Putting the pride back into great British food!

The French. Don’t you just love ‘em? Well they love themselves and aren’t shy about it. To have some sort of official body that keeps an eye on the language says something for a start.

If we had such a quango, the opposition, no matter who they were, would be continuously up in arms – a bit like we used to be with the French.

But while, due to modern global pressures, cracks may occasionally appear in their patriotism, they do generally tend to defend their food, their produce and their style of cooking. While we, the Brits on the other hand, have spent decades trying to pretend that we’re French; and occasionally Chinese and Indian.

I’ve nothing against the food of foreigners. I love it. But one of the main reasons we know anything about it is the pride of those born into it.

Somehow I can’t imagine some housewife in a middle-class suburb in Vietnam scouring her local markets for that elusive ingredient to make a British hotpot.

The French influence in Britain stands to reason. They’re our nearest foreign neighbours, the first place we hit when we go to the Continent and their army successfully invaded us some centuries ago.
But the main cause is a guy called Escoffier who, some years ago, taught us to cook; or, at least, how to cook his way. As is the case with most fashions, we leapt on his methods like a drowning man, such that they became received opinion.

It’s not only that we embraced Escoffier’s dishes but also his revolution in kitchen operation that, along the way, helped elevate cooking to a profession with status. But the legacy is such that we eschewed much of our tradition.Along with changing the titles of our chefs on their career ladder - sous, chef de partie and so on – we threw out much of our respect for our indigenous dishes.

At Oldfields, in order to champion British food over the years, we’ve had to go to war with the French influence so that we may serve such things as chunky carrots rather than “julienned”.

And not that long ago, I even employed a head chef who, once he got his feet under the table, threatened to walk out if he ever heard the words “gravy” or “custard” used in “his” kitchen. Unsurprisingly, I allowed him to walk but his reaction to such terms wasn’t, and isn’t, unique. Which makes this British Food Fortnight, which we’re in the middle of now, as important as ever.

No matter which style of food you cook, its success is dependent on the quality of the ingredients. But none more so than traditional British cooking where the basic components are messed about with to a minimum and are allowed to speak for themselves.

It’s because of such a principle that our cooking became derided. What hope a quality dish if war-time austerity enforced the use of old, tough or poorly-prepared ingredients?

But the modern emergence of farmers’ markets and farm shops, along with the drive for recognition of local produce, means that there’s an abundance of quality ingredients for us to use in our British dishes. It’s time we took another leaf out of the French book, and promoted our pride in our British food.

Beetroot and Ox tongue with horseradish

Like ox heart described elsewhere on this page, ox tongue is one of the animal’s most-used muscles and is also one of the least-used cuts of meat. It really is worth a try and produces an inexpensive dish.

Also, this recipe uses whole, uncooked beetroot; in my opinion, one of the most under-rated vegetables available to us.

Beetroot should always be cooked whole. Don’t be tempted to top and tail it because, once you’ve broken the skin, the red leeches out into the cooking water which not only stains everything it touches, it impairs the flavour as well.

Serves four

One ox tongue
Two raw beetroot - washed
Sea salt
Freshly-ground black pepper
A couple of teaspoons of horseradish sauce
One white onion – peeled and thinly sliced
White wine vinegar
Rapeseed (or similar) oil
80g watercress – washed and drained

Place the tongue in a large pan of cold water and bring to the boil. Turn the heat down and allow to simmer for one and a half to two hours or until tender. Drain off the water and allow the tongue to cool before peeling off the outer skin and discarding.

Meanwhile, while the tongue’s simmering, place the unpeeled beetroot into a pan of cold water. Bring to the boil and simmer for 45 minutes before cooling in cold water. Drain, peel the beetroot and cut into equal-sized cubes. Place in a bowl, season with salt and pepper and a splash of white wine vinegar.

Once cool and peeled, cut the tongue into slices and season with salt and pepper. Mix the horseradish sauce with a little rapeseed to loosen it.

Place the tongue, beetroot, onion and horseradish mix in a large bowl and toss together before piling onto serving plates or into a single serving dish.

Wild Boar Bob

This is Bob. We call him Wild Boar Bob. He’s been breeding ‘iron age’ pigs for over ten years, and supplying oldfields with his great tasting pork for a while now. The Pigs - a rare breed which is a cross between a Tamworth Pig and a Wild Boar - live up on Bob’s farm near Barnard Castle and after a good life out in the open, are taken to a small slaughterhouse in Witton le Wear. Bob Loves his pigs and we do too, mmmm...

Wild Boar Bob and oldfields.

Real food heroes.