I
mentioned in my last blog that I’d write up some of the meals I drooled over in
the 17 months I spent living in hotels in SE Asia, with only a kettle to cook
in. And at the top of the list, or thereabouts, was the good old British pie.
What
would I cook first, now I had a kitchen again? Steak and kidney pudding?
Chicken and mushroom? Minced beef and onion? A proper pork pie or Cornish pasty? Or how about one from The English Cookery Book by Lucie G Nicoll I’m
re-reading? A curiously quirky and charmingly vague book that for the second
season of the year (April, May, June - if indeed it is early summer now, and not
late autumn which the weather seems to suggest) recommends May Pie - an
unspecified pastry filled with stewed young onions, turnips, carrots, lettuce
hearts, parsley, and green peas in gravy. Or salmon pie - which is more of a
baked fish loaf than a pie - containing just milk-soaked breadcrumbs, salmon,
butter, seasoning, and beaten egg.
To
be honest, neither was what I was imagining in those long evenings supping iced
beer while discussing the merits of meat pies with Kiwis - a people that seem
to hold the crumbly, fat-soaked comfort of flesh and pastry in even higher
esteem than the Bovril-swigging English football fan.
In
fact, I had to go back to the first season of January, February and March (who
said the seasons aren’t changing?) to get on to the good stuff like beefsteak
and kidney pudding made with nothing more than rump steak, beef kidney, flour,
and ‘suet paste’. Or calf’s head pie made with head stock and meat and boiled
eggs. Or Fanny pie comprising beef, mutton, bacon, onion, carrot, potato and ‘rich
paste’. Or how about vermicelli pie, mutton pie, or bacon and herb pie?
No,
I’d make it my own way from whatever needed using up in the fridge and freezer -
in this case three chicken breasts and a bag of 18-month-old frozen leeks - a
concoction which with a midnight plunder of next door’s herb garden became ‘chicken and leek pie in tarragon
pastry’.
And
I have to say I was really chuffed with the result. It was so filled with herbs,
it sort of stumbled drunkenly on the tongue in a heady bouquet, like sage derby
on a few crackers. And although I’d made up the tarragon pastry on the spot, it
turned out crispy, delicious and thankfully golden despite the unappetising
green colour before it was cooked.
Anyway,
enough talk. Here it is. It’s really worth a go - especially if, like me,
you’ve been pie less in a pie-filled world for far longer than you’d care to
recall.
Chicken
And Leek Pie In Tarragon Pastry
For
the filling:
A
little butter and olive oil for frying
3
shallots, finely chopped
2
sticks of celery, peeled, cut into four lengthways, and then diced
2
garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 leeks,
washed well and sliced
3
thyme sprigs, chopped
3
chicken breasts, cut into 2cm-wide cubes
1
bacon rasher, thinly sliced
50g
butter
50g
flour
300ml
milk
1/4
nutmeg, freshly grated
salt
and pepper
For
the pastry:
300g
plain flour
150g
lard
1
level tsp salt
Leaves
from 3 tarragon sprigs
130ml
of cold water
A
greased pie dish, 8 inches wide and 2 inches deep
Melt
a knob of butter and a splash of olive oil in a pan and fry the shallots for a
couple of minutes until they are slightly browned. Add the leeks, garlic and
celery and fry for another few minutes, stirring frequently to stop the mixture
catching.
Add the bacon and chicken breast. Lower the heat, and continue
cooking for another 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Meanwhile,
make the pastry by putting the flour, tarragon, salt and lard in a food mixer
and pulsing until it resembles greeny-grey breadcrumbs. The amount of water you
add will depend on how much moisture was in the tarragon. Mine took about 130ml
of water. Continue pulsing the breadcrumbs while trickling in the water. Stop
when the pastry forms a ball and comes away clean from the sides of the processor.
Cover with clingfilm and put in the freezer to chill.
Add
50g of flour and the freshly grated nutmeg to the pie filling and stir well for
a minute over a low heat. Slowly add the milk, making sure each splash is fully
blended in before adding the next one. By the end, the sauce should be the
consistency of thick custard. If it’s too thick, add a little water. Continue
simmering for another five minutes, stirring all the time, then take off the
heat. Add the chopped thyme and season with salt and pepper.
Remove
the pastry from the freezer and knead a couple of times on a lightly-floured
board. Take two thirds of the ball, flatten into a disc with your hands, and
roll into a circle about three inches wider than the pie dish.
Drape the pastry
circle over the rolling pin, and then line the heavily-buttered pie dish. Push
down gently to make sure there are no air pockets. Trim the pastry from the
sides.
Roll
out the excess pastry until about 5mm thick. Cut into strips. Brush the trimmed
pastry edge with water and lay the strips on the rim of the pie dish and gently
press together. Brush the pastry rim with water. Fill the pie with the creamy
chicken and leek filling.
Roll
out the remaining pastry to fit the top of the dish, and press the pastry edges
together. Cut round the dish to remove the excess pastry, and then squeeze the
edges together with a fork. Roll out the surplus pastry and cut into leaf
designs to decorate the pie.
Brush the pastry with egg yolk. Pre-heat the oven
to 180C and bake the pie for one hour, or until a beautiful golden brown
colour.
:: My new book 'Down And Out In Padstow And London' about my disastrous attempt to train as a chef, including stints at Heston Blumenthal's Fat Duck, Rick Stein's and other restaurants, is available as a paperback and eBook on Amazon CLICK HERE
