An Irish Country Cookbook Page 12
What you have now is a traditional Hollandaise sauce. I like to make more than I need so that I always have some in the freezer and am prepared to make a quick Benedict. However, the traditional Hollandaise does not freeze at all, so what you have to do is to beat up your leftover egg whites until they form soft peaks and fold them into the Hollandaise mixture. Freeze in individual portions and, when needed, just thaw and heat gently in a bain-marie or in a microwave on very low power for just a few seconds.
Kinky’s Note:
As well as using this in my Eggs Benedict it is also delicious with steamed asparagus or fish dishes.
Easy Bread Sauce
Serves 4
1 onion, peeled
5 whole cloves
20 oz/590 ml milk
2 bay leaves
5 whole black peppercorns
4 oz/113 g fresh white bread crumbs
1½ oz/42 g butter
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Stud the onion with the cloves so that it looks like a caveman’s club, place in a saucepan with the milk, bay leaves, and peppercorns, and bring to the boil. Remove from the heat and let infuse for 15 to 20 minutes.
Discard the onion and bay leaves and fish out the peppercorns with a slotted spoon. Stir in the bread crumbs. Over a low heat cook this very gently for about 5 minutes, stirring now and again until the sauce has thickened and the bread crumbs have been incorporated. Stir in the butter and season with salt and pepper. Serve warm with Turkey with Stuffing and Gravy (here).
Kinky’s Note:
Cloves are very strong-tasting so you really don’t want to eat them. However, by studding the onion like this you just add the flavour. Lots of it.
Caper Sauce
Serves 4
2 oz/56 g butter
2 oz/56 g all-purpose flour
6 oz/180 ml lamb or vegetable stock
2 oz/60 ml whipping cream
Juice of ½ lemon
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
3 Tbsp capers, chopped
1 Tbsp chopped fresh parsley
Place the butter in a saucepan and cook gently until it just browns and smells slightly nutty. Remove from the heat and work in the flour. Return to the heat and cook for a minute, then add the lamb stock, whisk in the cream and lemon juice, and season with salt and pepper. Simmer gently for about 5 minutes and add the capers and parsley.
Serve with chicken, fish, or Roast Rack of Lamb (here).
Kinky’s Note:
This method of making sauce is the classic French way. The act of melting butter and stirring an equal quantity of flour into it is called making a roux (pronounced “roo”) and can be the basis for many sauces. It is a good idea to make more roux than you need, as it will keep wrapped in film or foil in the refrigerator. However, the rule is that if your roux is warm you whisk a cold liquid into it. If the roux is cold you whisk in warm liquid.
Red Wine Sauce
Serves 3 to 4
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, grated or finely crushed
1 tsp olive oil
8 oz/235 ml pinot noir or other red wine (not full-bodied)
8 oz/235 ml chicken stock or beef stock
3 oz/85 g butter, cubed
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 tsp brown sugar (optional)
1 tsp chopped fresh thyme (optional)
Sweat the shallots and garlic in the olive oil, add the red wine, and cook for a very few minutes. Now add the stock and bring to the boil. Continue to cook until reduced by half. Strain into a saucepan and bring to a simmer. Whisk the cubed butter in gradually, one piece at a time. The sauce will become thick and glossy. Season with salt and pepper to taste and add the sugar (if using). Finally, stir in the thyme (if using).
Serve with steak or other red meat.
Port and Redcurrant Sauce
Serves 4
1 tsp olive oil
3 shallots, finely chopped
3 oz/85 g butter, cubed
8 oz/235 ml chicken stock
6 oz/170 g redcurrants
6 oz/180 ml port or red wine
1 tsp brown sugar (optional)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Heat the oil in a large frying pan, add the shallots, and cook gently for a few minutes without allowing them to burn. You may need to add a knob of butter. Add the chicken stock and redcurrants and cook until the fruit is soft. Pour and push the sauce through a fine-mesh sieve into a clean pan, add the port, and bring to a brisk boil. Reduce the liquid by almost half and whisk in the remaining butter. Add the sugar (if using) and season with salt and pepper to taste.
