Truffled tuscan sausages with polenta, braised fennel and gremolata

Walking into the Italian deli near my office in King’s Cross is to be transported to the scene in Goodfellas where they are cooking in prison. The store is run by an Italian version of the most charming version of Arkwright from Open All Hours, who has never failed to be a gracious an inspiring host. He will make you enormous sandwiches cut from whole loaves of ciabatta laced with freshly sliced cured meats and cheeses, moistened with a healthy slick of olive oil; or more conventionally he’ll send you packing with genuinely Italian ingredients and delicacies that will stink your office out for the afternoon, before transporting your family to an Italian holiday when you get home from work.

Inspired by a colleague who had come back with a truffled pecorino, I popped in for some KC Continental magia. My head was almost blown off by the smell of truffle as I walked in. But alas the cheese had sold out. But true to form Arkwrightioni sent me packing with some amazing truffled sausages from Tuscany. These puppies positively wreaked of truffle and almost had all the dogs in our office howling like deranged wolves. There’s something deeply primeval about truffles and I couldn’t wait to cook them.

I thought about making an Italian version of toad in the hole with loads of rosemary and a healthy dose of mushrooms, but decided that would be more suitable in autumn. I also dismissed a truffle sausage and bean stew for similar reasons. And sausage and lentil casserole suffered a similar fate. Instead, I opted to combine my amazing truffled sausages with a slick of polenta, a smear of gremolata and some braised fennel.

Ingredients

6 truffled Tuscan sausages from KC Continental Stores

3 bulbs of fennel

2 large onions

300g of frozen peas

2 glasses of white wine

400ml of chicken stock

200g polenta

50g grated parmesan

3 garlic cloves

100g butter

1 pack of parsley

4 sprig of thyme

Method

Make the gremolata by very finely chopping the parsley. Then douse in olive oil and squeeze in a lemon’s juice and add some of it’s finely grated zest. Season aggressively.

Brown the sausages in a casserole dish and set aside.

Then brown the onions and fennel until golden. Then add the garlic. Then add the wine and let the alcohol bubble off.

Then add the sausages and 100ml of chicken stock. Add the thyme. Allow to simmer until the sausages are cooked through.

Meanwhile make the polenta according the packet instrucions. I used chicken stock rather than water which worked well. And then beat in lots of parmesan and butter.

Add the peas to the casserole. Let them cook through. Season everything.

Then serve with a good dollop of mushroom. And a glass of very cold white wine. We probably should have had a Tuscan white… but instead we had a dry German Riesling which worked very well indeed.

Pigs Cheek Sausage Rolls & my Dream Pub Food

This is a more fuss free version of the Piggy Cheeky Wellingtons I made.





Cook your pigs cheeks the same way by gently cooking overnight in a low oven. Let them cool then trim them lengthways so they are thinner and more suitable for sausage rolls.





Give them a little smear of mustard and then wrap them in puff pastry. Bake for 15 minutes until the pastry is browned and serve with some mustard and a pint of beer.



The meat melted and the pastry crunched. They are cheap. Delicious. Easy. And divine. Without question, these are the best sausage rolls ever - Ginger Pig included.

Just thinking about pig cheek sausage rolls has made me want to own a pub specialising in serving imaginative bar snacks that use cheap bits of meat. We’d have Scotch eggs on a par with the Harwood Arms, pork pies that make Helen’s look average and pigs cheek sausage rolls that make you wonder why you ever visited the Ginger Pig. And all for a couple of quid.

We’d also make biltong from ox cheek and serve chitterlings to unsuspecting drinkers. Imagine how tasty chicken oysters would be encased in a thin dumpling? And the bliss of tucking into a platter of bourbon glazed short ribs. Ramekins of hare pate would be a doddle. Pork belly confit would be a favourite. Just thinking about deep fried skate knobs makes me feel weak at the knees, ankles and toes.

And what’s wrong with doing a range of larger more tapasy type dishes of pigs cheeks in cider and cream? Or slices of slow cooked ox cheek with smoky mash?

