Pork cheek ragu with Parmesan and rigatoni

As any regular readers will know, I cook with pork cheeks a lot. They taste fantastic when slow braised, and are very forgiving in terms of cooking times thanks to the abundant connective sinew which melts and moisturises the meat during cooking - plus they’re great value and freeze very well, meaning you can stock up when you see them.

They work fantastically well in a lot of different slow cooked dishes, one of which is this traditional Italian slow cooked ragu. Pork cheeks have a slightly stronger piggy taste than some other cuts which really gives some guts to this dish, with the meat shredding beautifully to create a deeply meaty, intensely flavour packed sauce which makes a feast of freshly boiled pasta.

Different cuts of meat could be used, such as a pork shoulder, shin beef, or even lamb, but don’t be tempted to replace chunky cuts for mince to save time, it won’t be the same. Run-of-the-mill spag bol this aint, and trust me it's worth the wait.

Ingredients (to serve 4-5 people)

• 8 pork cheeks, trimmed of excess fat and cut into approx 1.5 inch chunks
• 100g of diced pancetta
• 1 large onion, finely chopped
• 1 small carrot, finely chopped
• 1 stick celery, finely chopped
• 4 cloves garlic, crushed
• 1 tin peeled plum tomatoes
• 280ml of passata (one small carton)
• 1 tablespoon tomato puree
• 300ml beef stock
• Glass of red wine (approx 200ml)
• 2 bay leaves
• 3 heaped teaspoons oregano
• 1 teaspoon sugar

Making the ragu (Serves 4-5)

Start by browning your pork cheeks in a generous glug of olive oil over a medium-high heat, in an oven proof casserole dish, then remove from the pan and set aside in a bowl. Next throw in the pancetta and fry until crispy but not crunchy, then remove to the bowl with the pork.

Next add the onion, celery and carrot along with a good crack of salt to help the veg sweat out their juices. Once the veg is soft but not browned pour in the wine and allow to bubble for a minute, scraping any brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Next add the pork and pancetta (along with any resting juices) back to the pan along with all of the other ingredients, including a good twist of salt and black pepper.

Stir, cover and transfer to the oven to cook for 3-4 hours at 160*C. Once the pigs cheeks can be easily squashed with a spoon then they are cooked, so test them after 3 hours but give them longer if they need it – it’ll be worth the wait.

Once the cheeks are cooked place the casserole dish back on the hob and squash the pigs cheeks and tomatoes with a wooden spoon (or lift out and chop), before simmering uncovered to allow the sauce to thicken slightly.

Whilst the sauce thickens cook around 400g of pasta in plenty of salted boiling water - jumbo ribbons of papardelle is traditional but I’ve found rigatone’s fat tubes to work well too. When the pasta is cooked give it a very quick drain before chucking it into the sauce and combining well.

Serve immediately in large pasta bowls with a generous grating of parmigiano reggiano or pecorino romana Italian hard cheese.

Beer / wine match

A medium bodied, fruity red wine such as a good chianti would work well and is a traditional pairing, but I opted for a bottle of St Peter’s Ruby Red Ale which worked extremely well too. You need some malt character in there somewhere when pairing with tomato, but a little bit of spicy/herbal hop flavour and aroma dovetails nicely with the herbs and pork, making this beer a great bedfellow for this ballsy dish.

 

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The dexterity, diversity and range of beer

One of the things I love about beer is its diversity. Whether it's in matching to a particular food or just your mood, there is always a beer to suit and a flavour to match.

The range, and I suppose I mean 'range' in the vocal sense, is almost dauntingly vast when it comes to beer. From the squeaking soprano top notes of a piercingly sour lambic to the sweet and sultry bass growl of an imperial stout, beer really can do it all.

Two beers which I drank recently, within a day of each other to be exact, brought sharply into focus for me that even within one country beer is truly unique in diversity of styles and flavours.

