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This week’s recipe is a kind of Nando’s dupe, a smoky grilled chicken with a bay leaf-laced, peppery, spicy marinade-slash-sauce hybrid. As far as grilling chicken goes, this one is so damn simple. Blend up your marinade, brush as you grill, add a lump of wood for some smoke (not essential, but delicious) and serve with white rice and grilled peppers. Also, music from Brandon Flowers, he’s gone country!

I hope you enjoy,

B x

On the menu today, a piri piri inspired chook, chopped up with the bones in, brushed with a fanta-orange marinade and slowly grilled over wood and charcoal (or, if you can’t be bothered, cooked in the oven). I like Nando’s, I like it a lot, but this is better, cheaper and you’ll learn a thing or two along the way.

BONE-IN BUTCHERY

Oftentimes, the aim of butchery is to remove bones. I’ve shown you how to remove the bones of chickens many, many times. I’ve written about in newspapers, made videos about it, I even did it on TV once. For today’s piece of butchery, we’re leaving the bones inside. Leaving the bones in means that this chicken is going to cook for 35-40 minutes, it’s a gentle cook, one that allows enough time to build some good colour, brush the marinade on 10+ times and allow the chicken to bath in the smoke of the grill. The bones will also protect the meat from overcooking, purely by slowing everything down. The breast especially benefits from this, cooking the majority of the time, bone-side-down will allow the meat to gently come up to temperature. I’ve detailed the method down below, but look to the video for more visual cues and guidelines. It’s fairly straightforward, you’ll need a sturdy pair of kitchen scissors and a heavy sharp knife.

THE MARINADE, THE SAUCE

This is clever bit of cooking, I think, insofar as it starts as one thing and ends up another. One bit of toss-it-all-in-and-blend cookery acts as a marinade for raw meat, travels through the cook acting almost like a glaze. Then, to eliminate any raw chicken bacteria, the marinade is brought to a simmer as the chicken rests and becomes a sauce ready for the plate. Cook smart, not hard.

The marinade itself is a bit of a mish-mash of store cupboard staples, things I have knocking around pretty regularly like jarred peppers, harissa and good vinegar. The fresh bay leaves are an absolute must, the grassy, citrusy fragrance steering this chicken very much in the direction of the Portuguese.

I had tested this marinade using a pestle and mortar, a pestle and mortar that I took the George Tavern in Shadwell for an event, had too many beers, and left at The George Tavern in Shadwell. That forced my hand a bit, the day came to shoot the recipe and I had to think on my feet. An immersion blender came out and instead of pounding grinding the ingredients, I blended them, the difference was minimal and I got to the finish line far quicker. The only thing to watch is the texture of the peppers. It’s nice to have a little coarseness through them so you feel them when you’re eating. Add them last and pulse through the marinade. No, smooth peppers, please.

THE COOK & THE SMOKE

Good grilled chicken, piri piri or otherwise, needs two things from the bbq: heat and a little bit of char and smoke. You want properly glowing charcoal, enough to crisp and char the skin, but not so much direct heat that your beautifully marinated chicken turns tar black on the exterior, the interior still a pappy, blushing pink raw. It’s all about temperature control, my guy.

Build your fire on one side of the barbecue, leaving the other side clear. This gives you a hot zone for colouring and a cooler zone for cooking the chicken through without constantly fighting flare ups and incinerating your food. Let the charcoal burn until it’s properly ashed over, soaring through the peak of its heat and is gently glowing underneath.

My biggest and most potent tip today is to add some wood to the fire. To really dial up the smoke, add a small chunk of hardwood directly onto the coals, or scatter over a handful of soaked wood chips. Oak, cherry or apple all work brilliantly and you can buy them online, on amazon if that’s your thing, or a local supplier if it ain’t. You’re not trying to recreate a Texan smokehouse here, only to yield a gentle thread of wood smoke around the chicken, to amplify and pick up the chilli, peppers, vinegar and harissa.

Despite all that about temp control, you should expect at least a bit of flame. Embrace them, within reason.

TO SERVE

Pretty no brainer garnishes here, to be honest. There’s something magic about sitting grilled chicken over a bed of steamed white rice. The juices sneak their way down onto the plate, staining the pearly white grains with smoky, spicy, chicken-y flavour. Eat the chicken, stir the residual juice through the rice and tuck in. I’ve also served the chicken with some grilled padrons, tossed with crunchy flaky salt and sherry vinegar. Between gnawing on your drumstick like a big mad king, you can pop a padron for a little acidic refresher. It’s good gear and in my experience only one in five million is actually hot, so don’t believe what the streets are saying.

OVEN/GRILL/BROIL METHOD

If you don’t fancy grilling this guy, it’s raining, or you just can’t be bothered. you can cook it using an oven/grill/broiler combination. The idea is to build colour and a little bit of char using the grill/broiler, and then slowly bring the chicken up to temperature with a 150°C oven. Preheat the grill to max and mimic the grilling, basting and charring of the marinade with the chicken. Keep sliding it under the grill to sizzle and char, then remove, brush with the marinade, turning and repeating. You’ll build some seriously good flavour and char using the broiler/grill. Now transfer to the warm oven for 20-25 to gently bring the chicken up to temperature.

I’d also add a tsp more smoked paprika and double the smoky harissa, to boost that smoky flavour profile, without using any real smoke.

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On the docket this week; my thoughts and approach to buying, preparing serving fish raw fish and how the use cherries in savoury cooking, in this case, a fruity, spicy, sweet and sour aguachile.

I hope you enjoy,

B x

It’s rare that, when I see it on a menu, I have any choice in ordering the raw fish or not. It’s as if the waiter has a gun to my head, he’ll blow my head off if I don’t order the raw fish (or meat, for that matter). It’s not real, the gun, but it does it’s job and I always order it. This effect is interesting, and for some people, it’s a cheeseburger, others it’s lemon meringue pie, for me it’s always raw things. I swoon for all things tartar, carpaccio and crudo, an exercise in balance, seasoning, textures and restraint. Pile too much on the delicate flesh of a

sea bass or the tender, delicate fillet of beef and you’ve destroyed it. Some pointers, tips and a plan of attach, below.

Crudo & Cured Fish

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Welcome back to How I Cook+, happy saturday.

On the menu today: a fantastic new substack from Joel Golby, two brilliant oyster garnishes and a new record from Overmono.

I’m aware that making granita and hollandaise at home is in danger feel almost overwhelmingly cheffy but, as is often the case, are easy to put together with a little know-how. Hollandaise is hot, buttery mayo and granita is basically just tasty seasoned frozen juice (easy!). I’ve broken down a handful of potential hurdles, tips, tricks and ideas for you below. I’ve put them on oysters today, but as standalone recipes they’re very delicious and can be made, eaten and enjoyed with myriad other foods.

