Nigella Christmas: Food, Family, Friends, Festivities (13 page)

• Carve the pork thinly – the joy of the quasi-cure is that it makes it easy even for a bad carver like me to do this, and you can be sure of feeding 8 people. Serve with the apple and onion gravy, next recipe.

MAKE AHEAD TIP:

Keep the pork in its “curing” mixture for up to 2 days. Leave it in a cold place or in the fridge if you have room.

APPLE AND ONION GRAVY

Although I’d pretty well go along with the Wildean aphorism that one should try anything once except incest and morris dancing, I am in certain matters, most of them culinary, rather a novelty-eschewing traditionalist. If I’m having pork, I want to have apple sauce with it. My grandmother always mixed her apple sauce with horseradish, a radical departure I, too, am happy to make. I can also accommodate the corresponding tart fruitiness of cranberry sauce, but not with this apple-brined pork roast; it wouldn’t be right.

And while I wouldn’t want to upset anyone who just wants plain old regular apple sauce alongside, I happen to feel better myself when I make this apple and onion gravy. Not that it’s quite a gravy in the traditional sense, but it’s runnier than the customary sauce: you pour it from a jug, maybe with a little cutlery-coaxing; it’s a grauce.

Somewhat untraditionally, I use eating apples here: Gala would be my first choice, although Braeburn or Granny Smith should be fine, too. And because I think bacon fat is such a wonderful cooking medium, I always pour off the fat from the pan when I’ve been cooking bacon, to keep in a little cup in the fridge for exactly these occasions, and advise you to do likewise (fish fried in bacon fat is fantastic), but otherwise use butter. The onions, which are mushed up with the apples then fried, give depth and savouriness, and the maple syrup – yes, maple syrup again, and I don’t have shares in any Vermont orchard I promise – brings its resiny sweetness to play along with the peppy heat, just a hint though, of the ginger.

2 onions, peeled and quartered

2 eating apples, peeled, cored and quartered

2 × 15ml tablespoons bacon fat (or butter)

1 teaspoon garlic oil

1 × 15ml tablespoon maple syrup

2 teaspoons cornflour

¼ teaspoon ground ginger

500ml chicken stock

4 teaspoons soy sauce

• Put the onions and apples into a food processor and process to mush.

• Put the bacon fat (or butter) and the garlic oil into a pan and cook the processed onions and bacon over a very gentle heat for about 30 minutes, stirring every now and again.

• Add the maple syrup and cook for another 15 minutes.

• Stir in the cornflour and ground ginger, then turn up the heat as you, still stirring, pour in the stock.

• Continue stirring as you bring the gravy to a boil and season with the soy sauce. Cook until the gravy has thickened slightly, almost into a sauce, and there is no floury taste; this is probably no longer than 3 minutes.

MAKE AHEAD TIP:

Make the gravy, then transfer to a non-metallic bowl, cover with clingfilm and keep in the fridge for up to 2 days. You may need to add some more stock or water on reheating.

FREEZE AHEAD TIP:

Make the gravy, pour into an airtight container and freeze for up to 1 week. Thaw overnight in the fridge, then pour into a pan and gently reheat, with a little extra liquid if needed, until piping hot.

TIRAMISU LAYER CAKE

There is no shortage of tiramisu recipes in the world, many of them emanating from me. I started off with a certain hauteur, stemming from the certainty that tiramisu was the Black Forest gâteau of the Nineties; you can see how long ago the prejudice and the countering compulsion started. But now I know that when things work, they work, and that I’m happier adding to, rather than chipping away, at the canon.

This recipe reads harder than it cooks. Or rather, doesn’t cook. It’s an assembly job more than anything, and it doesn’t take very long or require much in the way of skill or patience: it’s just that the number of layers make the recipe on the page seem more complicated than it is.

I don’t deny its vulgarity: the original, hardly the apotheosis of chic, relies on savoiardi (ladyfingers), or boudoir biscuits, dunked in coffee and liqueur, before being built up with eggy, marsala-laced mascarpone and topped with a dusting of cocoa; I cut to the chase, by using chocolate sponge (shop-bought loaf cakes seem to soak in more than homemade or deli-sourced chocolate cake, so you might not need as much liqueur if you’re not getting the wherewithal from the supermarket) and dipping it only in coffee liqueur, before layering up into a big fat cake which cuts easily into greedy wedges.