If you’ve got any ideas for imaginative pub bar snacks let me know and we’ll start a pub together!

Mince Pie and Brandy Butter Sausages

Bonkers. But delicious. The suet from the mincemeat, along with the butterfat make these sausages very moist, whilst the fruit and the brandy give them a sophistication that helps to elevate them out of the novelty category. Given that Santa and his band of merry reindeer have buggered off for the rest of the year, they also make a great way of using up any leftover mincemeat.



Start with a 60/40 mixture of minced belly and shoulder. Add two big spoonfuls of mincemeat and a spoon of brandy butter. Then add a glug of brandy. Mix together with some salt, pepper and breadcrumbs until the consistency feel sausagey.

Then pump into some natural casings and leave to rest overnight. Create mini links and serve to unsuspecting friends as mini mince pie sausages on the end of cocktail sticks.



We ate these after a long walk in the frosty Somerset countryside with a cup of tea. To my delight the idea turned out to be far less hair-brained than I had feared. The sausages were moist, sticky, full of festive flavour and universally approved of. The stewed fruit led Cowie to think they tasted like Devils on Horseback. So if you’re keen to use up your mince meat the last dregs of brandy butter, spare them the pastry treatment and ram them inside some pigs intestine.

Gareth from Bibendum suggests quaffing some rich Alsatian Pinot Gri with these, whereas Fiona thought they’d go down a storm with Tawny Port or off-dry Amontillado.

Top photo is from kyz on Flickr via creative commons.

This is part of a series of posts about experimental sausages and a potential sausage-fest

Apple and Bourbon Sausages

Ever since I cooked bourbon glazed pigs cheeks I’ve been gagging to explore the unchartered waters of cooking with bourbon. It seems swine and bourbon have a natural affinity. So much so that a bar called PDT in New York even make a cocktail with bacon and bourbon!



This sausage recipe is very simple. Take your 60/40 mixture of minced belly pork and shoulder and add some salt and a few turns of freshly ground pepper. Then add a finely chopped apple such as a Cox. Then add a double measure of bourbon. I used Maker’s Mark, but you could use Jim Beam. Given that I work with the nice folk at Beam Global, there’s normally a drop or two floating around in the office. To finish the mix add a handful of breadcrumbs and a dollop of mustard. Since making these Londoneating has made the inspired suggestion of adding a touch of maple syrup. It seems a dose of sugar is quite a common technique in sausage making. Apparently it helps the sausages to caramelise.



Then set the gears in motion and fill your casings. Leave them to rest overnight in the fridge. These sausages are wonderfully comforting. They are great cooked in a glaze made from soy, mustard, honey and bourbon and served with a giant pillow of celeriac mash, some buttered spinach and lashing of left over marinade-cum-gravy. Just like the pigs cheeks below.



Or if you are feeling more patriotic, do something more British, such as a toad in the hole with a bourbon based gravy. Cowie's Mum, who is an expert at making all things battery and British, whipped this up without a recipe. But if you need one, why not sneak a peak at Delia. The key thing is to get your dripping nice and hot before hand and get ready to eat it as soon as it comes out of the oven, otherwise it might flop.



Grog-wise, Gareth from Bibendum suggests slucing these down with a bottle of New World chardonnay whereas Fiona thinks a medium cider would do the job as it links back to the apples.

This is part of a series of posts about experimental sausages and a potential sausage-fest

Homemade Chorizo Sausages

I adore chorizo. I even thought about writing a blog dedicated to the joys of eating it. I don’t know what I see in its smoky, spicy, sweet, fatty, salty flavour profile that makes it impossible for me to resist.

My version of chorizo is a very homemade version. I thought long and hard about whether to even call it chorizo given that it is pretty ersatz. Whilst Brindisa shouldn’t be shaking in their boots, it still tastes pretty good!

