Cook better

how it came about Why do a book? Well, one night we went to Nikki’s brother, Steve, for dinner. He made a tomatoey chorizo pasta he’d found online, while we sat at the kitchen counter and watched. It was his debut cooking performance—for us, at least—which was more exciting than anything else.

The recipe, by Irish chef Rachel Allen, took no time at all, tasted yummy and wasn’t intimidating to make. Steve’s need was something quick yet impressive—and it definitely fulfilled that promise! But on the way home we wondered how different it would taste cooked in our kitchen, applying techniques we’ve picked up along the way.

So we went out and bought exactly the same ingredients. This time we sliced the chorizo not thick but wafery thin, and cooked it until crisp to release its orange oil; we crushed the garlic to a fine paste and cooked it low and slow in extra-virgin olive oil rather than adding it raw to the boiling tomato. And so it went on.

The next day we dropped off a serving with Steve.

‘OMG,’ he texted, ‘I just tasted your sauce. It’s amazing! What did you do? So much flavour … but more subtle and less spicy … but still rich … It’s … delicious!’

Right then, it dawned on us: just because we’re not formally trained doesn’t mean we can’t help people cook better—in fact, it probably works to our advantage. Thing is, it’s hardly rocket science: no matter what the recipe, no matter how simple or exotic the ingredients, the method determines whether or not you’re making the most of those materials.

To illustrate the point, and you may think we’ve lost the plot from the get-go, turn the page. We’re kicking off with a recipe that’s not a recipe and (if you count salt and oil) involves only three ingredients. But when it comes to understanding the importance of ‘how’, there’s nothing quite as effective as the humble corncob and its golden fruit.

12 cook. better.

how it came about Why do a book? Well, one night we went to Nikki’s brother, Steve, for dinner. He made a tomatoey chorizo pasta he’d found online, while we sat at the kitchen counter and watched. It was his debut cooking performance—for us, at least—which was more exciting than anything else.

The recipe, by Irish chef Rachel Allen, took no time at all, tasted yummy and wasn’t intimidating to make. Steve’s need was something quick yet impressive—and it definitely fulfilled that promise! But on the way home we wondered how different it would taste cooked in our kitchen, applying techniques we’ve picked up along the way.

So we went out and bought exactly the same ingredients. This time we sliced the chorizo not thick but wafery thin, and cooked it until crisp to release its orange oil; we crushed the garlic to a fine paste and cooked it low and slow in extra-virgin olive oil rather than adding it raw to the boiling tomato. And so it went on.

The next day we dropped off a serving with Steve.

‘OMG,’ he texted, ‘I just tasted your sauce. It’s amazing! What did you do? So much flavour … but more subtle and less spicy … but still rich … It’s … delicious!’

Right then, it dawned on us: just because we’re not formally trained doesn’t mean we can’t help people cook better—in fact, it probably works to our advantage. Thing is, it’s hardly rocket science: no matter what the recipe, no matter how simple or exotic the ingredients, the method determines whether or not you’re making the most of those materials.

To illustrate the point, and you may think we’ve lost the plot from the get-go, turn the page. We’re kicking off with a recipe that’s not a recipe and (if you count salt and oil) involves only three ingredients. But when it comes to understanding the importance of ‘how’, there’s nothing quite as effective as the humble corncob and its golden fruit.

12 cook. better.

three-minute chicken 2 chicken breast fillets sea salt flakes and freshly ground black pepper 2 tablespoons flour 2 tablespoons vegetable oil ½ cup dry white wine You’ll also need: a large pan—the one we use is 28 cm (11 inches) in diameter a rolling pin—failing that, an empty wine bottle clingwrap or baking paper Once the chicken is prepped, everything’s going to happen very quickly, so have your oil in the pan, the wine to hand and a warm plate ready to receive the cooked chicken. Oh, and maybe your cellphone for timing the cooking. To avoid fumbling for the flour with ‘chicken hands’, get the flour on a plate now. Okay, let’s go …

1. Halve and flatten the chicken, as explained on the previous page, and season generously.

2. Press both sides of the flattened chicken breasts into the flour so they are coated evenly, then shake off any excess. Cut off a sliver of chicken for testing the heat in the pan.