Thanks for reading,

B x

ME THANKY by Joel Golby

Starting with words this week. I urge you to go and chew on this piece of writing.

They say in order to improve at something, you should surround yourself with people who are far better at said thing than you are. Outside of endlessly cooking and talking to various cameras, I spend a good chunk of time writing to an, at best, good level. A healthy slice of my close friends are very good writers and by way of osmosis, I do believe they’ve made me better.

I met Joel at the birthday celebration of another frustratingly good, apparently-effortlessly talented writer, Shaad D’Souza. Both these people (and Lucas Oakeley) push me, which is at once brilliant and annoying. It’s annoying because writing, like a begrudged jog, is hard and long and gross and sometimes I really, really hate it. But, alas, it’s one of the best things you can do for yourself and your brain. The brilliant part is that staring down the barrel of a blank page and a looming word count is much, much easier when you can turn to people close to you for inspiration! Or a bagel! Or a pint!

So, if you like great writing, yourself want to become a better writer, or want to be inspired to try for the first (or fiftieth?) time, go and read Joel’s new substack! The first outing for “ME THANKY” (a phrase he uses in real life, in public, no less) is a play-by-play of a man (Joel) slipping a little too far into his own mind palace in Margate, as he attempts to write a novel. It’s charming, funny and a great example of his best super power, wielding a tone of voice that is so completely unique, you know who owns the words in front of you without needing a byline.

Click here to read ME THANKY

GRAPEFRUIT HOLLANDAISE

Hollandaise isn’t just for oysters folks. A steak with bernaise sauce or a piece of baked cod with a blanket of anchovy hollandaise are a complete delight.

I imagine if you’ve opened a newsletter about oyster garnished, you’ve made mayonnaise before? Forgive my assumption but if you’ve been reading this newsletter for a while, the chances are that you’ve given an emuslision a whirl. Hollandaise is in the same ballpark, so you’re already halfway there. The principal difference when building a hollandaise is that your ingredients are warm. To put it simply, combine yolks with acid, in our case, grapefruit juice, and cook them over a double boiler to “ribbon stage” before whisking in warm butter to form a rich, thick sauce. It is, in essence, that easy, but of course there a few booby traps along the way. Why grapefruit? A subtle bitterness in food is a welcome addition, and when deployed carefully can be one of the sneaky flavour profiles that elevates a plate of food. You can play with the acid used, be it vinegar, citrus or wine, each bring a different underlying flavour to the emulsion.

To cooking, then. Combine the egg yolks with acid, it’s time to start whisking over a pan of hot water. This technique is how you make zabaglione or any sabayon “egg foam”. The goal is to gently cook and thicken the eggs. They will then yield a slightly more stable and much thicker sauce. I find this process takes only between 1-2 minutes with the quantity we’re cooking today. Keep an eye on it, keep whisking until your mixture has roughly doubled in volume and is very thick. If it is lumpy or looks scrambled, try again, you’ve gone a little too far. It’s best to lean towards undercooked rather than overcooked. If things are a little too hot or moving too fast, whip the bowl off for a second!

You can make hollandaise using an immersion blender or jug blender but I find the texture is much harder to control. Invariably, the “cheats” examples in Serious Eats and chefsteps are too runny for me. As someone who often makes pasta dough in a blender and loves an oven chip, for once I prefer the classic method here.

Understanding the cook on the eggs and controlling the amount of butter you add, bit by bit, affords you a better understanding of the emulsification process and ultimately, more control. Control is king, king.

Oh and use unsalted butter, always. You can add salt later, control, king.

Clarifying the butter isn’t entirely necessary. The flavour is a little cleaner at the other end, and the pure butter fat is far easier to emulsify into the eggs. Clarifying butter is painfully easy. You simply slowly melt butter, wait for a little raft of white milk solids to form on top, and scoop it off with a spoon. That. Is. It. Browning butter for hollandaise is a lovely way to add a very rich, nutty, rounded character to your sauce. To do this, don’t skim off that white raft, stir it back into the butter and cook until it’s golden brown and smells like hazelnuts. You can now make your sauce using this, but be careful not to whisk into the egg base while it’s scorching hot or you’ll have scrambled eggs. You want the butter to be just above blood temperature, hovering around 40°C.

If you let your hollandaise cool, the butter will set, the fats crystallising and the sauce will split. I pop a tea towel over a pan of simmering water, remove it from the heat and sit the bowl on top. This keeps the sauce warm, the gentle steam just kissing the bottom of the bowl. Be sure to give the sauce a good stir now and then, and you’re laughing.

WATERMELON GRANITA

Watermelon granita, it sounds refreshing, cool (both vibe and temp), icy, chic, delicious. It is all of these things and more and best of all, it take about 10 minutes to make.

Granita, in its simplest form, is just tasty frozen juice. Well, 99 times out of 100, it’s fruit juice, but you can also make it with almond milk, alcohol, liquors, syrups and all sorts. If it’s your first crack at making grania then fruit juice is an easy jumping off point. As you’ll see in the recipe below, it is as simple as blending, seasoning, freezing and scraping, however, with a few tricks up your sleeve your granita will be even cooler, chicer, icier and more delicious.

The most important consideration when making granita is the sugar content is very important. Sugar, like salt, is a flavour amplifying seasoning, it can breathe life into vanilla or lift a lacklustre strawberry, but add too much sugar to a granita the freezing point of the liquid will plummet. What does this mean? Well, you’ll essentially have a liquid that’ll never really granita it’ll just be a sort of slushy mess, something closer to sorbet, lacking the icy delicacy we’re shooting for. If making granita with ingredients with naturally low sugar content like celery, cucumbers, almond milk etc, you can add sugar syrup to dial in the right ratio, but like us today, we’re using watermelon and apple, sugar-rich fruits, you only need to add a touch to bring things into the right ballpark.

Another consideration is amping up the level of seasoning in your fruit juice. You want this to be punchy, acidic, sweet, salty and sour. Flavours are subdued a little when served frozen, so turn things up a little more than you would normally.

Once frozen, simply scrape with a fork and a spoon, into fluffy, icy crystals and then transfer to a new container. This granita will maintain this texture for a good few weeks, but you’ll likely eat it first.

What else can you put this on? Raw fish would be very delicious with this granita, spooned over a chopped fruit salad would be excellent or piled on top of panna cotta or ice cream (watch the brain freeze, mind). The great thing about granita is that it is endlessly forgiving, if the texture isn’t right, or it needs more acidity or salt, you can simply melt it down, adjust, re freeze it and scrape again. Nice.

