own obscure and sometimes almost unintelligible introduction, the book contains an extended biographical section and ‘The Lab of Ideas’ that provides an insight into Goldfarb’s unique creative process.

What does it look like? The modern, often minimalist desserts are all illustrated with overhead photographs which do some of the less visually impactful creations like Pom Pom Yeah: The Horse Thief (a take on Mont Blanc) no favours at all and makes you wonder what Violet de Meuron (frozen horchata with a dramatic purple hibiscus and onion skin ‘veil’) would look like from another angle.

Is it good bedtime reading? Let’s put it this way, there’s plenty to read, but whether or not you should be looking at it before trying to go to sleep is another matter. Goldfarb has a fascinating life story to tell but does so in such an oblique manner that he sacrifices clear narrative substance for a ‘clever’ turn of phrase and an odd pseudo-poetic style (not dissimilar to that employed by Sean Penn in his much-derided recent novel Bob Honey Who Just Do Stuff),  that your frustration with the many gaps in the story might well keep you up at night. Best stick with the latest Laura Lippman.

Will I have trouble finding ingredients? Not at all, as long as you’re in Bali. Otherwise, see how you go asking for lontar nectar, fresh moringa leaves or snake fruit at your local Nisa (this is unfair, many of the recipes don’t include exotic ingredients and you should be able to source most of what you need with some diligent online shopping).

What’s the faff factor? This is a book by a progressive, experimental professional pastry chef written for his peers. What do you reckon it’s likely to be?

How often will I cook from the book? Determined hobbyist cooks who want to one-up their nerdy friends or intimidate their dinner party guests with their dazzling pastry skills will be all over this like a rash. Mere mortals will simply admire from the safety of their sofas.

Killer recipes? It’s difficult to say. Is Plat du Jour’s combination of yoghurt sorbet, coffee anglaise, grilled aubergine puree, vermouth gel, white chocolate and ginger ‘Toblerone’ and brioche, soaked in milk and blonde coconut nectar and cooked French toast-style, a winner? Who knows until you’ve made it and eaten it.

What will I love? You will have never read a cookbook quite like it.

What won’t I like? You will have never read a cookbook quite like it.

Should I buy it? If you are a professional pastry chef working at the cutting edge of cuisine, fill your boots. Others should approach with caution unless strongly attracted to whimsy and folderol.

Cuisine: Modernist desserts
Suitable for: Modernist pastry chefs
Cookbook Review Rating: 3 (or 5 if you’re a modernist pastry chef)

Buy this book
Room for Dessert
£39.95, Phaidon