The Devil's Fish Strikes Back

I thought that I was rid of my anchovies. I thought that I wouldn't need to cook with them again. No more tangy weirdness annoying my palate.

But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong...

I looked in my fridge to find three remaining anchovies in a Tupperware box: my nemeses, waiting to be added to an innocent, unsuspecting recipe. I couldn't throw them away; I can't bare to waste food. I had to find another recipe that used them... fast.

Like a man possessed, I tore through my cookery books, until I found the very thing within the Fabulous Baker Brothers volume: roast leg of lamb with baker's potatoes; featuring those three pesky anchovy fillets in the ingredients. Marvellous.

A prepared leg of lamb. Big, isn't it?

Those ingredients in full:
one leg of lamb, top bone removed, with the shank bone left in;
three garlic cloves, sliced;
three anchovy fillets, chopped;
large sprig of rosemary, chopped;
30ml extra virgin olive oil;
salt and pepper.

For the baker's potatoes:
three large onions;
two garlic cloves;
100g butter;
eight large Maris Piper potatoes;
500ml chicken stock.

I mixed the garlic, anchovy, rosemary and olive oil together before rubbing them over the lamb, inside and out. I seasoned it with salt and pepper before tying the lamb up with some string (possibly the most "cook-like" experience of my life so far) before setting it aside for later.

My most "cook-like" experience so far...

I melted 75g of the butter in a pan and cooked the sliced onions and garlic until soft and golden. Some seasoning followed before they too were put to one side. I preheated the oven to 200ºC.

Next came the potatoes, which I peeled and sliced as thinly as possible, before layering them on the bottom of a large baking dish, followed by a layer of the cooled onions. I seasoned then repeated the process, keeping the layers going until I was left with a layer of potatoes on top resembling fish scales.

The lamb went on top of these potatoes before being placed in the hot oven to brown over about half an hour, after which I reduced the temperature to 180ºC. For a medium cooked lamb, with the centre pink, but the fat well rendered, one is advised to keep it cooking for another hour. I went for an hour and a quarter. Next time, I may go for an hour and a half: I found a bloody centre a touch disconcerting.

How do you like your lamb done, madam / sir?

I took the dish out of the oven and removed the lamb to wrap in tin foil and rest for at least 25 minutes. Turning up the oven to 190ºC (its highest temperature; go up to 220ºC if your oven's more advanced than mine), I dotted the remaining butter around the surface of the potatoes and returned them to the oven for 20 minutes: this was to brown and crisp the top of the potatoes, most of which had been obscured by the lamb 'til now.

And that was it. Quite an undertaking, really: the lamb cost a little more than I was expecting and was blooming enormous, even after cooking; for goodness sake, invite some people around to eat this with you because you won't make it alone, even over the course of a week (I speak from experience...)

Blimey, better get some friends over!

To serve, slice the lamb thinly to accompany the soft potatoes, soaked in delicious lamb juices.

Again, the inclusion of the anchovies added beautifully to the meat's flavour. That said, it's some time since I've cooked this and I haven't dared go near the Devil's fish since. Maybe I should try them again, on a pizza, maybe? Nah: no chance, mate!

The Devil's Fish

I don't like anchovies. I don't like how they taste or look. I don't like their inclusion on an otherwise delicious pizza. I don't like the way that their salty sharpness dominates a recipe. They are, as far as I'm concerned, The Devil's Fish. And yet... I have cooked a recipe that uses them quite subtly; one that I don't think I'll be leaving anchovies out of in future. I have found these anchovies to be... useful.

The recipe is for classic pork pies, yet another dish that I thought came straight out of a deli or fridge section of whichever chain food store you wish to mention. Amazingly, you can make them at home: this recipe is one lovingly collected from Stylist magazine's "gourmet on the go" section. I imagine that the editor must think that the cook "on the go" is a three-toed sloth, because making these pork pies took me hours. (Incidentally, I think Stylist has gone downhill a bit in recent months; I used to rely on it for my free weekly girly-fix, but I just don't find it that essential anymore. But I digress.)

In addition to a substantial amount of time, you need:

for the pastry
450g of plain flour
one egg
175g lard
one teaspoon of salt
one teaspoon of sugar;

for the filling
300g pork belly (skin removed)
300g pork shoulder
two anchovies in oil (drained)
200g smoked bacon
half a nutmeg seed (grated)
salt and pepper to season;

for the jelly
three gelatine leaves
200ml good chicken stock
100ml sweet sherry
one plastic syringe;

with
butter for greasing
flour for dusting and rolling
one egg, beaten with a pinch of salt for glazing.

I started on the pastry first, mixing the flour with the egg and stirring while I melted the lard in a pan of 175ml of water, adding the salt and sugar as I went. Bringing the mixture to the boil then taking if off the heat after 30 seconds, I added this to the flour / egg mixture, stirring all the time.





Once the dough was sticky, I covered it with a tea towel, letting it rest for one hour, before turning it out onto a floured work surface to flatten. I then folded the flattened dough into thirds by taking one side into the middle and pressing down, then repeating with the other side.




I flattened this into an oblong shape and placed it on a baking tray covered with greaseproof paper and put it into the fridge for 30 minutes.

Next came the meat. After dicing the pork belly and shoulder, I mixed them with the anchovies (holding them at arm's length) before whizzing the lot of them in a food processor until they were mincemeat. I then diced the bacon and stirred this in before adding the nutmeg and seasoning.





After turning the oven on to 180ºC / gas mark 4, I took out the pastry and rolled it out on a floured surface. I folded it into three then rolled it out again until it was about three millimetres thick. From this, I cut out eight 12 cm-wide circles and eight 8cm-wide circles.

I greased eight metal pie moulds, dusted them with flour and lined with the 12cm pastry circle, leaving a little over-lapping. To each, I added one eighth of my pork filling, before placing the 8cm pastry circle on top, crimping the edges as I went.


After brushing them with egg wash and skewering a hole in the top, I placed them in the hot oven and baked for 40 minutes. Once out, I placed them on a rack to cool for two hours.

Now for the jelly. I soaked the gelatine in water for two minutes then squeezed out the excess water. This gelatine was added to the heated chicken stock and sherry and I stirred until it was dissolved, before cooling until it was thick enough to pour... fun and games were approaching.

I've never added jelly to a recipe like this before. The instructions stated using a syringe and, considering that I didn't know where the nearest needle exchange was situated, found myself in Sainsbury's buying a syringe for adding icing. (This, for reasons about to be made plain, may not be the best instrument for such a task. If you can think of a better one for next time, please let me know.)

I filled the syringe's body with the jelly and squeezed it into the hole I'd made in the top of the pastry. While a fair amount made it into the pie, a good deal of the jelly made it all over the work surface. Most annoying. I placed the whole lot in the fridge overnight, although eight hours would have been enough: I think I'd had enough of the process by this time.

However, when I took the pies out of the fridge the following morning, I was most pleased with the results: a lovely, crumbly pastry with a firm, meaty filling and a pleasant jellied surround awaited me as I sliced into the first pork pie. I added some mustard to the second slice; a little brown sauce to the third. They were lovely, providing me with a pleasant lunch for the next few days, when consumed with a large salad.


As to the Devil's Fish, I thought it blended in quite nicely. Will I try it again?