Saturday

Underbelly

For breakfast this morning, I found myself standing in a grey concrete wasteland in a rather less salubrious part of Glasgow than I am used to. As I stood negotiating with the three men fanned tightly in front of me, I tried not to notice the way in which they visually sized me up in the same gladiatorial way of which I had once done to others in my youth. All, possibly of Albanian descent, I didn't ask, it had no bearing on the job at hand other than I knew I could not give this particular job to the local boys in case word got out that my sons were involved. We live in a small community, people talk! It had all started five days ago in the back room bar at Colm O'Neills place not far fae Baile a' Chaolais. The sons had got in to a wee bit of bother while collecting a few things for me out in the back of beyond. Things had gotten very dirty, but no harm had been caused and they all managed to get out safely. All that was left was for me to take the initiative and clean things up a little.

The tallest of the Albanians, clad in the usual uniform of hooded sweatshirt, cheap chain store denim and the inevitable obligatory designer label running shoes, seemed to be the only member of the group who understood and spoke the same language as me. As he gazed up I couldn't help but notice that his left eye was glazed over in a a yellowy-white opaque. An oddity that reminded me of a jar of pickled onions, the vinegar, milky in colour due to age, that had stood for most of my childhood in the plate glass window of the oul fish and chip shop in the heart of Drumchapel. A lot of hard men were to be found in Drumchapel, but I do not know the name of any man brave enough to eat fae that jar. More worrying was the fact that it was he who stood there with the gun in his hand. I thought it too rude to ask, with his somewhat hindered eyesight, if he was in fact, the best man for the job.

Eventually, after a one way pigeon-English explanation as to how exactly I wanted the job carried out, the way it was to be done and the way I wanted it to look before payment was made, a somewhat staccato conversation developed between them. 'Onion-eye' related the information of my requirements in the way most eastern Europeans do, much pointing and gesticulation in my direction, flintlock vowels continually spat out and unspeakable words penetrated the air. They wanted more money. I put on my best hard stare and said... no. I turned away to walk back to my car. Onion changed his tone. Money was discussed again. A small increase was agreed, the job was on. I wanted it doing there and then. I was aching to get this whole messy thing put to bed before Siobhan found out and there was hell to pay for not only the sons, but also for me.

The details of what happened next are not important. We are all too familiar with what happens when you put a high powered gun in the hands of an experienced man with the promise of payment on completion and is let loose on someone elses dirty work. The crux of this tale is thus: do not send your sons out to poach collect wild hare and pheasant for a game pie you are thinking of preparing, in your wife's very shiny car, especially when it has been raining and the country roads are bogging with thick brown mud. Otherwise, you too may have to sneak her car out of the garage, before she returns home later this weekend, to get it jet-washed, polished and cleaned (inside and out) by the only nationality that cleans cars perfectly for under £20. I'll say this for Onion and his cohorts, they may have many layers of which we in Glasgow fail to understand, but he did a grand job washing the car, one good eye or not!

Scottish Game Pie

1kg 20g free range pheasant (must be hung for at least one week)
680g fresh wild hare with a lean underbelly (usually found within the Duke of Argyle's private land behind the hidden carp lake out of sight of the castle, shhhh... between us, eh?)
226g carrot
170g celery
170g onion
6 scallions
56g butter
4tbsp vegetable oil
Puff pastry, (Enough to cover the top of your dish!)
4 level tbsp plain flour
3/4 pint Chicken stock
4tbsp decent brandy
1 Bay leaf
1 egg beaten
Salt and white pepper

Preparation is the key with this dish. Using a sharp boning knife, separate the meat from the bones, this should be done with feeling and care. A wee bit of  Debussy - Clair De Lune, always goes down well with me and a glass of something strong. We're not talking a nice little Chablis or 12-year-old single malt, perhaps just a small sniff of brandy to help things along. Put all of your meat into a large pan, sear it quickly and then set aside. Dice the carrots and celery into quarter pieces and chop the onion and scallions roughly.
Heat the oil and butter in a heavy based pan and add the vegetables, cook until lightly brown. Then, lift this out of the pan and set aside in a bowl. Stir the flour and seasoning through the usual home made game pie seasoning of your choice, then add a little at a time in the residual oil. Once all the meat is in the pan, replace the vegetables back into the pan. Add the stock, brandy, bay leaf and gravy browning to the pan. Bring to the boil, cover and simmer for a good hour.
Leave this to cool overnight. It will require a settling period of at least 16 hours before you can proceed further.
For those looking for a quick fix recipe may I ask you to stop reading, collect your things and never return here again. If you carry on for twenty miles or so you will come across a fast food outlet which will happily cater for your philistine needs.
The following day roll out your pastry and cover the top of the pie, Bake, never cook the pie at 200C for 30 mins. Then, lower to 180C for a further 20mins, if necessary then cover with foil. This way you won’t burn the pastry. Serve with thick gravy and new potatoes, garnished with minted garden peas.

30 comments:

  1. You cant shock me anymore Mr Chef, i am used to sinister beginings and soft endings from you by now. Is a hare a male rabbit?