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This is a free issue of How I Cook, to receive all of the weekly posts as well as everything from the archives, consider becoming a (very chic) paid member.

To welcome in our brand new 101 series, I’m going to lift the lid on buying, storing, opening and eating oysters at home. We’re kicking off with some basics here as well a a bulletproof m…

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Welcome back to How I Cook+.

First of all, a huge thank you to everyone who watched the first episode of our brand new show, Stage. The reception has been amazing and I’m so pleased that so many of you loved it, we’ve worked really hard on it and I can’t wait to show you more! If you haven’t seen it yet, hit the button below to get the full episode.

WATCH STAGE EP.1

This week on the newsletter, we return to the beer snacks and to the much maligned chicken tender.

Maybe it’s because you can buy them frozen, or WingStop do them, or that they’re mostly eaten by children or people who can’t “handle” bones or drunk idiots in a dive bar, but most people think they’re trashy. I don’t really care about that, I think that when they’re done well, they’re about as perfect a bite of fried chicken as you can make, and they’re really easy to nail at home. Scroll down for a my perfect tenders (I’ve made these about a billion times now), a fantastic hot sauce butter and ranch recipe.

I’m also covering off tips for frying at home, the science of modified starches and the new strokes record.

See you in the pit,

B x

What is it about tenders? It’s not unfair to say that the tender, with its childish, boneless, missionary-only reputation catches a little too much heat from fried chicken-heads. Unjustifiable heat, unwarranted beef, for what is essentially, a pretty perfect bite of fried chicken. KPIs for making fried chicken, for me at least, can be boiled down to two main goals.

1. Juicy, well-seasoned meat

2. Crispy, craggled, golden brown, well-seasoned breading

Simple. Seasoning is key, texture is key and doneness is everything. Chicken tenders are about a lean a cut of meat as you’re going to find, so dialling in your cook time is important. Time to get into it.

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Super excited to bring you episode one of my brand new series, Stage! It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever made so please watch episode one, enjoy, and if you can show your support by commenting, liking and subscribing to the channel, that would be amazing! We put so much work into this project and are so excited to see it out in the world,

Th…

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This week we’re unpacking a very popular episode of Beer Snacks, the grilled mackerel flatbread. Loosely inspired by the magic balik ekmek, a humble sandwich of grilled fish (often mackerel) served with peppers and tomatoes, maybe a little onion salad, in crusty bread. You can find these all along the Bosphorus river in Istanbul, and at my house in South East London. It tastes excellent and is an excellent way to explore cooking bread and fish over fire, learning about temperature control, lightly curing fish and the best chopped salad around.

Thanks for reading,

B x

When you say “street food”, it can have a funny connotation. Once upon a time, it just meant lamb skewers (arrosticini) grilled over charcoal in Italy, pork-and-pickle-stuffed Bahn Mi rolls in Vietnam, crispy, spicy carnitas tacos in CDMX and other humble, essential cuisine for the masses. Years of culinary-stuntery and cursed food markets have wrenched the label leftward into murkier light, but this Turkish fish sandwich has other plans. Balık ekmek, a popular Turkish street food, translates to “fish bread.”

Freshly grilled or fried fish, usually mackerel, is stuffed inside a crusty loaf or sandwich roll with onions, tomatoes, and sometimes pickles. A squeeze of lemon and a sprinkle of spice amplify its fresh, savory flavor. It is especially famous along the waterfront in Istanbul, where vendors prepare it on boats or at nearby stalls.

Today, we’re interpreting the mighty turkish sandwich using a few old favourite recipes. A bulletproof flatbread recipe (from my book), a simple lightly cured mackerel, a chopped and grilled salad and some easy garnishes. The heatwave might be fading away, but summer is far from over. Let’s get into it.

GRILLING FISH

For many, the final boss of grilling is fish. Sticky skin, too-cool-coals and pappy, overcooked meat are the main hurdles. Here are a few top tips for grilling fish like mackerel at home…

Grill the fish in fillets for easy maneuverability, simple cooking and a boneless eating experience.

Lightly cure the fish fillets with fine sea salt for 10 minutes on the flesh side before wiping away with kitchen towels. This will firm up the fish making it easier to grill, season the flesh and improve the texture.

Make sure the fish’s skin is very dry before it hits the grill. A combination of this and a hot grill will swerve the skin sticking to the grates.

Make sure your grill is red hot before you lay the fish down. Ensure the coals have plenty of airflow and are at their peak heat before you add the fish. IF you need a boost, blow air or fan the coals to increase the heat.

MY GRILL OF CHOICE + TEMPERATURE MANAGEMENT

The bit of kit I used to cook these flatbreads is the kasai grills Konro. These are a fantastic tool for grilling and their size means they won’t devour fuel. You can cook for hours with just a little charcoal thanks to the superior insulation the walls offer. Crucially though, you can get your fish extremely close to the coals and easily control the temperature with the two small vents on either side of the grill. This enables you to turn the heat up and down, on a bbq! If you’ve never done this before, essentially, the more air you let into the grill, the hotter it’ll get. Close the vents, and the bbq will cool down. This control allows you to cook ingredients that require different temperatures whenever you like, rather than following the typical arc of a fire (cool, to very hot, and then back to cool). They’re a bit of an investment, but a lot of fun to cook with.

ONE FLATBREAD TO RULE THEM ALL

This is my go-to flatbread recipe, it’s in my cookbook, and it’s pretty much foolproof. Depending on how you cook the dough, it can take on many forms. In the book, they’re fried gently in a little olive oil until puffed and a little crisp, you can also toast them in a dry frying pan, bake them in the oven into pitta-esque stuffable flatbreads or grill them over fire. It’s a super versatile bread, loved by Nigella Lawson, and me.

GRILLED MACKEREL FLATBREAD

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Welcome back to How I Cook+. Today’s recipe is perfect for the seemingly everlasting heatwave that’s sizzling the UK this week. Steak tagliata is a dish of about 4 ingredients, it’s really, really simple. Almost begs the question, why write an entire newsletter on it? Well, whilst the beauty in the simplicity, the devil is very much in the detail. When a plate is as stark as this, there is nowhere to hide and the different between a good tagliata and a great tagliata is in the technique.

Scroll past the recipe for a classic record from The Cure and the best meal I’ve had in London for years, at maybe my favourite restaurant in town right now.