Serve with chicken, duck, pork, or turkey.
Cranberry Sauce
Serves 6
9 oz/255 g fresh or frozen cranberries
3½ oz/105 ml white wine
3½ oz/100 g sugar, plus extra as needed
1 tsp grated orange zest
Lemon juice (optional)
Combine all the ingredients in a saucepan. Bring to the boil and simmer gently for 10 minutes. Stir with a wooden spoon, thus helping to burst some of the berries. Taste and add more sugar or lemon juice if necessary. Serve warm with turkey or pork.
Redcurrant Jelly
Makes 2 16-oz/475-ml jars
2 lb/910 g redcurrants
2 lb/910 g sugar, warmed
Sterilise two 16-ounce/475-ml jars.
Place the redcurrants in a large saucepan or preserving pan and bring slowly to the boil. Stir and press the redcurrants to break down the fruit and release the juice. Cook for about 10 minutes, then add the warmed sugar and stir until dissolved. Bring the mixture to a rapid boil and boil for about 10 minutes. Test for setting point by dropping a teaspoonful onto a chilled plate, leave it to cool for a few minutes, then push it with your finger. If a crinkly skin has formed on the top of the jam it has set. Or you can use a sugar thermometer clipped to the side of the pan and when the temperature reaches 220°F/104°C, the setting point should be reached.
Now you can use either a jelly bag or a sieve lined with gauze placed over a bowl. Pour the jelly mixture into it and let it drip through. If you don’t mind not having a completely clear jelly, you can press to extract as much juice as possible. Pour the juice into the sterilized jars and cover. The process is exactly the same for a larger quantity.
Frockton
(Bilberry or Blueberry) Jelly
Makes 2 16-oz/475-ml mason jars
2 lb/910 g bilberries or blueberries
2 lb/910 g sugar, warmed
Place a small plate in the refrigerator to chill. Place the blueberries in a large saucepan and bring slowly to the boil. Stir and press the blueberries to break down the fruit and release the juice. Cook for about 10 minutes, then add the warmed sugar and stir until dissolved. Bring the mixture to a rapid boil and boil for about 10 minutes. Test for setting point by dropping a little on the cold plate. If a skin has formed when you push the jam with your finger it has reached setting point. Or you could test with a sugar (candy) thermometer clipped to the side of the pan. Setting point should be reached at 220°F/104°C. If it is still too runny, bring it back to the boil and cook until it thickens. If you hold a wooden spoon up and the jelly clings to the spoon, then it is ready to set.
Now you can either use a jelly bag or a sieve lined with gauze placed over a bowl. Pour the jelly mixture into it and let it drip through. If you don’t mind not having a completely clear jelly, you can press to extract as much juice as possible. Pour the juice into two warmed 16-ounce/475-ml jars and cover. Keep refrigerated.
The process is exactly the same for a larger quantity. Just be sure that setting point has been reached before transferring to the warmed jars.
Crème Anglaise
Serves 2 to 4
5 oz/150 ml milk
5 oz/150 ml heavy cream
4 egg yolks
1½ oz/42 g sugar
Heat the milk and cre
am in a medium saucepan until just at a boil. Remove from the heat. Whisk the egg yolks and sugar in a bowl until pale and creamy. Gradually add the hot milk, just a little at a time to the egg yolk mixture, whisking until all has been incorporated. Pour the egg and milk mix back into the saucepan and bring to a simmer. Keeping the pan at just a simmer, cook for 3 to 4 minutes or until the mixture has thickened.
Lemon Curd
Makes 3 or 4 8-oz/235-ml jars, depending on how juicy the lemons are
Grated zest and juice of 4 unwaxed lemons
7 oz/200 g sugar
3½ oz/100 g butter
3 eggs, separated, plus 1 egg yolk
Sterilise four 8-ounce/235-ml jars.
