Episode 6 The Good Cook

Love food? Love cooking?

This series will show you how anyone can make fantastic food,

and introduce to you some new and exciting ingredients.

I'm Simon Hopkinson, and cooking means the world to me.

I love cooking - it's my life, it's my passion.

As a child and teenager, eating was always an adventure.

I opened my first restaurant aged 20,

and have been in the kitchen ever since.

But now I'm better known for writing cookery books.

For me, nothing beats cooking at home.

It's my real inspiration and I want to share my love of it with you.

That is just how it should be.

Tonight, I'm going to show you five dishes any chef would be proud of,

and that you can cook in your own kitchen.

Great homemade food that will impress your friends.

Follow my lead, and you'll be able to cook some exceptionally good food.

I just love it.

Bury, in Lancashire, as it was known when I was growing up,

remains close to my heart.

My parents shopped at the market at least three times a week

and it was second nature to them.

There were no supermarkets then.

This is where my interest in good food really began.

Great. Lovely. Old-fashioned vegetable stall,

the sort my mum loved.

Little potatoes - these are wonderful for potato salad.

Steam them, peel them, chop them. Spring onions, chives,

hot into the dressing - best potato salad you'll ever eat.

And Maris Piper,

perfect for chips. THE chipping potato.

Peel them, wash them, deep-fry them, crisp.

Finally, lovely King Edwards, Ted Edwards,

as they were sometimes called, great for mash, for roasties.

They collapse brilliantly,

so are perfect for the soup I'm going to make.

This is how I make a simple and satisfying potato soup.

Cheap to make, yet it tastes so good.

One large onion to begin with.

Melt some butter in a pan.

The butter's sizzling, so in with the bacon.

Five rashers of bacon will give this soup a fuller flavour,

but for a pure vegetable soup, just leave it out.

When using potatoes in soup, they must always be peeled.

More than anything else, I want this soup to have...

You know when you put the first spoonful in your mouth

of a soup that's really nice?

You just go "Mmm!" and really mean it.

And that's how I want this to be.

'Cut them into small pieces.'

There we are.

'And rinse out some of the starch.'

Don't rinse these for too long. They just need to, um...

Till the water runs a little bit clear.

Just drain off the potatoes.

Use the melted bacon fat for frying the onions.

Put the rashers to one side for later.

Tip in the chopped onions and stir.

A lovely smell of frying onions.

When the onions have become soft,

add some stock.

Pop the potatoes in.

Now, reintroduce the bacon, some pepper,

and a bay leaf, and gently simmer.

I know what I want this soup to be - not too refined,

but I have a thing about scum,

so I'm going to just get some kitchen roll...

..and just remove that.

Like that. Just pop it...

That's fine. Pop the lid on now.

So, turn the heat right down,

and let it get on with itself.

Around about 20 minutes should be enough.

Now then, that's what we want.

Lovely, collapsing, breaking up.

This way, it adds a lovely, soft texture to the soup.

Just try it with your fingers, yeah.

Remove the bacon - crisp it up for a sandwich, if you like -

then fish out the bay leaf. I think a liquidiser makes this soup

too smooth, so I prefer to use this manual method.

Now, I think I gave this to my mum, and she's no longer with us.

I wanted to bring it back home to me,

and I've had it for quite a few years.

It does what it says - it...

It mills vegetables,

or it mills soup.

I like the texture that this gives to the soup - not too smooth,

but of an even texture throughout.

This is a lovely... I love this, the limpidity of this soup.

To add a lovely soft richness to the soup, garnish with sour cream.

Also, add chopped chives to accentuate the onion flavour.

Not so boring-looking now that it's got that garnish, which is...

Quite a pretty bowl, really,

but I'm going to have a little taste.

Mum-umm, yes! It's, it's an "umm" soup,

definitely an "umm" soup.

There is nothing difficult about this soup - onions, potatoes,

stock, all pureed together

to make something both delightful and nourishing.

A snack may be a snack, but a special snack will be unforgettable.

When a little trouble is taken, even the most obvious can become

extra delicious.

I'm going to make a sandwich, but not just any old sandwich.

Oh, let's call it a gourmet sandwich.

This super-crisp ham and cheese sandwich is very clever,

and the first time I munched on this

was in the most famous bar in Venice.

Of course, a fine snack needs fine ingredients,

so choose the best for the job.

Use the cheese of your choice.

Gruyere is particularly good here,

because it has a lovely melting quality.

Grate into a food processor.

Add two egg yolks.

A tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce.

A few shakes of Tabasco.