3. Heat the oil in the pan over a medium-high heat. When the oil starts shimmering, drop the test piece of chicken into the pan—if it sizzles immediately, you’re ready to get going.

4. Add the chicken and cook for 1–1½ minutes—you’ll see the edges start turning white—and then turn. Cook for another 1–1½ minutes. If the pan is the right heat, you should get a bit of browning on the surface.

5. Add the wine—it will splutter and bubble—then immediately remove the chicken breasts and set aside on the warm plate (you don’t want them to turn tough by boiling).

6. Cook the wine for another minute or so until it resembles a thickened sauce (the residual flour from the chicken helps this along). Use a wooden spatula to scrape any bits off the bottom of the pan—this is called deglazing (more about that in chapter 13).

7. Pour this winey pan juice/sauce over the chicken and serve at once.

Feeds 2

Make it fancy … when the wine is reduced by half, add 1 tablespoon of finely chopped parsley.

54 cook. better.

three-minute chicken 2 chicken breast fillets sea salt flakes and freshly ground black pepper 2 tablespoons flour 2 tablespoons vegetable oil ½ cup dry white wine You’ll also need: a large pan—the one we use is 28 cm (11 inches) in diameter a rolling pin—failing that, an empty wine bottle clingwrap or baking paper Once the chicken is prepped, everything’s going to happen very quickly, so have your oil in the pan, the wine to hand and a warm plate ready to receive the cooked chicken. Oh, and maybe your cellphone for timing the cooking. To avoid fumbling for the flour with ‘chicken hands’, get the flour on a plate now. Okay, let’s go …

1. Halve and flatten the chicken, as explained on the previous page, and season generously.

2. Press both sides of the flattened chicken breasts into the flour so they are coated evenly, then shake off any excess. Cut off a sliver of chicken for testing the heat in the pan.

3. Heat the oil in the pan over a medium-high heat. When the oil starts shimmering, drop the test piece of chicken into the pan—if it sizzles immediately, you’re ready to get going.

4. Add the chicken and cook for 1–1½ minutes—you’ll see the edges start turning white—and then turn. Cook for another 1–1½ minutes. If the pan is the right heat, you should get a bit of browning on the surface.

5. Add the wine—it will splutter and bubble—then immediately remove the chicken breasts and set aside on the warm plate (you don’t want them to turn tough by boiling).

6. Cook the wine for another minute or so until it resembles a thickened sauce (the residual flour from the chicken helps this along). Use a wooden spatula to scrape any bits off the bottom of the pan—this is called deglazing (more about that in chapter 13).

7. Pour this winey pan juice/sauce over the chicken and serve at once.

Feeds 2

Make it fancy … when the wine is reduced by half, add 1 tablespoon of finely chopped parsley.

54 cook. better.

best-ever bolognese sauce You need to use a decent amount of oil. That way you don’t need to interfere and stir as much and the veggies can bubble away and do their thing in peace. – B An hour or two before cooking, remove the mince from the fridge, unwrap it, lay it on a plate lined with doubled-up paper towel and cover it with more paper towel to absorb any excess liquid. – N

If the meat starts releasing liquid, don’t stress: browning will begin again once it’s boiled away. – N We use a wooden spatula, stabbing at the mince or pressing down on it between stirring, until there are no more ‘worm’ shapes. – B

94 cook. better.

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil 1 tablespoon butter 1 medium onion, very finely chopped 1 long stick celery, very finely chopped 1 medium-sized carrot, very finely chopped 500 g (1 lb 2 oz) beef mince, at room temperature 200 ml (7 fl oz/1 cup) red wine 1 tablespoon tomato paste 410 g (14 oz) tin of tomato purée—or 390 ml (13 fl oz/1½ cups) carton of passata/Italian crushed tomatoes 400 ml (13 fl oz/1 ½ cups) water ½ teaspoon sea salt freshly ground black pepper 500 g (1 lb 2 oz) penne, shells or tagliatelle freshly grated Parmesan 1. Put the oil and butter in a big pot (20 cm/8 inches or more diameter) with high sides. Add the soffritto veggies and cook low and slow for 30 minutes (as described on page 93).

