Supermarket scavenging

It's remarkable what you can sniff out at the meat counter in the supermarket if you time your run. In Sainsbury's yesterday I managed to purloin 3 sirloin steaks for £4.50 (down from £20/kg to £.650!), a kilo of sausages for £2 and a lamb neck fillet for £1.80. The trick, I believe, is to rock up a couple of hours before closing, when they are really just trying to fob off any meat that will be past its sell-by in the next couple of hours.

I had never tackled lamb neck before, but was aware that, like squid or octopus, it's a case of either fiendishly hot, quick cooking, or long and slow. Anywhere in between and you will end up with something akin to a handbag in texture. In spite of giving the meat a good rest, I was still a wee bit alarmed by how rare it was, as in my book, lamb is best served medium to medium well done, having the tendency to be chewy if served too pink. Yet the neck was incredibly soft and tender and, sat lazily on a bed of pearl barley, with the zip of vinegary roast beetroot to lift this rich and frugal supper, was a very successful foray into the latest and trendiest 'cheap cut'.

Lamb neck fillet with pearl barley and roast beetroot

Serves 1

1 large beetroot
A few thyme leaves
Cyder vinegar
Olive oil
Tin foil

1 tablespoon chopped shallot
A good handful of chopped parsley
80g pearl barley
50ml red wine
500ml hot chicken stock

A 300g lamb neck fillet
A little red wine and stock

Preheat the oven to 200C.

Quarter the beetroot or cut into chunks. Place on a large sheet of tin foil, drizzle with vinegar, olive oil and thyme leaves and season with salt and pepper. Wrap up in the foil and roast for 45 minutes. Allow to cool - this only needs to be served a little warm.

Meanwhile, soften the shallot in a little oil with salt and pepper. Stir in the parsley and pearl barley and add the red wine. Simmer for a minute or two, then add the stock. Simmer gently uncovered for an hour, stirring occasionally.

Season the neck fillet with salt and pepper and rub with olive oil. Get a heavy-based frying or griddle pan smoking hot and add the lamb. Fry for 4 minutes on each side, remove to a warm plate to rest for a good 10 minutes.

Add some wine and stock to the frying pan and scrape up all the lovely caramelised juices. Slice the lamb thickly and serve with the pearl barley and beetroot, drizzled with the remaining cooking juices.

Fish and Chips

Are there two happier words in the gastronomic world, honestly? I'm not suggesting this would be my final meal, not by a long shot. Roast chicken remains firmly at the top of that list, followed by, I suppose, roast lamb in some form or other, or a beautiful, quivering tarte a l'oignons, with buttery pastry that crumbles in the mouth. Or perhaps a steaming bowl of pasta, the noodles hugged generously by a rich ragu, a snowdrift of Parmesan on top might be a worthy last mouthful.

It's just that there is something completely and wonderfully naughty about fish and chips. Maybe it's our culture of instant gratification, but I think the lines run deeper. As a young boy we'd go every Saturday to Drakes in Ripon (though the slightly further Southgate Fisheries was always superior), and I remember the drive home being utterly interminable, the waft of vinegary, crisp batter and slightly soggy newspaper making my tongue do a little jig all of its own, as if warming up for the heavenly onslaught that edged ever closer. Later, when in my teens, I'd spend August driving a tractor for Dad during harvest, often late into the night. When this was the case he'd pitch up at some point in the evening clutching that paper parcel of joy and a can of Tetley's. Reward for hard work. Fish and chips remains, in my eyes, the last bastion of completely acceptable British fast food.

It must be the association of hard work with fish and chips that led me to making some yesterday. I'd been in the library most of the weekend and needed some relief. There's actually a chippy nearby in Clifton that I haven't ventured into yet, but I felt doing it myself would be lighter, cheaper and, well, better. Incidentally, does anyone know the chippy I mean? It's round the corner from the Quadrant on Princess Victoria Street....let me know if it's any good. (I have since been. It's bloody awful).

Trout and chips with crushed peas and parsley

Serves 1

2 medium spuds
2 medium trout fillets
1 egg
2 heaped tablespoons plain flour
A good handful of peas
1 tablespoon freshly chopped parsley
Lemon
Salt, pepper, paprika and oil

Cut the potatoes into wedges and bring to the boil in a pan of salted water. Simmer until cooked (15 minutes or so), drain. Heat a couple of tablespoons oil in a frying pan and add the wedges, frying on each side until golden. Remove from the pan and keep warm in the oven.

