Kidneys

When you raise most of your own meat there are some things that are a rare treat. Perhaps surprisingly it is not the choice pieces of fillet or the best roasting joints.

No, the pieces that I eke out in the freezer for as long as I can are the offal. You can get several leg roasts from a sheep, but there are only ever two kidneys, for example.

Each one comes nestled in its little bed of suet. One day I shall risk roasting them as is, but out of deference to my arteries, perhaps not yet.

R loved them too. He would be transported into a reverie of delight at the memory of a plate of brochettes de rognons d'agneau (kidney skewers cooked on a charcoal grill) that he had in a restaurant in Tours many years ago. Steak and kidney pie inevitably gave rise to the complaint of too much steak and not enough kidney.

So this was a potential bone of contention given the tiny harvest.

A problem I surmounted by the simple expedient of eating them while he was away working, secure in the knowledge that he had no real idea of what there was in the freezer!

The two tiny kidneys that I found in the freezer the other day would scarcely fill a skewer, however, and they would be lost altogether in a pie.

They would therefore need a companion to make a successful supper dish, and what better than some home-cured bacon. Just an ounce or two would be enough along with some field mushrooms.

So, fry the diced bacon until the fat starts to run, then soften half a small, chopped red onion with a clove of garlic. Turn the heat up high and add the chopped kidneys and mushrooms. After a couple of minutes when the kidneys are browned nicely, deglaze the pan with a good splosh of sloe gin (marsala would be good too, or red wine with a teaspoon redcurrant or other fruit jelly to add a little sweetness). Turn the heat back down again and simmer gently until the kidneys are cooked through but still slightly pink (add a little boiling water if the pan contents start to stick). Season to taste and serve with plain-cooked butter beans. Top with a small handful of parsley if you have it.

The remains of the day

My ongoing quest to eat the freezer contents continues.

Lamb isn't a problem as such. I think I could eat it every day without ever becoming bored. Sadly both my doctor and my waistline would prefer it that I don't.

A leg roast once in a while is a Sunday treat, though, particularly after I have earned it by working outside in the garden all day. Cooked hard and fast, the joints from my little Hebridean sheep are as good as they come and are ready in about an hour. That's just long enough to walk Moose and get back in time to put the potatoes on.

Brown and deeply savoury on the outside, pink and succulent inside, and with enough fat (but not too much) to stop them drying out in the hot oven, I really don't think they can be beaten. For this little beauty I had a few left-over anchovies, so I studded the meat with them and some slices of garlic for added umami, but they weren't essential. On the other hand, a good ten-minute rest was.

Meal 1 was straightforward. Roast lamb, mash made with some of the last spuds from store, lots of spring cabbage and gravy made from the meat juices and a dollop of rosemary jelly. No problem. The hard part is to stop going back to the joint for just one more little slice!

Then, if it's Monday, it must be hash. Lots of onions, cubed potatoes and meat, all slowly pan-fried with the remaining gravy. Patience is a virtue here. It takes time to achieve the right amount of crispy edge, and of course a big handful of chopped parsley is needed just before that moment is reached. You could add a fried egg if feeling very greedy, but that would be painting the lily.

And so to the very last remains. The bone and the last few scraps of meat clinging to it.
Soup, of course, but where in the world shall we go?

One of the advantages of a longer than normal winter is that it gives plenty of opportunity to try out a few things in the kitchen. As citrus fruits were plentiful and cheap at the same time, and as R wasn't here to nag me to make Seville orange marmalade, I spent a couple of pleasant afternoons making lime pickle and preserved lemons.

With this in mind, it was destination North Africa!

After I had removed any decent-looking scraps of meat from the bone, it went into the stock pot with the usual aromatics. I wasn't looking for a thick, unctuous sort of stock; just some lightly-flavoured liquid for my soup.

To make the soup, I sweated the usual suspects (onion, carrot, a little garlic and a stick of celery) until softened, then added a good teaspoon each of cinnamon, ginger and cumin. Boy, does that make the room smell nice! These were followed some precooked chickpeas from the freezer, the end of a yellow pepper, a squeeze of sundried tomato paste and the chopped preserved lemon rind.

Simmer gently on the stove until all the vegetables are soft, then throw in the meat scraps to heat through and serve.
Light, warming and absolutely delicious!