I wish I were the sort of person who could make enough but no more, but that’s never going to be the case: when I made this for my brother’s birthday, he came back round for a couple of slices the next day. And that’s the way I like it.

3 × 350g chocolate loaf cakes (shop-bought variety is fine)

300–400ml Tia Maria

1–2 teaspoons cocoa for dusting

chocolate-covered coffee beans (optional)

FOR THE FILLING:

2 eggs

75g caster sugar

500g mascarpone

250ml double cream

125ml Tia Maria

• Wrap the outside of a 23cm springform cake tin with some clingfilm or foil to avoid leaks from the base.

• Slice the chocolate cakes thinly, and pour the 300ml (or more if needed) of Tia Maria into a shallow dish, ready for soaking the cake slices as you need them.

• Before you start to layer the cakes, whisk the eggs and sugar, and then beat in the mascarpone and double cream; I use an electric whisk for this, but there is no need to if you’re feeling muscley. Then add, gradually, the 125ml Tia Maria to make a creamy spreadable layer for the cake.

• Using approx. 1 cake per layer, dunk the slices in Tia Maria before lining the tin with them. Squidge them down, pressing confidently as you go; each layer should not be too thick, but juicily compact and solid.

• Spread a third of the cream mixture over the soaked cake slices.

• Repeat with another layer of soaked chocolate cake slices, and then cream again.

• Finish with a layer of chocolate cake slices – not as soaked as the first 2 layers – reserving the last third of the cream mixture for later in a covered bowl.

• Press the cake layer down to make it as smooth as possible, then cover it with clingfilm and put the cake in the fridge overnight, or for up to 4 days.

• When you are ready to serve, take the cake out of the fridge, unmould, sit it on a plate or cake stand, then spread with the final third of cream mixture, before dusting with cocoa and serving. The cake is too deliciously damp to lift it off the tin’s base, but I shouldn’t let that worry you; if you want, though, you can scatter some chocolate-covered coffee beans around the cake, once it’s sitting on its serving plate, to deflect critical gaze away from the visible edge of tin.

MAKE AHEAD TIP:

Make the tiramisu, cover with clingfilm, and store in the fridge for up to 4 days. Unmould and finish as directed.

FREEZE AHEAD TIP:

Unmould the tiramisu, finish with the remaining cream then open freeze. When solid, cover securely with a double layer of clingfilm and return to the freezer for up to 3 months. To use, unwrap the tiramisu, place on a serving dish and thaw overnight in the fridge. Dust with cocoa and serve.

SEDUCTIVELY SIMPLE SUPPER FOR 6

PARTY POUSSINS

SPICED ROAST SQUASH

FESTIVE COUSCOUS

CHESTNUT CHOCOLATE POTS

The shorthand for this, chez moi, is pouss-pouss with couscous, and there is a reason for that: this is one of the most reliable fallback suppers that can be stuck in the oven and left to cook itself, with only a bit of stoveside fiddling, in order to provide a party-mood, feel-good festive supper even when you’re chock-a-block with after-school activities, office parties, or sackfuls of wrapping; this is my seasonal get-together without tears.

I love the silky richness of the Chestnut Chocolate Pots afterwards, but if you don’t have the sort of timetable that accommodates advance preparation, simply pile up some Quickly Scaled Mont Blancs in glasses at the last minute. These were my mother’s seasonal speciality, and need no further full-on explanation from me, since I have banged on about them before (in Nigella Express, for instance) but, just in case, here’s what you need to do: get out 6 smallish glasses, with a capacity of about 125ml each, and in them drop a layer of chopped dark chocolate (you’ll need a 100g bar altogether); on top of the rubbly shards of chocolate, dollop some sweetened chestnut purée from a can (a 500g can is more than generous); then whip 500ml double cream until thick but still soft, fold in one crumbled meringue nest (about 10cm in diameter) from a packet and spoon this on top of the chocolate and chestnut layers; then crumble another meringue in a snowy layer on top. Couldn’t be easier – but then nor could the silky Chestnut Chocolate Pots. The choice is undemandingly yours.

PARTY POUSSINS

These small birds make a big feast, and with ease. For me, one reason why this produces such a relaxing supper is that there’s no work once you’re at the table, either. It’s not only that I am a bad carver (though I am), but elaborate serving-up makes me feel flustered. This must obviously be avoided – but without sacrificing the sense of occasion.

