Some of the rituals of Christmas are, for me, unshakable. The tree with its skeins of ivy and hand-painted decorations, the Kilner jars of marsala-marinated figs and apricots in the cupboard, the ribbon-decked gifts for friends and loved ones and, of course, The Feast. There must be mistletoe hanging from the doorway and holly in the hall, but I do believe Christmas moves on and many of us seek a trimmer yuletide without the gluttony and glitter of the past. What I would like is a Christmas that retains its spirit of bonhomie, thanksgiving and plenty, yet feels more in keeping with modern living. (Had things not moved on, we would still be making our mince pies with mutton and offal and drinking porter.)
I will always play Silent Night and While Shepherds Watched as I make the mince pies, despite being not remotely religious, just as I will always offer a slice of snow-scene Christmas cake to all-comers, but I am happy to tweak the food of tradition to suit a contemporary palate. A fresh, bright-tasting starter in place of a heavy soup, for instance; a smaller, more user-friendly way with the roast; a dessert that is more appropriate after a large dinner and a cake that is lighter and less sweet than the traditional. The age-old ingredients need to be present, otherwise we risk Christmas losing its soul, but they have moved on towards a less heavy feast.
I wouldn’t ever want a Christmas without the tantalising smell of a roast bird being basted, the wing tips crisping, the skin slowly burnishing to the deepest bronze. But there are other, more economical and tasty cuts that will be just as welcome. I make the most of the best of a turkey, by which I mean the rich, savoury brown leg meat, by stuffing it with potatoes and herbs and offering it with a lightly thickened gravy enriched with the roasting juices. A large leg will feed six comfortably, is easier to carve than a vast bird and leaves just enough for a round of sandwiches rather than enough meat to feed everyone for a week.
A dish of pigs in blankets, the adorable bacon-wrapped chipolatas that so admirably accompany a roast bird, is, in my book, essential. I now use pancetta rather than bacon for its crispness and insist on making twice as many as I need, knowing well the quiet joy of finding a cluster of them in the fridge at midnight. There will be vegetables, there simply have to be roast potatoes, and plenty of them, but I would be as happy with sprouts that have been tossed with bacon fat and chopped parsley as I would with the more traditional overkill of four different vegetables.
The Christmas pudding, that vast, flaming dome of booze-drenched delights, is possibly my favourite way to end a meal. Christmas without the pud would be unthinkable in this house. But many would vote for something lighter, softer and altogether less substantial after such a generous main course. A citrussy posset or sorbet perhaps, or as I have made this year, tiny panna cotta flavoured with buttermilk and a sweetly sharp cranberry and orange sauce. As festive as a paper hat but lighter, more soothing and cute as a button.
And I shall start the feast this year by offering not a pastry-wrapped roll of herb-freckled sausage meat or a garlicky dip with something bready, but a simple oyster on its shell, its flesh sparkling with a trickle of rice vinegar, chopped shallot and sweet-sour grapes. A salty-sharp and fruity tease, if you like, for pleasures still to come.
Oysters with pickled grapes
I consider a couple of oysters, served with drinks, the perfect way to start Christmas dinner. If they are to have any accompaniment at all, I feel it should either be hot and spicy or cold and piquant. The dressing below, with its dash of vinegar and sweet-sharp grapes really makes the oysters sing. The pickled grapes can be made a couple of days in advance and kept in the fridge.
Serves 6, with drinks (2 per person)
red onion 1
small, tart, green grapes 100g
white wine vinegar 5 tbsp
sugar a tiny pinch
oysters 12
Peel and very finely dice the onion. Halve the grapes, removing any pips. Put the grapes into a mixing bowl with the onion then add the vinegar and the merest pinch of sugar. Cover and leave in the fridge for an hour at the minimum, 2 if possible.
To serve, open the oysters, spoon some of the grapes and their dressing into each opened oyster and serve.
Trout tartare, toasted pumpernickel
Light, fresh and clean-tasting: my rule for any “starter” and especially at Christmas. (Too many times I have been laden down with an impossibly rich first course.) I get the fishmonger to fillet the trout. He’s better at it. Don’t be scared by the quantity of salt in the crumble. It is just what the fish and cucumber need. Tobiko and lumpfish roe are available from many fishmongers and sustainable versions are available online.
