Chicken Fajitas with Guac and Pico

Despite an almost endless ability to procrastinate, I'm finally sitting down to get this last post out for 2016. Whether it's taking the time to tie up loose ends at the end of what feels like a particularly long year, or just that I'm in the mood for something exciting and spicy, this is one of those dishes that I've been meaning to write about for a long time now.

Chicken fajitas is probably the most common, and perhaps most ill-treated of Mexican imports to the British isles. Sprung forth from terrible El Paso ads in the 90's and slowly course-corrected by Wahaca, it's a dish that everyone is pretty familiar with in some terrible form or another. Thankfully, I've had the fortunate opportunity to try fajitas in both Mexico and the US (California / Texas), and while I can hardly testify as to its authenticity, what I can say for certain is that this version will slap the hell out of anything you might encounter on the back of a packet. It packs a ton of flavour and heat with clean, fresh and vibrant complements, and is the perfect comfort food with friends.

Don't be this guy

The big game-changer in this recipe is the marinade, and more specifically the lime zest. The eagle-eyed among you will notice that there's no lemon or lime juice in the marinade at all, and that's deliberate. When marinating the chicken that acid will change the texture and bite of the meat, generally for the worse. Instead, lime zest gives the chicken all the lightness and vibrancy of citrus without impacting the meat itself. The ancho chilli flakes are now easily found in most large supermarkets, and add a lovely richness and warmth. You'll get the best results if you marinade the chicken overnight, so start this recipe the day before you want to eat.

It would be a crime to have fajitas without proper guacamole and pico de gallo, so I've thrown those in too. Once you've made this stuff by hand, trust me you'll never go back. Both are best freshly made on the day you want to eat, as they start to break down within 24 hours or so.

Lime & Chilli Chicken Fajitas
Serves 4

Ingredients
Marinade:
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 limes worth of zest
1 teaspoon oregano
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon ancho chili flakes
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
4 tablespoons groundnut oil
500-750g chicken breasts (depending on whether you've invited eaters)

Everything else:

1 large white onion

2 red/green peppers

Sugar & Pepper

Salt

A glass of water

Coriander

Small flour tortillas (aim for four per person, on average)

Cheddar, freshly grated

Sour cream (if you must)

Start by getting all of the marinade ingredients except the chicken into a gallon-sized ziploc bag. It will help if you shove the bag into a measuring jug or small saucepan to keep things tidy. Mush up the oil and spices well until you're left with a luscious looking spice mix, as below: 

Slice the chicken breasts into thin strips, toss them in the bag and then squeeze out as much air as you can before sealing it firmly. Toss the bag into a roasting dish/baking pan and flip it over several times to move the contents of the bag around and massage the marinade into the chicken. Leave it in the fridge overnight, inside the dish if you're worried about leaks.

The next day, slice your peppers and onion into half-inch wide strips and toss these into a separate ziploc bag with a solid pinch of salt, sugar, pepper and a couple of tablespoons of oil - rustle the bag as you did with the chicken to coat thoroughly. Get a large pan onto high heat and when ready put in half of the onion/peppers mix. Unless you have a massive pan, you don't want to throw it all in at once as this will crowd the pan. Instead, fry it in batches to get a good brown colour. As soon as they start to brown a little, pour a small sip of water into the pan and stir everything around. Do this a couple of times until the vegetables are nicely browned (but not burnt!).

Once cooked get all of your veggies into a big serving bowl and keep this close to hand - the chicken will go on top!

Wipe out your pan, and get it back onto high heat. Once it's ready, once again put in half of your chicken. You want the chicken to have room to breathe (and not steam) and the temperature to stay high so that you can get a good sear and colour on it. The trick here is not to cook the chicken into oblivion: in thin slices it really won't take more than a 5-10 minutes to cook through, and once it's got a golden brown colour on it, get it out of there. Some of you will recall that I typically prefer chicken thigh to breast as it has more flavour, but in this case chicken breast is actually a better fit for the dish as long as you don't overcook it.

