Roast lamb & chargrilled vegetable terrine - a leftovers triumph

As you know, we had roasted a huge - nay, mahoooosive - leg of lamb for our Sunday dinner.  With  stringent portion size control in place, we had rather a lot left over - which we had planned for, as it's not every day you spent £10 on a piece of meat.  Or perhaps I should say, it's not every day we spend that on meat!  So we'd planned to make at least one more meal from it - and more than one would be a bonus.

Naturally, we had thought of all the classic uses for leftover lamb such as Shepherd's Pie, braised lamb, lamb curry etc., but we wanted something that would make the most of the flavours we had introduced to the meat and also something that would do justice to the quality.  All these suggestions, although perfectly viable, just weren't hitting the proverbial spot with us.

We went through all the North African flavour combinations - tagines, couscous recipes, kebab-type combinations, but all these just added extra flavours to the meat, rather than capitalising on those that were there already.  It was a real brain-teaser!

Whatever shall we make with this lot?

I was trying to "think outside of the box" as they say, and from hot recipes suddenly went off on a tangent into salad recipes - and struck on terrine.

Now I hadn't a clue how to make a terrine, other than those that I've seen made on t.v. - which ranged from really easy to "oh my god, how did he do that?".  However, we both liked the idea instantly, we just needed to work out what we could put in the terrine with the lamb and what we'd use to stick it all together, rather than cook it again.

I had been intending to make a small batch of lamb stock from the roasted bones and it occurred to me that if I reduced the stock down to intensify the flavours, then added gelatine, it might answer the problem of what to use as "glue".  The stock would have to be very reduced though - and I'd need to be careful about how much gelatine to use, as stock made from bones can jellify when cold anyway.  I also haven't had a good history with using gelatine, as the last attempt resulted in my using eight leaves for one pint of a fruit concoction, which stalwartly refused to set.

Now that is a work of art

In pondering on what vegetables we had in the fridge as suitable bedmates for the lamb, it dawned on me that we had half an aubergine and a pack of asparagus looking for a home.  Now if you were to say either "aubergine" or "asparagus" to me, my instant response is "griddle pan".  Char-grilled vegetables.  Oooh yes!  Whilst imagining the combined flavours of the lamb with the vegetables, it occurred to me that we would need something to give a sweet note to the whole - perhaps some sweet red pepper.  I had a quick think through the larder cupboard for ideas and remembered a few semi-dried prunes - sliced finely, they would be perfect at lending that shot of sweetness, too.  So, ultimately, the only thing we had to buy in order to make the terrine, were some baby peppers to chargrill for an additional vegetable layer.  As a use for leftovers, this was evolving into something of a triumph.

The slow cooker took care of making the stock - I left it on overnight.  I had to close the kitchen door, though, as the smell of the stock cooking always gives me nightmares, bizarrely.  Into the stock pot went the bones and all the yukky but flavoursome bits, plus two plums (well, why not?), an onion, a carrot, some parsley and some swede, along with a good dash of sea salt & black pepper.

We drained the stock in the morning (once it had cooled down a little) and remembered to catch the liquid and throw away the solids - yes, I have done the reverse on one spectacularly dopey occasion.

Then whilst I chargrilled the aubergine, peppers and asparagus, the stock was put on to reduce.  I reckon we had about 700-800ml to begin with, which I reduced down to 250ml.  I stopped reducing once the flavours had reached a certain level of intensity that I felt would stand alone amongst the meat and vegetables.


There was a bit of lull in the action then, as the vegetables needed to cool completely and I couldn't add the gelatine to the stock as I needed it to be runny at assembly time.


So, once the kitchen was clear again that evening, I spent a happy hour or so building the terrine.

So proud - so pretty - so edible looking!

Firstly, I re-heated the stock, adding the gelatine, then cooling it all down again by sitting the pan in some cold water.  I didn't want to be adding hot stock to cold meat, especially as we were planning on eating the whole thing cold.  Safety first!

Of course, you have to think upside down when creating a terrine, as you'll be turning it out - and you don't want to have to turn it around, to find the pretty side!  I also lined the loaf tin with a layer of cling film which not only helped when it came to turning it out, but was a godsend when it came to carving.