Serves 6
trout 3, filleted and pinboned
medium cucumber 1
dill 20g
pumpernickel or dark rye 100g
butter 25g
sea salt flakes 2 tsp
olive oil 3 tbsp
rice vinegar 3 tbsp
tobiko 6 tsp
lumpfish roe 6 tsp
Check the trout for any stray or missed bones and remove them. Dice the fillets into small cubes approximately 0.5cm in size, and certainly no larger than 1cm. Put in a mixing bowl in the fridge.
Peel the cucumber lightly, then slice in half lengthways and remove the seeds and watery core with a teaspoon. Cut the flesh into 0.5cm cubes and add to the trout. Finely chop and add the feathery leaves of the dill.
Crumble the bread with your fingers to give coarse textured crumbs. Melt the butter in a shallow pan, rain in the crumbs and let them crisp in the hot butter, stirring from time to time. Drain on kitchen paper. Toss with the sea salt flakes.
Mix the olive oil and vinegar, season with pepper and add to the trout. Add the golden tobiko and lumpfish roe, and toss gently to mix the dill, dressing, cucumber and trout.
Serve, thoroughly chilled, on cold plates then scatter over the pumpernickel and salt.
The Guardian and Observer aim to publish recipes for fish and seafood rated as sustainable by the Marine Conservation Society’s Good Fish Guide
Roast turkey leg with potatoes and tarragon
I make no apologies for using the brown meat only. It is infinitely more interesting – not to mention considerably cheaper – than the white. The stuffing, cubes of potato fried and tossed with tarragon and garlic, replaces a traditional forcemeat. The mushroom gravy (see below) is made using the glorious, gooey sediment from the turkey roasting tin, and once made is best when reduced for a good 15 minutes to intensify its flavour. If you can’t find chanterelles, any “wild” mushroom will suffice, or indeed a good everyday chestnut mushroom if left to become dark and bosky for a few days in a brown paper bag in the fridge. Ask the butcher, well in advance, to bone a large turkey leg for you, making sure he also removes the long, silvery white sinews too.
Serves 6
floury white potatoes 1kg
smoked garlic 3 cloves
goose or duck fat 4 tbsp, plus a little for basting
tarragon 8g
parsley 10g
turkey leg 1, boned by the butcher, sinews removed, 1.8kg (boned weight)
Wash the potatoes, then cut them into 1cm thick slices and then into 1cm cubes. Peel and very finely chop the smoked garlic. Set the oven at 200C/gas mark 6.
Warm the goose or duck fat in a large shallow-sided pan then add some of the potatoes and fry till pale gold. The best results will come from cooking them in 2 or 3 batches, no more than will sit comfortably in a single layer. Turn from time to time to get an even colour, adding a little more goose fat as necessary. As each batch is ready, transfer it to a mixing bowl.
As the last batch of potatoes is removed, scatter the chopped smoked garlic into the fat and let it sizzle for a minute over a moderate heat then add it to the potatoes. Remove the leaves from the stems of tarragon and roughly chop, then do the same with the parsley. Fold the herbs into the potatoes and garlic together with a generous seasoning of salt and ground black pepper.
Cut five pieces of butchers’ string approximately 50cm long. Lay the boned turkey leg on a chopping board, skin side down, longest facing you, and open it out flat. Position the strings vertically at regular intervals underneath the meat. You will need these for securing the rolled meat.
Slice a deep pocket in the thickest part of the meat and spread it open. Spoon the potatoes over the turkey, mostly in a thick line towards the centre of the meat. Roll it up into a thick, plump sausage securing it with the string. A helping hand will be useful to hold the edges of the meat together while you tie the string tightly.
Lift the tied turkey into a roasting tin, moisten with a little more goose fat and season the skin with a little salt. Place the turkey in a large roasting tin and cook in the preheated oven for 1 hour and 15 minutes, basting from time to time. If the skin is browning too rapidly, cover loosely with kitchen foil.
