Confit Garlic

Garlic is one of the things that makes my life complete. I eat it practically daily in one form or another, crushed raw into salads and small plate type things, cooked gently into the base of braises and stews, tossed with abandon into roasting trays with meat and all kinds of vegetables, beaten to a paste with salt to stir into fresh mayonnaise, slivers crisped to golden for an unexpected crunch in salads, flipped through noodles and stir fries, mashed into butter and cream cheese for garlic bread. You get the idea - the list goes on....

It is used in most cuisines around the world with the exception of subgroups like Jains who don't do garlic or onion, carrot or potato either - which would leave me thoroughly discombobulated. It is surprisingly complex in flavour depending on the cooking methods, just adding to its brilliant versatility.

I thought I'd tried pretty much every permutation until I came across the idea of garlic confit. Mostly I tend to associate confit with duck and leave it at that but it is a much broader and well loved method of preserving that can also be used with fruit and vegetables and, though I've not tried this at home, is apparently just a fabulous way to cook any kind of animal tongue, larks included presumably.

Confit duck warmed in the oven to serve

This makes sense because to confit you submerge the ingredient in oil - or sugar syrup for fruits - and slow cook it making for a very tender result with no appreciable loss of moisture or flavour. It is a really seductive way to prep your duck legs for the winter as the longer they sit untouched on the pantry shelf the more tender the flesh becomes till it really does just melt in your mouth.

The same is true of garlic, I'm pleased to say. I bought a LOT of garlic and cooked it down and have spent the last few weeks adding garlic oil to everything, mashing confit cloves into salad dressings and, undoubtedly my absolute favourite, toasting ciabatta and topping it with confit and salt crystals for the most decadently fabulous garlic bread ever invented. Melt a little cheese on top for variation. Try it - you'll thank me!

Confit Garlic

3 or 4 juicy heads of garlic
Olive oil to cover

Break the garlic into individual cloves, peel them and drop them into a small saucepan. This looks like a pretty daunting task before you start but is remarkably quick once you begin.

A bit of a mess!

Pour over just enough olive oil to cover the cloves and put the pan over a low heat. Bring to a simmer, turn the heat as low as it will go, and cook for 45 minutes.

Take the pan off the heat and, using a slotted spoon transfer the softened garlic cloves to a clean jar then pour over the oil. When the contents are cool, seal the jar and keep it in the fridge.

Use it with everything from a sauce for steamed vegetables to a base layer for pizza and slathered onto warm naan bread as a snack - it's definitely all good.

Celebration Wines and A Very Quick Cucumber Pickle

Happy Christmas! It really is that time again - how does that happen? It's a good time of year for the sociable and the greedy in equal measure, definitely something to be celebrated. I am an endless fan of the shiny and the sparkly bits of the world especially at this time of  year when most of the light and warmth has leaked from the northern world, seemingly never to return. Delightful company, luscious food and good wines are a proper riposte to winter.

I had some wines from the Loire to sample, all whites in this case though due to its enormous reach the river winds through a multiplicity of landscapes offering such diverse conditions for the cultivation of grapes that every possible style of wine can be produced.We had people we like coming for lunch Saturday to catch up before Christmas so a perfect chance to treat ourselves and share nicely at the same time.

First up was this lovely sparkly Monmousseau, not as dry as some champagnes instead with a subtle richness, was perfect with an elegant plate of smoked salmon and soda bread. I made a quick pickle of cucumber with ginger that brought all the elements together to be even greater than the sum of their - very considerable - parts.

We had a Japanese influenced duck and clementine dish with noodles as the main, which I paired with a red from Douro - different river, good wine!

Then there was my favourite wine of the day - La Noé, the name of the grape not the producer - a very fine Muscadet from Eric Chevalier. It was fresh and rich and deliciously creamy. Its subtle delicacy has won the heart of Jancis Robinson, she notes that the effect of a slow fermentation using ambient yeasts and then seven months ageing on the yeast lees has given La Noë a marked and delicious creamy texture that beautifully complements the freshness and high tension delivered by crisp acidity. Subtle, refreshing, satifying and long.

I normally serve Muscadet with fish or a light chicken dish - it always seems to work - but M Chevalier suggests too that it has the depth to pair with cheeses so we drank it with a fine stilton - it's not Christmas if there's no stilton! - and it was a very good match.

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We finished - much later - with sweet white Raisins Nobles, Jasnières 2009, gorgeous with warm mince pies but it would work too as a decadent aperitif with goose rillettes or foie gras and a garnish of pruneaux.

