Gordon Ramsay
Cooking for Friends
Food Mark Sargeant
Text Emily Quah
Photographer Ditte Isager
Stylist Christine Rudolph
Art Director Patrick Budge
Contents
Cook’s notes
Introduction
Hot and cold soups
Pasta and grains
Fish and shellfish
Meat and poultry
Savory pies and tarts
Vegetables and salads
Desserts and ices
Chocolate and coffee
Basics
Searchable Terms
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
Cook’s notes
I suggest seasoning with good-quality sea salt and freshly ground pepper, and using fresh herbs for best flavor.
Cup and spoon measures are level unless otherwise specified.
Use extra-large eggs unless otherwise specified, ideally organic or from cage-free chickens. If you are pregnant or in a vulnerable health group, avoid dishes using raw or lightly cooked eggs.
Oven temperatures and timings are for convection ovens. If using a standard oven, increase the temperatures by 25ºF.
Timings are provided as guidelines, with a description of color or texture where appropriate, but readers should rely on their own judgment as to when a dish is properly cooked.
Introduction
As a chef, I work at a thousand miles an hour, but when I’m at home, I want to slow down. I leave my chef’s jacket at work, and I walk into a domestic setting, where everything is completely different. At home, our kitchen is family-run, and it’s a relaxed place.
A lot of people see cooking as a chore, but we bring an element of fun into it. For me, it’s a therapy, and it’s happening more and more that I cook with Tana and the children, especially Megan, my oldest. The kitchen is open-plan, with a large sofa and space to unwind. The focus is on the stove, which was built in Paris. It needed a concrete plinth as its foundation, to carry the weight, and after it was installed, the kitchen was built around it. The stove has a chrome-faced, water-cooled frontage so the kids can’t burn themselves while they’re involved in the food preparation, slicing scallions or grating fresh Parmesan.
I can’t sit at home with my feet up, reading the newspaper. But having said that, I am beginning to learn about being calm. Everyone always imagines that it must be hectic in the Ramsays’ kitchen, but it’s not. We turn cooking into serious fun. To an extent, everything we do is spontaneous. We’re very lucky in that we have some great farmers’ markets nearby. The kids will go and buy cheese, fresh organic chicken, and a selection of the farmers’ vegetables. They become totally involved in the shopping, even putting aside a percentage of their weekly allowance to buy food. They really love that. Have a young child pay for a pound of turnips or carrots, and then see how excited they are about what’s on the plate later.
My kids get an allowance according to their age. Megan’s nine, so she’s on £9. The twins, Holly and Jack, are on £8, and Tilly is on £6. They all wait for their birthdays because they know they’ll get a £1 increase.
They are learning that in order to live well and have a healthy lifestyle, they have to eat well. If none of them pursues cooking as a career, that’s not going to upset me. I just need to know that they will one day be able to fend for themselves in the kitchen.
The naughtiest child on the day gets to do the dishwashing. Whoever’s not on washing-up duty will set the table. We do have a dishwasher, but it’s rarely used, unless we have a big party going on in the garden. I think the kids need to know what it’s like to wash the dishes.
When I was a child, we had a cleaning rota at home. I didn’t grow up with dishwashers and everything being done for you. As four children, we were all involved, and Mum managed a strict rota, so no one escaped their turn at the dishwashing, even though we had busy lives: me with my soccer and the others with their music.
I’m a bit old-fashioned in this way. I don’t have rules and regulations at home, but what I do have is a very hands-on family. It’s not me standing there, cooking away and everyone watching. On Saturday morning, after the girls have been to the gym and Jack has finished his soccer practice, we come back and prepare a late lunch together. We won’t eat dinner until seven thirty, eight o’clock, and then it will be a slow braise. For Sunday lunch, we have friends and family around. Over the weekend, we might indulge in a dessert, but Monday to Friday dinner is a substantial main course followed by fruit.
Not everything we eat comes from the farmers’ market. It would be great, but just not practical. Tana will shop two or three times a week at a supermarket, and I have to say that some of the supermarkets are doing some really good, interesting food lines. Out of respect for real quality ingredients, we also go to specialist purveyors, like our butcher. Knowing where your food comes from and being able to trace it right back to its source is important to me.
I’d rather spend more and eat less, buy the best quality ingredients and savor them, buy what we need and no more. Sometimes I find it embarrassing when I see the amount of food that we, as a nation, waste.
I find it frustrating that we are forgetting that there has always been a traditional British cuisine, and that it doesn’t have to revolve around steak and kidney pie, or fish and chips. I remember watching my mother cook at the Cobweb tearooms in Stratford-upon-Avon, making ham hock and barley soup, white veal stew, and the most amazing honey-glazed roast ham—all, of course, served with fries. What you don’t see nowadays is the way she used to stud the ham with cloves and caramelize it. All that now-forgotten, unfashionable stuff was traditional British cooking. Wonderful, but cast aside in our haste to experiment with modern fads.