When the turkey is ready, remove the meat to a warm place, covered with foil, to rest. Pour most of the fat from the roasting tin and finish the gravy (see below).
Mushroom gravy
Serves 6
chanterelles 100g, or other mushrooms
banana shallots 4
fat from the turkey roasting tin 6 tbsp
plain flour 2 lightly heaped tbsp
hot chicken or turkey stock 1 litre
Brush any soil from the mushrooms, but wash them only if it appears absolutely necessary. Peel and finely chop the shallots. Warm 4 tbsp of the turkey roasting juices over a moderate heat, stir in the chopped shallot and fry, stirring regularly for 10 minutes or so until the shallots are a soft, translucent gold. Sprinkle the flour over the shallots and continue cooking for 3-4 minutes then stir in the hot stock. Leave the sauce at a sprightly simmer for about 20 minutes until it has reduced to about 500ml. Season with salt and black pepper as you go.
In a separate pan, warm the remaining turkey fat then add the cleaned mushrooms, turning them over lightly in the hot roasting juices, taking care not to break their delicate caps. When the gravy is of a moderately thick consistency, check the seasoning, then add the fried mushrooms and serve with the turkey (see below).
Pigs in pancetta
Pigs in posh blankets. The advantage of using pancetta is the crisp and delicate texture it takes on when wrapped around the sausages. Make lots, they will all vanish, hot or cold.
Serves 6
chipolata sausages 600g (about 18)
pancetta, thinly sliced 150g (about 18 slices)
Wrap each chipolata in a slice of pancetta, twisting the latter along the length of the sausage. Lay in a single layer on a baking sheet. Bake them for 35-40 minutes at 200c/gas mark 6 till the pancetta is crisp and the sausage thoroughly cooked but juicy within. Serve alongside the turkey.
Baked pumpkin with hummus
A useful dish to have up your sleeve. This works hot as a substantial main, but also cold. Both the roast pumpkin and the hummus will keep in the fridge for a couple of days if necessary.
Serves 6
pumpkin 1kg, skin on
olive oil a little
garlic 4 cloves, skin on
rosemary 10 sprigs
thyme 8 bushy sprigs
butter 75g
parsley leaves 10g
pink peppercorns 2tsp
For the hummus
chickpeas 2 x 400g cans
small lemon juice of 1
olive oil 150ml
Set the oven at 200C/gas mark 6. Remove the seeds and fibres from the pumpkin then cut the flesh into 8 wedges. Lightly oil a baking tin (I cover mine with kitchen foil for easier cleaning) and lay the wedges in a single layer. Tuck in the garlic cloves. Season with salt, black pepper and the sprigs of rosemary and thyme then moisten with olive oil. Dot the butter in small lumps over the pumpkin and roast for 45 minutes until the squash is golden-brown in colour and the texture is soft and fudgy.
For the hummus, drain the chickpeas and bring them to the boil in deep water. Turn the heat down and let them simmer for 8-10 minutes till thoroughly hot.
Squeeze the roast garlic cloves out of their skin into the bowl of a food processor. Drain the chickpeas, then tip them into the food processor. Add the lemon juice and process, pouring in enough of the oil to produce a soft, spreadable cream.
Chop the parsley and pink peppercorns together then moisten with a tablespoon of olive oil.
Spoon the hummus to a serving dish, place the roasted pumpkin on top then scatter the parsley and peppercorns over all and serve.
Quince pies
Tarts, actually, if we are being pedantic. (Which I’m sure we are.) The filling is a soft and syrupy preserve, what is known as a spoon sweet. Scarlet or amber in colour, depending on exactly how long you cook your quinces for – they are fairly robust and can take anywhere from 40 to 75 minutes. More softly set than a jam, and something to eat with plain yogurt or ice cream. I like the quince variety spooned over ricotta or with a chalky-white goat’s cheese. When baked in their little pastry cases, the preserve firms up slightly as it cools. You could serve them, two per person, as a dessert, with spoons of crème fraiche.
You will need a 12-hole tartlet tin, each hole about 7.5cm diameter.