The first was a light, almost effeminately graceful wit beer that was one of the most refreshing yet deftly executed beers I've drank all year, the second was a bruisingly powerful hop monster of an imperial IPA which balanced candy malt sweetness and wildly fruity hops in the same way that heavy metal balances drums and guitar, with everything turned up to 11.

Troublette Caracole Wit 5.5%

Pouring pale white gold with a whispy head this elegant looking beer gives off aromas of clean lemon and a hint of sour green apple alongside yeasty, spicy coriander. The flavour is supremly refreshing and light with citrus, a touch of yeasty dryness (but no hop character as such) and a faint sourness with a clean, verging on watery finish.

As it comes up from fridge temperature the fruitiness really comes out and you get that orangey spiciness so classic of Belgian wits. Effervescent and champagne like in the mouth this is superbly refreshing and balanced, adding up to an extremely drinkable beer.

Troubadour Magma Triple IPA 9%

Pouring an aptly glowing deep orange, the Magma is slightly hazy in the glass with a pure white head and perfect carbonation. The aroma is really quite unusual yet completely fantastic, with a huge smack of fresh peach followed by boozy orange liqueur.

The flavour doesn't quite live up to that stunning aroma but its still pretty damn good, with a precarious balance between Belgian boozy heat, orangey hops and candy malt sweetness which tips more and more towards sweet booze as it warms. Don't get me wrong though, the hops are there and alongside intense fruit salad there's a peppery bitterness which sweeps in at the end to clean things up.

So there you have it. Two very different beers, which both deserve your attention, but shout for it in very different ways.

 

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Franco Manca, the best pizza in London and the best I've ever eaten

I've fallen a bit in love with Brixton Village, the indoor market that is home to some of London's most exciting foodie spots, all under one roof. I've been to four different restaurants within the walls and I've been impressed with each and every one, but it's a humble little pizza place that really stands out.

Franco Manca. Frequently cited as the best pizza in London it was somewhere I've been meaning to give a go ever since moving 'darn sarf'. Well, quite simply, it was the best pizza I have ever eaten.

A slowly risen sourdough base, blackened and charred round the crisp yet chewy crust, topped with really high quality ingredients that were fresh and vibrant tasting thanks in no small part to the extremely short and sharp cooking time (an insane 40 seconds at 500*C to be exact).

I went for the daily special which was topped with a beautifully flavoursome finocchio (fennel seed) salami, sweet peppers and a moist, gently smoked mozzarella. The star of the show for me though was Colette's pizza, which was strewn with soft spicy chorizo as well as a second, firmer variety which turned nicely crisp, giving a fantastically well balanced flavour and texture to the pizza.

Both pizzas were sparingly smothered in a rich, fresh tomato sauce and not overloaded with cheese - the down fall of so many pizza restaurants.

On the beer front you've got the choice of two British microbrews. I went for the Green Devil pale ale, which was more like a hoppy lager really, but nice all the same, and a good, unobtrusive match for the pizzas.

Prices are also absurdly good, starting from £5.90 for a fresh basil margarita, to £6.85 for the chorizo and £7.50 for the salami pizzas we had.

What are you waiting for? Go.

http://www.francomanca.co.uk/pages/brixton.html


P.s. as with (I think) all the restaurants in the Brixton Village market, Franco Manca don't take reservations so expect to queue at peak times (but at least you're queuing indoors). Once seated service is snappy though.

 

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The Ribman's Backyard Keg Party, Merchant's Yard, East London

'The Ribman' is a London street food vendor known for making what are possibly the best pork ribs in the capital and dishing them up stripped from the bone and served in big and squishy brioche buns. He's also known for making some of the best hot sauce money can buy - but currently demand far outstrips supply.

So in order to fund the purchase of a space to produce his infamous Holy Fuck Hot Sauce on a larger scale The Ribman launched a Kickstarter project to raise funds, the aim? To raise £10,000 in a month. Only, after 4 days that target was smashed and a new one of £15,000 was respectively announced and then suitably dispatched.