Add the chicken to your veggies and toss with a little bit of lime juice and freshly chopped coriander. At this point you can either serve immediately, or cover with foil and leave in an 60℃ oven to stay warm. 

Pico de Gallo & Guacamole

Ingredients:

5 medium tomatoes (fresh plum/Roma tomatoes are the best if you can find them)
Half a white onion
1 lime, halved
2 fresh jalapeno chillies (jarred is fine too)

Coriander, roughly chopped
3 whole avocados
Cumin
Cayenne Pepper

1 clove of garlic, crushed

Pico de Gallo is basically fresh salsa, and a million miles away from the gloop you get in jars at the petrol station. This is deliberately a less watery version, but you can easily retain more juice if you want by not draining the tomatoes.

We're going to start with the Pico first, as that's also part of the Guac recipe. In both cases you want to give them a bit of time for the flavours to develop, so ideally whip these up an hour or so before you eat.

Dice the onion and jalapenos finely, and toss into a large bowl with the juice of half a lime and a pinch of salt. Let them sit while you do the tomatoes.

Take the tomatoes and slice into small chunks - the aim here is to try and keep as much flesh as possible while discarding all the extra juice. Roma/Plum tomatoes are great for this as they have way more flesh:juice than other tomatoes. In a pinch however, you can use any tomato, chop them up and then dump in a strainer in the sink to let the juice run off. If using cherry tomatoes you can also use the Jamie trick of crushing the poor little things in your hands over the sink before chopping them up (fair warning: this is a lot of fun, but a major stain hazard).

Add them to the onion and jalapenos, toss in a handful of chopped coriander, season to taste. It should have crunch, acid and heat. If it's too spicy it will mellow a bit over time but you can add some sugar to calm it down.

The guacamole is beautifully straightforward - stone three avocadoes, and roughly mash up the flesh with a fork. Just do this briefly, you want to keep a bit of texture without it turning into a smooth paste. Add the juice of the other half of the lime and the crushed garlic clove and mix. Toss a heaped spoon of Pico on top, and spinkle over cumin and cayenne pepper. Give the whole lot a quick mix and adjust seasoning as you like. Take a sheet of clingfilm and press it right down on top of the guac to push the air out, and leave at room temperature for 30 mins before serving.

Once you're ready to go, heat up a stack of 8 or so tortillas either in the microwave or wrapped in tinfoil in the oven. Get your accompaniments into small bowls, crack open some beers, and you are all set. Chuck another stack of tortillas on to warm up when you make short work of the first set.

P.S: everyone has different ways of doing their fajitas, from the contents to the folding. For me, my favourite order is cheese, meat, pico, guac. Start by folding the bottom up first, then bring the sides across and roll. Eat!

My Top 5 Bites from New York

New York is a city of plenty. There are plenty of people, plenty of cabs, and plenty of fantastic places to eat. It would be physically impossible to eat everywhere or everything in New York, even for those as calorifically inclined as us. Thankfully, on our most recent visit we were located in Soho, with an absolute bounty of tasty treats to get our hands on. We struggled, frequently, with what the most acceptable number of meals in a single day was. But I'm happy to report that in amongst what seemed like endless feasts, we uncovered some truly wonderful bites that I'd like to share with you.

It's worth prefacing this with a sincere admission that pretty much any of these choices may be fervently, if not violently, argued by New York locals. There's always somewhere better, newer, more authentic, or god help us, more difficult to get into. There are defintely cheaper places too, because wow does eating in New York get expensive fast. At no point did we ever feel like the best things we ate weren't worth the price, but when you start averaging $60 a meal, you look forward to cooking at home again. That said, even I wouldn't attempt to recreate the best items on this list, because there are years and years of skill, practice and wisdom woven into every bite.

5. Cheese Slice, Joe's Pizza

There are few things more joyous in New York than embracing the wonder of pizza by the slice. Slices which more often than not resemble molten star destroyers, but still enjoy the pricing that a 'slice' suggests. Coming from a city where such things don't really exist, we took full advantage of this. After one night out, we had three slices as a nightcap. That's as amazing as it sounds.