Makes 12
For the filling – makes approximately 2 x 500g jars
water 1 litre
granulated sugar 500g
large lemon 1
cloves 6
cinnamon stick 1
star anise 2 flowers
quinces 900g
For the pastry
plain flour 150g
butter 80g
egg yolk 1
chilled water a little
To make the quince filling, pour the water into a deep-sided saucepan add half the sugar and bring to the boil. Cut the lemon in two and squeeze the juice into the syrup, then add the cloves, cinnamon stick, star anise and empty lemon shells.
Peel the quinces, halve them from stem to flower, core, then cut into small cubes about 1cm in size. As you finish preparing each, stir into the syrup and simmer for an hour. Add the remaining sugar and cook for a further half hour, checking carefully on the fruit’s progress. (They can sometimes take longer to reach tenderness.) The fruit will change colour from white to pink, possibly turning a bright, translucent scarlet as it approaches optimum softness. To test: place a teaspoonful of the syrup on a chilled plate and refrigerate for five minutes. It should be very lightly set. If not, continue cooking and testing until it is.
Remove the spices and lemon shells and ladle the fruit and syrup into warm, sterilised jars. Seal, cool and refrigerate.
To make the tarts, first make the pastry. Rub the flour and butter together with your finger tips (or use a food processor) until they have the consistency of fine breadcrumbs. Add the egg yolk and enough of the water to form a rollable consistency. (Probably about 2-3 tbsp.) Turn out onto a floured board and pat into a thick disc, lightly dusted with flour. Roll the dough out no thicker than a pound coin then use pastry cutters to cut out 12 discs. (You may have to press the pastry cuttings together and re-roll them to get a full 12.)
Line the patty tins with the discs of pastry, pressing the pastry down well into the corners then refrigerate for a good half hour. If you skip this step your pastry cases will shrink.
Set the oven to 200C/gas mark 6. Place a pizza stone or upturned baking sheet in the oven to get hot. (This will help the base of the pastry crisp.)
Remove the pastry cases from the fridge and place 2 heaped tbsp of quince preserve in each. (You will have plenty of preserve left over for other things.)
Bake, on top of the heated baking sheet or pizza stone, for 25 minutes or until the pastry is walnut brown and filling is bubbling. Remove from the oven and allow to settle for 10 minutes before lifting out with help from a palette knife.
Lemon bundt
I do think a plain cake is an incredibly useful thing to have around at Christmas, pleasing those who want a slice of simple, unfussy cake in place of the richer, more traditional offerings. They also make a sound base for trifle, especially those with a citrus element. I use a Christmas tree Bundt cake mould, available from larger cookware shops, but you can use a regular 22cm Bundt or kugelhopf tin. A standard, deep-sided 20cm cake tin will also work, though you may have to increase the cooking time slightly.
Serves 10
butter 240g, diced, plus a little for the cake tin
caster sugar 240g
ground almonds 120g
baking powder 1 tsp
plain flour 140g, plus a little for the cake tin
eggs 4
large lemon 1
icing sugar a little, for dusting
Set the oven at 180C/gas mark 4. Prepare the cake tin by melting a little extra butter, brushing it over the inside of the tin then dusting it lightly with flour. Turn the tin upside down and shake lightly to remove any excess flour.
Cream the butter with the sugar until light and fluffy. I find the lightest results come from using a food mixer with a paddle attachment. Thoroughly mix the almonds, baking powder and flour. Break the eggs into a bowl and mix the whites and yolks together.
Slowly add the egg and flour mixtures to the butter mixture, constantly beating, till everything is combined. Finely grate the lemon zest and fold with 2 tbsp of its juice into the cake batter. Transfer to the Bundt tin, smoothing the top flat with a rubber spatula.
Bake for 45-50 minutes till golden and lightly firm. Remove from the oven and leave to settle for 10-15 minutes then turn out onto a cooling rack. Dust with icing sugar.