Put the lemon zest and juice in a large bowl. Set the bowl in a saucepan of simmering water, making sure the bottom of the bowl does not touch the water. Add the sugar and butter and stir around until the butter has melted and the sugar has dissolved. In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites and add the yolks. Then beat this into the lemon mixture and cook, stirring occasionally, for about 15 minutes. By this time the lemon curd should have thickened but if it has not, just give it a few more minutes. Pour into the prepared jars and allow it to cool before putting on the lids. Store in the refrigerator.
VARIATION
Lime or Orange Curd. Try limes or Seville oranges instead.
Kinky’s Note:
If you microwave the lemon halves for 10 to 15 seconds each the yield of juice is almost doubled.
Brandy Sauce
Serves 6 to 8 with Christmas Pudding
2 oz/56 g unsalted butter
2 oz/56 g all-purpose flour
20 oz/590 ml milk
2 oz/60 ml brandy
2 oz/56 g superfine sugar
Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over a medium heat and stir in the flour. Cook for 2 minutes and gradually stir in the milk. Bring to the boil, stirring all the time. Simmer gently for 10 minutes. Stir in the brandy and sugar. Serve warm with Christmas Pudding (here).
Mint Sauce
Serves 4
4 Tbsp fresh mint leaves
2 oz/60 ml boiling water
1 Tbsp sugar, plus extra as needed
A pinch of salt
2 oz/60 ml white wine vinegar, plus extra as needed
Finely chop the mint, or process in a blender. Place it in a small bowl, and stir in the boiling water, sugar, and salt. Add the vinegar and allow the sauce to cool. Taste and add more water, salt, or vinegar as necessary.
Serve with lamb.
Any Port in a…
“D’you know, Barry,” O’Reilly said, as late on a February Friday afternoon we turned a corner in Belfast heading toward the Crown Liquor Saloon, “We’ve taken a quick right from the Grosvenor Road, and now we are on Great Victoria Street.”
We’d been at a refresher lecture for GPs at the Royal Victoria Hospital.
“It’s always an excellent idea to know exactly where you are at all times.”
Yet another pithy aphorism from O’Reilly’s limitless store of truisms that included, as air travel was now becoming an established fact of life, “Turbulence is inevitably stimulated when the stewardess serves coffee.” I filed “knowing where you are” under “try to forget it,” but in a very short time it would be brought back to mind in a most forceful way. Bear with me. Like anything to do with my old mentor, explaining may take a little time.
We entered the venerable old pub that Sir John Betjeman had called his favourite, found a vacant booth, and sat on leather-covered benches. The place was still in all its glory after its refurbishment in 1885. Dark wood-panelled half walls were topped by engraved glass inserts adorned with incised bunches of grapes. Tobacco smoke wreathed upward through air redolent of beer and spirit fumes. Conversations rose and fell, punctuated by the clink of glass on glass.
“Pint?” said O’Reilly.
He was clearly in an expansive mood.
“Please,” I said, and after the requisite passage of time that it takes for a good pint of Guinness to be poured and allowed to settle, two straight glasses of the black stuff crowned with creamy heads duly appeared.
“Thanks,” O’Reilly said to the waiter and paid. “Sláinte.”
“Cheers,” I said and drank.
“Do you know what’s going to happen tomorrow, Barry?” he asked.
I hesitated before answering. He’d used that lead-in before—usually before he asked me for a favour. Eventually I managed a guarded, “No.”
“Ireland are playing Scotland at rugby at Murrayfield in Edinburgh.” He drank.
“Good for them,” I said and I must confess I was not particularly a fan of the game, but I have probably told you that among his other attributes, the redoubtable Doctor Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly had, in his youth, represented his country playing the manly game of rugby football. It is not a contest for the faint of heart. Even in O’Reilly’s fifties he was still an avid follower of the sport.
“I think Ireland should have a very good chance. Ken Kennedy and Roger Young are two Ulstermen on the team.”