Most of lunch was a simple put together of bits and pieces and very little cooking involved. Mostly just the cucumber pickle, I shall add the recipe here if you are looking for something to go with smoked salmon or indeed cold pork or poultry. It only takes minutes to prepare.

Quick Cucumber Ginger Pickle

1 long cucumber
1/2 tablespoon salt
1/4 cup white wine or rice wine vinegar
1/2 teaspoon caster sugar
1/2 teaspoon  very finely grated ginger

Peel, halve lengthways and deseed the cucumber then slice very thinly. Put the slices into a colander, mix with the salt and leave to drain for about 15 minutes. Rinse briefly under cold water and pat dry with kitchen paper.

In a pretty bowl whisk together the rest of the ingredients then add the cucumber and give it a stir. Cover with clingfilm and fridge it for an hour or so before serving. If there's any left it will keep happily in the fridge for a few days.

Here's to a great Christmas and a happy 2014. Cheers!

Pot Roast Guinea Fowl with Onion Sauce

Recently I was invited to a French guinea fowl masterclass and what a fabulous evening it was.  Andy Stephenson, chef/propritor of Hallidays in West Sussex, gave a brilliant demonstration of the versatility of this wonder of the poultry world. It's been a while since I've eaten guinea fowl and it was good to be reminded of just how tasty it is.

Andy talked the group of assembled bloggers through the highlights of the bird - the simplicity with which it can be treated due to the richer than chicken flavour, low in fat it is a good source of protein particularly as the birds are raised to a high welfare standard. At the same time, with enormous skill, he demonstrated boning out and stuffing the legs with a truffled mousse, gently hot smoking the breast to be the star element of a sublimely French salad with black pudding, fried apple and toasted hazelnuts and then completed this fabulous hat trick with the balantine served atop a platter of spring vegetables with a gorgeous light cream sauce.

The following week I noticed the Ginger Pig was selling guinea fowl, not just French but label rouge from the Gers, where once we had a house, and a region well known for its fabulous poultry. Gotta be a sign! I bought one, vaguely wondering about my ability to bone and stuff the legs with mousse, but once home I set on another course. I found an English recipe of Frances Bissell's that pot roasted the bird with herbs and garlic lifted with citrus peel under the skin and finished with a cream sauce. I couldn't resist.

 Pot Roast Guinea Fowl, stuffed with herbs and garlic, with onion sauce

I do indeed mean a whole head of garlic here, but don't be afraid. The long wet cooking softens it down till it is just a deep flavour to the finished sauce.

1 free range guinea fowl
fresh herbs such as tarragon, chervl, parsley and thyme
1/2 lemon
1 head of garlic, new season if possible
55g butter
1 onion, peeled and thinly sliced
1 tbspn brandy
75ml dry white wine 
2 tbspns cream


Gently ease the skin away from the breasts and thighs of the guinea fowl, inserting your fingers between skin and flesh at the end of the bird to make a pocket between the two. Push the soft herbs under the skin as well as small tender sprigs of thyme. Pare off thin strips of lemon zest and put them into the bird's cavity, together with any extra herbs. Squeeze the lemon juice and rub it over the outside then lightly season the whole both inside and out.


Peel all the garlic and, in a deep flameproof casserole, fry them in the butter with the onion slices for a few minutes without letting them brown. Turn the guinea fowl in the hot butter till the skin is well coated then add the brandy and wine. Cover with a lid and cook in a pre-heated oven at 175C/325F/Gas 3 for about 90 minutes.


Transfer the bird, whole, to a warm serving dish and cover with foil. Pour the cooking juices through a fine sieve, crushing the remaining juice from the garlic, into a small pan and bring to the boil. Add more seasoning if necessary, cream if you like, and perhaps sharpen with a drop of lemon.


Serve with the bird.

It made a wonderful dinner that night just with mashed potatoes and rocket garnish to soak up the gravy, and cold it was the star of salad the following night. I pulled the last of the flesh from the carcass and boiled the bones for stock, then froze the lot for a final future feast from my birdy of risotto with wild mushrooms.

Chicken Chasseur

I made chicken chasseur to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day. I know, I know it's a French bistro classic, redolent of the seventies and sleek dinner parties but my recipe comes from Cookery School - the cook book from the Channel 4 series of that name currently running most afternoons. The chef is none other than Richard Corrigan, a proud Irishman and extraordinarily talented chef. The show is great - and fast becoming a secret guilty pleasure.