A teaspoon of dried mustard powder.

And a shake or two of cayenne.

Little pinch of salt.

So, all in, let's give it a whizz.

About halfway through, add a touch of cream,

but only if the mixture seems too stiff.

If not, then leave it out.

That's fine.

'This mixture is hardly worth making in small quantities

'but, kept in a sealed container,

'it will keep in the fridge for three to four weeks.

Spread the mixture onto two pieces of bread.

I'm obsessed with mustard - I like all sorts of mustard.

'And then add ham.

'Remove the crusts for a neat look.'

And then into nice little fingers.

Coat the sandwich with olive oil,

then cook on a very low heat until crusted and golden on both sides.

Right, I think they're ready.

And there it is.

Well, it's certainly got that crunch.

It's just deeply savoury and very dainty.

The first time you bite into this sandwich, you will realise

what all the fuss is about.

It is, quite simply, brilliant.

There are certain ready-made products I'm quite happy to buy,

but one thing in particular I always make from scratch -

mayonnaise.

If I happen to have some cold left-over lamb breast, for instance,

I'll fry it in breadcrumbs till crisp

and serve with a punchy

garlic mayonnaise.

It is one of the first things I ever made and that I remember making,

aged about 13 - 12, 13 -

and the olive oil came from the chemist, a small bottle.

The first time, I got it all wrong and it split

and my mother said, "Well, you're not going to make that again,

"because that's one egg yolk gone and all that oil."

Which wasn't, obviously, terribly good oil, and expensive.

But I persevered and I did get it right

and now it's possible to get it right every time,

and I just want to show you a pretty foolproof method.

'For the mayonnaise, separate the yolks from two eggs.

'The deeper the colour of the yolk, the more golden the result.'

Be a good egg, get good eggs - that's my motto.

Add a couple of teaspoons of smooth Dijon mustard.

Season with a pinch of salt and some white pepper,

then vigorously whisk together,

while slowly trickling in some sunflower oil.

Speed up a bit.

This trickling at the beginning IS important,

but you can go much, much faster as we get on with it.

I like to use an equal mix

of sunflower and olive oils.

Using only olive oil is too strong here.

I'm going to add a bit of olive oil now.

Don't be frightened - it's all right, it's looking lovely.

Once it gets really thick, loosen with a little lemon juice.

Just a touch.

More olive oil, slosh it in.

Making mayonnaise doesn't take long and, believe me,

it's well worth the effort.

MAYONNAISE SLAPS

Listen to it, as well - it's such a great sound.

I don't think that was too difficult, do you?

It's a bit of... Bit of whizzing about.

Now that's made, let's prepare the lamb.

There is nothing wrong with leftovers

and this is cold breast of lamb.

What is so special here is the lovely contrast

between the hot slice of crusty lamb and the cool mayonnaise.

Season with some salt and pepper.

Dust with flour.

Then beat a couple of eggs.

Dip the lamb in egg and coat in breadcrumbs.

Put them into a non-stick pan

and slowly fry until golden on both sides.

'While they are cooking,

'add a small clove of crushed garlic to the mayonnaise.'

And don't be afraid of using a garlic press - I'm all for them.

Just gently squeeze, and...

just as parts come through, squeeze again - just scrape it off.

That way, you'll get the finest bits of garlic,

rather than great sort of squiggles coming out, if you like.

Garnish with watercress and serve.

Great snack, this, you know.

It's a lovely little lunchtime thing, it's a lovely little supper.

There it is. The only other thing it needs is a further spritz of lemon,

just to sharpen it.

I think that's a star in itself,

and it's delicious.

Leftovers are really good

when treated as well as this,

and eaten with garlic mayonnaise, simply divine.

Don't be a creature of habit - try and expand your vegetable shopping.

There are lots of different flavours and textures to discover.

Fennel being a case in point.

Nice fennel, when you can find it, is easier to cook than you think,

and this charming recipe shows it at its best.

Fennel is easier to come by than you might think,

and tastes wonderful when thoughtfully prepared.

First of all, it needs trimming up slightly.

Just at an angle on each side, so that it looks quite sweet.

Trim off its bottom a bit.

Chop the fennel in half, but don't throw away the stalks.

These will be added to the pot

to help intensify the flavour of the dish.

The first in is going to go these lovely, very important trimmings,

which will give the sauce a lovely depth of flavour.

Just lay the fennel pieces in the pot,

so you want a nice snug fit.

Little bit of salt - not too much.

Grind of pepper - I'm using white for this.