2. Remove the cooked soffritto from the pot and keep to one side—you don’t want it to burn when you crank up the heat for the meat.

3. The goal is cooked mince that looks like crisp, brown crumbs and the only way to do this is at max. Turn the heat to high.

Once the pot is hot, drop in handfuls of mince to cover the base.

Leave it alone for at least 5 minutes so it can develop a brown crust on the bottom.

4. Now break up the mince as much as you possibly can while stirring. When all the pink colour is gone, tip the soffritto back in and keep going, working quickly.

5. After another 5 minutes (10 in total), the mixture will give you a heads-up: it will start sticking to the bottom of the pot. The mince now needs a drink. Pour in the wine and let it cook off completely. Once the meat has absorbed all the wine it should look darker and there will be an oily sheen on the bottom of the pot.

6. Add the tomato paste and stir vigorously for a minute or two— it will turn everything a brownish brick-red.

7. Add the tomato purée or ‘crushed tomatoes’ and take note of the texture—it should get back to this consistency by the end of cooking.

best-ever bolognese sauce You need to use a decent amount of oil. That way you don’t need to interfere and stir as much and the veggies can bubble away and do their thing in peace. – B An hour or two before cooking, remove the mince from the fridge, unwrap it, lay it on a plate lined with doubled-up paper towel and cover it with more paper towel to absorb any excess liquid. – N

If the meat starts releasing liquid, don’t stress: browning will begin again once it’s boiled away. – N We use a wooden spatula, stabbing at the mince or pressing down on it between stirring, until there are no more ‘worm’ shapes. – B

94 cook. better.

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil 1 tablespoon butter 1 medium onion, very finely chopped 1 long stick celery, very finely chopped 1 medium-sized carrot, very finely chopped 500 g (1 lb 2 oz) beef mince, at room temperature 200 ml (7 fl oz/1 cup) red wine 1 tablespoon tomato paste 410 g (14 oz) tin of tomato purée—or 390 ml (13 fl oz/1½ cups) carton of passata/Italian crushed tomatoes 400 ml (13 fl oz/1 ½ cups) water ½ teaspoon sea salt freshly ground black pepper 500 g (1 lb 2 oz) penne, shells or tagliatelle freshly grated Parmesan 1. Put the oil and butter in a big pot (20 cm/8 inches or more diameter) with high sides. Add the soffritto veggies and cook low and slow for 30 minutes (as described on page 93).

2. Remove the cooked soffritto from the pot and keep to one side—you don’t want it to burn when you crank up the heat for the meat.

3. The goal is cooked mince that looks like crisp, brown crumbs and the only way to do this is at max. Turn the heat to high.

Once the pot is hot, drop in handfuls of mince to cover the base.

Leave it alone for at least 5 minutes so it can develop a brown crust on the bottom.

4. Now break up the mince as much as you possibly can while stirring. When all the pink colour is gone, tip the soffritto back in and keep going, working quickly.

5. After another 5 minutes (10 in total), the mixture will give you a heads-up: it will start sticking to the bottom of the pot. The mince now needs a drink. Pour in the wine and let it cook off completely. Once the meat has absorbed all the wine it should look darker and there will be an oily sheen on the bottom of the pot.

6. Add the tomato paste and stir vigorously for a minute or two— it will turn everything a brownish brick-red.

7. Add the tomato purée or ‘crushed tomatoes’ and take note of the texture—it should get back to this consistency by the end of cooking.

for mushroom sauce …

Cream (instead of white sauce) can form the basis for other sauces besides mushroom.

Simmer a cup of cream with 2 tablespoons of Dijon mustard and a spritz of lemon juice until thickened and slightly reduced for mustard sauce.

Or with 100 g of finely grated Parmesan for a rich, quick cheese sauce. – N

As soon as the wine is gone and you’ve seasoned again (or not), tip in 250 ml (8½ fl oz/1 cup) of cream and wait for it to heat up. Once it starts bubbling, cook for about 2 minutes or until the cream is visibly thickened but still has a pouring consistency. Take the pan off the heat and serve.