This Saturday was the celebration event put on for the project's backers plus their mates, and what a party it was. We had pre-ordered a keg of Camden's truly excellent unfiltered USA Hells, which was waiting for us upon arrival - by a reserved table and suitably chilled I might add - what more could you want?

It's a beer which has loads going on but which you can drink all day - not too bitter, not too heavy, but crisp, floral and citrusy with a perfectly weighted body of unfiltered pale grain.

It was also stonkingly good value, working out at roughly £2.40 a pint, which for central London is pretty much half price. Served via an American-frat-party-style pump it was also pretty fun to be able to pour our own beer all afternoon.

To soak up that excellent beer we ate rib meat tacos, which were a collaborative effort from The Ribman/Ambriento teams and baby back ribs from Dukes Brew & Que and hot dogs from somebody else I can't recall - it could've been Big Apple but I'm not 100%. All were pretty awesome, but it was those tacos that really stole the show. Tender pork rib meat, beetroot slaw, salsa verde and Holy Fuck Hot Sauce, combined to create a proper little firework display in the mouth. Outstanding stuff.


If you want to get in on the fun then your best bet is to head to Merchants Yard any Friday over the next few months and let the Street Feast team look after you.

 

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If a beer is to your tastes does it matter if it's 'to style'?

I wrote recently about how much I liked the branding of this beer and the idea behind it. But what does it taste like?

Well it tastes very good, but I'm not sure it's a black IPA like that wonderful label would suggest. But does that matter?

The aroma is hot black irish coffee and sweet, boozy orange liqueur. Quite a lot of alcohol in the aroma but it smells good, though not the most floral 'black IPA' I've ever smelt. And therein lies the slight problem for me.

Yes the taste is a big beautifully bitter porter, but for me it lacks the fruity hop flavour that makes the best black ipas really sing. Its also not too heavy in the body and with that clean and bitter finish it drinks way below its weight and is gone before you know it.

So honestly, stylistic geekery aside, this is a lovely beer which opens up to reveal loads of rich coffee flavours spiked by leather, tobacco, and a dry white pepper finish.

Which in itself is interesting enough. So does it matter if it isn't really a true to style 'black IPA'? (whatever the hell that is).

My vote is for no.

 

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The Sebright Arms Homebrew Project

Now this is an interesting idea.

The Sebright Arms Homebrew Project is a fancy name for a simple yet excellent idea - effectively a string of collaborations with specially selected brewers who come and brew something exciting on the pub's nano sized kit.

The first beer out of the blocks is Pure Evil Black IPA, a collaboration between the Sebright Arms and the excellent Redchurch Brewery, with stunning label art provided by local artist Pure Evil.

I couldn't make the launch of the beer last night but the lovely chaps at the pub sent me over a bottle to try anyway, which is pretty nice of em, and what a bottle it is! Just look at that label.

This sort of forward thinking, beer-incorporating-art type stuff can only be good news for beer in my eyes - especially when it comes to attracting new, younger drinkers to the world of good beer.

Most importantly, The Sebright Arms is an East End pub that recognises, along with a string of other bars across London such as the Exmouth Arms near Russell Square and the Black Heart in Camden, that you don't have to be housed in a disused portacabin and serve exclusively cans of Red Stripe to be cool.

Oh, and I can't wait to see what this little beauty tastes like, but more on that to come....

 

 

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My ultimate chimichurri steak sauce - paired with Kernel Pale Ale

Remember me? Things have been a little bit quiet on here of late. A new job and a move down to that-there-London (in my line of work it was almost inevitable) has meant the blog has fallen by the wayside, but I've been spurred into action by a stonker of a dish that I really want to shout about.