First in, was the asparagus, curved side down.  Then, in between each halved stick, was a tiny sliver of prune.  Then, a layer of chopped lamb.  I then spooned into the tin enough of the stock to just under the surface and pressed the contents down with the back of a spoon.  Next was a layer of red and orange pepper, then more lamb, then more stock, then more pressing.  Next was a layer of aubergine, lamb, stock and pressing.  I was running out of both lamb and room in the tin by this time.  So I put in the few asparagus spears that were left, plus a few slivers of prune and finished it all off with another layer of aubergine.  All that was left to do was to pour in enough stock to just under the final layer, another firm press with the back of the spoon - and wrap it all up.  Into the fridge it went and I spent the next 18 hours worrying that it would either fall apart, or not set, or taste disgusting.

First thing the following morning, I had to have a look.  Oh happy day - the gelatine had set!  Cautiously, I turned the tin over and the terrine fell out into my hand (something else you couldn't do without the cling film!) - and held together.  Oh my goodness, but it was pretty!  (Well, as pretty as a lamb terrine made with dark brown stock can get!).  I slid it back into the tin and felt better.

I served the terrine as two slices accompanied by a salad made with lamb's lettuce and rocket, cherry tomatoes, red pepper, cucumber and radish along with some baby beetroots that had been marinated in rosemary and raspberry vinegar.  I dressed the salad leaves lightly with a honey/mustard dressing and we ate it with slices of baguette - although I very quickly found that the baguette was superfluous and the terrine was delicious eaten just with the salad.  Son & heir wasn't feeling very confident about whether he'd like the terrine, but even he (who really dislikes chargrilled vegetables) had to concede that it was flipping lovely.  You could still taste the cinnamon, fennel and citrus flavours that had been put into the lamb during the roasting - all of which had been helped no end by using stock made from the bones - and the chargrilling of the vegetables was delightful beside the earthy lamb.  The high points in flavour were the slivers of prune, which were just an inspired thought, plus the dressing on the salad which gave a palate cleansing burst of tanginess when you had had enough of lamb.  Every mouthful delivered a different combination of flavours and it was impossible to get bored with it.

So, the lamb itself provided three main courses in its roasted form.  We then ate three more main courses from the terrine, plus three lunches and a sandwich from the last few bits that didn't go into the terrine.  Add in to that the stock - and I think we made best use of our £10.


ROAST LAMB & CHARGRILLED VEGETABLE TERRINE

Ingredients :

A good quantity of leftover roast lamb, diced
half an aubergine, sliced quite finely
four mini red/yellow peppers, stalk removed, quartered and de-seeded
150g asparagus spears, halved lengthways
3-4 semi-dried prunes, cut into fine slivers
olive oil
sea salt & freshly ground black pepper
300ml good strong lamb stock (made from roasted bones, if possible)
5 sheets gelatine.

Method :

1. Presuming your stock is reduced and ready to have gelatine added (if not, you'll need to reduce it before you reach this stage), heat up a griddle pan.  In a bowl, add a handful of veggies and sprinkle with a little olive oil and seasoning.  Griddle until softened, then lay on a plate to cool.  Repeat these steps until all the veggies are cooked and cooling.


2.  Once the vegetables are completely cold, drop the five sheets of gelatine into some cold water to soak and become flexible.

3.  Heat your stock through and, just before it boils, take it from the heat, squeeze the excess water from the gelatine and add to the stock.  Stir well to ensure that the gelatine is dissolved and well combined.


4.  Cool the stock quickly by sitting the pan in cold water and stirring.  You will feel the gelatine setting as the mixture cools, so remove it while still tepid.


5.  Line a loaf tine with some cling film - sufficient to fold over the top once filled - and start to build your layers.  Begin with the layer that is going to be seen on the top - I started with some asparagus and prune.  Add a layer of the lamb meat, then spoon in just enough stock to just under the surface and press down with the back of the spoon until flat.


6.  Build your next layer of vegetable, followed by meat, followed by stock.  Press down.


7.  Continue in this way until the tin is full or you run out of ammunition to fill it with!


8.  Before wrapping, give the tin 2-3 sharp taps on the work surface, just to encourage any air bubbles up to the top, then flatten the surface and fold the cling film over to seal.


9.  Place into the fridge overnight, to set.


10.  To serve, carve with a very sharp knife and with the cling film still in situ as this helps to keep the whole lot together and prevent any one layer sliding off on its own.  It is an easy matter, once cut, to remove the cling film.


Printable version


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Making gorgeous stock using your slow cooker

One turkey carcass all cuddled up with its veggies, ready for stock making

As mentioned in a previous posting, once I'd taken all the meat from the Turkey's bones - and I do mean ALL the meat from the bones, no leaving half of it there "because it's too difficult to pick out", I went over it with a fine toothcomb! -  my next job was to make some stock with the carcass.