Joe's Pizza, on Carmine & Bleeker is as much of an institution as a pizza purveyor can get. It is literally busy at every single hour of the day (and peaks at 3am, tellingly). I have no shame in saying I visited at 4:30pm, because there is never a bad time for a slice of pizza.

Joe's offers three options: a cheese slice, a fresh mozzarella slice, and a sicilian which is basically a massive brick-sized slab of deep dish. You can add a single topping if you wish, but then you're messing with a perfect formula. I opted for a cheese slice because you always start with the classics.

Plenty has been written about how pizza crusts (and bagels) taste different in New York because of the water. It's just as likely that one of the secret ingredients is sweat (or maybe swearing), because it really does taste different. The thing to note is that a New York slice is nothing like proper Italian pizza, so throw that comparison out immediately. This is an entirely different beast - greasy, chewy, crispy, light but strong enough to fold in half and probably fly if you asked it to. The cheese and tomato are deceptively well balanced, with both giving you a luxurious mouthful before you get to the edges and tear your way through the crust.

At any time of day, no matter what state you might be in, a cheese slice in New York is probably the best answer you can find.

4. Hot Fried Chicken & Honey Biscuits, The Dutch

Oh my word. If you like fried chicken, and the idea of eating it with scones makes you giggle, you need to try this.

The Dutch is a bright, bustling and fairly pricey venue that specialises in American fare (witness the utter might and supremacy on display in their double cheeseburger). I am a complete sucker for fried chicken, particularly because very good versions are notoriously tough to find. The fact that it came with a glistening pair of biscuits that looked like golden nuggets from sugar mountain meant there was basically no hesitation on my part.

Two things immediately leap out at you with this dish: first, the unbelievably crispy batter on the chicken, encasing perfectly cooked meat. Second, the hilariously spicy coleslaw! Yep, that little bowl in the corner supplied a ferocious hit of chilli that was both unexpected and the perfect companion to the honey biscuits. Biscuits have always been a fun little curio for me, feeling like the raucous, sugar-charged cousins of our stoic and far more serious scones. These were much softer, sweeter and lighter, with a wonderfully moist texture that never had me reaching for my drink after a bite. All three worked perfectly together, and I was overjoyed with the generous number of pieces of chicken. More pieces = more batter.

Should I return to The Dutch, I'd make it a point to get the aforementioned cheeseburger, because honestly it looked ridiculous. But I had no regrets with my dish, and if you're able to, just order both.

3. Mexican Street Corn, El Toro Blanco

This one was a complete surprise. For starters, this was a restaurant that we were recommended at the very last minute by our host, and one we'd never heard of. Furthermore, this dish was the very last thing I snuck onto the order, after ordering a frankly silly number of tacos and fresh guac. Lo and behold, however, this plucky little side strolled on to the table and blew everything else away. All of the dishes were good (the fried cod tacos were particularly on point), but the Street Corn took absolutely no prisoners.

See, take a look at that. Of everything on that table, who would have thought the simple looking bowl of corn would have left such an impression? But man, the flavours hiding in there. Smoky chargrilled corn, off the cob and mixed with a creamy, buttery, cheesy sauce topped with queso, chilli, spices and a perfectly sized whack of pepper. This is one of the only dishes here I'd even contemplate trying at home because it was just so damn good, but I'd be amazed if I got anything like these results. It's so rare to find a side in Mexican food that's this good, I'd recommend going just to try it.

2. Maine Blueberry Pancakes, Clinton St. Baking Company

It says a lot about Clinton St. that this is only place on this list that we had visited before. Discovered on our last visit, it was an absolute certainty that we'd return, and for the exact same dish. Admittedly no breakfast in the US can really fulfil its destiny without a side of bacon, but the pancakes are the unrivalled star of the show.

Three ludicrously fluffy pancakes, perfectly browned, laden with juicy blueberries and more piled on top for good measure. The unassuming dish on the left is a perfect blend of butter and maple syrup, so you don't even need to fuss with any obstacles between you and breakfast nirvana. You can pour or you can dunk, but I guarantee you will use every drop of it and then start eyeing up your partner's.