The star of this post is my take on the classic Argentinian sauce-for-steak-or-other-grilled-meats, chimichurri. Essentially a sort of south American pesto, the key ingredients of this sauce are fresh parsley, garlic, salt and olive oil, but my version also includes a finely chopped red chilli, dried oregano and red wine vinegar.

Served spooned over a flash fried or barbecued steak it is quite simply stunning. The parsley infused olive oil just works so well with the charred edges of the meat and the heat of the raw garlic and chilli, combined with that little bit of vinegar, cuts right through the fatty richness of the steak. It's one that really needs to be tried to be believed. (I ate it with rump steak and some cous cous cooked with chicken stock and chickpeas).

It goes without saying that your steak should be aggressively seared then well rested.

How to make the chimichurri

To make my chimichurri (this makes enough for two decent sized steaks) finely chop two cloves of garlic and a large sized medium heat red chilli, then add to a pestle and mortar along with a good grind of coarse sea salt and grind to a smooth paste. Next add a good pinch (about half a teaspoon) of dried oregano, one tablespoon of red wine vinegar, one of cold water, three to four tablespoons of good olive oil and a good handful of finely chopped curly parsley.

Stir to combine and season to taste before leaving to infuse and meld for half an hour or so. It should be fragrant, salty and have a nice bit of heat in the aftertaste, but shouldn't blow your head off. No one flavour should dominate.

The beer match

There are some big flavours in this dish so you can go fairly big with your beer choice too - A hop forward beer works well with fresh chilli (not so much with spices) but you also want something with just a touch of malt sweetness to sooth out the heat.

I went with a fruity, juicy yet bitter Kernel Pale Ale Columbus and it worked really well. The citrus and pepper of the hops dovetail nicely with that chilli and garlic, but there's also a fresh almost grassy side to the beers flavour profile which works well with the parsley and olive oil.

The beer match was good, the steak sauce is amazing. You have to give this one a try for your next BBQ.

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On finding favourite pubs: The tricky second visit

Finding a new favourite pub is a funny thing. Often the reason you like it so much isn’t something you can easily put your finger on, as it can be as much about the overall feel of the place, or the memories of time spent there, as what’s on offer in terms of drinks or surroundings.

Some of my favourite pubs are, on the face of it, a bit crap. The King’s Arms on the riverbank in York, aka ‘The Pub That Floods’, springs to mind. A Sam Smith’s pub with a single boring cask offering and a decidedly mixed clientele doesn’t add up to much on face value, but when I’m sat with a cool pint in the sunshine, with legs swinging over the high (but obviously not high enough) river walls, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.

Other pubs, like the The Exmouth Arms near Kings Cross and Russel Square in London, have a much more obvious appeal and seem to tick all the boxes. Well chosen, well kept, well served beer from around the UK and further afield, a well stocked beer fridge with plenty of big sharing bottles and a short, sharp pub grub menu executed with an awareness of current trends (posh American junk food) all add up to create my sort of place.

Last time I was in there I wolfed down one of the best pub burgers I’ve ever eaten. High quality beef served ever so slightly pink, with pickle, mustard and a little topping of pulled pork, all served in a properly shiny n’ squishy brioche bun - Washed down by glass after glass of great beer.

We worked our way through the draft offerings and onto the bottles, wobbling away towards King Cross some hours later, catching the last train home.

But thinking about it on the train afterwards, there was something I liked about The Exmouth Arms which went beyond the great beer and food, it was the sheer normal ‘pubbiness’ of it. People were there to enjoy a few drinks and the company of their mates, not to tentatively sip a third of an uber-rare beer while scribbling notes. The excellent beer and food was secondary to the atmosphere and enjoyment of the place, just as it should be.

But here’s the problem, I’ve only been once, and I’m certainly of the opinion that you need to visit a pub a fair few times before you really make your mind up about it. Was it love at first site with The Exmouth Arms, or a fleeting fling?

Only my visit this Saturday will tell.