Thanks for reading,

B x

STEAK TAGLIATA

Steak tagliata, a classic Italian dish that leans on and platforms the quality of beef being served. It’s incredibly simple, leaving no room for error. There are a few different ways to approach tagliata, different cuts of beef, different cooking mediums etc. The version I shot for Beer Snacks uses an extremely high quality sirloin steak (thank you to the lovely folks at Henwen’s) cooked over an open fire, lacquering the steak with a rich, smoky flavour and a gnarly caramelised crust. It lands, carved, onto a slick of warm olive oil and balsamic and then is crowned with a crunchy rocket and parmesan salad.

Cooking over fire goes a long way towards enhancing the natural character of beef, adding depth and complexity and crucially, smoke. The word “tagliata” literally means to cut or slice, so the steak must hit the plate carved. I’ll run through the cooking of the steak, a few resting tricks and carving tips below.

GRILLING SIRLOIN

Right, this dish is essentially a perfectly cooked steak with a handful of clever little garnishes, so you better get it right… Here’s a list of things to consider when cooking sirloin, specifically. The headlines are; seasoning, temperature and resting.

before cooking…

1. Season the steak ahead, 30-40 minutes if you can (or immediately before grilling if you’re short on time).

2. When ready to cook, pat the steak completely dry with paper towels.

3. Lightly coat with a high-smoke-point, neutral oil (vegetable, sunflower etc).

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Welcome back to How I Cook.

This week, we’re tackling a really lovely bit of technique driven cooking, a speedy take on a bisque. Believe it or not, you could probably make this pretty comfortbaly on a wednesday night. Bisque, on a wednesday night. That’s really what my debut book is all about, taking seemingly complex techniques, dishes and …

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Welcome back to How I Cook+ and our second beer snacks edition. This week it’s chicken tsukune, a super popular Japanese chicken meatball served on a skewer. Typically they’re made from ground chicken mixed with finely chopped aromatics like spring onions, garlic and and ginger, shaped into little rugby ball-esque ovals, and grilled over hot charcoal. Tsukune are also commonly glazed with a sweet and savory soy-based sauce known as tare. We’ll be doing all of the above today, as well as grilling some padrons, for a very good heat wave weekend beer snack.

Thanks for reading,

B x

CHICKEN TSUKUNE

Right, tsukune may look like just humble little meatballs on a stick, but don’t let their modest appearance fool you, they’re the quiet overachievers of Japanese street food. These juicy, flavour-packed skewers are proof that simple ingredients, when treated with care, always win. A combination of minced chicken. spring onions, ginger, garlic, soy sauce, and a handful of other seasonings, tsukune are bouncy, juicy, sticky and sweet. As they cook, they’re repeatedly brushed with a glossy tare glaze, a teriyaki-adjacent, mouth-watering combination of soy sauce, mirin, sake, and rich dark brown sugar. Tsukune are so delicious thanks to the contrast of textures and flavours. The exterior develops a lightly charred, smoky crust from the grill, while the inside stays disarmingly soft, bouncy and juicy. It’s a texture not often associated with chicken, and it’s a complete joy. All of this keeps your hand reaching for “just one more” skewer.

CHICKEN MINCE

Your tsukune is only as good as the chicken you use, seriously. In the Beer Snacks video, I mince my own chicken legs, and if you can, you should too! I buy free range organic chickens and 99% of the time, I buy them whole. It’s cheaper overall and gives you so many options when thinking about a week’s worth of cooking. Failing that, head to your butcher and ask them for two chicken legs, deboned and coarsley minced. They’ll do this for you no problem. Why chicken legs? Well, the ratio of lean meat to fat in the leg is right where you want it, with plenty of intramuscular fat. I mince the skin through there aswell for extra chicken-y flavour and even more fat. Fat is your friend.

TEXTURE CHECK

The texture of your meatballs will be defined by how much breadcrumb you add to the mince and how much you work the meatball mix before forming the tsukune. The more you work the mixture, the more myosin is extracted from the meat. When salt is added to the minced chicken and the mixture is kneaded thoroughly, the salt helps dissolve and extract the myosin from the muscle fibers. As mixing continues, the extracted myosin coats the meat particles, making the mixture noticeably sticky and tacky. This sticky texture is an indication that enough myosin has been extracted to act as a natural binder. To test you’ve got your mix sticky enough, stick a little patty of meat to your palm and hold it upside down, if it stays, you’re golden, if it flops off, keep mixing.

But why is myosin helpful? During cooking, the myosin proteins denature and bond together, forming a gel-like network that holds the meat, fat, and moisture together. This protein network gives chicken tsukune its characteristic springy texture and helps it remain juicy without relying exclusively on added binders such as egg or breadcrumbs. Keeping the meat cold while mixing and using enough salt are important because these two facts maximize myosin extraction and produce a cohesive, well-textured tsukune. Delicious food science at play!

GRILLED CHICKEN TSUKUNE

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Welcome back to How I Cook+.

Beer Snacks is back! just in time for summer and the World Cup! It’s one of my highlights of the year, shooting this series for you all, we pack it into two or three of the best days on set. The recipes are big, bold, exciting and packed full of flavour, do they stretch the definition of the word snack to yawning breaking point? Absolutely, yes. We’ve got lobster rolls, mortadella skewers, lamb T-bone, chicken tsukune and much more on the way. I’ll be sharing a handful of my favourites from the series on the substack here, so stay locked in.

First up, the mighty Portuguese bifana a shirt-ruiner of a sandwich that is literally cooked with beer, a satan-red bath of spicy, porky, bay-infused boiling beer, at that.

Invite the crew over, make a big stack of bifanas and open some ice cold beers. It’s coming home!!

B x

PORK BIFANA

In 2017 I had my first chomp of a pork bifana at Primavera Sound Porto and that was that. This sandwich is a lifer. It’s ultra-simple and proof that the best foods don't need a long list of ingredients or dramatic, architectural design. At first glance, it looks almost too simple to be special: reddish, boiled pork in a very humble, crusty bread roll. That's it. No towering stack of toppings, no slick of gooey melted cheese, no multi-coloured-dream-pickles. And yet, one bite of a really good bifana and you'll quickly understand why the Portuguese are so die hard.

Like many beloved national dishes, the bifana changes depending on where you are in Portugal. In Lisbon and much of the south, you’ll often encounter a lighter version featuring thin pork slices and a relatively delicate garlic-and-wine sauce. It’s elegant in its simplicity and lets the pork shine. Head north toward Porto, and things become a bit more robust. The pork may be cooked longer, the sauce richer and spicier with beer and lard, and the entire sandwich more generously drenched in flavorful juices.