The pouss-pouss need no more than the couscous to eat alongside, but I often like to make (since I have room in the oven and the flavours are so right) a tray of Spiced Roast Squash at the same time. In fact, this is a regular festive fallback of mine, as it provides a luscious accompaniment, without much work. You need a whole butternut squash – about 1kg in weight – and don’t bother to peel but deseed it and cut into, roughly, 3–4cm cubes. Arrange these on a low-lipped baking tray (I use a swiss roll tin) and pour a couple of tablespoons of regular olive oil over, sprinkle with 1 teaspoon each of ground mace and paprika and smoosh everything around to mix, before baking on the rack below the poussins for about the same amount of time. If you’re cooking the squash on its own, you may find 50 minutes at 220°C/gas mark 7 is enough. Either way, I love the squash served with a generous sprinkling of Maldon salt and a judicious spritz of lime juice; both bring out the earthy sweetness of the squash.

And incidentally, if you have any butternut or couscous left over, add the one to the other to make a very more-ish salad. A final note: the poussin carcasses, after, make a great stock or soup.

6 poussins

4 × 15ml tablespoons chilli oil or olive oil

1 × 15ml tablespoon Maldon salt or 1½ teaspoons table salt

pinch of sugar

¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon paprika

1 lemon, preferably unwaxed

1 head garlic

• Preheat the oven to 220°C/gas mark 7. Sit the poussins snugly in a roasting tin, and pour the oil slowly over, making sure you get good, equal coverage.

• Mix together the salt, sugar, cinnamon and paprika in a small bowl, and sprinkle this spice mixture over the poussins.

• Cut the lemon into quarters, then cut each quarter into 4 so you have 16 small pieces, and tuck these pieces along with the garlic separated into cloves (unpeeled), around and in between the baby birds.

• Cook the poussins for 1–1¼ hours, then let them rest for about 10 minutes in their tin out of the oven before serving.

MAKE AHEAD TIP:

Put the poussins in the roasting tin with the oil, salt, sugar and spices. Cover with a roof of clingfilm and leave in the fridge overnight. The next day, add the lemons and roast as directed.

FESTIVE COUSCOUS

The correct way of cooking couscous is to cover it with cold water for about 20 minutes, and then place the dampened couscous in the top part of a couscoussier or a steamer to steam it. The best way to tell when it’s ready is to put a thin slab of butter on top: when the butter starts melting, the couscous is done.

However, even though the following method is, strictly speaking, incorrect, it is the way I most often do it, and feel it is only fair to encourage you down this shameful, lazy path, too. If you want, do replace the golden sultanas with dried cherries or dried cranberries or even, should you live near a Middle-Eastern store, some dried barberries.

500g couscous

75g golden sultanas (see

Stockists

)

¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon paprika

½ teaspoon ground cumin

½ teaspoon ground coriander

2 teaspoons Maldon salt or 1 teaspoon table salt

800ml freshly boiled water, from a kettle

seeds from 1 pomegranate, or 75g seeds from a tub/packet

small bunch of fresh coriander, chopped

• Just before the poussins come out of the oven, put the couscous into a heatproof bowl or a pan (which has a tight-fitting lid), add the sultanas, spices and salt, and give everything a stir.

• Pour the freshly boiled water over and cover with clingfilm or the lid; let it sit for 10–15 minutes, by which time it should have absorbed the water.

• Fluff the couscous through with a fork to separate the grains, then carefully pour in some of the juices that have collected in the roasting tin of poussins.

• Fork through again and check the seasoning before transferring to a serving dish.

• Drop half the pomegranate seeds over the mounded couscous, mixing them in gently with a fork.

• Scatter the remaining pomegranate seeds over, sprinkle with some chopped coriander and serve.

• Serve each person not only a poussin and some couscous but some oven-charred lemon pieces and garlic cloves as well – and some sweet spiced squash if you’ve chosen to add it.

CHESTNUT CHOCOLATE POTS

I’m almost embarrassed by how easy these are. It’s true that you do need a processor, though you could just chop well and whisk using a lot of elbow grease. Or you could make the machinery-eschewing Quickly Scaled Mont Blancs if that suits better.

As an experiment, I also tried the chestnut chocolate pots as chestnut chocolate mousses: the mousses were more work and not as good; this – lazy – way provides a much more meltingly luscious texture. Good to know …