Here's the other thing: for people outside of the US, pancakes are one of those things you hear about in films or TV shows that almost never live up to the hype. They're stodgy, too dry or too wet, and virtually impossible to finish. Clinton St's pancakes are in every way the opposite of that. Not only will you love every bite, and eagerly finish (irrespective of the pain you may be in), but you will come back for them again. We did, and we always will.

1. DKA / Cronut, Dominique Ansel Bakery

The weight of expectation on this venue is pretty extraordinary. You hear whispers of people queuing at 5am for the latest monthly Cronut flavour. You hear about the limited numbers available, and the queue etiquette, with Dominique himself greeting shoppers when they open at 8am. You expect that it's impossible to hold up to these standards forever, and whether it's recession, complacency or just distractions, that somehow, standards must slip.

Nope. You walk in, you quietly gaze at the wonders under the glass, and then you receive perfection in pastry form. Now I can only comment on a couple of their offerings, but I vow to work my way through the rest of the menu on future visits. This is one of those destinations that you build into a trip from the start.

On this inaugural visit, I had two specific targets. The Cronut, and the DKA. One was very well known, the other was a local recommendation. Both were astonishing.

The Cronut was officially invented by Dominique Ansel, so the guy knows what he's doing. The original Cronut takes, as if by magic, a croissant and turns it into a donut. Many, many people have imitated it, but this is the real mccoy. And it shows. Aside from making 350 of them every single day, every month they also inject a new creamy concoction inside of it. This month the flavour is Pear, Honey and Thyme (the eagle-eyed among you will recognise the leaves). I'm not exaggerating when I say that the complexity and confidence in this flavour combination blew my mind. On the face of it this is a deep fried thing covered in sugar and icing, so of course it's going to taste great, right? But to orchestrate savoury and sweet in such perfect balance without any of it being too much: this is artistry at work. I absolutely hate the way "artisanal" is being thrown around like candy nowadays, but this warrants that title in every respect.

It would be easy to leave things on such a high note, but I can't separate the Cronut from my new favourite pastry:

The DKA is the best thing I have ever put in my face for breakfast. It is honestly a last supper kind of bite. I'd probably have one for the starter and one as a nightcap (with a slice of pizza). 

It's gloriously uncomplicated - caramelised, crispy pastry on the outside, and cloud-like buttery fluffiness on the inside. You can (and should) pull it apart with your hands and revel at the texture of it all. I always like to think that ultimate craftsmanship truly emerges when you can do something simple perfectly. It's hard to decide between this and the Cronut, so you can happily order both like I did and know that you are definitely in the hands of a master. 

I don't think I'll ever end up in New York again without visiting this place, and neither should you.

Back in the saddle: Chicken Pad Thai

It's been quite a while since I last wrote anything on here. Plenty has happened since 2013, and while I've never stopped cooking it's safe to say that there was enough turbulence in my life to blow out the pilot light. I am however so thankful for the people in my life who have never stopped asking me about the blog, or asking for recipes, as you have all helped me gather that little bit of kindling I needed to start writing again.

As ever, exploring a recipe that's loaded with nostalgia feels like a good place to pick up. Thailand has been close to my family ever since we moved to Japan in the early 90's, with distance and cheap holidays making it the perfect winter retreat. Our visits over the subsequent two decades were always colourful, vibrant discoveries of food, culture and personality: falling victim to the hottest meal I have ever encountered (a "thai style" beef glass noodle salad, no less), or staring in gleeful wonder at the reclining Buddha at Wat Pho, ushered by the proud kindness of locals who just wanted to share their favourite sights. At the same time, I have also experienced tremendous sadness there, arriving in Bangkok airport on December 26th, 2004 and witnessing the churning tragedy of the tsunami unfold in real time. Or going back to Phuket this year, returning to Thailand for the first time without my mother. My relationship with Thailand both as a place and a cuisine has pretty rich vein of flavours and memories: bittersweet, fiery, refreshing, comforting.