Mingle your 60/40 pork belly and shoulder mince in a bowl and season heavily with salt. Then in a frying pan sauté a finely diced onion until it softens. Then add 3 cloves of garlic and 2 dessert spoons of the best picante smoked paprika you can get your hands on. The onions and garlic will instantly turn red and the air will transform into a hellish cacophony of chilli fumes with a hint of tapas bar. One the powder has been assimilated into the onions tip it out into the pork mixture. Then pour a small glass of wine into the pan and deglaze. Add this to the pork.

Next, finely chop as many chillies as you’d like and add them to the mixture. I then added a handful of finely chopped Pepperdew peppers, but this is optional. They add a lovely red colour that lingers throughout cooking as well as a sweet note to combat the abrasive spice.







Add a handful of breadcrumbs and then “sausagify” them. Leave to rest overnight.

Then serve for breakfast with spicy scrambled eggs as a take on huevos rancheros. You’ll love the way the spicy red oil mingles with the eggs. It’s one of the best ways to start the day I’ve ever come across.





Alternatively, they would also be great in a classic butter bean, charred pepper, chorizo and passata stew, with some crusty bread and a bottle of Malbec or Rioja as suggested by both Gareth and Fiona. Although maybe not for breakfast!

You can see from our cat’s reaction that these are special sausages!



This is part of a series of posts about experimental sausages and a potential sausage-fest

Fennel, chilli and chocolate sausages

Chocolate sausages?! Has Browners gone completely mad?

Pork goes well with chilli...

Pork also goes well with fennel...

Pork and chocolate is a combination that you’ll stumble across throughout Latin and South America...

So why not combine it all together?

The warmth of the chilli, the aniseed flavour of the fennel and all round depth from the chocolate build up to create a sausage that’s up there with my favourites.

Make your sausage meat using the 60/40 belly to shoulder ratios as I’ve mentioned elsewhere. Season liberally with salt. Then grate a generous amount of Willy’s Wonky Cacao into the mince. Then sprinkle with chilli seeds and finely ground fennel seeds. If you’ve got some fresh chillies to hand then finely slice them and add to the mix.

To continue the South American theme, Ancho chillies would work well, but if you wanted a smokier flavour then why not experiment with Chipotle chillies which are hard to get your hands on, but well worth the effort.



Mix it all together with some breadcrumbs and then extrude into some natural casings. Leave to rest in the fridge overnight and then serve for lunch along with some buttery mashed potato, iron rich greens and fennel gratin. The chocolate helps to give them depth, whilst the main sensation comes from the fennel and chilli, both of which are very grown up flavours.

As an adventurous alternative make a Mexican mole and serve with the sausages with some rice.



Gareth from Bibendum recommends drinking a bottle of Primitivo with these bangers, whereas Fiona the Winematcher suggests wolfing them down with some New Wave Tuscan red.

This is part of a series of posts about experimental sausages and a potential sausage-fest

Sichuan Sausages

Earlier in the year I had an inspirational meal at Chilli Cool. Having never had Sichuan food before, I was oblivious to the narcoleptic charms of Sichuan peppercorns which not only set your mouth on fire but numb it at the same time. I left feeling invigorated and keen to dabble with Sichuan pepper.

So I invented my own Sichuan sausage recipe. And would you believe it, the sausages are amazing. Here’s how you make them.

Mince a 60/40 mix of pork belly and pork shoulder. For 6 sausages throw in a handful of breadcrumbs. Then, in a pestle and mortar, grind 3 dessert spoons of Sichuan peppercorns to a fine dust. Add them to the pork. Then slice up a spring onion and add it to the party. Grate a whole thumb of ginger into the pork along with a a couple of cloves of minced garlic. Then sprinkle in a generous amount of chilli seeds and then as much Chinese 5 spice as you think seems right. Season with salt, or for added authenticity some MSG.



Mix the pork and spices together and then feed into sausage casings. Allow the sausage to rest for a few hours before cooking as this will allow the meat to settle and relax after the trauma of the sausage making process.