What makes the bifana so memorable is how all these elements come together. The savory pork, the punch of garlic, the subtle bitterness of the broth, the fragrant bay leaf, the gentle warmth of paprika, the sweet heat of good Paladin mustard and the crusty roll create a combination that is far, far greater than the sum of its parts. It’s note-perfect drinking food.

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A slightly abridged issue this week as I am away in Barcelona on my summer holidays. I think the weather is heating up again back home, so here’s a totally free, icy cold, very delicious noodle soba salad I made during that wild heatwave we had a few weeks ago. We’ve also got a brilliant classic record from Wilco and Billy Bragg.

Thanks for r…

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Welcome back to the newsletter.

This week we’re taking on a cut of meat that can strike fear into the heart of the home cook, the rack of lamb. Why? Well, chiefly because it’s an expensive cut and you don’t want to f**k it up. The tricky thing about lamb rack (it won’t be tricky for long, if you stick with me) is absolutely dialling in the cook so that you have edge to edge pink, blushing lamb all the way through the rack, without drying out the exterior or undercooking it. Undercooked lamb sucks, it really sucks. All of the secrets are held in today’s newsletter, alongside a very easy lentil and red pepper garnish.

We’ve also got a lovely new record from Kurt Vile and a good read for summer.

As always, thanks for reading,

B x

RACK OF LAMB 101

This is a very special cut out meat, one that graces the tables of restaurants and wows its customers regularly. It can be an intimidating thing to cook, but stick with me, and you’ll be wowing your own customers in no time…

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I learnt a new word this week. My wife, who hails from the Northern city of Hull detailed the world “maftin'“ to me. To feel “hot and sticky” is to feel “pure maftin”. It’s good stuff, ain’t it? It’s been pure maftin all week here in London, and I’d rather be anywhere than indoors, so I took my little electric stove to the patio and made myself (and yourselves) an alfresco plate of pasta.

It’s a seafood pasta, buy not as you might not. I find being presented with a giant bowl of spaghetti AND shells to be awkward, frustrating and distracting to eat. For the most part, I can’t hold a decent conversation while scooping shells out of a bowl of food I didn’t plan to eat with my hands, whilst also avoiding any shirt-destroying-sauce-splashes, eating the actual pasta before it goes cold, getting food all over the cutlery and trying to enjoy it. Listen, hyperbole or not, eating a bowl of vongole with the shells in isn’t romantic, it’s f**king annoying. Scooping up sauce with a tiny clam shell and slurping it isn’t hot, either so just ask for a spoon. Embodying this spirit, I’m abandoning shells and posturing in favour of the easy life.

We’ve also got a great record from Michael Nau and a book from the mighty Patrick Radden Keefe.

Cheers,

B x

SEAFOOD PASTA AL FRESCO

Such joy to be found in cooking outdoors and it’s not all for the grill. Buy yourself a little induction hob and go make pasta in the garden, or the park, or wherever you can. It’s pure maftin in here and you can toss and toss and toss, splashing sauce everywhere and you don’t really have to clean up. I’d be lying if I said that cleaning my stove after some vigorous pasta agitation wasn’t on my mind as I pick up the pan and half heartedly swirl it together. I’ve been known to actually cook a recipe to the point of the pasta-toss and go out the backdoor to do it to save myself the intricate task of gas hob polishing. Cooking smart, not hard? TBC. In the warmer months, at any opportunity I will be outdoors and cooking, please do try it, it’s magic.

So, to today’s recipe…

BUYING, CLEANING, COOKING & CHOPPING MUSSELS

Mussels! They’re about to be out of season, really, but there’s still a few weeks left so go and buy a net. Did you know that they’re stored in a net, and not a bag, because they’re alive when you buy them? if you stick them in a tupperware in the fridge, sealed up, they will die, so keep the air moving around them. Ideally, cook them the same day you scoop them up. Try to avoid those vacuum packed guys from the supermarkets if you can. They’re cooked already, overcooked to be honest, and usually come with pretty middle of the road sauce, too. So head to fishmonger, ask for a kilo net of live mussels “the good ones, yeh?” and have at ‘em.

To clean the mussels, you’ll want to give them a thorough rinse with a few rounds of clean, cold water. This washes away exterior grit and grime. You also want to de-beard the mussels, more info on that below in the recipe.

Time to open the mussels. I use the term “open” here as I literally just want to open and barely cook the mussels, the final cooking will happen in the sauce. Use wine to open them in a screaming hot pan. Any that don’t open are naff and might make you hurl, so bin ‘em. Even with a thorough cleaning, mussels can be a little gritty, so I always pass the cooking liquid through a fine sieve before using.

Despite what world famous rock star, Eddie “Shreddie” Green, might tell you, the shells are not in fact “fun”, especially when they’re tangled up in pasta and ‘nduja and all our other delicious things. Pick the mussels and be done with the shells.

We’ve spoken before about contrast on this newsletter, in fact, I bang on about it constantly. I like to chop some of the mussels to create this contrast of texture between the whole and the minced. With the two different textures, it’s not only more interesting to eat and look at, but you’re more likely to have a little bit of mussel in every bite. Cook smart, not hard. This one confirmed.

THE ROLE OF REDUCTION

If you look at the sauce in the picture above, you’ll see a sauce that is thick, rich and a deep, sunset orange colour. You can see the reduction, the flavour, it looks delicious. I’m going to ask you to reduce in this recipe a total of three times. It might seem like a lot, but every single one is necessary to building a sauce that looks and tastes like the one pictured above. But what is reduction? Reduction in its simplest form is letting a liquid boil or simmer and allowing a portion of the water content to evaporate, leaving the flavor stronger, richer, and in some cases, slightly thicker.

In the recipe, you’ll cook and “open” the mussels with white wine. After removing the mussels, you pass any grit or sand out of the liquor and then return it to a clean pan, bring it back to the boil and let it bubble gently. As it reduces, the briny mussel juice and sharp wine flavour become more concentrated and balanced. The resulting sauce will evolve from thin and watery to thicker, darker and far more intense in flavour. Now you can round it out with creme fraiche and continue building a sauce.

I’m often asked if you could do all of your reduction at once, i.e. chuck in all of the mussel stock and white wine, the ‘nduja, the creme fraiche, the vegetables, all in at once and just boil it down to a paste. I mean, you could, but it wouldn’t have any nuance or balance. The purpose of separating these steps out is to ultimately wield more control over your sauce making. If you reduce everything to taste in stages, you can balance the sauce properly, add a little squeeze of lemon here, some more creme fraiche. Once you’ve dumped it all in and reduced to consistency, it’s very hard to adjust and lean into nuances.