There is a varied bunch of people who cook with different degrees of talent/competence and he takes them through three recipes each day, basic, intermediate and advanced, focussing on one ingredient. Food writer Gizzi Erskine oversees the process, highlighting techniques and explaining processes while wearing the most fabulous collection of sixties inspired frocks. The contestants watch Corrigan's demonstration, make notes and, after tasting his perfect version, must replicate the dish within a very specific time. As they struggle and panic he visits their cook stations, offering advice, demonstrating techniques and being at times really harsh about the food being produced. This is no mythically cuddly Oirish man but someone intent on raising the skill and realising the talent of his pupils. The whole point of the show is that they must demonstrably learn. Showing off is pointless. And it's that which I find fascinating.

Last night I made my first attempt at one of the recipes from this comprehensive book. Chicken Chasseur was from the advanced section and I suspect chef would be less than pleased with the slight modifications I made which would more realistically place it in the simpler categories. I had chicken in the freezer that the butcher had already jointed for me, but then their skill is so much greater than mine and it would be a shame not to utilise it.

The next alteration was to buy dried tagliatelle rather than make my own. Thing is, I used to own a pasta machine, and it did indeed make spectacularly wonderful pasta. But I was very very very slow, so while dinner is usually lateish round ours, if it was fresh pasta on the menu it was past bedtime before dinner was served. I got better, it's true, but never fast!

The final difference was unintentional and, it turned out, not too serious. I was convinced I had a bottle of Madeira, so sure in fact I didn't bother checking till I was actually cooking. Turned out it was Marsala. Oops. The final dish tasted divine so not a disaster. So good in fact that I have a sneaking suspicion Chef Corrigan would approve.

Chicken Chasseur

Not making my own pasta meant this was ready in less than an hour, so definitely one for the midweek repertoire

Serves 4

30g plain flour
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 chicken, cut into 8 pieces
2 tablespoons olive oil
20g unsalted butter
2 shallots, peeled and cut into quarters
2 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
175g chestnut msuhrooms, cut into quarters
3 tablespoons thyme leaves
100ml Madeira
200ml fresh chicken stock
100ml passata
100ml double cream
4 tablespoons finely chopped tarragon

Place the flour on a plate and season with salt and pepper, then roll the chicken pieces in the flour.

Heat a large casserole pot and add half the butter and half the olive oil. Once hot, put in the floured chicken pieces. Cook over a medium to high heat for 4-5 minutes, until golden brown. Remove the chicken and leave to rest.

Put the other tablespoon of olive oil into the pot and add the shallots. Cook for 3 minutes until they begin to go soft. Add the garlic and cook for 2 minutes, then add the mushrooms and thyme. Cook for a further 2 minutes.

Pour in the Madeira to deglaze the pan. Return the chicken pieces and add the chicken stock and passata. Bring to the boil, then reduce to a simmer and cook for 30 minutes.

Just before serving add the cream and simmer for a further 5 minutes. Serve with tagliatelle, spooning on lots of delicious sauce, and garnish with the chopped tarragon.

Recipe extracted from 'Cookery School', brought to you by Channel 4 with recipes by Richard Corrigan. Published on the 3rd March (Penguin HB, £20)



The show is back next week if you fancy learning a thing or two!

Garlic Mayonnaise

It is spring, that loveliest of seasons. The parks turn from smudges of grey to acid green, my clematis drips with ten thousand creamy flowers and Borough Market stalls start selling asparagus and strawberries and spring lamb. Joy.

I bought my first bunch of asparagus for the season on Saturday planning for it to be the centrepiece of a simple snacking supper. I love the stuff so much I really wanted it to be extra special so I decided to make mayonnaise into which we could dip the warm green stalks. I seldom make my own mostly because it seems incredibly decadent - it is such a fabulous rich concoction that I could happily stand and eat a whole bowl with a spoon. For some reason I think that might not be good for me on a weekly basis.

But for the first of the asparagus it had to be. I had some new season garlic in the fridge, pale and delicate and a very good match for my simple supper plan. I'd bought fresh prawns as well that would be divine dipped and some lovely ratte potatoes that would make a good salad to use the remains to go with burgers Sunday night. Frugal and decadent.

There is much palaver about the supposed difficulty of making mayonnaise but it is fairly simple and straightforward, particularly if you have a whisk attachment for a stick blender. Which I do. In this recipe I use olive oil which makes for a very rich mayonnaise indeed but you could make it using vegetable oil just as successfully. The following quantities makes enough to keep you blissfully happy for a long weekend.