My mum and sister, Koh Samui 2002

Lunch on the beach, Phuket 2016

Now when it comes to the full spectrum of Thai cooking, Pad Thai is both one of the most well-known dishes, and one of the simplest. That's not to suggest that it's not full of flavour or exciting - thankfully it makes a great introduction to using Thai ingredients that aren't too tricky to find or handle. It's also, if I'm honest, a real comfort food for me and easily one of my favourite takeaway choices. When we discovered that our local Thai restaurant (Addies) no longer delivers, I finally had all the reason I needed to try and see if a homemade version was worth a shot. I'm happy to report, it really is. You won't get it perfect the first time, but I guarantee you will see the potential for just how good it can get.

Most of the ingredients that you'll need are relatively easy to find in London, and large supermarkets will cover most of your shopping list. That said, there are a couple that I want to highlight as absolutely crucial:

Tamarind Paste: this is what makes Pad Thai tastes like Pad Thai. The 'sauce' is made up of several common components like fish sauce, soy sauce and lime juice, but this right here is the secret that unlocks the whole thing. Find it, and don't accept any substitutes.

The other thing that makes a world of difference is the noodles. What you're looking for are "thai rice stick noodles", which are also used in Pho and most closely resemble linguine sticks but white and semi-translucent. Don't bother with egg noodles or vermicelli or any of that nonsense if you want the real deal. Easiest to find in any little asian stores or international sections of the big supermarkets.

I did try this recipe with "fresh" pad thai noodles, but I have to say, going with the dried version gave dramatically better results (and is allegedly the purist's approach, should that matter to you).

Side note: Sambal Oelek, as I recently discovered, is basically a malaysian chilli sauce that is packed with flavour and a lovely balanced heat. It's not anywhere near as essential as the two above ingredients (though you can also find it in the same places as the noodles) - any typical chilli sauce that you like can be substituted, it's just my first choice nowadays. I do however think that Pad Thai without heat is a bit of a travesty, truth be told.

Everything else is pretty straightforward and refreshingly simple, so let's get cracking.

For the Pad Thai "sauce":
4 tablespoons thai fish sauce
1 tablespoon tamarind paste
6 tablespoons water

Half a chicken stock cube
2 tablespoons light soy sauce
3 tablespoons lime juice
1 teaspoon sambal oelek (1 is mild, 2 is more fun)
5 tablespoons brown sugar
1 tablespoon oil

Everything else:

500g chicken thighs (skinless/boneless)

1 tablespoon cornstarch

2 tablespoons soy sauce
350-400g thai rice stick noodles
2 tablespoons oil
5 cloves garlic, minced
3-4 bunch spring onions, chopped (leave some for the garnish)
3 eggs, lightly beaten
300g bean sprouts
a fistful of roasted peanuts, chopped (or more, if you like)
Half a lime, cut into wedges (use the other half for the sauce above)

First thing's first - cut up the chicken thighs into strips, and put them in a bag or container with the cornstarch and soy sauce. Mush them up to get everything coated and leave in the fridge, at longest overnight. This is actually a pretty handy marinade for any kind of asian stir fry when you want to brown the meat and give it a bit of extra flavour.

Grab the rice noodles and dunk them in a bowl of room-temperature water for about 10 minutes or while you're prepping everything else. Soak them until they're almost al-dente, and can wrap around your fingers, then drain.

Pour all of the sauce ingredients into the smallest pan you have, and simmer on low heat - what you're looking for here is for the sugar to dissolve completely, and then adjust to your taste. More chilli, fish sauce or tamarind, as you prefer. No matter what, this should taste pretty exciting already.

At this point, you want to make sure you've got everything prepped and ready at hand, because over the next few steps you will need to move quickly.

Grab your biggest flat-bottomed pan (or a wok, failing that), and heat 1 tablespoon of oil on high. Toss the garlic in, and 30 seconds later toss in the chicken. Keep it all moving until the chicken has started to brown nicely.

Once the chicken is coloured on both sides, use a slotted spoon/spatula to remove to a plate covered in paper towels and drain off.