Makes 300 ml (10 fl oz/11⁄3 cup), which should be enough for 4 people.

for mushrooms on toast …

Add a ¼ cup of cream to the mushroom base, allow it to heat up and bubble and reduce until the mushrooms have a thickish coat of cream. Immediately scrape out of the pan and onto thick slices of buttered white toast, sprinkle with finely chopped chive and eat right away.

Feeds 2

for creamy mushroom pasta …

Cook 250 g (9 oz) tagliatelle (see page 68), scoop out a cup of pasta water, drain the pasta and tip it back into the pot. Working quickly, and with the pot over a medium-high heat, add the mushroom base along with a ¼ cup of cream and 2 tablespoons of finely chopped chives. Using a pair of tongs, toss everything around enthusiastically until the cream has thickened to form a sauce that coats the pasta—if necessary, add a splash (about 2 tablespoons) of pasta water to help it along. Serve this instant, with plenty of freshly ground black pepper.

Feeds 2

for plain mushroom pasta …

Cook 200 g (7 oz) penne (see page 68), scoop out a cup of pasta water, drain and tip the pasta back into the pot. Set the pot over a low heat and, working quickly, add the mushroom base back in along with a ¼ cup of chopped parsley leaves, 1½ tablespoons of cold butter and about ½ a cup of pasta water. Stir everything around briskly until you see the pasta water and butter amalgamate in a film of glossy sauce on the bottom of the pot. Serve at once, topped with freshly grated Parmesan if you like.

Feeds 2 134 cook. better.

for mushroom sauce …

Cream (instead of white sauce) can form the basis for other sauces besides mushroom.

Simmer a cup of cream with 2 tablespoons of Dijon mustard and a spritz of lemon juice until thickened and slightly reduced for mustard sauce.

Or with 100 g of finely grated Parmesan for a rich, quick cheese sauce. – N

As soon as the wine is gone and you’ve seasoned again (or not), tip in 250 ml (8½ fl oz/1 cup) of cream and wait for it to heat up. Once it starts bubbling, cook for about 2 minutes or until the cream is visibly thickened but still has a pouring consistency. Take the pan off the heat and serve.

Makes 300 ml (10 fl oz/11⁄3 cup), which should be enough for 4 people.

for mushrooms on toast …

Add a ¼ cup of cream to the mushroom base, allow it to heat up and bubble and reduce until the mushrooms have a thickish coat of cream. Immediately scrape out of the pan and onto thick slices of buttered white toast, sprinkle with finely chopped chive and eat right away.

Feeds 2

for creamy mushroom pasta …

Cook 250 g (9 oz) tagliatelle (see page 68), scoop out a cup of pasta water, drain the pasta and tip it back into the pot. Working quickly, and with the pot over a medium-high heat, add the mushroom base along with a ¼ cup of cream and 2 tablespoons of finely chopped chives. Using a pair of tongs, toss everything around enthusiastically until the cream has thickened to form a sauce that coats the pasta—if necessary, add a splash (about 2 tablespoons) of pasta water to help it along. Serve this instant, with plenty of freshly ground black pepper.

Feeds 2

for plain mushroom pasta …

Cook 200 g (7 oz) penne (see page 68), scoop out a cup of pasta water, drain and tip the pasta back into the pot. Set the pot over a low heat and, working quickly, add the mushroom base back in along with a ¼ cup of chopped parsley leaves, 1½ tablespoons of cold butter and about ½ a cup of pasta water. Stir everything around briskly until you see the pasta water and butter amalgamate in a film of glossy sauce on the bottom of the pot. Serve at once, topped with freshly grated Parmesan if you like.

Feeds 2 134 cook. better.

CHAPTER 11 heat With the (mushroom) sauce and sides covered, let’s get a roast in the oven …

136 cook. better.

CHAPTER 11 heat With the (mushroom) sauce and sides covered, let’s get a roast in the oven …

136 cook. better.

making fire Fire is an integral part of man’s evolution. It’s the reason we don’t have to answer to cats. But there’s nothing like a dud fire to ruin the party.