So, my favourite dry vermouth - about three tablespoonfuls.

'To make the sauce extra tasty, add some pastis, which accentuates

'the natural aniseed flavour in the fennel.

'You'll find it in the spirit section.'

Little trickle there.

'If you don't want to use it, then add a little more vermouth.'

It is optional, but essential for me.

For the fennel to retain its natural taste, it is best simply braised

in its own juices.

Tuck around some tin foil so that the vegetable effectively steams -

it's a method that works well.

They'll need about an hour in the oven, and turn them over

halfway through.

The secret to this dish is gentle, slow cooking,

producing soft, fondant fennel.

While it quietly cooks, prepare the Parmesan cheese.

I like to do my Parmesan in a food processor.

It's very good because it produces

the Parmesan you traditionally see in Italian restaurants,

and that's not just being romantic about it.

There's a powderyness, a fineness. It's nice on the fingers.

And once I've done a batch of this, I just pop it in the container,

I put it in the freezer. It keeps very fresh in there,

and you've always got grated Parmesan ready to hand.

So just chop it up into chunks.

'I process Parmesan this way

'because I like a traditional, powdery texture.'

There, that's lovely.

Just about right.

I think if you're going to do something like this,

to get it how you want, just go all the way.

Parmesan cheese is unique,

and may only be made in one region in northern Italy, Emilia-Romagna.

Parmesan, with the name Reggiano attached, is the true product.

All other similar cheeses are known simply as Grana, as in Grana Padano.

Parmesan cheese has been produced around the city of Parma

for several hundred years,

with the basic process having changed little in that time.

The cheese is a blend of both full-cream and skimmed milks.

The milk is stirred and heated in huge copper vats,

then cooled, to draw the curd to the surface.

The curds are wrapped in muslin cloth

and then packed into giant, distinctive wheel moulds.

It is the quality of grass and hay eaten by cows which produce the milk

that deeply enhances the flavour of Parmesan.

The young cheese is soaked in a salt solution, before being matured

for up to three years.

Parmesan does not like to be rushed.

The older the cheese, the fuller its flavour,

and also, more sweet and crumbly the texture.

Every wheel is scrupulously checked by a cheese master.

A deep, hollow note informs him that the cheese is mature

and ready to eat.

My kitchen is never without a few wedges of Parmesan.

It is lovely just to nibble on.

In this fennel recipe, however, it melts into the dish beautifully.

The scent of fennel, as it cooks, is one of the loveliest kitchen aromas.

Oh, that's a very good smell already.

Oh, wonderfully soft, wonderfully soft.

Carefully lift out the fennel.

Don't allow the fennel to dry out, so cover it with foil,

pop it back in the oven and then begin the sauce.

The fennel tips have done their work, but make sure you squeeze out

every last drop of juice.

This is precious stuff.

And you want to extract as much of the flavour out of these bits.

It's amazing how much will actually come out.

Be generous with the Parmesan - about five tablespoons should do it.

Process until it is loose, but not too thick,

about the consistency of pouring cream.

Make sure every bit of the fennel is covered in this gorgeous sauce.

The final touch is just a little more Parmesan,

as if we haven't had enough already,

and back into the oven, under the grill...

..for a few minutes until it is blistered and golden and very nice.

So, braised fennel with butter and parmesan.

This little dish is fantastic, it's savoury,

it's, I feel, a meal in itself.

I actually don't think it needs anything else to, as it were,

get in the way of the purity of the dish,

and it is pretty as a picture.

Ah, it's really, really good.

You could even have another little sprinkling of Parmesan,

because we love it so.

If you have never cooked fennel, please try it.

This dish is full of flavour, a real delight.

To be honest, I never stop thinking about food.

Certain ingredients,

certain recipes pop into my head at one and the same time.

It's hard not to get excited, and a trip to the butcher's

is always a treat anyway.

They're like sweet shops to me.

I can wander around a butcher's shop for ages and ages and ages,

and to see such pride of butchery.

'Mention liver, and lots of people

'only remember dreadful school dinners

'and tough shoe leather, and, of course,

'it shouldn't be like that.

'Carefully cooked calf's liver

'is sweet and tender.'

They need to be relatively thinly sliced, these.

I always do this particular little knack when I'm slicing onions thinly.

About three quarters of the way through, I just flip it over,

and that way, you can do the last bits much more easily.

And this is going to feed two people, by the way. Put it back in there.

Sweet and sour flavours are perfect with liver,

as they are with soft and silky onions.

By cooking them slowly, you will draw out all their natural sugars.

