Week 10: Veal and ham pie

Veal is a meat I’ve never cooked with, partly because of the concern of calf welfare and partly because not too many recipes call for it. However, being assured of the free-range nature of veal calves these days I thought I would cook up this recipe from Grandma’s Cookbook. Another reason for cooking it is that I always seem to read about veal of some cut or other in Dickens’ books (although normally pronounced with a /w/ instead of a /v/). One of my favourite passages is when David Copperfield is trying to not to look naïve when ordering food in a pub:

'Well now,' said the waiter, in a tone of confidence, 'what would you like for dinner? Young gentlemen likes poultry in general: have a fowl!'     I told him, as majestically as I could, that I wasn't in the humour for a fowl.     'Ain't you?' said the waiter. 'Young gentlemen is generally tired of beef and mutton: have a weal cutlet!'     I assented to this proposal, in default of being able to suggest anything else.     'Do you care for taters?' said the waiter, with an insinuating smile, and his head on one side. 'Young gentlemen generally has been overdosed with taters.'     I commanded him, in my deepest voice, to order a veal cutlet and potatoes, and all things fitting; David Copperfield: chapter 19

But why the selection of veal and ham pie? Well, a mix of recently reading it in Dickens’ Our Mutual Friend and also because it caught my attention as sounding particularly tasty, both in Our Mutual Friend and in the cook book.

DO my eyes deceive me, or is that object up there a — a pie? It can't be a pie.'     'Yes, it's a pie, Wegg,' replied Mr Boffin, with a glance of some little discomfiture at the Decline and Fall.     'HAVE I lost my smell for fruits, or is it a apple pie, sir?' asked Wegg.     'It's a veal and ham pie,' said Mr Boffin.     'Is it indeed, sir? And it would be hard, sir, to name the pie that is a better pie than a weal and hammer,' said Mr Wegg, nodding his head emotionally.     'Have some, Wegg?'     'Thank you, Mr Boffin, I think I will, at your invitation. I wouldn't at any other party's, at the present juncture; but at yours, sir! — And meaty jelly too, especially when a little salt, which is the case where there's ham, is mellering to the organ, is very mellering to the organ.' Mr Wegg did not say what organ, but spoke with a cheerful generality. Our Mutual Friend: chapter 5

But laying your hands on veal isn’t as easily done as you might think – not even the mighty Morrisons could help. It took a search on the internet and a cycle to the butcher’s in posh Chiswick to supply me with the required veal. The butcher’s in Chiswick is a palace to different types of meat and is of the variety of butcher’s that you might imagine in English country towns in Miss Marple stories, red awning out the front and a queue of people waiting patiently to be served and talking to each other in voices so posh you would think they were parodying themselves, saying things like, “oh and what are you doing here?” [fairly obvious, it being a butcher’s] and, “Yes, Darcey’s gone back to Geneva for the rest of the season”.

My own dialogue in the shop was, rather pleasingly, not unlike the exchange you’d expect to find between an inexperienced youth and an aged, slightly gruff and confident shop keeper in one of Dickens’ own books:

Butcher: What’ll you have?

Me: Some veal please [confidently stated].

Butcher: What cut?

Me: Leg or loin [Equally as confident - I was prepared for this question].

Butcher: There you go [pointing to some meat on the bone], there’s your leg.

Me: [thinking about which was best for a pie now confronted with the piece of leg in question] Do you have any loin [doubt creeping into my voice]?

Butcher: Loin? [surprise] Loin? Well, er, what are you going to be doing with it, if you don’t mind my asking, sir? [the term of address for polite form only, as there was no doubt who was in control]

Me: Sticking it in a pie [not prepared for the inquisition, I reverted to a base description].

Butcher: Well then, yes, this is what you’ll be after; your diced veal [said as he removed a lid from a tray of meat, previously hidden to my eyes]. How much you after?

Me: About 400g [now put in my place as the least knowledgeable in the exchange].

The exchange complete, as I took the veal I got a smile and a wink, which felt like a sign of encouragement for future ordering. This at the age of 37. I almost heard the butcher thinking to himself ‘he’ll get better at this with some proper training’ as I left the shop.  I could’ve sworn he pronounced ‘veal’ with a /w/ instead of a /v/, too.

Ingredients:

400-500g veal (loin or leg)	Puff pastry (enough to cover the top)
100-150g cooked ham (in one piece)	Flour for dusting
2 hard boiled eggs	Beaten egg, cream or milk to glaze
1 generous tablespoon of chopped parsley	For the forcemeat
Chopped thyme leaves from winter savory	200g spinach
15-20 large leaves basil, torn into pieces	200g breadcrumbs from fresh white bread
2 bay leaves, spines removed and shredded	55g bacon (unsmoked)
Pinch of cinnamon	½ tsp salt
125ml well-reduced stock – veal for preference, otherwise chicken	1 egg
Salt & pepper

Cut the veal, ham and hard-boiled eggs into thin slices. Mix together the parsley, winter savory or thyme leaves, half the basil leaves and the bay leaves. Add the cinnamon, salt and pepper. Toss the veal pieces in this and put to one side.

Put the spinach in a pan; the only water it will need will be that left on the leaves from washing it. Put it over a medium heat with a lid on. Stir until wilted, then tip it into a sieve and press well to remove excess water. Put it together with the breadcrumbs, bacon, remaining basil leaves and salt into a food processor then blend to a paste. Add the egg and process just enough to mix.

Take a deep pie dish and put a layer of ham in the base. Cover this with some of the forcemeat. Add the slices of hard-boiled egg, then more of the forcemeat, then the veal, interspersed with any remaining forcemeat. Pour in the stock.

Roll out the puff pastry and cover the dish. Glaze with beaten egg, cream or milk. Cook in a pre-heated oven for 2o minutes at 220ᵒc. Reduce heat to 180ᵒc and cook for a further 45 minutes to one hour.

Today’s learning:

This cold pie is just as delicious cold as hot, although maybe takes a white wine better cold. And it’s tasty. Mr Wegg wasn’t wrong!

Recipe taken from: Mason, L. & Paston-Williams, S. (2013) Grandma’s Cookbook: Recipes inspired by the National Trust. London: National Trust Books