Garlic Mayonnaise

250 ml olive oil or vegetable oil if you want a lighter mayonnaise

4 cloves of new season garlic or 1 ordinary clove, peeled and halved

1 egg + 1 egg yolk

A few drops of lemon juice

Salt and pepper

In a small pan warm 2 tablespoons of the olive oil with the garlic very gently, and cook till the garlic turns golden, about 4 minutes. Take off the heat and allow to cool.

In a clean bowl - or a food processor - whisk the egg and yolk then slowly add the rest of the olive oil, literally a drop at a time at the beginning, whisking all the time. As it starts to thicken and become straw coloured increase the volume of oil to a thin steady stream. When you have incorporated about two thirds of the oil add a few drops of lemon juice then slowly add the rest of the oil. Season with salt and pepper.

Mash the golden garlic finely into the oil in the pan then stir it into the mayonnaise. Taste and adjust the seasoning or add more lemon if you need to.

Try and resist eating it all in one go - it will keep in the fridge for a couple of days if you have the strength of will.

Very fine with warm asparagus, fresh prawns, with chicken or ham, as a dip for crisp raw vegetables, with tuna and beans - anywhere that decadence seems good, really.

Daube of Duck with Prunes

When I first saw 'daube' on a menu for some reason I assumed it was something in pastry, rich and wintery. So when I ordered it one night for dinner in a small restaurant in France I discovered I was only partly wrong. I was served a steaming plate of food that was lovely and meaty with a good slick of red wine gravy but there was definitely no pastry involved. I subsequently found out that in fact the name derives from the dish in which it was traditionally cooked - a round ceramic pot whose lid was concave so that it could be filled with water thereby surrounding the stew with heat as it cooks in the fire. Clever.

In the village near to ours in the Gers there is a café that serves a particularly splendid menu de la region and, this being duck territory, the main course is a daube made with duck and finished with another local speciality, pruneaux d'Agen. The meat they use is from the legs and thighs, still on the bone to add depth to the finished sauce and to make a fine use of the bits of duck less popular than the breasts - the alternative is confit and there is only so much confit you can eat in a week. The red wine they use is a damned fine local 'rough red' and the addition of prunes gives it little dollops of sweetness rather than making a sugary sauce.

I have eaten this daube often and always with pleasure. So as the temperature finally dropped to wintery this week in London I decided it was worth having a go at making it at home. Starting with a recipe for beef daube I changed a few things and added some others and the end result was very good - but not as good as the one in Gondrin (yet).

Daube of Duck with Prunes

1kg/2 1/2 lbs duck legs and thighs on the bone

1 large onion, finely chopped

4 cloves garlic, finely sliced

2 tbspns goose/duck fat

2 tbspns flour

1 tbspn tomato purée

300ml/1/2 pint rich red wine

300ml/1/2 pint stock

bouquet garni

100g/4oz prunes, soaked

Start this at least one day before you plan to eat it!

Chop the duck into reasonable sized pieces - my sweetheart is a dab hand with a cleaver and he chops each joint in two - the aim is to have good sized edible pieces that are roughly the same size.

Heat the fat (or olive oil) in a large pan and seal the duck all over. Take it out of the pan and put to one side while you add the onion and garlic to the pan. Stir it around for a few minutes till it softens then add the flour and tomato paste, mixing briskly. Add the red wine and the stock and bring to the boil, stirring continuously. Add the seasoning then put the duck back into the pot along with the bouquet garni. Cover the top of the pot with a sheet of aluminium foil under the lid then bring the daube back to the boil very gently. Put the casserole into a very slow oven - gas 1 - and cook for 5-6 hours.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool then refrigerate overnight. Next day skim the fat from the top of the daube before reheating and adding the prunes.

Served with a cloud of mashed potatoes and boiled brussel sprouts and carrots, it's the kind of dinner that makes winter worthwhile.

Blanquette de Veau

Veal is a by product of the dairy industry. For dairy cows to continue to produce milk they need to calve each year. Female calves are introduced into the dairy herd to allow the herd to grow and thrive but male calves are extraneous. Slaughtered young they provide a delicate meat that is widely used in French and Italian cooking in particular. They have often been, and in some countries still are, raised during their short lives in extremely cruel conditions crated into small wooden boxes and force fed milk substitute, denied both exercise and natural light as well as social interaction with other calves. If you don't know the provenance of the veal don't buy it.

