Venison faggot, red wine lentils and tarragon PSB

Here’s my latest solo shopper post and recipe, originally published on BoroughMarket.org.uk.

Picture the scene: a group of friends gather in an enviably appointed kitchen and together prepare a meal — a couple peel and chop vegetables for the roasting tin; another two make fresh pasta (you know, just like that); someone else opens some dips, plates Cantabrian anchovies, and cuts up a few crudités, laughing while they casually pass those things around as the others cook; and a sixth person brings the party together, opening and pouring bottles of wine, maybe a G&T or two.

Lovely. Great. But also a bit glossy, a bit ‘made for TV’, a bit unlikely to happen so smoothly at my house, pal.

I wonder whether this vision — played out in adverts, TV shows, cookbooks — makes us feel as though we’ve got to have beautiful friends-over for cooking to be a leisure activity worthy of our downtime; and by extension, that we can’t have the same kind of fun on our own.

It’s the opposite for me. I prefer cooking solo (and for myself) to cooking communally. Let’s quietly pass over the fact I’m not very good at releasing control and sharing jobs, and concentrate more on the fact that I (and maybe you?) enjoy whiling away an hour or so, pottering over a chopping board and stove with podcast or playlist on, and a large glass of wine nearby. Sure, it’s good when things are quick and easy. But it’s generally better — both for the end result, but also for switching off — when there are a few different stages and some of them take a bit of time.

When solo eating I like a base I can chop things for, and then watch it put-putter away on the stove while I absent-mindedly stir. I like a centrepiece that needs (just) a little care, perhaps one that I can share some of my wine with (not too much), and then can sit without further faff when everything gets pulled together. And I like a side that, because it’s just me without other distractions, I can devote a little time to at the end, so that it’s cooked and dressed to perfection.

Indeed I had those three elements in mind on my most recent wander round the Market. I sorted the side dish first. Partly because the sides are often my starting point, but also because as I walked into the Market via Stoney Street I couldn’t fail to see a box at Ted’s Veg rammed with purple sprouting broccoli (at its finest right now). I took what I needed for one portion (as I’ve mentioned before, one of the benefits of shopping at a produce market free of pre-weighed packages), plus a bunch of tarragon at the same time.

I was then caught by how Shellseekers’ venison and fish counters seems to have swapped from right to left, and that the venison one was particularly tempting; not least the house-made faggots wrapped in caul fat. They were plump and cheap and I needed only one. Though regret not buying a few more for the freezer.

Finally, the put-puttering base element. I’d hoped Le Marche du Quartier would have puy lentils, and though they weren’t on the shelves this time (in stock again soon), I was set on this pulse and fortunately found green ones at Spice Mountain. So all was well.

I say finally, but the actual final thing was the ingredient that would bring everything together — as liquid for braising the faggot, splashed into the lentils, and for the glass that’d be in my hand (or near it) while cooking. So to Borough Wines, where we spoke about wanting something full and spicy enough to stand up to braised venison and a heady tarragon dressing, but mostly something very drinkable, just for me.

Venison faggot braised in red wine,
with lentils, purple sprouting broccoli and tarragon vinaigrette

The recipe doubles easily — though note that the lentils are enough for two already, and you’ll only need a splash more wine to braise a second faggot. You could successfully substitute the centrepiece with beef faggots or venison sausages.

Serves 1 (with leftover lentils)

• 1 venison faggot (about 130g)
• 1/2 small onion or echalion shallot, finely diced
• 100ml red wine
• 2 tablespoons light olive oil or vegetable oil

For the lentils

• 1/2 small onion or echalion shallot, finely diced
• 1 carrot c.60-80g, peeled and finely diced
• 1 small turnip, c. 60-80g, peeled and finely diced
• 150g green or puy lentils
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 50ml red wine
• 1 tablespoon light olive oil or vegetable oil
• Sea salt and black pepper

For the purple sprouting

• 100g purple sprouting
• Leaves stripped from 20g Tarragon, finely chopped
• The tip of a teaspoon’s worth of minced garlic (from lentils)
• 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• Salt and pepper

You will need a small (14cm diameter or similar), oven proof-skillet or gratin dish for the faggot.

Peel, slice, dice and mince the various vegetables first. Measure out the wine, then pour a glass with about the same quantity in for you to drink while you cook…

Heat the oven to 140C fan / gas mark 2.5.

Put a small, oven-proof skillet on a medium heat and add a tablespoon of cooking oil. Plump up the faggot if it looks a bit flat, then fry to brown it all over (about 5 minutes). Remove the faggot and leave it to rest on a plate for a few moments. Reduce the heat to a low-medium, then add another tablespoon of oil to the skillet, half a diced onion and a good pinch of salt. Cook gently for 7 or 8 minutes, stirring occasionally, so the onions soften and take on a little colour. Return the faggot to the pan, add 100ml of red wine (which if the pan is not too big should reach a touch over half way up the faggot. Top with water if necessary). Increase the temperature and bring to an energetic simmer, before transferring the pan to the oven and braising for 40 minutes (If you don’t have a skillet, do this first part in a frying pan, then transfer the faggot, onions and wine to a small gratin dish.)

To cook the lentils, put 1 tablespoon of cooking oil in a saucepan over a medium heat, then sauté the onion and carrot for 4 or 5 minutes until the onions are soft but not coloured. Add the turnip, the lentils and almost all of the minced garlic. Cook for 1 minute more before pouring in 50ml of red wine, and 500ml of water. Bring to the boil, then reduce to a simmer for 20-25 minutes, by when the lentils should be tender. Remove from the heat until needed.

Make a vinaigrette for the purple sprouting in a mixing bowl, stirring together the remainder of the minced garlic, 3 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil, 1 tablespoon of red wine vinegar, a pinch of salt and pepper. Then, when the faggot has nearly had its time, bring a saucepan of salted water to the boil, cook the purple sprouting for 3 minutes, drain well and transfer to the bowl with the dressing in. Mix well.

Decant the onions and braising liquor from the faggots to the lentils. Stir and then add 2 or 3 ladles to a pasta bowl or wide plate with a rim — they should be loose and saucy. Top with the faggot and the dressed purple sprouting, pouring any vinaigrette remaining in the bowl over the top, and maybe adding a final glug of extra virgin olive oil for good measure.

The leftovers

Cooked Lentils — There are two-three portions of lentils in this recipe ‘for one’, as it makes little sense to cook less. Stretch them out over two more meals, as a side to white fish or beef, or served cold as a salad / lunch box filler, mixed with roast squash and / or feta cheese.

Dried lentils — if you bought a pack of green or puy lentils for this recipe, remaining dried lentils will last for an age (but don’t forget them).

Tarragon — buy more purple sprouting and add tarragon; put a sprig or three in a small bottle of olive oil so as to flavour that oil; chop and mix through mayonnaise; allow any remaining sprigs to prompt a chicken and tarragon dish.

Red wine — If you’ve any left after 2 or 3 days, pour into a ziplock bag or an ice cube tray, and freeze so you’ve always got cooking wine to hand.