Put a small pan of water on the boil for the peas. Season the flour with salt, pepper and a tiny bit of paprika. Beat the egg. Dip the fish into the egg, shake off a little, then toss in the flour, again shaking off the excess. In the same pan that you fried the spuds in, add the fish, skin side down. Fry for 3 minutes on each side. Meanwhile, boil the peas for 3 minutes. Drain, add the parsley and season with salt and pepper. Gently crush with a potato masher.

Dry the fish on kitchen paper and serve with the chips and peas, and a good squeeze of lemon.

Stuffed fillet of pork

I cannot tell you how frustrating it is to let this thing slip again, but unfortunately I have been under the academic kosh these past couple of weeks so any gastronomic scribing has had to be put on hold. My new year's resolution was actually to keep a food diary - scribblings of recipes and recipe ideas, and magazine cut outs of foody stuff. What is it with starting things and not carrying them through? I'm sure I'm not the only one.

Lent is not a time for abstinence, but instead for making everyone feel thoroughly rotten about their failure to stick to their lenten fasts. That said, I'm doing OK. My theory (and it was one shared by the chaplain at school) is that, because lent is actually 47 days long, once a week you can let it slip. So since lent began I have allowed myself two beers, which is not bad going....My parents cut out the booze altogether except for Sundays, Dad going so far as to fast during daylight hours. Nutjob. I'd be interested to hear people's reasons for lenten deprivation - I would gingerly suggest that most of them do not do it on religious grounds, but health. It certainly seems that the vast majority abstain from chocolate, or crisps, or cigarettes. It's a good moment to do it - less indefinite (and thus absolutely no chance of sustaining) than a new years resolution. Let me know how you're getting on.

And what of the new, dairy free life? It's really not all that bad. Well, I say that, I probably dream about cheese or butter in one form or other about 5 days a week, but, rather like when you give up smoking, it is in the context of horror when you dream you've relapsed. Last night I made the first dairy free mash potato, using rapeseed oil instead of butter and milk, and it was really good. When pushed through a ricer, the mash is incredibly smooth, and the oil gives it an interesting texture. Definitely thumbs up. Similarly soya yoghurt - with honey and granola, it is an excellent breakfast. The only thorn being that my blood test results arrived, telling me to avoid sesame seeds and nuts. If anyone has a good homemade granola recipe that I could tinker with, fire it my way - jteramsden@hotmail.com - thanks.

This recipe errs towards restaurant-y, but in a pretty homely way. It doesn't feel too heavy, and is remarkably easy.

Stuffed loin of pork with swede and parsnip bubble and squeak cakes

Serves 4

For the bubble and squeak
A small swede
2 parsnips
1 small savoy cabbage
For the pork
1 shallot or small onion
2 flat field mushrooms
1 tablespoon freshly chopped parsley
1 apple
A little cider vinegar
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 fillet of pork, trimmed of any excess fat
6 slices of prosciutto
100ml cider
100ml hot stock
Salt, pepper and oil

N.B. If you're allowed, I'd recommend adding butter to the bubble and squeak.

Kick off by peeling the swede and parsnips, chopping into chunks and bringing to the boil in salted water. Meanwhile, finely slice the cabbage and steam or boil until tender, drain and blanche in cold water. Once the root veg are cooked, drain and mash thoroughly, or ideally whizz up in a magimix until smooth, adding butter if using, and lots of salt and pepper. Mix with the cabbage and allow to cool (they hold their shape better this way).

Preheat the oven to 200C.

Peel and finely chop the shallot and soften in a little oil. Finely chop the mushrooms and add to the pan. Increase the heat and stir for a minute or two until the mushrooms start to soften. Grate the apple into the stuffing, add a dash of vinegar and the mustard. Stir through, season, and take off the heat.

Lay the prosciutto slices out alongside each other, overlapping at the edges. Lay the thicker half of the pork fillet over the ham and pile the stuffing on top. Fold the other half of the pork over the top of the stuffing, and wrap up tightly with the prosciutto. Tie up, if necessary, though the natural oils in the prosciutto should act as a glue. Heat an oven proof-frying pan over a lively flame with a little oil, and quickly brown the pork on all sides, before popping in the oven for 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, shape the bubble and squeak into cakes. After 20 minutes are up, remove the pork to a warm resting plate, and put the pan back over a medium flame. Add the cider and stock and simmer for 10 minutes or so, scraping any caramelised meat juices off the pan. Meanwhile, heat a little oil in a non-stick frying pan over a medium heat, and fry the bubble and squeak cakes for 4 minutes on each side.

Slice the pork and serve with the bubble and squeak and a drizzle of gravy.