Golden sultana and candied orange cake
I could eat Christmas pudding, effortlessly, every day of the year, but cake is another matter. The layers of rich fruit-speckled cake, almond paste and thick snow-white icing seem best kept for just once year. The cake I have been working on for this Christmas owes as much to panettone as it does to a traditional Christmas cake recipe, managing to be both light and rich at the same time and with a certain celebratory note to it. The only fruits are golden sultanas and candied orange. I find the large chunks of crystallised orange zest you chop yourself far more juicy and marmalade-sharp than the dull, chewy shrapnel sold as “candied peel”. I have kept the icing frost-thin and I think the cake is better for it. The passionfruit juice adds a spark of sharpness to balance the sugar hit.
You will need a 24cm Bundt tin or a 22cm kugelhopf pan.
Serves 10
butter 240g, plus a little for the cake tin
caster sugar 240g
ground almonds 120g
baking powder 1 tsp
plain flour 140g, plus a little for the cake tin
eggs 4
lemon finely grated zest of 1
golden sultanas 150g
crystallised orange peel 75g, chopped
orange finely grated zest of 1
To decorate
passion fruit juice 30ml (2-3 ripe fruits, sieved of their seeds)
icing sugar 100g
crytallised fruits 60g
crystallised roses 10
Set the oven at 180C/gas mark 4. Prepare the cake tin by melting a little extra butter, brushing it over the inside of the tin then dusting it lightly with flour. Turn the tin upside down and shake lightly to remove any excess flour.
Cream the butter and sugar together in a food mixer till pale and fluffy. Mix together the ground almonds, baking powder and flour. Break the eggs into a small bowl and mix the yolks and white thoroughly by beating with a fork.
When the butter and sugar are well creamed, add the flour and almond mixture and the beaten eggs, alternately and a little at a time, beating continuously. Fold in the lemon zest, golden sultanas, chopped crystallised orange peel and the orange zest. Mix lightly but thoroughly then spoon into the buttered and floured cake tin, smoothing the surface as you go.
Bake for 50 minutes, covering with foil for the final 10. Test with a skewer. It should come out damp but without any uncooked mixture attached. Remove from the oven and leave to settle for 15 minutes. Turn out onto a cooling rack.
When the cake is cool, put the passion fruit juice in a small bowl and beat in the sieved icing sugar. Spoon the icing over the cake letting it drip down the sides. Let it set for 5-10 minutes then decorate with crystallised fruits and roses.
Buttermilk panna cotta, sweet cranberry sauce
The amount of gelatine required seems exceptionally small, especially once the sheets have been softened in cold water, but we are after a dessert that is fragile and easy to eat, so it will be enough. The texture tends to become firmer the longer they are refrigerated, so make them the day they are to be eaten, preferably five or six hours before you intend to serve them. They may be too firm if left overnight – though they will come to no harm. The sauce – sharp, clean and bright against the creamy panna cotta – can be at room temperature or even slightly warm as a contrast to the chilled cream.
Makes 4 small panna cotta
For the panna cotta
gelatine 2 leaves
double cream 350ml
caster sugar 100g
buttermilk 150ml
For the sauce
caster sugar 60g
orange juice 200ml
redcurrant jelly 3 tbsp, or other fruit jelly
fresh or frozen cranberries 150g
edible leaves thyme or shiso, to dcorate (optional)
Put the gelatine in a bowl of cold water to soften. Pour the cream into a small non-stick saucepan, add the sugar then bring almost to the boil. Remove from the heat, gently squeeze the water from the softened gelatine, then add to the cream and stir to dissolve.
Pour the buttermilk into the cream, stir gently, then pour through a fine sieve placed over a jug. Pour the mixture into four small ramekins or cups, place in the fridge and leave to set for four hours.
For the sauce, put the sugar, orange juice and redcurrant jelly in a small pan and bring to the boil. Add the cranberries then let the sauce boil for about five minutes until the berries have softened and burst. Let the sauce cool before serving with the panna cotta.
To unmould the panna cotta, dip each ramekin into a bowl of hot water, briefly, until you can run a palette knife around the edge. Tip onto a plate and shake firmly, till the panna cotta slides out. Spoon on some sauce and, if you wish, add an edible leaf or two. OFM
nigel.slater@observer.co.uk