Amazingly a few wires got tangled up in the Brown kitchen and we landed up serving them with Brussels’ sprouts and carrots! The winter vegetables admirably stuck to their task. It prompted one of the funnier moments over Christmas when my Grandfather, who isn’t a fan of spice, said, “I don’t mind about the chilli because my mouth has gone numb”. There was something deeply surreal about the whole experience. And this odd situation allowed us to concentrate on the flavour of the sausages which whilst taking no prisoners, were a spectacular success.

My plan had been to take inspiration from "Dan Dan Noodles" (see photo above courtesy of scaredy_kat on Flickr via creative commons ) and cook them in a liquor of soy sauce, chillies and stock and then serve them with noodles and pak choi. They would also be great without their casings as meat balls in a Chinese broth. If you’ve got any suggestions about what to serve them with, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

And if you are thinking what wines would go well with a Sichuan sausage, then Gareth from Bibendum suggests drinking Argentine Bonarda and Fiona the Winematcher suggests a New Zealand Pinot Noir.

This is part of a series of posts about experimental sausages and a potential sausage-fest

Christmas Sausage-Fest

The journey towards becoming an accomplished sausage maker is strewn with challenges. For such a humble thing they take a lot of work, not unlike Danni Minogue’s face. But like Danni, the effort is definitely worth it.

After my first sausage post I got some fantastic suggestions for sausage fillings. Many thanks to all of you who chimed in. It was a real thrill to get such great feedback and suggestions. I particularly like the idea of fennel and chilli and another idea which suggested using chocolate.

The other comment that got me thinking was about the fat content. Our first round of sausages had been moist and juicy, but they could have held onto their fat better. Some of the girls out there probably think lean sausages is a good thing. But they’re wrong. Much of the flavour is held within the fat itself, so when it leaks out the sausages become bland and too meaty. The way to remedy this I discovered is to use a balanced combination of better breadcrumbs and using a higher ratio of pork belly to lean shoulder.

The other way to ensure you don’t waste the fat that leaks out is to surround the sausages with things like tomatoes and mushrooms which are brilliant at absorbing the “juices” and becoming incredible flavour bombs. Our breakfast sausages are a case in point.



Having subsequently read a bit more about sausages in Country Life magazine, I’ve discovered that the best way to cook sausages is to gently fry them. Charles Campion suggests that this allows them to cook through evenly and helps them to retain their moisture. When you’ve gone to such effort making your sausages, you’ll feel very protective over how they are cooked.

Inspired by everyone’s suggestions I spent the festive period experimenting with a range of interesting flavour combinations which I will post over the next week or so. The highlights include:



Sichuan pork with Chinese Five Spice, ginger, garlic, spring onions and chilli



Fennel, chilli and chocolate sausages



Chorizo



Apple and bourbon sausages



Mince pie and brandy butter sausages

They all worked out brilliantly, but I was especially pleased with the mince pie and brandy butter sausages which could have been a complete disaster. I will never tire of sausages, but I got the impression that another enforced week of experimental sausage consumption wouldn’t have gone down that well. I will post the recipes for each sausage type and the best things to eat them with over the next week or so...

But in the meantime, if you are keen on a “sausage fest” where we experiment with making different flavoured sausages and have any ideas of venues etc. leave a comment. It would be great to host a sausage party!

X Rated Sausage Making

“Laws are like sausages, it is better not to see them being made.” Otto von Bismarck

Good old Otto. Being a German he knew a thing or two about making sausages. Enough to know that sausage making is one of the most graphic things to do in the kitchen. It’s a sure fire way to push someone over the edge from being a happy go lucky meat eater to a raving vegetarian. And I'm sure there is a gag in there featuring Bill Clinton, but I haven't found a way to squeeze it in.