We are at risk of trying to make food too sophisticated as we move along, changing ingredients to follow what’s in vogue. The words “trendy food,” “trendy restaurants,” and, especially, “trendy chef” make me cringe. It is not always necessary to use foie gras with the finest filet mignon and line-caught turbot. Sometimes it’s just better to braise some oxtail and cook with mackerel, pollack, or barramundi.
I’m always excited around food. There are so many opportunities to prepare and eat good food in the home if you have the patience and determination. I am sure that once you are good at making fabulous fresh pasta, you will want to make ravioli. Once you’ve mastered the perfect ravioli, you will want to get more intricate with the filling. A domestic kitchen is a far superior place to what it was ten years ago, with amazing gadgets and appliances. Most of us are competitive. We want to outdo our neighbors. We know and understand the importance of eating well. So if you mix that with a peacock desire to be the one who hosts the best dinner parties, you will be on the path to a whole new dimension in your life at home.
But don’t get overconfident and miss the point when preparing a dinner party. Lighten up, have a glass of wine. Have your guests in the kitchen with you, and instead of showing off to them, involve them. Delegate the first course and the dessert while you tend to the main course. What can be difficult for me when going to dinner parties is people hanging on your every forkful. The food has been prepared in order to be enjoyed. It should be relaxing, not taking you into a stress zone.
The palate can be educated. It’s a matter of learning, of discipline, and of practice. It is also the best reason in the world to stop smoking. Smoking will always dull your palate and confuse your tastebuds. It’s a bit like playing soccer with your bootlaces tied together.
I love to see an array of cookbooks on someone’s shelf. It means th
at I can see who excites people. I have hundreds of cookbooks in my kitchen. I especially love to see a top chef’s recipes domesticated for home use, although I get nervous if people tell me that they follow my recipes word for word. A recipe is a guideline. Adding, subtracting, evolving it—that is part of the pleasure. If a particular herb is not to your taste, if you don’t like the strength of rosemary, say, then by all means, use thyme, especially lemon thyme. If you prefer the purple basil in the middle of summer, then great (if you ever can get it). If you are not excited about using rutabaga the way I am, then substitute celery root. We don’t eat enough roots like these and turnips or kohlrabies—in terms of flavor, they’re extraordinary.
Adapting a recipe’s ingredients is completely in your hands. But the method is what really matters. The techniques in cooking are rigorous and imperative: They are your passport to a successful dish. Cooks must practice, practice, practice. Anyone can learn, but you need focus, proper understanding, and to go at the right pace, not running before you can walk.
I’ll never forget, as a 22-year-old commis chef, working for the Roux brothers, when all I wanted to do was bake—make the most amazing puff pastry, choux pastry, sourdough bread, and tomato and olive bread, using a natural yeast and fermentation. As a baker, you would start at midnight and work until midday. At half past midnight, the kitchen fell silent. All you could hear were the timers and the steamers for the second rise. On one occasion, I had to put together this marquise chocolate. Pascal, the young French pastry chef I was taking the section over from, could hardly speak English. He left me a box of After Eight mints, and said that I was to put a layer of chocolate mousse in the bottom of the mold and then add the After Eights. He wanted me to cut them in half and arrange them in threes in order to get this line of mints going through the mousse. I was thinking: this guy’s winding me up. He’s trying to get me into trouble. So I ate the mints instead.
The next day, Albert Roux came in. You have to give him one of everything, down to every bread roll, so that he can taste it all. I gave him the marquise, and he went bananas because it didn’t have the mints running through the center. I couldn’t believe he would make an amazing chocolate mousse and stick After Eight mints in the middle. I got a bollocking. The marquise was thrown in the trash, and I had to start again. I grew up on a council estate, living in subsidized housing, but have been able to learn from the best. I’ve trained my palate with some of the greatest chefs. But sometimes you have to question even the best and greatest. Cookery is quite a journey. Take nothing for granted.
Gordon Ransay
hot and cold soups
Soups are truly versatile: They can be as light or substantial as you want. In small amounts, a soup can excite the palate in the form of a first course. Enrich the broth or bulk it up with chunky ingredients and it is a satisfying main course.
I fell in love with chowders when I spent a few months filming in the U.S. We tasted amazing New England clam chowders on the East Coast. In San Francisco, one of the main treats was sourdough bread bowls filled with thick bisques and creamy soups. Once you’ve devoured the soup, you’re left with a flavorful bread bowl to break apart and savor.
Whether you’re making an elegant blended soup or a more homey chowder, always start with a good base. Good-quality stock provides a depth of flavor that brings together all the elements in a soup. It is also important to season well.
Chilled cucumber soup
Curried cauliflower and Cheddar soup
Roast chestnut, parsnip, and apple soup
Asparagus velouté
Alnwick soup
Broccoli, Stilton, and pear soup
Conger eel bisque
Italian-style turnip soup
Cornish crab soup
Oxtail soup
Summer soup
Crayfish chowder
Baked potato soup with sour cream
Creamy sorrel soup
Chilled cucumber soup
Nothing beats a chilled cucumber soup on a hot, balmy day: It cools the body and whets the appetite. I find a little horseradish cream brings the soup alive, but you can leave it out to keep the flavors subtle and light.