Keep the heat high and add your noodles.  Add half of the sauce in smaller amounts at a time, until the noodles feel soft and chewy (this is the bit that unfortunately will take practice until you feel more comfortable with it). You want to soften the noodles, and let them absorb the sauce, without swimming in too much moisture. If things start to clump up a bit, add a little bit of oil to loosen things up.

Clear a little well in the middle of the pan, add a little bit more oil and sizzle the spring onions for 30 seconds before pouring in the egg. Scramble it around the pan quickly, until it's fully cooked through and no liquid remains.

Once the noodles and egg are nicely fried and lightly browned, dump the chicken and beansprouts back in the pan on top of the noodles and add the remaining sauce. Carefully toss everything together so that it's completely coated, and cook for a minute or two more to soften the beansprouts.

Carefully transfer the pad thai into bowls (I find tongs by far the easiest way to do this), and scatter over the remaining spring onions and chopped peanuts. Squeeze a lime wedge over each bowl and dig in! If, like my wife, you are a chilli fiend you can either sprinkle some dried chilli flakes on top or add a bit more Sambal Oelek on the side.

Creamy Tagliatelle with Porcini

Over the Christmas period, I was rustling around my mum's collection of cookbooks and stumbled across this recipe, courtesy of the River Cafe. For anyone familiar with the place, they excel at doing vibrant italian dishes with exceptionally good ingedients and no shortage of skill. That said, I quite deliberately picked this recipe because of its technical simplicity - it's basically pasta with mushrooms. To assume however, that that means it tastes bland or ordinary, would be foolish. I'm not going to suggest even for a second that what I produced is anything near the quality of what you'd get in the restaurant (which is worth a visit even if only to try their ultimate dessert, the Chocolate Nemesis), but it will give any home-cooked pasta dish a run for its money and then some.

The key ingredient here, as you will have noticed from the title, is porcini mushrooms. These little dudes are a staple of rustic italian cuisine, so much so that they even have festivals celebrating it. Called sagras, these gatherings are quintessentially family affairs where towns, villages and communities typically get together to eat and be merry, often soundtracked by some 70's eurovision reject in a tanktop and silly hair. The sagras aren't limited to mushrooms either - steak, cheese, tomatoes, even focaccia get their own sagra. When it comes to food, Italians have a whole lot to celebrate.

Thankfully porcinis, also known as ceps, have become pretty easy to find in the UK now since they can be dried and stored away. You can find them in any italian deli or even Waitrose, and while they can be pricey, they deliver value in flavour. When choosing them, try to get lighter creamy looking ones, and avoid ones that are very dark and crumbly. For the most part a decent pack of porcinis will provide you with enough for a couple of meals, or one seriously packed one.

This recipe throws in a couple of extra little twists in the shape of the chilli and the lemon, which I've increasingly found are hidden stars when it comes to pasta dishes. Particularly when combined with seafood, they create a wonderfully lively combination of flavours. The nice thing of course is that you can adjust the heat to whatever your taste, though I'm a firm believer in even a little bit of spice being a crucial element in this dish.

Creamy Tagliatelle with Porcini Mushrooms
Serves 2

50g butter
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon dried chilli flakes (this will make it pretty spicy, half it if you don't like heat)
10 leaves fresh sage, rinsed, roughly chopped
35g dried Porcini mushrooms
Rind of 1 lemon, peeled (see my note below)
50ml double cream
sea salt and black pepper
Fresh egg tagliatelle, 4-5 baskets per person
Parmesan, freshly grated
4 ice cubes of veal stock (optional, see my blog post about veal stock)

First off, grab your porcinis and dunk them into 250ml of hot water. Just leave them to soak for about 15 to 20 minutes, occasionally just poking them to make sure all the mushrooms are fully soaking.

Peel the lemon rind with a vegetable peeler. The original recipe says to cut the rind into thin strips, but personally, I found that while that did give a lovely flavour, the texture of the rind eventually interfered too much with the dish for me. Personally, I think zest would work absolutely fine and be far less intrusive.