THE GARNISH

You can go as complex or as simple as you like with a pasta like this. A little butter, lemon juice, basil and the mussels with their liquor would make a very, very good sauce. If, like me, you’d like to lean into a surf and turf vibe as well as using the funky acidity of creme fraiche and the clean, juicy texture of a raw courgette then do as I do and lob them in, too.

If you’re a pescatarian but still want some heat, swap the ‘nduja out for some calabrian chili paste or a half tsp of good quality harissa paste. For dairy free, replace the creme fraiche with a little more olive oil and use some more pasta water to emulsify that sauce, baby.

CHOPPED MUSSEL TAGLIATELLE

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Welcome back to How I Cook. This week, a little sneak preview of a brand new series of Beer Snacks I just wrapped up shooting. Oh boy, have we got some serious food on the way for you, right in time for the sun coming back. I’m sharing an early recipe with you, my dear readers, before they hit the masses over on Instagram etc. A surprisingly …

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Welcome back to How I Cook+. This week, a take on the Indonesian classic ayam geprek. This recipe has been lodged in a corner of my brain for years following a lovely afternoon spent in the Mob test kitchen, a handful of years ago now, with Chef Nadir. He taught me to make the OG version of ayam geprek, a crispy breaded fried chicken, smashed and served with sambal. Fiery, moreish and completely delicious, it flew into the top rankings of recipes I learnt in that kitchen from our brilliant guests.

I often open that little black book for inspiration. What a joy it was to have talented, interesting cooks come through the doors to film with us, baked Spanish rice, Iraqi dolma, insane, decadent butter chicken or smashed-to-pieces-spicy-as-f**k fried chicken. Sharing recipes is brilliant. So, for this week’s recipe I’m presenting a slightly adapted version of geprek, one that uses a few of my store cupboard staples in place of some slightly more authentic, but elusive, ingredients. It’s not super authentic, but it is delicious.

Cheers,

B x

AYAM GEPREK

Ayam Geprek is scientifically approved as delicious. Why? Well, because it simultaneously nails all of the best parts of “comfort food” at once. See: crispy, spicy, acidic, rich, fresh and warm. It’s a dish of contrasts, contrasts are what make food exciting and moreish, it’s often these contrasts that folks crave wihtout really realising it. Why do they serve a giant pickle with a grotesquely large pastrami sandwich at Katz’ on instagra- I mean in New York? You guessed it. Contrast.

It’s also another glorious iteration of (friend of the newsletter) chicken and rice! This one isn’t macro-maxxing, but eating for a six pack is for another life, not this one. I think where this chicken-rice has the edge over most is the contrasts in texture. The chicken is usually fried until golden and crunchy on the outside while staying incredibly juicy. It then is smashed, to create even more texture before being slathered in a fresh sambal, which makes the crispy coating soak up all the spicy, garlicky flavor. You get crunch, soft meat, slipper spicy sambal and moist, supple rice underneath. Pair that with a cool, crisp cucumber and trust me folks, you’re lizard-brain will be firing.

Ayam geprek also, crucially, is fun to eat. It’s messy, spicy, and addictive. Even though the ingredients are basic, the technique and harmony of flavour creates something really hard to stop eating.

CONFIT CHICKEN

My first sidestep, and it’s a big one, is to not actually fry the chicken. I chose to confit the chicken as it yields a similarly crispy exterior (admittedly, without the breading) whilst keeping the interior soft and juicy. I love it as a technique and it’s one that home cooks don’t use enough. I’ve covered confit in more depth here, go and give it a read if you’re interested in the nuts and bolts.

The main gripe with confit is “Ben, what do I do with all of this oil??”. The cooking oil is incredibly delicious, do not throw it out. Strain and reserve in the fridge for a week to make fried rice, stir fried vegetables or to crisp up future chicken recipes. Delightful.

SALTING + AROMATICS

Key steps in the confit process are pre-seasoning and adding aroma to your confit. This is as simple as getting ahead on salting your ingredients. If you’re having this for your dinner, get up in the morning and spend literally 5 minutes preparing the confit ingredients, salt them generously, cover and stick ‘em in the fridge. This tiny bit of prep pays of in spades, trust me. The aromatics can be played with as you see fit, I love this combination of lemongrass, chillies etc but a lime leaf or some star anise wouldn’t be unwelcome either. Think of your confit oil as a blank canvas, anything you lob in will subtly influence what comes out the other side.

THE COOK

This is a two-parter. The first, a low, slow cook to tenderise and cook the chicken gently, then a hot blast out of the pot to crisp the skin. Two key temperatures, both detailed below in the recipe. Confit is really easy, don’t stress. The best way to approach the cook is to find a vessel just big enough that will house your chicken and require a relatively small amount of oil to cover. I use this 6th pan with a lid, but any small, ovenproof container will do! A small saucepan, metal container or even ceramic will do. Once the first cook is done, gently fish the chicken out (it’ll be tender, be careful!) and set onto a tray lined with parchment. I find foil is way too sticky here and you’ll be prising the chicken off with a spatula, leaving behind your crispy skin.

SAMBAL

The sambal is what really makes ayam geprek special. It’s spicy, savory, salty, and sometimes a little tangy depending on how it’s made. If you’re not a really spicy person, this might not be for you, however the spice level can be adjusted. Chillies can be deseeded and you can adjust the amount you spread over your confit chicken depending on your tolerance. It’s worth mentioning that eating ayam geprek with a rich coconut rice and some cool cucumbers can help balance things out. It’s pretty important that you make this with a pestle and mortar, if you don’t have one, now’s the time to go out and scoop one up.

Typical sambals will often call for an Indonesian shrimp paste, which is not something I have hanging around often but have used in the past. I substitute this paste with a few anchovy fillets to fill the preserved, fishy gap left by the paste. It works a charm, I reckon. Now, as well as the heat, you’re in control of the texture of your sambal and it’ll hinge on how you want the final dish to eat, but also, how much smashing you can be bothered to do… I like mine pretty chunky, but only the chillies, not the shallots, garlic or anchovies.

Smashed Chicken Leg, Sambal & Coconut Rice

Serves: 2

PREP TIME: 25 minutes + curing time

COOK TIME: 1 hour 35 Minutes

TOTAL TIME: 2 Hours

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Welcome back to How I Cook+.

This week we’re taking on smoked cod roe, a fantastic, humble yet surprisingly chic ingredient that rarely makes it into the home kitchen. Today I’m going to show you how to whip it into a fantastic, very simple emulsion, ready to devour with steamed asparagus, grilled bread and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice. This one is worth a trip to the fishmonger.