Cowie gave me an amazing sausage making machine for Christmas two years ago. But until recently it remained in its box collecting dust. I lugged it from London to Bedford in its wrapping paper, before opening it up, driving it to Somerset and then meandering it back to London. Once in London it moved between 3 houses as I played musical beds and has now travelled full circle back to my parents’ house. I could start a new blog, charting its progress, called Around Britain with a Sausage Maker and write it in the style of Chaucer. Or maybe not.

I spent a fantastic weekend back at home with Oli and Ed where we were supposed to build a pizza oven but got sidetracked by the weather. So we decided to make sausages. We went to our amazing local butcher called Browns of Stagsden and bought a pound of pork belly, the same amount of pork shoulder as well as a length of natural casings.

"Sausage making expert Oli" (in MasterChef voice over), convinced us to keep our sausages fairly straight forward with a pinch of sage, a smattering of apple and a damn good seasoning with a double handful of dried breadcrumbs to soak up the fat and stop them drying out. It proved to be very wise advice.

First of all, discard the instructions. They’re probably written in German anyway. Then assemble your sausage making apparatus taking care not to use the biscuit making function. (Whoops!). Grind your pork into a beautiful pink mince.



Finely dice your apple and shred your sage.





Then combine the lot, including the breadcrumbs and season the hell out of it. And then give it some more seasoning. A good way of checking the flavours are well balanced is to form a mini pattie from your minced pork concoction and fry it as if it was a burger. Then give it a taste and adjust the flavours and seasoning accordingly.

Then switch the apparatus so that the blade is removed in favour of a funnel. I challenge anyone to not burst out laughing as they perform the next task of attaching the sausage casing to the funnel. It’s like you’ve suddenly become a medieval prostitute engaged in some sort of bizarre futuristic fetish. Ed managed with aplomb.







Tie a knot in the end of the casing and get pumping. Moderate the speed of the machine to stop it turning into some sort of Disney cartoon disaster featuring a burly dog and a guy in a butcher’s apron. Twist the meat into links and voila. Perfect sausages. Otto would have been proud.



We left the sausages in the fridge overnight to rest and then devoured them with a poached egg for one of the most memorable breakfasts I’ve had in years.



I’m now planning to make a batch of sausages on Christmas Eve and then give them to friends and family as presents. I’m keen to experiment with some interesting flavour combinations. So if anyone has any suggestions please let me know. Sichuan pepper sausages is top of my list at the moment.

If you want to find out more about making sausages check out www.sausagemaking.org

Tiroler Hut

If you are looking for a rowdy, raucous and rambunctious place for a birthday party look no further than the legendary Tiroler Hut. Its policy of allowing diners to swap any dish on their £25, 3 course menu, for a shot of schnapps says everything you need to know.

Having not heard of The Tiroler Hut before we visited for a friend’s birthday party I mentioned it to a few friends. Most stared blankly. The ones who had been giggled nervously as foggy memories of a heinously debauched night came flooding back to them.

Unusually, we arrived not only early, but first which gave us time to settle into the cabin like underground bar area. The entrance is discrete, a bit like how I imagine a brothel’s entrance might look like. And you walk gingerly down a well-trodden staircase into a subterranean bunker. Having not yet entered into the spirit we sipped our gin and tonics and practiced our German, ja. Or is it ya?

Once our party had arrived we switched to enormous steins of lager which are little short of being my mortal enemy. Not being able to burp in normal situations isn’t really an issue. But when you’re wolfing down litres of beer it becomes a life threatening disability!

In a jolly mood we took up our position at the centre of the dining area on a long table overlooking what later turned out to be a stage/dance floor. I can safely say that the menu must be most girls’ idea of hell. It’s rammed full of sausages, meat, fondues, battered this, deep-fried that and puddings that compete to have the highest energy density statistics.

Most of the lads by-passed starter opting instead for a liquid livener. I regretted taking the direct route through the centre of town with my just defrosted prawn cocktail. But at least it gave me some fishy ballast. The girls clubbed together and ordered for each other which resulted in them all being served a single sausage garnished with half a cherry tomato and a quarter of a lettuce leaf. The presentation of the slightly curved sausage as a smiley face was a work of genius. Apparently the sausages were delicious. Others had platters of cured meats which sadly weren’t made into smiley faces.