Drain the porcinis, rinse them quickly under the tap and then roughly chop them up. The soaking liquid is gold dust and packed with flavour, however it will have bits of silt and other stuff in there so strain the liquid through a strainer with a cloth in it. Any cloth or muslin will do. Keep the strained liquid to one side.

Put a pan of water on to boil for your pasta. Grab the butter and some olive oil and melt it over medium flame until the foaming settles down.

Lower the heat a little bit and throw in the garlic, sage and chilli. Keep it moving and cook for about 5 minutes or so until it starts to colour.

Throw in the porcini mushrooms and saute them for several minutes until any liquid has evaporated and they're nicely softened.

Add the soaking liquid, and simmer until nearly all the liquid has been re-absorbed by the mushrooms. Now, if you read my last blog post, you might have some lovely veal stock ice cubes stored up in the freezer. This right here is a perfect time to whip them out and drop them straight into the pan.

Again, let the whole thing simmer for a few minutes until it's reduced. You're looking for a lovely dark sauce just nestling around the mushrooms. Once you're happy with it, throw in the cream and the lemon. Again, let it reduce until you get a lovely creamy consistency, as below:

Season the sauce to taste, and reduce the heat to lowest possible setting. Cook the tagliatelle in heavily salted water for 1 minute less than suggested by the packaging (this is a habit of mine), unless it's fresh pasta in which case it's only 3-4 minutes anyway. Reserve some pasta water in a cup or jug (always do this with any pasta sauce), and drain the pasta. Toss it into the sauce, turning it to get every ribbon nicely coated in the sauce. The sauce will often thicken, so add a little pasta water to keep it from getting too claggy. You should be left with a perfectly creamy consistency on the sauce and everything nicely covered.

Get the pasta into warm bowls (tongs are perfect for this), and sprinkle with freshly grated parmesan and cracked black pepper. Tuck in.

The Revelation of Veal Stock

Veal stock is one of those things that I used to read about and just think "god that all sounds like hard work."

I'd see it in cookbooks, hear about it on Heston's cooking shows, and generally encounter it on websites that seemed to assume you had all the time in the world to bother with things like this. And at no point did I appreciate why they were all raving about it.

(C) Michael Ruhlman

Then, at the end of last year I had some time free over the christmas holidays and decided to just give it a try, because hey, who doesn't like roasting animal bones for fun? My girlfriend often comments on how obsessed I get with little projects, and this was no different: I read through a bunch of different recipes and blogs to get the gist of the process, and more importantly, understand just why veal bones is seen as the valhalla of stocks. I started with Michael Ruhlman's recipe (pictured right), then adjusted for some of the tips in Anthony Bourdain's recipe, and then just generally listened to tips from various internet resources. As long as you get the general steps right, the rest you can adjust to make your life easier.

It's important to stress right at the beginning that what veal stock brings to the table is quite subtle. It is not suddenly going to transform a sorry, limp sauce into something restaurant-quality. It's not a crutch or some wonder-cure for all occasions. What it does do, however, is add a lovely texture and depth to an already decent sauce, and provide that extra little element that will make your sauces taste even better. It can propel a decent pasta ragu into something that reminds you of a restaurant meal. It will make your own sauces surprise you. If that's something you're even remotely curious about, then read on.

First off: getting the bones. This is not as difficult as you might think. I went to my local butchers, and they were selling frozen veal bones for £2 per kilo. Now every butchers is different, so here are a couple of tips:

• If you can get the butcher to chop up the bones for you, ask them to cut them into 3" slices, for stock. Veal bones are often bigger than this, and the knuckle bone, which is the best for stock, is very big so try to get the butcher to cut them down to size for you. If the bones are frozen, like my butchers, they probably won't be able to do this, but don't worry about it - big bones are ok, smaller ones are just more convenient.
• If you have the space in the freezer, get a lot of bones. It's much easier to keep them at home rather than go back and forth everytime you make the stock. And once you've made it, you will almost definitely want to do it again.
• If you get frozen bones make sure they are completely defrosted before you start cooking.