B x

Smoked cod’s roe, in the same vein as olives, Fernet Branca and oysters, falls into the camp of rarified foods that make you feel like you’ve snuck into adulthood through a side door. Few grow up craving it, there’s no children’s menu version, you encounter it later, likely sitting in a dimly lit restaurant while someone in a faded blue chore jacket says, “it’s incredible on our house made grilled bread”. It lands on the table, you take a dip and suddenly your life forks forever into “Before-Roe” and “After-Roe”. Sure, maybe you’ve had the Barbie pink gloop from the supermarket (I really, really dislike it. Loathe.) before, but my god, the homemade is just different gear.

The first time I encountered the raw ingredient, the big orange lobe, it came vacuum sealed, dense, bronzed, faintly ridiculous. It looked less like food and more like a Victorian paperweight. I was instructed to open it, peel it and blend it with lemon juice, white pepper, milk-soaked bread and raw garlic before steadily streaming in a blend of bitter, peppery olive oil and flat, neutral vegetable oil. The result? A salty, smoky, deeply savoury emulsion that when tasted, bypasses the stomach and rockets directly to the brain. Like bottarga, fish sauce or salted anchovies, it tastes ancient, like something eaten by Vikings in a longboat or those mad fishermen from The Lighthouse.

Take a look at a raw cod roe and it’s pretty gnarly. Impossibly, however, this concoction of bread, smoked fish eggs and oil is very chic. Another example of the magic trick of smoked and/or preserved fish generally; existing simultaneously in the worlds of scarcity and luxury. See: kippers, Arbroath smokies, anchovies, bottarga, tarama, caviar. Foods born from preservation and penny-pinching now arrive on small earthenware plates in restaurants where the wine list includes several orange options and at least one slightly too expensive pet-nat “with attitude.”

The best thing about making your own taramasalata is that you get to make the ordinary feel rather special. Having this waiting in the wings makes a slice of brown toast a very indulgent, chic snack. Buttered potatoes become deliciously Scandinavian and a pair of soft boiled eggs feel like a plate served in a tiny restaurant where everyone inexplicably owns excellent knitwear and those weird gardening clogs. What are you waiting for? Go to the fishmonger.

TARAMA TIPS

The first job is sourcing. Call your fishmonger or order a pack online, it really isn’t difficult. Once it arrives, portion it up and freeze it. A whole cod roe will make a shit load of tarama, more than you can eat, so cut it into chunks, wrap and freeze for later. That’s the pro move, and kind of your only option as it’s quite hard to buy in smaller pieces. It’s not too expensive of a raw ingredient and will yield a bucket load of taramasalata and nearly endless aura at your next dinner party - good bang for buck ratio here.

Right, we’ve covered off emulsions before on this newsletter, but just as a little refresher; an emulsion is a mixture of two or more liquids that usually do not mix, oil and water, where one is dispersed as small droplets within the other. The resulting mixture has a creamy, thick, rich texture and is a joy to eat. Here, you’re marrying fish eggs, water, bread and oil. The proteins in the eggs and starches from the bread are acting as your emulsifying agent here. Tarama is a pretty forgiving emulsion and is very stable, so you can be pretty cavalier with your oil, pour with abandon and get it in there. I blend the absolute pants off my tarama for an ultra smooth, luxe texture, so make sure you let it run for a while. The ice water helps keep things cool despite spending a long time in the blender. Folks often forget the friction generated by the blades does in fact heat up your food.

Cod roe can be pretty bitter straight outta’ the packet and will require some delicate balancing and seasoning. Lean on lemon juice here, and if you need it, a little spoonful of sugar. Remember that if things are tasting too strong, the oil in your emulsion is going to mellow things out. If it’s absolute fish-town when you have a taste, add a little more water and stream in more vegetable oil. Add too much olive oil and you’ll be doubling down on the bitter character.

Store your tarama in an airtight container in the fridge for 5 days max. I quite like to store it in a piping bag, ready to rock. For today’s newsletter I blanched some asparagus and popped open a tin of trout roe for a fancy lunch. For asparagus cooking tips, check this newsletter out.

Homemade Taramasalata

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Cheers,

B x

A Wobbly Cheese Tart at The Golden Tooth

My dear friends Matthew and Charlie of Papi fame have upped sticks, moved on from that brilliant site with the red bathroom and onto bigger and better things. They’ve scooped up a pub a stone’s throw from Newington Green and christened it The Golden Tooth, top tier stuff. The menu at new restaurant has echoes of Papi, with plenty of nostalgia and cheek, Matty Scott’s signature bold, produce-led cooking is singing with its sharp focus on sustainability and technique. The wobbly cheese custard tart with perfectly blanched asparagus and wild garlic was perfect. A chicken and red prawn stargazy pie followed with sharp salad and crunchy chips. lt’s all served alongside interesting wine from the brilliant Charlie Carr. It’s a class act and they’re only just getting started. Get booked in!

SHALLOT TARTE TATIN

I’ve made so, so many of these in my kitchen career and they hit every single time.

There are 3 main hurdles to jump when making a really good tarte tatin, sweet or savoury. Simultaneously cooking the shallots (or fruit) perfectly, baking the pastry to golden puffed perfection and making sure your sweet and sour caramel is just the right texture. It’s much easier to master than you might think, read the tips below, watch the video a few times, gather the five or six ingredients you need and give it a red hot crack. You got this.

NB: It’s a smart move to use your pan to guide the disc you cut out of your pastry before you start cooking. Get it cut to size and then stick it back in the fridge.

THE CARAMEL

Caramel, something that strikes fear into the heart of the home cook. Fear not, caramels are not hard to make! Following a few easy steps you can nail your caramel every single time. If you’re making a direct caramel (just sugar, no water) just tip your sugar into a dry pan and melt it, don’t overthink it, just melt it, shaking the pan now and then until everything is homogenous. Easy as that. Without the presence of water, the caramel will not crystallise, so don’t stress. Once the caramel is where you want it (a deep amber brown), drop in the butter and swirl it in to halt the cooking and cool things down. Finish with the vinegar and bring to the boil. Season with salt and that’s it - job done. Ready for shallots…

THE SHALLOTS

The key steps in making sure the shallots are perfectly cooked and have bags of flavour when they come out of the oven happen before and after you make the caramel. Start by hard-searing the shallots, building some bitterness on the cut side that will balance out that sweet and sour caramel and really crank up the savoury notes in the final dish. This also kick-starts the cooking process nicely. Once your caramel is made, drop the shallots in, packing them in tight before letting them tick over in the simmering caramel for at least five minutes. This ensures that they’re jammy and tender when they come out of the oven.