Unsurpisingly studies have found carcasses of group-housed calves were heavier than those of crated calves and with higher average daily gain and feed conversion there is better carcass conformation and carcass tenderness, and better flavor than crated calves. The meat is not as pale but in fact consumers are not looking for 'white' veal - just meat that is high quality and delicately flavoured. It is well worth searching out the best - as with all your food - and you shall be well rewarded.

Blanquette de veau is a rustic french veal dish that has been around so long that it can rightly be considered a classic. It takes simple ingredients and methods and transforms them into something luscious and elegant and one of my favourite dishes of all time. There are many versions throuhgout France. This recipe comes from 'Goose Fat & Garlic' by Jeanne Strang, a book I bought after I'd spent some time in south west France and had gone in search of local recipes. Having used it to learn how to make perfect grilled magret and a rich daube this book has become one of my favourites.

Blanquette de Veau du Carcassès

800g/(1 3/4 lb) stewing veal

1 tbspn goose fat

150ml/1/4 pt) dry white wine

400ml (3/4 pt) water

1 onion stuck with 2 cloves

1 carrot, peeled and sliced

1 leek, cleaned and white part sliced

bouquet garni of thyme, bay, parsley and rosemary

salt, pepper, nutmeg

10-12 little onions or 3 medium sized ones

250g (1/2 lb) mushrooms, preferably girolles if you can afford them, or else something tasty

60g (2oz) butter

45g (1 1/2oz) butter plus 2 tbspns plain flour (for the roux)

2 egg yolks

2 tbspns double cream

juice of 1 lemon

Trim and cube the meat. Blanch it for a few seconds in boiling water, then drain it and plunge into cold water and then drain again.

Melt the goose fat in a casserole, add the blanched veal and stir to seal. Add the wine and water, onion with cloves, carrot, leek, bouquet garni and seasoning. Quarter the onions or, if you are using little pickling ones, blanch them whole, then add them to the meat. Bring the casserole to the boil slowly then gently simmer for an hour or so, until the meat is tender.

This is a perfect point to turn it off then cover, allow to cool and refrigerate overnight. The flavour will develop beautifully.

Reheat the stew, then cook the mushrooms briefly in a little butter. Make a roux in a separate pan by melting the butter till just turning golden, stir in the flour and cook until it is biscuity in colour and aroma. Moisten it with about half a cup of veal stock from the casserole, stirring to make a smooth sauce. Bring the sauce to the boil then simmer very gently for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile beat up the egg yolks, cream and lemon juice in a bowl. When the sauce is ready stir a ladleful into the egg/cream/lemon mix and then tip the lot back into the sauce. Mix thoroughly and add to the casserole. Add the mushrooms and their juice and stir to incorporate. Check the seasoning then serve.

We had it on Sunday with plain steamed white rice and brussel sprouts and it was wonderful.

Chocolate Truffle Cake

In my mind I think I don't make much sweet stuff - and yet here's another one so I have more sweet things than soups on this site at the moment. This cake is a decadent confection of whipped chocolate on a thin rum soaked sponge base that I have been making for years. It used to be my party piece - any time I was doing a dinner party or someone was having a birthday I would whip one of these up and it would be unfailingly good.

The recipe comes from Raymond Blanc's Cooking for Friends, given to me for Christmas many years ago by my friend Andrea. Indeed she was probably there when I first made this. If not she's been present for quite a few of the subsequent ones. Raymond Blanc describes it along the lines of it being a simple and impressive dessert for chocolate lovers which is true but it is much more than that - it's brilliant too for sharing out mid afternoon. I have made this current one for the office - it is my birthday tomorrow and it is a tradition here that you must supply cake for all so they can celebrate. I don't quite know why - in Oz when it is your birthday someone else takes you out for lunch or drinks or cake and generally makes you feel special. I guess it's a cultural thing.

It turns out that it is actually many years since I have made this particular chocolate truffle cake - the lovely boyfriend was intrigued as I whipped it up because he's never had one. He's such a chocoholic cakey pig I'm surprised it's never been on the menu for him because he would love it. I'll save him a slice.

Truffière de Chocolat

50g/2oz caster sugar

50ml/2oz water

50ml/20z dark rum

2 egg whites

60g/2 1/4oz caster sugar

2 egg yolks

10g/1/4oz unsweetened cocoa powder

50g/2oz plain flour, sieved

10g/1/4oz unsalted butter, melted

100g/4oz maya spiced green & black chocolate - or use plain if you can't find it

250g/10 oz bitter chocolate

500ml/18fl oz whipping cream

Make a stock syrup by putting the water into a samll pan then add 50g caster sugar. Bring to the boil, skim off any impurities, then simmer till the sugar has dissolved. Measure 50ml then add the rum. Reserve.