Next thing is getting a big enough pot. To make stock you need to have a couple of inches of water over the bones, and if you've got larger bones this can be a bit of a problem. Ideally, you want a tall 10-litre stock pot or something similar, and you can find these for fairly cheap online as long as you only want to use them for making stock or soups. In my case, I just used my biggest le creuset casserole pot, which holds about 8 litres. You'll also need a strainer, a clean cloth, and a second pot.

So you've got the bones and you've got the pot? One last thing then: do this on a rainy day when you don't need to leave the house. It doesn't require a lot of attention, but it takes around 10 hours to do, so pick a sunday when you're lounging around the house and you're good to go. On to the recipe:

Sunday Roasted Veal Stock

1 kilo of veal bones, cut into smaller pieces if possible
Sunflower / Vegetable oil
Tomato Puree
1 white onion, medium diced
2 carrots, medium diced
2 bay leaves
2 cloves garlic
Black peppercorns, lightly crushed
Bunch of fresh parsley, coarsely chopped
Couple sprigs of fresh thyme
A whole lot of water

Pre-heat the oven to 200 degrees C. Lightly oil all the veal bones and place them in a baking tray/roasting pan large enough so that they're not too crowded. Roast them for 30-45 minutes, turning once, until they are a lovely golden brown colour. Make sure not to burn them!!

Take the bones out of the oven, and smear tomato puree all over them (a silicon spatula is great for this). Shove the bones back in the oven for about 20 minutes, or until the tomato puree starts caramelizing and getting darker.

When they're ready and smell amazing, transfer the bones to your big pot. Chuck in the rest of the ingredients, and then cover with water. You want to make sure the bones are covered with at least a couple inches or so of COLD water, more if possible. Never, ever used hot water when making a stock as this will cause the stock to turn cloudy. Cold water ensures that all the fatty proteins forming in your lovely stock will rise to the top and be easier to skim off.

Heat the stock on a medium flame until it starts to simmer - do NOT boil your stock, ever. Again, this will make it fatty and cloudy, which we don't want! Once it's simmering, reduce the heat to the lowest possible flame, and let it reduce for 8 to 10 hours. Check on it every 45 minutes or so and skim off the fat and bits that have floated to the surface. Keep skimming, keep reducing.

Once you're ready, remove the bones, vegetables, and any other ingredients that are in there. Get a second pot and put a strainer with a cloth in it, like so:

Strain the stock as many times as you can stand - the more the better. I strained mine twice. At this point, you should be left with a lovely clean stock, something like this:

At this stage, you have a couple of options. You can cool the stock down and store it in the freezer for later use, or you can reduce it even more. I did both. I took a litre or so and separated into containers for use in bigger sauces:

The rest, I decided to reduce even further, towards something called demi-glace. This is basically just a fancy name for heavily reduced veal stock, combined with a reduction of red wine and shallots. I had a bottle of wine left open that we weren't going to drink, so I reduced the whole lot by half, and then added the remaining veal stock. I then simmered that for another hour or so, until it was lovely and dark and rich. I then strained that again to filter out any elements from the wine, cooled it, and poured it into ice cube trays:

This is a fantastic trick, from Julia Child I believe. You can pop out the ice cubes into a freezer/ziploc bag, and then whenever you're making a sauce, you can chuck in a couple of cubes of lovely veal stock to strengthen it. I now use this in several recipes, in fact the next recipe I'm writing up for you features it.

So after all that effort, you're probably still asking: why??? Well it's tricky to explain without tasting it for yourself, but essentially the gelatin from the veal bones gives an amazing velvety texture to sauces that flours or other thickening agents just can't match. The flavour from the bones and aromatics also fill in the blanks in a sauce, just making the whole thing stronger overall. If you've ever made a sauce that just seems to lack that final 'oomph', that bit of body that soothes the soul, then veal stock will help you on your way. It absolutely excels in any mushroom sauce, gravies, pasta ragu, or even just a quick dijon sauce for some roast chicken. It's pretty versatile, and a wonderfully handy thing to have in the kitchen. Make it once, and see for yourself.