THE BUILD & BAKE

The secret here is tetris-ing those cooked shallots into your pan, packing in as many as you can to ensure a tightly packed, aesthetically pleasing tatin. Really ram them in there! Allow your tart to chill out for 5 minutes before you try and slap the pastry on. When the pastry hits the shallots, use a little knife or spoon to really tuck the edges in and further press everything together into one, tight unit. Pierce plenty of holes across the top of the tatin to allow steam to escape and ensure the pastry doesn’t balloon up, leaving all the shallots behind. Season with salt and slide into the oven.

If you want to get ahead on the tatin, allow the shallots to cool completely before adding the pastry disc and sticking the fridge. You can bake straight from the fridge, just add 10 minutes to the total time in the oven.

THE DISMOUNT

A crucial moment in the tarte tatin process is the dismount. Whatever you do, don’t try to whip the tart out immediately, you want to let it hang out for 5 minutes. This allow the tart to set a little, the shallots adhering to the pastry, but so long that the caramel fuses the tart to the pan. The secret is really confidence, and if you have them, long sleeves. Grab a plate bigger than your pan, stick it on top, grit your teeth and flip it over in one swift, smooth motion. If a few of the shallots stick to the pan don’t worry, just fish them out and slot them back into the tart, no one will ever know. I’ve done this so many times…

Finish with deliciously salty cheese and chives. I used a Gorgonzola dolce for my latest outing, but pecorino, stilton or sharp cheddar would all be stunning.

SHALLOT TARTE TATIN

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Welcome back to How I Cook, this week’s free issue covers a new way to sausage and mash. I might dare to say I prefer this to the bangers and mash of the UK, but then I again maybe not, we all remember roast-gate… It’s been a distinctly Swedish week for me. Yesterday I flew home from Milan Design Week after a handful of days working with IKEA on a…

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We’ve got a guest writer this week! The brilliant is tagging in to bring two delicious recipes from his brand new book, Peckish. As a long time fan, I’m thrilled to have Ed writing on How I Cook. I hope you enjoy the words and the recipes and do consider picking up a copy of Peckish!

Cheers,

B x

Hi everyone

I wanted to offer to you two recipes involving chicken wings.

The first – Fish Sauce Caramel Wings – is from my new chicken-focused cookbook, Peckish. The other – Spiced Wings with a Hawker-style Peanut Sauce – is purely for this space. You are welcome.

Both show that it’s easy to cook yourself crisp-edged yet succulent wings at home, without having to get involved with the faff of battering and deep-frying. And both also demonstrate that it’s totally legit to roast-up a tray of wings and have them as the focus of a meal, rather than as snacks to be handed round, or gnawed on post pub: 4-5 wings per person with some rice, an excess or sauce and scatterings, plus a cold beer or two – that’s all your major food groups right there.

I really hope you like the look of the two dishes, and you give them a try. You’re welcome to scroll straight to them. Although if you’ve got the time, there’s also a quick, generalised dive into how I cook wings.

All the best

Ed

WINGS!

Wings are huge! I mean, as a genre of fast food they’re absolutely booming: battered and fried and then lashed with punchy sauces, with a dose of social media hype on the side.

But how many wing fans cook wings at home? Not enough, I’d wager. Which is a shame, as they’re really economical, nutritious, easy to cook and satisfying to eat. Yes, you need to nibble round a few bones, but I’m convinced the ‘admin’ is worth it.

There are three parts to a chicken wing: the tip; the flat; and the drum.

The tips are, as you might imagine, at the tip of the wing and don’t offer a great deal, although they’re worth a gnaw, and work well as a handle. The flats sit in the middle and comprise an excellent mouthful of slippery meat. And then the drums look, well, like mini drumsticks. They’re the bit that remains on the breast when it’s a ‘supreme’; but if cut from the bird, then they provide a good few bites (albeit the meat is slightly leaner and dryer than flats).

The three sections can be separated before cooking by cutting through the obvious joint between them. Personally I quite like them as one.

If you’re in the habit of cutting a whole chicken into portions (see Ben’s guide!), it’s a good idea to start a ‘wing bag’ in your freezer. Once you have a useful number, you could make stock or broth, or cook them in one of two ways: the first, as per the recipes below, is to simply roast them and work on a sauce while they’re cooking, leaving you with a platter of crisp, glossed and thus finger-licking wings; the other, is to bronze them in a pan then braise/stew them, much as you would drumsticks or thighs. Peckish has a few braises and stews if you’d like to take that route … but for the rest of this piece I’ll focus on option number one.

You can get pretty good results just by rolling the wings in a little vegetable oil and then roasting them in a hot oven (230C fan) for 30-35 minutes.

But if you have the foresight to dust them with salt and baking powder 8-24 hours in advance, then the chances of crisp skin and succulent meat are raise – as the salt cures and the baking powder raising the pH of the skin (encouraging it to brown and bubble).

Beyond those simple steps, you just need to have a little think about what sauce you’re drowning them in or dip you’re serving alongside – no matter how juicy the meat, wings are best when slightly glossy.

Something sharp, slightly sweet and perhaps a little spicy works well, particularly if the wings are salty from the curing.

Ben did a whole leg dish a few months back involving buffalo sauce. And that’s a (or the?) classic coating for good reason. You might also google a Ranch, blue cheese dip or something in the ‘Korean fried chicken’ genre.

There are other options, though.

I have a recipe in Peckish for black pepper drumsticks with a lemon and Parmesan butter sauce. As I mention in the book, the recipe works very well if use wings instead of drumstick (typically I’ll serve these with a fresh carrot and cabbage slaw and maybe fine room for French fries too).

Alternatively, consider the two sauces in the following recipes. There’s a South East Asian tinge to both of them, with the first a sour-salty-sweet fish sauce caramel (with both Thai and Vietnamese influence); the second is super savoury, but also aromatic, and akin to Singaporean/Malaysian hawker peanut sauce. I love each of them equally. Have a try and see what you think?!

Fish Sauce Caramel Wings

My favourite chicken wings are the ‘fish sauce chilli wings’ at Smoking Goat, a Thai-inspired restaurant in Shoreditch, East London. There are three things to love: an impossibly crisp and airy batter, which shatters like thin glass; the always juicy and tender meat; and the insanely moreish, salty-sweet sauce served over and under them. Although I’ve heard rumours, I ultimately have no idea how the batter is achieved. And in any event, think it’s unnecessary to try to recreate it. Not least because, as discussed above, you can achieve crisp and succulent wings just by roasting them. The results, with the sauce, are incredibly moreish.

Serves 4

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