The Vicar’s Wife’s Cook Book. Elisa Beynon
(it should look like a carpet) and rub it in with the garlic and the fennel seeds. Put a roasting tin on the hob with the oil and brown the meaty sides of the joint. (As well as sealing in the juices, this should help the fat to crisp up.) Turn the pork skin-side up and slide the tin into the oven, turning the heat down to 200°C/Gas Mark 6 after 15–20 minutes. The pork will take 25 minutes per 500g and needs to rest for 10–15 minutes before carving.
While the pork is cooking, make the gingered pears. Take the pears, peel, quarter and core them and pop them in a pan with the grated fresh ginger (or the ‘Lazy Ginger’ that comes in a jar, made by the same people who make ‘Lazy Chilli’. I know using this kind of stuff is lazy, but I am all for avoiding loathsome jobs. Every time I have tried to grate fresh ginger I end up grating my fingers as well). Add half of the white wine and let it all bubble away until the pears are soft and the juices are syrupy – for about 5–10 minutes depending on how ripe your pears are. If you prefer, the pears can be prepared in advance and reheated until warm just before you are ready to serve the meat.
When the pork is cooked, remove it from the oven and put it on a plate. I didn’t have time to do this as things were late enough as it was, but if your crackling needs a little perfecting, follow Nigella’s advice: Remove the crackling from the joint and cut it into a few pieces – those that are crispy and those that are not. Any crackling that is smugly perfect can sit with the pork in a warm place, covered in foil, while it rests. (I usually put mine in the grill section of the oven, which is over my main oven. The grill’s off, of course.) The soggier bits can go back into the oven on a baking tray, skin-side up, with the oven turned up again to 220°C/Gas Mark 7. Meanwhile, pour away any excess fat from the porky juices left in the roasting tin, add the rest of the wine and the apple sauce and simmer to allow the sauce to reduce. Test for seasoning, carve the pork, serve with the gingered pears, and ‘pig’ out.
1 kg floury maincrop potatoes, such as King Edwards or Maris Piper
2 tablespoons crème fraîche
4 tablespoons full-fat milk
about 50g butter
wholegrain mustard, to taste (I suggest 2 heaped teaspoons, but taste it to see if it needs more)
Peel the potatoes and cut them into medium-sized chunks. Put them in a large pan of well salted boiling water and cook for about 20–25 minutes or until soft. Meanwhile, heat the other ingredients together in another pan, or in a bowl in the microwave.
When the potatoes are ready, drain them well, wait until the steam dies down and add them to the other pan or bowl. Mash them into the artery-clogging buttery cream and beat it all together with an electric whisk. You can either do this so it’s ready when you are ready to serve, or do it earlier and reheat it in the microwave or in a bowl over a pan of simmering water when you need it.
4 large carrots
knob of butter
6 stalks of thyme
salt and pepper
Scrub the carrots and slice them thickly in a diagonal fashion. Pop them in a pan of boiling water and parboil for 5 minutes. Meanwhile, put the butter and thyme leaves into a small roasting tin and slide it into the oven. When the butter has melted, remove, add the carrots, season well and toss everything together. Roast them below the pork for at least 45 minutes of its cooking time.
White Cabbage, Leek and Fennel Cooked in Garlicky White Wine
1⁄3 of a white cabbage
1 bulb of fennel
2 leeks, cleaned
120ml white wine
1 garlic clove, peeled and crushed
salt and pepper
Finely slice the white cabbage, fennel and the leeks. Pop the lot in a large pan with white wine and crushed garlic clove. Add some seasoning and let it cook down for about 10 minutes. That’s it.
Summer Fruit Charlotte and Clotted Cream
This is a summer pudding for a British spring day. In fact, it’s far nicer than genuine summer pudding, which I personally find a bit damp and soggy. Here, the bread adds a crispy contrast to the slushy summer fruits. I served it with clotted cream to give a nod towards real, sunny summer and the delights of cream teas. The father-in-law, ungrateful so-and-so that he is, said that, ‘for his part’ pouring cream would have been preferable. As the old blighter was already on his third portion by this point, his wife chastised him for his criticism and the Vicar merely begged to differ.
approx. 7 slices of white bread, cut about 1.5cm thick, crusts removed
125g butter, 50g melted and the rest at room temperature
250g raspberries
150g blueberries
150g blackberries
3 tablespoons caster sugar, according to taste, plus extra for dusting (optional)
clotted cream, to serve
You’ll need either an 850ml pudding basin or a souffle dish.
Whilst I prepared the fruit, I got the men on to the bread bit. Before I could stop them they had sliced nearly a whole loaf – some of it extremely badly. However, they made up for it by coming up with the idea of only applying melted butter to one side of the bread and smearing the other 50g of the fresh stuff on the other. The bread has to line the dish, and they decided that freshly spread butter made an ideal glue to stick it to the sides. They were right.
For the fruit: in a pan, lightly cook the berries with the sugar and the remaining 25g of softened butter over a medium heat for about 3–4 minutes. You want the fruit to soften very slightly but still retain its shape. Leave to cool if possible (I didn’t have time).
Line the dish with about 5 slices of the buttery bread, overlapping them slightly and leaving no gaps, then pour in the fruit. Seal the top with the remaining bread by trimming and pushing it