Next up the girls were all served a platter of 4 sausages each! Rich. Oozing with garlicky fat. And o so phallically presented! As the booze started to wreak its merry havoc the sillyness kicked in. If you want to have a laugh serve girls a shit load of booze, and then a platter of kinky sausages. And then observe. Luckily, the sheer quantity of sausage was too much for the girls and the boys greedily scavenged the delicious, if slightly seedy leftovers.





I had a pork schnitzel that is still repeating on me 3 weeks later. With the appearance of cardboard it just compounded my inability to burp! My telescopic fork allowed me to sample a smidgen of tepid goulash whichwas actually pretty good, if you don’t mind a bit of gristle. My apple strudel left me concerned for the welfare of Australia as the legs of my chair started to buckle as I tucked in.

I only wrote about the food because it’s fun to take the piss. The whole point of the Tiroler Hut is the boozey, eccentric atmosphere that has made it one of the best places in London to have a party for the last 40 years.

Half way through our meal we were treated to a rousing arpeggio by the, lederhosen clad, owner on the bells! Gobsmacked by his musical talents several diners were invited to join in the cacophony.

By the end of the evening several other diners had belted out some impressive renditions of Eton John and Elvis tracks. And some not so well. There was dancing. There were speeches. And more importantly there were smiles, laughter, grins and split sides by the stein load.

Happy Birthday Jen. I can’t wait for your next party. Have a look at the belltastic video below to get a feel for what I've been wittering about.



Thank you Rad for the photos and video.

Butternut Squash and Goat's Cheese Risotto with Harissa Sausages

Feeling a bit creative at the weekend after the macaron class, I decided to create something fun and seriously savoury to counteract the mega sugar hit from the macarons.

I made a very straight forward risotto with a shallot and lardon base and a "stock" improvised from anchovy essence, mushroom ketchup, soy sauce and boiling water. Whilst I was stirring the rice, the butternut squash was roasting in a coat of olive oil and salt and a couple of cloves of garlic with their jackets on.

In an adjacent tray my sausages were sizzling in a rose harissa glaze. Crisping up and emitting a spicy, Middle Eastern aroma.

I'm not going to go into the details of cooking sausages and a risotto! So you'll just have to take my word for it that the combination worked brilliantly. Especially with a watercress and radicchio side salad dressed with a touch of balsamic vinegar. I can seriously recommend smearing sausages in harissa paste. It works like a dream





Just the sort of spicy, meaty, sauvory antidote I needed given my massive macaron induced blood sugar spike.

Banger Brothers, Portable Porkers

I felt a bit peckish as I strolled up Portobello Road after feasting my eyes on books in Books for Cooks, thinking about the beef shin back at home that was slow cooking in preparation for tonight's lasagne.



Banger Brothers is essentially the sausage version of Gourmet Burget Kitchen. They serve a range of 7 sausages:

Number 1: British Banger

Number 2: The Cumberland

Number 3: The Hot Dog

Number 4: Outstanding Spanish Chorizo

Number 5: The Polish Smoky One

Number 6: The Lamb Merguez

Number 7: The Meat Free Sausage

And more excitingly still, their chips are sensational! Especially when accompanied by a very naughty, thick, Belgian mayonaise that sneaks out of their pump station.



I opted for the Lamb Merguez, which was very tasty indeed. Slightly spicy, very meat and boosted by a cooling cucumber yoghurt sauce. Top class banger! But I feel like I missed out on the other 5 meaty sausages that I overlooked. Especially the Chorizo fella that smelt and looked incredible.

My only word of caution is, watch out for sauce dripping out of the bottom of your roll all over your crotch. I got some seriously dodgy looks all the way home!

I'm looking forward for my next excuse to viist Notting Hill so I can get stuck into the rest of their range. It's got a great personality and you really get a taste for how passionate they are about their pork!