“I know them both,” I said. “Young read dentistry and Kennedy medicine at Queen’s when I was there.” And I wished them and the rest of the side well. A schoolboy, William Webb Ellis at England’s Rugby Public School, is credited with picking up the ball and running with it in the mid-nineteenth century and thus inventing the game. However, there is a body of opinion that it was discovered in 1211 by a member of Temüjin’s (if you prefer, Genghis Khan’s) Golden Horde. Of course in lieu of a ball the old Mongol was carrying the head of an opposing player from the Jin Dynasty’s recently defeated army.
The modern game and its North American counterparts are perhaps a little gentler—perhaps, although our transatlantic cousins do take the precaution of wearing helmets and body armour. “Will it be on the telly?” I asked, thinking I’d twigged to the upcoming favour. I was off call tonight and tomorrow. I could hear his mental gears grinding. I was going to be asked to cover tomorrow afternoon. And I had plans.
“I don’t suppose…”
Here it comes.
“You’d cover me tonight?”
“Tonight? I thought the game was on tomorrow.”
“It is, but most of my friends who follow Irish fortunes, including Charlie Greer who played for Ireland, are going over to support the team.”
“And you want to go too?” He’d be asking for three days cover if that was the case.
He shook his big shaggy head. “Just this evening,” he said. “You see there’s a crowd going over tonight on the ferry. Coach from Belfast to Larne, cross the channel to Cairnryan overnight, and the coach takes them to Edinburgh in the morning.”
In those safer days before hijacking became an even rougher sport than rugby, friends and family often accompanied travellers on board and had a glass or two before the vessel sailed. “And you want to go and have a jar on board with them?”
He beamed with such intensity I swear it dimmed the house lights for a moment. “I knew the day I took you on I was hiring a man of great perspicacity.…”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” was not one of his originals like “know where you are,” but it had a ring of truth to it.
“You see,” he said, “I thought if I ran you to the Queen’s Quay station you could get the train to Ballybucklebo. I could nip down to Larne, go aboard and have a few jars with my pals, then drive home.” The big man was like a six-year-old begging to open one, just one present, on Christmas Eve.
I laughed. “Very well,” I said.
O’Reilly said, “I’ll make it up to you, Barry. Thanks a million.”
To cut a long story short, we finished our pints and drove to the station, where I was duly deposited before O’Reilly took off for Larne.
Medically, my night was uneventful, but there was no sign of O’Reilly at breakfast. I thought he’d probably had fun the night before and was sleeping late, but I knew he’d be furious that he’d missed the gri
lled kippers—smoked herring from the fishing village of Ardglass—I’d relished.
* * *
The phone rang in the hall. Kinky answered and came in. “Doctor Laverty,” she said, looking puzzled, “it does be himself to speak with you, so.”
I rose and frowned. O’Reilly was on the phone?
“Hello, Laverty here.”
“Barry,” O’Reilly’s voice came over the wire. Was there a hint of contriteness? “Barry, please stay on call until I get home.”
Get home? “Where are you?”
There was a long pause before the voice said, “In a hotel at Cairnryan in Scotland. I forgot to get off the ferry in Larne before it sailed.”
I should have been angry, but I had to laugh and I could not resist saying, “Thank you, Fingal.”
“What for?”
“You were right to teach me that yesterday. It is an excellent idea to know exactly where you are. Cairnryan. Ye gods.”
And I will say in fairness to the big-hearted man, a chuckle came over the wire.
DESSERTS
Puddings
Sure hasn’t Doctor O’Reilly got a very sweet tooth and amn’t I having my work cut out to give him nice puddings? When I was a girl almost every pudding, for isn’t that what we called them, was accompanied by custard made from Bird’s custard powder. Usually apples, which were so plentiful, were involved too, and apple tart was probably on the plate most weeks. The other nursery puddings often served (too often) were tapioca and sago made with milk and were a means of getting us children to get all the nutrients we needed for strong bones. (For those of you who never had to endure the tapioca pudding—known to us as frogspawn—it looked rather like a round form of rice but was made from the cassava plant, grown in Brazil.) I hope I have given you something a little more adventurous as well as some old favourites.