Preheat the oven to 350F/180C/Gas4. To make the sponge base, beat the egg whites until they reach soft peaks, then add the sugar gradually, continuously beating. When all the sugar is beaten in, whisk in the egg yolks. Finally fold in the flour and cocoa delicately, followed by the melted butter. Pour into a lined 25cm/10" spring form pan, spread evenly to a 1cm/ 1/2" thickness. Cook in the preheated oven for 10 minutes. Remove and cool on a wire rack.

Put the sponge base back into the springform pan and, with a pastry brush, dampen it with the sugar/rum mix.

Break the chocolate into pieces and melt in a bowl placed over a bain-marie. Keep the water temperature low or the chocolate will granulate. Stir and make sure allo f the chocolate has melted. Cool slightly.

Separately in a large bowl, whip the cream. Briskly mix one quarter of the whipped cream into the cooled chocolate, then pour the mixture into the bulk of the whipped cream. Fold in gently with a spatula until just homogenised.

Pour the chocolate cream on to the rum soaked sponge base. Smooth the top. Refrigerate for at least 6 hours.

Before you unmould it run a hot cloth around the outside of the pan. Undo the pan, lift off gently, slice and serve.

Good enough to party.

Ham in Parsley Jelly

I had this great idea for lunches this week, Ham in a Parsley Jelly - Jambon Persille as it is known in France. Seemed perfect because the weather is finally properly baking hot and I liked the idea of a cool and slippery jelly with crisp fresh salad - an ideal match on a hot day.

It started so well. I bought a beautiful hock, about a kilo and a half in weight, from Sillfield Farm for £2.95 and, for 40p, a pig's trotter from Ginger Pig to guarantee a properly gelatinous stock. I was aiming for elegant but it wasn't going to be expensive. Added some parsley stalks and a few other aromatics, cooked it to perfection, set it overnight and turned it out to cut slices to put into our lunch boxes. Up to this moment it all went entirely according to plan. Then as I sliced it the jelly resisted, then wobbled and finally gave way, collapsing into a shiny little mountain of ham and parsley and jelly. Disappointed but undeterred, I spooned it into the tubs and then added crunchy sugar snaps, baby plum tomatoes, sliced rounds of carrot and cucumber and a generous spoonful of herbed cannelini beans. It looked lovely with the bright shiny rainbow of green, red, orange and white vegetables nestled against the ham. All was not lost.

But I hadn't factored in that hot bus ride from hell between home and work. It's slow at the best of times around Monument and Bank and with the heat - because of the heat? - it was slower than usual. And about 10 degrees hotter on the bus than on the street even with all the windows open because of course the heating was on because they can't turn it off which is something that really is beyond comprehension.

By the time I got in lunch was soup.

Popped it in the fridge and hoped for the best. By 1 o'clock it had reset, all the salad vegetables caught in the pale lake of jelly, flecked with parsley and herbs. It looked like a freeze frame or a still life - Disaster Following perhaps. But it tasted great - the juxtaposition of crisp and soft and cool was wonderful, everything I had hoped for when I planned this as lunch. So good in fact I will make it again - just with different expectations on what it will look like.

Ham in Parsley Jelly

1 unsmoked ham hock
1 pig's trotter, ask the butcher to split it for you
6 parlsey stalks
1 onion, peeled and halved and stuck with 4 cloves
10 black peppercorns
1 bay leaf
1 large sprig of thyme
5 tbspns chopped flat leaf parsley
300ml dry white wine

Put all the ingredients, except the chopped parsley into a large stockpot, cover with cold water and bring to the boil. Skim off any scum that forms, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook, partially covered, for about 90 minutes until the ham is cooked. Put the hock onto a plate and cover till it's cool enough to handle. Strain the stock into a bowl and refrigerate until any fat separates and sets on the surface. Discard the aromatics and the trotter.

Strip the meat from the bone and rip into small pieces. Mix with the chopped parsley and put it into a jelly mould or loaf tin that has been lined with cling film. Scrape any fat from the top of stock, then warm the stock again till it is all liquid and pour it over the meat to cover entirely. Refrigerate overnight. Next day, turn out the ham using the clingfilm and slcie to serve.

I think my mistake may have been to fill the container completely with stock even though the meat/herb mix only filled two thirds of the tin. It may have held together better if it had been denser all the way through. The collapse is really only a visual disaster - the flavour is fine!