 

 

Photo from the excellent Travels with beer

 

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Successes in ageing beer

I've banged on before about keeping hoppy beers in the fridge and drinking them fresh to preserve the hop flavour and aroma in the beer. But not at all beers need to be drunk fresh, and in fact some benefit greatly from being laid down in a cool place to slowly mature and develop over months or years, like (cliche alert) a fine wine.

Fullers Vintage Ale is brewed specifically with ageing in mind and is probably the most famous and readily available example, but there are others out there which either specifically recommend ageing, or by their style certainly lend themselves to it. Beers with big flavour and high abvs such as Imperial Stouts, Barley Wines, Strong English ales and even some big IPAs can all age wonderfully.

One beer which is certainly brewed to be aged is J W Lees Harvest Ale, a beer with a thickness and sweetness of body that has to be tasted to be believed and which seems to get better and better over time. The bottle I opened recently was brewed in 1999, meaning it has had 14 years in the bottle. Yet it was in fantastic condition and poured with a thick head that stuck around and a carbonation that was soft yet present, perfect for the style.

The combination of high alcohol content (11.5% abv) and intensely malty backbone, combined with that long slow ageing, give the aroma notes of brandy, musty wooden barrels, boiled brown sugar, caramel, and toffee.

The taste is thick, liquid bonfire toffee, molasses rum and caramelised banana alongside brandy soaked raisins and malt loaf. Rich, fruity, and delicious. A really huge mouthfeel and slick, chewy toffee finish has just a hint of spicy bitterness, that leans more towards fruitcake than herb or citrus.

It's a barley wine like no other I've tried and a truly surprising and impressive beer.

As well as this Harvest Ale, and the aforementioned Fullers Vintage Ale, one beer which I've found really improves with age is Stone Imperial Stout. Drank fresh it is a bit of a bruiser, with the super aggressive hopping giving the beer an intense bitterness which for me slightly gets in the way.

Give it a few years in the bottle though and that bitterness falls away from an upfront pine resin smack, back towards bitter dark chocolate - This combines much better with the body flavour of the beer and creates a more rounded coffee and chocolate flavour.

There's still enough bitterness to keep things in check but the beer is more rounded and balanced, and certainly has much more of what I'm looking for in an imperial stout.

So, where have you had success with ageing beers? Or equally, where has it not worked? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

 

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The best dish I have eaten in a very long time

I was lucky enough to be dining in Naga in Kensington recently for our anniversary. It's a stunning looking restaurant with a reputation for great food that sounded right up the missus' street ( I was right).

We ate a lot of good food - tempura soft shell crab, fillet of beef stir fried with black beans, spring onion and chilli, black cod perfectly cooked and smeared in a sweet yet savoury orange miso paste - but of everything we ate there was one thing which stood out above all else, and it's that which I would like to focus on.

As seems to be the case with many an Asian menu they royally undersell the magic of a dish with its description (my two favourite dishes at Leeds' best Thai restaurant, Thai Aroy Dee, are 'pig leg with rice' and 'shrimp paste rice'), and the same was true at Naga. I'd not even considered this unassuming dish until it was recommended to me by an enthusiastic member of staff.

Duck and watermelon salad. It sounds so innocent doesn't it?

What it actually is, is the single best dish I've eaten in a very long time. The duck itself is of the slow cooked crispy variety, ah la duck pancakes, but done to such a high quality that you get meltingly tender meat and crispy skin in every mouthful.

The duck is then complimented by great bunches of Asian herbs (Thai basil, coriander and mint), chunks of refreshing watermelon, as well as slithers of cucumber, red chilli and a sweet and salty dressing which pulls the whole thing together.

The dish is just so perfectly balanced between salt, sweet, umami (the duck) and the refreshing, cleansing juice of the watermelon. It's a masterclass.

http://www.nagarestaurants.co.uk

 

Oh, the beer? They sell Tsingtao and Beer Lao, but that's hardly the point.





 

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