Now, once upon a time, I used to put the chicken carcass into the big old stock pot with vegetables etc., and boil it on the cooker top.  Then it occurred to me that I had a slow cooker - so why not use that?

So I used to leave the slow cooker on overnight, on low, and decant the stock the following morning.  Right up until I realised that it was the smell of the stock cooking that gave me nightmares!  Real technicolour ones with stereo sound, too.  Not just any old nightmare, but the ones that would leave you out of sorts for the following day.  It wasn't good.  I tried shutting the kitchen door, but the smell wafted out all the same and every time I closed my eyes - nightmares.

Hence, there is now only one way to make stock - to pop the carcass into a freezer bag and store it in the fridge, then make the stock the following day.  No nightmares, lovely stock.  Every one's a winner.

So, whenever you decide to make your stock, this is what you do :

STOCK (Turkey, chicken, beef, lamb, veal - you name it, it'll work)

No! Take the meat off, first!

1.  Take your roasted bones - in this case, a Turkey carcass, and place it in the slow cooker.  Now, I always use all the yukky bits too - but if you're after a clear stock then you need to leave the skin and wobbly bits out.  I throw anything that isn't immediately edible into the stock pot, including the skin, as I feel that it gives the stock extra depth and as I'm not in a restaurant, nobody's going to care if the stock isn't clear!

2.  Add to the slow cooker some, or all, of the following :


- a carrot, unpeeled but with the top and tail trimmed, then cut into four sections.
- an onion, peeled and quartered.
- two garlic cloves, unpeeled, put under the flat of a knife and whacked so that they split.
- two sticks of celery, washed and trimmed - but include any leaves that are on the bunch.
- a bunch of parsley - approx 25-30g, including the stalks.
- at least a teaspoon full of freshly ground black pepper.
- a large pinch of sea salt.
- a bay leaf.


You can be creative with your stock's flavourings, by including such things as Star Anise, Cinnamon, chillies, mustard seeds, black peppercorns, lemon zest, a quartered apple (good for pork stock), but always bear in mind what you're going to be using it for.  For instance, if you're going to want to make a vegetable soup, you won't be wanting lemon zest in there.  If you're going to be making gravy to accompany a pie, you probably won't be wanting Star Anise, with its oriental tones.

Equally, as regards vegetables, you don't want to include things like potato or parsnip, which are likely to disintegrate and cloud the stock.

3.  Once everything is in the slow cooker, pour in enough water to almost cover the contents.  For instance, with a chicken, I'll usually be able to see the breastbone rising above the waves.


4.  Switch it on, to "Full" and leave to cook for 2 hours, then switch it down to "Low" and leave it to cook for however long you want it to (it's unlikely you'll forget about it, as the lovely smell will keep on reminding you!).


5.  When the liquid has taken on a good colour, turn the slow cooker off and give the contents a good old compress with the back of a ladle.  This helps to break up the carcass and release all the lovely flavours.


6.  Place a sieve above a big bowl and slowly pour the stock into the sieve, which should catch any bones or vegetables that fall out of the slow cooker.  Try, as much as possible, to not create a tidal wave as you pour, as it is so much harder to control - and you don't want your kitchen floor to be awash.  In fact, I usually put the bowl and sieve into the sink before I start to pour - just in case.


7.  Before you remove the sieve, give the contents another compress with the back of your ladle, just to squeeze all the available stock from it.


8.  Then, taking two old carrierbags, decant the contents of the sieve into one, then place that in the other and either out onto your compost, or into the bin.


9.  It is very well worth your passing the stock through the sieve one more time, just to make sure you've caught all the lumps - and don't tip the sediment into the bowl of stock.  It just helps to keep the stock as clear as possible.


10.  Next, decant the stock into a large jug (or if you haven't got one, keep it in the bowl) and cling film the top.  Put it in the fridge to cool - and the fat will set on the surface.


11.  (Usually the next day)  Take a spoon and carefully separate the fat from the surface of the stock and discard (into the dog's bowl, is a good place).  Don't be dismayed if your stock has jellified - this is a very good thing and is caused by the gelatin in the bones.

The end result - worth every minute!

12.  You're now ready to decant your stock into smaller containers to either go into the fridge and/or freezer.  I usually find that I've used the stock long before I need to worry about how long it has been in the freezer - but a month should be fine.


Try making gravy with a roux base and your stock - I guarantee you won't have tasted such a great gravy in a long time.

In fact, the gravy I made to accompany the Turkey that we had been sent by Knorr, was so good that it didn't require any input from the Knorr Stock Pots that they'd also sent.  I felt quite guilty about that - but on the other hand, it said a lot for the quality of the stock I'd just made!


