Posts Tagged ‘skye gyngell’

Slow-cooked pork belly with star anise, cinnamon, ginger and cloves

12 February 2015

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Imagine unctuously slow-cooked pork belly infused with the intoxicating aromas of star anise, cloves, cinnamon, ginger, chilli, and coriander. It doesn’t get much better than this.

The recipe is a brilliant one by Skye Gyngell, to which — if I may — I did make one substantial improvement: crackling.

The initial method slices the gently simmered pork and browns each individual rib in a pan. I found this impractical. I’d much rather be clinking glasses with friends than browning meat in the kitchen. Also, dare I serve pork belly with no crackling? So I improvised a little and shot two inconveniences with one rather practical idea: rather than searing the meat, why not slide it into the oven for a second low and slow roasting. Boom!

Pork belly with star anise, ginger, cinnamon and cloves
Adapted from A Year In My Kitchen by Skye Gyngell. The process is a lengthy one but hardly requires any hands on work. Plan with a minimum of 4 hours before serving time.

2 kg piece of best quality pork belly

2 cinnamon sticks

3 star anise

1 tsp cloves

1 red chilli

4 cm (1 1/2 inch) piece fresh ginger root

6 garlic cloves

2 Tbsps coriander stems (and roots if available)

100 ml (1/2 cup) tamari soy sauce

75 ml (1/3 cup) maple syrup

Sea salt and black pepper

Place the pork belly in a pot large enough for it to lie horizontally quite snugly. Add cold water to cover. Bring to the boil, then immediately remove from the heat, drain the water, and rinse out the pot.

Return the pork belly to the clean pot (skin side up), cover again with cold water, and add the cinnamon, star anise, cloves, chilli, peeled and roughly sliced ginger, peeled garlic cloves, and roughly chopped coriander stems (and roots). Bring to the boil then turn the heat down to very low, and let the pork simmer gently for about 1 1/2 hours.

With a pare of tongs carefully take the meat out of the pan and place it onto an ovenproof dish. Season with salt and pepper. Reserve the liquid which will be made into an incredible sauce (see below).

**The meat can rest a while or be refrigerated overnight at this point. Preferably take it out of the refrigerator about an hour before using again.**

Approximately 2 hours before planning to serve, place the pork belly in a 300°F (150°C) oven and roast for 1 1/2 hours. Check after one hour; if the skin isn’t crispy enough, increase the temperature to 375°F (190°C) for the last 20 to 30 minutes. Take the pork out of the oven and let rest for at least 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, to make the sauce, add the tamari and maple syrup to the fragrant cooking water, turn the heat back on to high, and let it boil away for a good half hour until the liquid has reduced by about half to become a dark and rich sauce. When it has acquired to the desired consistency, remove from the heat and strain out the spices, pouring the sauce into a smaller saucepan ready to be easily reheated later.

Serve the pork belly with the thoroughly reheated, piping hot sauce.

Eating out | Spring at Somerset House

17 October 2014

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I don’t usually rush to a new restaurant the moment it opens. I have only a limited interest in the latest new hotspot. But, coincidentally, a few weeks ago at dinner with friends, we spoke about Skye Gyngell; about her cookbooks, about her previous restaurant, Petersham Nurseries, which I didn’t have the opportunity to visit while she was the chef. As the conversation migrated to her upcoming venture, in Somerset House, opening a few weeks hence, we were all excited to go.

I had not been to Somerset House since we moved to London last year, which means the last time I was there was to visit the Courtauld Gallery during a solo visit to London in my teens. That moment is my favorite memory of the trip, so stepping through the majestic building again rang of the past in a lovely, personal way. It was a good idea to meet before dinner for a glass of wine outside in the courtyard to savor the setting.

I own two of Skye Gyngell’s cookbooks and often leaf through them. I am invariably transported, intrigued and tempted, though I have only made very few of the dishes. Perhaps I am disconcerted by the idiosyncratic ingredients — one foot firmly settled in Italy while the other perambulates confidently through Asia — which make it hard for me to imagine the finished dish, to know where I am going. This should be thrilling; perhaps I play it a little safe in my own cooking. When I eat out, however, being surprised is exactly what I crave.

My first impression was to be disappointed by the familiarity of the menu. I was hoping for the spirited flavor combinations I have so long admired — and shyed away from — in the books. And so?

The starter was one of the best things I have eaten recently. I am still unsure how the combination of ‘Puntarelle and goat’s curd with mint and black olive dressing’ worked so well, but it was fresh, balanced and addictive in the most convincing way. I could happily have had just that all evening. Next, Slow cooked pork shoulder with girolles, daterrini, and polenta was predictable and a little disappointing, with nothing to elevate the flavors, no special zing. We shared desserts and I happily relinquished any claim to either the warm chocolate cake (you know me) or even Buttermilk pannacotta with damsons and wood sorrel, for yet another lunge at the Hazelnut and pear tart with creme fraiche and espresso — heaven.

The winter garden (pictured above), for smaller parties, holds most of the magic of the place. The main dining room is tall, light, feminine, and ultimately a bit bland. It reminded me vaguely of ABC Kitchen in New York, but lacking the lightness and playfulness which give that restaurant its irresistible charm. I don’t love the space.

Which brings me to the ultimate question: all things considered, am I impatient to go back? Unfortunately I must admit, despite some stunning dishes and, that evening, great company and a lovely night, not very. I realize it’s early days and one shouldn’t judge a restaurant on just one meal. But the place is a little too grand, the food not quite surprising enough — they seem out of sync. I imagine this meal in the lovely rickety setting of Petersham and can’t help but wish I hadn’t missed that. Luckily, I have the cookbooks, which I am now emboldened to try!

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Spring
Somerset House, Lancaster Place
London WC2R 1LA

Tel: +44 (0)20 3011 0115
Online reservations


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