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  2. Sinister beginnings eh? The narrative is clear for all to see hen, it is only the way your imagination runs away faster than the hare that changes the way in which our brains process the information before the post ends. I describe an every day innocent situation involving a jet wash. Your imagination does the rest.

    ...and no, a hare is an entirely different animal to a rabbit.

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  3. Sinister?

    I've never had hare. (Ha, see what I did there?) But now ya have me longing for the rabbit stews of childhood, what a treat!

    Pint?

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    1. Mutton stew, rabbit stew, oxtail and brisket stew, or just a small taste of Map stew, all good in my book. See what I did with the words there son? Not so cocky the now, eh coppertop?

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    2. Ah c'mon, I'd never step over the line between confident and cocky. I wouldn't have lasted this long. Your shout, and don't forget the chaser eh? :¬)

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    3. Tell yis what, how about we take a full bottle each and go sit at the bar and put the world to rights like we used to?

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  4. You probably knew already to remove registration or insurance docs with your home address on them, before letting that motley crew loose on your car? We've concluded that's how husband's car wandered off out of our driveway, the day after visiting the car wash.
    I once plucked a couple of "well-hung" pheasant (not really in my job description) for my employers' hosting of The Hunt Christmas Party. I was invited to attend and will remember the flavors of that game pie 'til the end of time. Farm-raised, store-bought, not at all the same.

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    Replies
    1. Aye hen, I did, but thak you for the heads up. I'm pretty much secure where I stay, old habits and even older enemies tend to die hard.

      The best way to eat pheasant is after it has been hung for at least 3 weeks and the maggots are starting to appear. Yeah I know... an acquired taste it is indeed. It isn't as awfie as it actually sounds.

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  5. The most important ingredients in recipes that take days of preparation are love and respect. Love for those you are preparing it, and respect for the process of doing it correctly. A tip of the cap to you for including both. This sounds delicious!

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    Replies
    1. Nice sentiment Mr Earl, the food I cook is usually reserved for those closest to me. Game pie has been prepared and served by my family for well over 200 years.

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  6. I wondered where this was going for a while, so I had to go straight to the end to make sure it all ended happily ever after. Guns, Albanians and mean looking chefs in Glasgow? I'm assuming the place you went to wasn't Bearsden? I will admit to having to google Baile a Chaolais. I've been away too long chef. There is no city quite like Glasgow and there are no people quite like Glesga people. You have proved that.

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    Replies
    1. I can look you in the eye and tell you for sure that it was no Bearsden that I was in the day. Tales of gore and pain are old hat for me Tony, nobody wants to read about misery and pain in these hard times.

      Sooner or later every one comes back home to Glasgow. It's in our blood.

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  7. Fear God - A duty everywhere enjoined in the Bible, as one of the first duties of religion. The word fear, when used to express our duty to God, means that we are to reverence and honor him. Religion, in one aspect, is described as the fear of God; in another, as the love of God; in another, as submission to his will, etc. A holy veneration or fear is always an elementary principle of religion. It is the fear, not so much of punishment as of his disapprobation; not so much the dread of suffering as the dread of doing wrong.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Uh huh... Why would anyone worship someone or something out of fear? Maybe time to rethink your direction Pew?

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    2. Believe it was Marcus Aurelius who said something like, if there is a just God he will not care how devout you are but judge you upon how you live, if there is an unjust God why would you want to join his gang anyway and if there is no God then the end is the end and it is best to live a noble life, that way when you are gone you will be remembered fondly by those who knew and loved you... Seems Pews God sounds like the Dom in an S and M dungeon, no thanks, i believe i'll stick with my Heathen types, they seem to be much more decent folk than the scripture thumpers...

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  8. Can't beat a good pickled onion, however fusty it may be. My banana boat remains firmly berthed in the harbour these days, but always tempted by a quick birl up the Thames. Hope all is well with you and yours.

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    Replies
    1. Fusty, maybe... furry however, och no!

      I still have a fondness for the much-missed captain of that oul boat of yours, gonnae tell her I was asking for her the next time you see her?

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    2. Bonjour Madame DF. :¬)

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  9. you're clever, sugar, y'all had me goin! ;~) LOL one day remind me to tell you about eastern europeans in my little town! lovely recipe, sir! the MITM purchased a rabbit today for the pot this coming week. the last i heard, he'll be doing some sort of french mustard and rabbit dish. xoxoxo

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    Replies
    1. Savvy, have the MITM post up his recipe for us all to share. As for your European tales, I cannae wait!

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  10. i do enjoy my bird well hung - but rarely have the patience to leave it alone for a week!

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    1. I have heard that well hung meat is more satisfying than your average run of the mill... any thoughts on that hen?

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  11. Please don't frighten me like that. I seem to be more gullible lately.
    I'm putting my faith in Siobhan.

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  12. Dear lady, have no fear, Siobhan doesn't stand for any of my nonsense these days. These days I am a mere lamb... (or is that a black sheep?)

    Only you can tell.

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  13. A lean, hare(y) underbelly is most satisfying indeed.

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Thank you, the chef is currently preparing an answer for you in the kitchen. Do help yourself to more bread.