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Bournemouth Echo "Jenny's Week" blog : Easter Sunday lunch : I'm getting better at it!

The Bournemouth Echo have posted my newest blog, so at last I can tell you all about the Easter Sunday lunch!

The following post can be seen in situ here

It’s not so much that last Easter Sunday’s lunch was a disaster (in truth, I can’t remember last Easter!), but more thinking back to the last time I cooked for anyone other than immediate family, it was a long, hard old slog.

I’d arranged for my parents to come over on Boxing Day last year.  I wanted to have a special celebration dinner, so I’d been cooking for a couple of days previously and the cooking on the day seemed to take FOR EVER.  I can remember pots steaming on the cooker top, me sitting peeling quail’s eggs for what seemed like an aeon and hubby washing up the pots as quickly as they appeared, only to have them dirtied again in a second.  It wasn’t chaos, but it was very close to it.

A rather hurried and particularly poor, snap of the assembled dinner!

So, when I invited my parents over for Easter Sunday lunch, I resolved that this time I’d learn from the previous time’s lesson – and not over face myself.

I’d decided, fairly early on, that we’d have a piece of pot-roasted brisket of beef, as not only is that gorgeous, but it almost guarantees a piece of tender, flavoursome beef with the added bonus of some lovely stock with which to make a superb gravy.

Hubby placed a request for another of the Ottolenghi Fennel & Cherry Tomato Gratin, and I decided to do some Boulangere potatoes, as I could prepare them ahead with the Gratin and both could go in the oven and be forgotten about until they were done.

The accompanying vegetables went from steamed curly kale, through tender stem broccoli to what we settled upon, which was stringless runner beans (because they’re forgiving to cook) and some British asparagus – because if you can’t eat asparagus at such a time as Easter, when can you?

The preparations began early on Sunday morning, when I seared the Beef almost before I’d had a cup of tea.  Through bleary eyes I turned it this way and that, making sure every side had a good colour, whilst trying not to get in the way of the exploding fat.  Having made a complete mess of the cooker top, I chopped up a couple of carrots, a leek and some celery, bashed a couple of garlic cloves, added a handful of fresh parsley plus some dried sage and crumbled in an oxo cube to a stockpot full of water.  Into its bath went the piece of brisket (with some seasoning), on went the lid and I sat and waited for the whole lot to boil.  Once it was boiling briskly, I turned down the heat to the minimum required to keep the pot simmering – and went for that cup of tea.

A little while later – and in a much improved frame of mind – I set to on the preparation for the two oven-bound dishes.

Half-way through, just added crumble & tomatoes

First thing was to make some crumble for the Ottolenghi fennel dish.  That done, I was able to use our Mandolin food slicer (after a cautionary word from hubby about how having to go to Casualty at that stage would seriously put the dinner back) to slice up the three fennel bulbs and the potatoes for the Boulangere.

The finished article - ready to be served

The fennel gratin is true testament to the magic that Ottolenghi brings to their dishes.  Cooked with garlic, thyme and cream, the fennel stops tasting like fennel and tastes utterly different.  With the sweet crumble on top, together with the oven-roasted cherry tomatoes, every mouthful takes on a character all of its own.  It’s a gorgeously rich but light, creamy but crunchy, sweet but sharp delightful flavour and texture combination.  I heartily recommend it to you!

The Boulangere potatoes couldn’t have been easier to put together, now I’d got the Mandolin to help out.  Previously, the long old process of attempting to slice potatoes to even thicknesses – and all without cutting your fingers off – would have been enough to make me think twice.  However, with the Mandolin I just pop a peeled spud into the holder and slice away knowing that my fingers are safe from harm and lovely evenly sliced spuds await.

Just butter the baking dish and add sliced onion & chopped garlic in layers with the potato.  Pour over just enough stock to keep everything moist, add the obligatory knobs of butter to the surface and cover over until you’re ready to put it in the oven.

As for the fennel dish, it can be prepared up to just before the adding the crumble stage, whereupon it will wait, covered, until you’re ready.  Then just add the crumble and pop in the oven.  You just need to remember to put the tomatoes on top somewhere near the end of cooking, so that they will be baked nicely.

After that, it was just decanting some of the stock from the beef pot to make the gravy and preparing the beans & asparagus.

I’m really not sure I did manage to carve the meat – it just sort of fell apart, rather than stayed in lovely carved rounds.  However, it was deliciously unctuous and beefy – and went so very well with the lovely horseradish cream.

Yes, I think I got this one right.