To begin with, cook on a low heat and cover with a lid.

Although the onions are cooked very slowly for this,

the liver needs a brisk stir fry - thin slices are essential.

Take care over this - you do want them to all be

roughly the same size.

Lovely. And the onions.

We all know that this is one of the best smells in the world,

frying onions, whether it's here or a hot-dog stand.

Gorgeous smell.

I'm going to add a little bit of salt now.

And some pepper.

These are looking pretty well ready now.

Very floppy, slippery, almost.

Another tablespoon of oil.

To keep the liver nice and pink, be quick with the cooking.

It will take around 30 seconds for the strips

to cook through perfectly.

That's it. Quick as that.

And then we'll pop the onions back in,

turn the heat down a little, to get these going again.

So we've got these lovely, really crusty little bits

which make the dish taste extra good.

Great, that's lovely.

In with the calf's liver.

You could call this a stir fry -

you could do it in a wok, if you wanted. Hadn't thought of that.

But I don't have a wok,

so that's probably why I didn't think about it.

Now add the sweet-and-sour flavours to the onions.

Just off the heat for a second, about a tablespoon.

Creme de cassis is a slightly alcoholic blackcurrant cordial,

found in good wine shops.

And the same with the sherry vinegar.

This provides the sour note.

Parsley.

Final stir in,

and there it is.

Let's have a little taste.

I'm looking forward to this.

Sweet and sour, everybody loves it.

I know that all sorts of offal can be tricky -

the memories of school liver and onions or liver and bacon -

but if any dish is going to convert you, this one will.

Mashed potatoes go really well with this dish.

I urge you to find some nice calf's liver.

It may be a touch costly but, oh, what a treat!

Often, when staying with friends and helping to cook dinner,

inevitably, the subject of pudding has everyone excited,

and chocolate is always a hit. This chocolate dessert

is something I've been making for over 25 years.

Although the ingredients are relatively simple,

it is careful cooking that produces the perfect

chocolate pot.

I'm going to put some cream in here.

This dessert is all about chocolate, but I also want

a hint of vanilla, for added fragrance, so I'm adding some here.

Just scrape the seeds out a little bit.

You don't have to get every last bit out, but it just helps loosen them.

Vanilla pods are found in good food shops and most supermarkets.

So, vanilla pod in, I'll just warm this.

It doesn't need to boil.

To strongly flavour the cream with vanilla, leave it to steep

for a good half hour.

Now it's time to get the chocolate.

I don't know many people who can resist it.

The town of Roanne, in the heart of France,

produces some fabulous chocolate.

Since the 16th century, the country has had a love affair

with this exquisite ingredient.

Chocolate would not exist without the cocoa bean, which grows

in particular parts of the world, including Brazil and Indonesia.

These beans are from Madagascar.

The beans are roasted and crushed, until all you are left with

is a nib, the heart of the bean.

These nibs are sour, so sugar and cocoa butter are added.

Here, I'm using dark chocolate with a high percentage of cocoa,

70% is about right.

This makes my bittersweet chocolate pots particularly good.

I'm breaking here 125 grams of the dark chocolate.

So that's the indulgence part.

Slowly warm the chocolate in the milk until it melts.

For me, chocolate and sweet stem ginger are made for each other.

Jars of preserved ginger can be found in the baking section.

I reckon we need one per pot.

Quite finely sliced - you don't want

great lumps in there.

Depends how much you like ginger, really.

And just plop some in the bottom.

Touch of ginger syrup down there, as well.

Now the rest of the ingredients.

Add one heaped tablespoon of icing sugar.

Two egg yolks, and a teaspoon of ground ginger.

This mixture needs a little air beating into it,

so whisk until lightly thickened.

Remove the vanilla pod, before mixing everything together.

Pour over the chopped ginger.

Lots of licking goes on here.

Place the pots into a deep baking tray

and surround with hot water - this helps them to cook evenly.

A kettle gone off the boil for about 15 minutes is good.

Bake in the middle of the oven for about an hour.

'The surface of the pot needs to form a little crust.'

This is exactly the moment - you can see this crust,

this is just right.

I'm going take them out - I don't want them to cook any longer.

Once cool, cover and put in the fridge.

For best results, leave them here for six hours.

I like to serve the chocolate pots straight from the fridge,

because I prefer them really cold.

Mmm. The ginger is good.

This little pot tastes extravagant,

but it is the chocolate,

good chocolate,

it does make something very, very special.

Rich and silky, melt in the mouth.

You know, I could eat these any time.

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