This only happens when: (a) the fire maker doesn’t understand how fire works, or (b) the wood’s wet.

Combustion requires oxygen, and heat rises. So whatever freeform shape you build, there must be space between the logs for the fire to breathe. If it’s a vertical pile, you’re off to a good start.

Wet wood is timber that’s freshly cut and it’s surprisingly hard to detect until you try to light it. The solution is plenty of encouragement—firestarters, petrol, paper etc. But if you’ve built the old ‘tepee’, adding fuel is near impossible. The solution to all these problems is … [drum roll] … the log cabin.

the log cabin

People always ask: how do you know the fire’s ready?

There’s a saying that the ‘flame must be off the coal’—not bad advice because unless you’re cooking steak, it means the fire may be too hot to control, and any fat dripping on open flames will flare up like crazy.

So rather gauge it by the old ‘one-Mississippi’ method: hold your hand over the coals where the grid will be—you’ll know quickly if it’s hot enough to burn flesh before you get to ‘three-Mississippi’! – B

152 cook. better.

1. Lay two of the larger logs parallel to each other so they are pointing away from you and have a gap between them.

2. Pick a couple of split logs that look like they want to catch fire and lay them split-side down across the base logs. If you can get three side by side, that’s perfect, but make sure there’s a gap between them.

3. Keep building until it’s about four or five ‘storeys’ high.

4. As you go, break off splinters and pieces of bark (in the old days, known as kindling), and drop them inside the log cabin— it’ll help get things going.

5. Now light your favoured firestarter and push it under the gap at the bottom.

6. The benefit of the design is that if the wood’s wet or things aren’t happening, you can keep pushing firelighters or newspaper into the gap at the bottom until it takes.

7. You’ll know the fire’s born when you hear satisfying crackling sounds. At this point, your friends will nod approvingly and start saying things like, ‘Good fire, mate.’

8. You should be ready to roll within the hour.

making fire Fire is an integral part of man’s evolution. It’s the reason we don’t have to answer to cats. But there’s nothing like a dud fire to ruin the party.

This only happens when: (a) the fire maker doesn’t understand how fire works, or (b) the wood’s wet.

Combustion requires oxygen, and heat rises. So whatever freeform shape you build, there must be space between the logs for the fire to breathe. If it’s a vertical pile, you’re off to a good start.

Wet wood is timber that’s freshly cut and it’s surprisingly hard to detect until you try to light it. The solution is plenty of encouragement—firestarters, petrol, paper etc. But if you’ve built the old ‘tepee’, adding fuel is near impossible. The solution to all these problems is … [drum roll] … the log cabin.

the log cabin

People always ask: how do you know the fire’s ready?

There’s a saying that the ‘flame must be off the coal’—not bad advice because unless you’re cooking steak, it means the fire may be too hot to control, and any fat dripping on open flames will flare up like crazy.

So rather gauge it by the old ‘one-Mississippi’ method: hold your hand over the coals where the grid will be—you’ll know quickly if it’s hot enough to burn flesh before you get to ‘three-Mississippi’! – B

152 cook. better.

1. Lay two of the larger logs parallel to each other so they are pointing away from you and have a gap between them.

2. Pick a couple of split logs that look like they want to catch fire and lay them split-side down across the base logs. If you can get three side by side, that’s perfect, but make sure there’s a gap between them.

3. Keep building until it’s about four or five ‘storeys’ high.

4. As you go, break off splinters and pieces of bark (in the old days, known as kindling), and drop them inside the log cabin— it’ll help get things going.

5. Now light your favoured firestarter and push it under the gap at the bottom.

6. The benefit of the design is that if the wood’s wet or things aren’t happening, you can keep pushing firelighters or newspaper into the gap at the bottom until it takes.

7. You’ll know the fire’s born when you hear satisfying crackling sounds. At this point, your friends will nod approvingly and start saying things like, ‘Good fire, mate.’

8. You should be ready to roll within the hour.

CHAPTER 14 potatoes Meat and … you guessed it!

176 cook. better.

CHAPTER 14 potatoes Meat and … you guessed it!

176 cook. better.