Welcome to Scraps.
This is my newsletter about home cooking, and it’s where I’ll be writing about the things I make, and the things I make from the things I make, too. I would love to tell you more about what I want this space to be, but like with cooking, there’s a danger of over-thinking things. In fact, the first edition of Scraps was completely different to what you’re reading now. I had this whole layout planned, with subsections, some ‘page furniture’, an interview, a product, an editorial schedule, and suddenly I’d created a magazine, or at least a digital publication, and, frankly, I do enough of that sort of thing during the day to get any joy out of doing it all over again once I clock off.
The whole point of Scraps is to be honest about what I cook and how I cook it. And what happens when, as with this week, you’re faced with a container full of kale and brown-butter colcannon that you can’t bear to throw out. So out went the first draft, and in came something I cooked literally yesterday. Something with no recipe. Something with no order. But something really good, that also happened to set off my smoke alarm in the process.
Enjoy. CM.
1. The Nigella meatballs (that became a ragu)
We’ve made this Nigella meatball recipe a couple of times. It’s in her book Cook, Eat, Repeat, and it’s also on the accompanying show (which might be on iPlayer). Several of the recipes are published on the BBC; you can see how she makes it here.
I sorted the meatballs out while Rob made the tomato sauce – this is high on my list of ‘things to make on a January evening while it’s raining heavily outside’. The meatballs don’t get seared – they just bob in the tomato sauce on the hob, covered, for about 40 minutes or so. The resulting texture is silkier and smoother than a meatball you sear in a cast-iron pan first – they’re almost poached. It also means that even the gentlest poke while they’re cooking will cause one or two to disintegrate. But all the flavour goes into the sauce, so it’s win-win really.
Listened to the incredible Snoh Aalegra while cooking this – an artist whose voice and sound feel suitably smooth and decadent for weeknight ragu.
We served the meatballs with Nige’s kale and brown-butter colcannon (more on which later) and it was incredible. But we had a lot of leftovers; obviously I could have just reheated them, but where’s the fun in that? To me, the thick sauce and velvety meatballs suggested a ragu, although for culturally sensitive reasons let’s maybe call what I engineered for dinner a faux-ragu instead.
So, the next day, I decant the leftover meatballs into a small saucepan – Rob’s at his flat so it’s just me. I’d picked up some fresh tagliatelle during the day, and the plan was to let the meatballs simmer away until they literally disintegrate. A ragu is cooked low and slow, but it was 6.45pm, and I’m Northern, so it was already getting late. I figured the flavour was all in the meatballs anyway, but thanks to the black pudding, just cooking down the meatballs could make this a really dense, overly rich dish. So to the pan, I add a glass of wine, and a tin of tomatoes (per the original recipe, there’s 2x tins in there, but some of it has likely cooked off, and we need the sharp tomato to cut through the rich meatiness of it all). I did this on a high heat, as we need to burn the alcohol off. Then I lowered it to a simmer, for about 35 minutes.
I simmered it for about 40 minutes, then tossed it through the cooked pasta before serving.
A Stray Thought: You’d need to simmer it down completely, so that it loses the meatball texture entirely, but this would also make an amazing lasagne, if you’re that way inclined.
Also, I’d usually salt any tinned tomatoes while cooking – they can sometimes taste a bit “I literally just came out of a tin can” if you know what I mean – but the meatballs were already well seasoned.
2. The brown-butter colcannon (that became croquettes)
We had the previously-mentioned meatballs with Nige’s ridiculous colcannon (above), packed full of thick ribs of kale and fresh herbs. The *chef’s kiss* moment comes in the form of the brown butter, which is nutty and almost caramelised, and, once sizzling, is chucked over sliced spring onions and dill. The scalding hot butter scorches the aromatics, releasing their flavour. You use the back of a spoon to make ripples and rivets in the colcannon, and generously drown it in the butter. It’s sensational.
Anyway after the weekend, I know I’m going to make ragu with the main, so what do I do with the mash? I actually came up with this idea in the shower; forming puck-shaped discs of the colcannon, then dusting it in flour, egg, and panko, before shallow-frying. The result would be these crisp, croquette-ish sort of bubble and squeak patties, and maybe I’d have them with a fried egg and some chilli oil for lunch or something.
Well that’s what I did, although I set the smoke alarm off for the first time (ever!) and in the mad panic (flapping a tea towel, repeatedly, did nothing) I went off the idea of frying an egg. But if I had done that, I’d have fried it in the leftover brown butter, which would have made the egg taste really rich and luscious, I think.
I don’t have a recipe at all, just some thoughts:
I’d make these about the size of a plum; roll into a ball, then lightly squash it, and shape with your hands. The madder the surface area, the crispier the edges, which is what you want, so don’t worry about them being too neat.
I actually cooked mine in duck fat, because why not? But olive oil and even a slick of butter would be good. I’m just being a pretentious little lord who will likely get gout before he turns 35.
You could add some paprika to the flour or the breadcrumbs for an extra layer of flavour. I actually used a drizzle of Sichuan chilli oil at the end – the recipe of which we’ll cover in another newsletter.
The Re-Cookables
Each week I want to share a few links to recipes that I return to time and time again. The sorts of things I’ve made so many times I just wing it (a recookable is, in my mind at least, something unfussy, substitute-able, and quick. The pork larb, for example, is great with turkey mince, or roasted cauliflower, instead of pork). Here are some really good things I’ve cooked lately. Note that it’s a little iffy, legally, to reproduce recipes, so all I really feel comfortable doing is linking to them (the same goes for recipes from cookbooks that aren’t available to read online).
Herby Pork Larb with Chile (New York Times Cooking)
Coffee-rubbed Chicken Koftas (Guardian Feast)
Beef and Ginger Stir Fry (Bon Appetit)