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
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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
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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.
I
ngredients:
400-500g veal (loin or leg)
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Puff pastry (enough to cover the top)
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100-150g cooked ham (in one piece)
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Flour for dusting
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2 hard boiled eggs
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Beaten egg, cream or milk to glaze
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1 generous tablespoon of chopped parsley
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Chopped thyme leaves from winter savory
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200g spinach
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15-20 large leaves basil, torn into pieces
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200g breadcrumbs from fresh white bread
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2 bay leaves, spines removed and shredded
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55g bacon (unsmoked)
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Pinch of cinnamon
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½ tsp salt
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125ml well-reduced stock – veal for preference, otherwise
chicken
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1 egg
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Salt & pepper
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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
I mean, the name cullen skink gives absolutely no clues
at all about what it is; what’s more, rather than commending it as a dish worth
ordering, the name cullen skink makes
it sound distinctly unappetising and something more like a poisonous mushroom
or a disease that afflicts badgers than the kind of thing you’d have while in a
pub on the Scottish coast. 
Put the stock and the potatoes into
a clean pan and bring to the boil. Let them simmer until the potatoes are well
cooked and just starting to break up a little, giving body to the liquid. Stir
in the fish and head through. Taste and add more salt if desired; remember, the
smoked fish may be quite salty already! Now, stir in the cream.