SERVES 4 AS A FIRST COURSE
3 English cucumbers, about 1½ pounds each, straight from the refrigerator
lemon juice to taste
1 tablespoon olive oil handful of fresh dillweed, leaves roughly chopped, plus a few fronds for garnish
2 cups plain yogurt
1–2 tablespoons cream-style horseradish, or to taste (optional)
Peel the cucumbers and cut two lengthwise into quarters. Slice off the seedy core from each quarter, then chop into dice. Put into a large bowl and set aside.
Peel the remaining cucumber into long, thin ribbons using a swivel vegetable peeler. (Cut the ribbons in half if you think they are too long.) Place in another bowl and toss with a little lemon juice, the olive oil, chopped dill, and a seasoning of salt and pepper. Cover with plastic wrap and keep refrigerated until ready to serve.
Put half the yogurt, a pinch of salt, some pepper, and half the chopped cucumber into a blender. Blitz to a smooth purée. Press the purée through a fine sieve, pushing down hard with the back of a ladle. Discard the cucumber pulp in the sieve. Repeat the process with the remaining chopped cucumber and yogurt. Taste and adjust the seasoning of the cucumber purée, adding horseradish or a squeeze of lemon juice, as desired. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate if not serving immediately.
To serve, pour the cold soup into chilled bowls and garnish with the dressed cucumber ribbons and dill fronds.
Curried cauliflower and Cheddar soup
A little curry powder and saffron elevate the classic combination of cauliflower and cheese to another dimension in this soup. It is ideal as a welcoming first course or a comforting and warming lunch when the weather is cold. The soup is delicious served with warm Indian bread.
SERVES 6 AS A FIRST COURSE OR 4 AS A LIGHT LUNCH
4 tablespoons olive oil
2 small onions, chopped
2 celery ribs, chopped
1 medium head of cauliflower, cut into florets
1 teaspoon mild curry powder
pinch of saffron strands
1¼ cups hot chicken or vegetable stock (see Chapter 9)
1¼ cups milk
4 ounces medium or sharp Cheddar, grated (about 1 heaped cup)
Heat half the oil in a large pot and add the onions and celery. Stir over medium heat until the vegetables are beginning to soften, 3–4 minutes. Add the remaining oil, the cauliflower florets, curry powder, and saffron, and season with salt and pepper. Stir well and cook for a couple of minutes. Cover the pot and cook for 4–5 minutes, lifting the lid to give the mixture a stir every now and then.
Remove the lid and pour in the chicken stock. Bring to a simmer, then pour in the milk, adding a splash of water if the liquid does not cover the vegetables. Return to a gentle simmer. Partially cover the pot and simmer until the cauliflower is very soft, about 10 minutes.
Use an immersion blender to purée the soup in the pot, or purée the soup in two batches in a regular blender, then return the soup to the pot. Bring to a gentle simmer over low heat, then slowly stir in the cheese to melt. If the soup is too thick, stir in a little hot water. Taste and adjust the seasoning before serving.
Roast chestnut, parsnip, and apple soup
The subtle, nutty flavor of chestnuts is paired with sweet apples and parsnips in this creamy soup. I love this earthy combination of flavors. The soup makes an easy lunch when served with a toasted cheese sandwich. Save time by using vacuum-packed chestnuts, which have been peeled and are ready to use.
SERVES 4 AS A FIRST COURSE
1½ tablespoons butter
2 medium parsnips, chopped
2 celery ribs, chopped
2 apples, peeled, cored, and chopped
8 ounces roasted chestnuts, shelled, peeled, and roughly chopped
2½ cups hot chic
ken or vegetable stock (see Chapter 9)
2–4 tablespoons light cream for serving
Melt the butter in a wide pot and add the parsnips, celery, and a little seasoning. Stir over high heat until the vegetables are lightly golden, 4–6 minutes. Tip in the apples and cook, stirring occasionally, until the apples are soft, 4–5 minutes longer.
Add the chestnuts, pour in the stock to cover, and bring to a simmer. Cook for 5–10 minutes. Remove the pot from the heat and use an immersion blender (or a regular blender) to blitz the soup to a smooth and creamy purée.
Return the soup to the pot, if necessary, and taste and adjust the seasoning. If you prefer the soup thinner, loosen the consistency with a splash of boiling water. Reheat gently just before serving. Serve in warm bowls garnished with swirls of cream.
Asparagus velouté
The delicate flavor of asparagus comes through in this smooth and velvety soup. At the restaurant, we use older spears and asparagus trimmings to make the velouté, reserving all the young, tender spears for salads and for garnishes. The soup can be served hot or well chilled.
SERVES 4 AS A FIRST COURSE
2 large bunches of asparagus, about 1¾ pounds in total
Cooking for Friends Page 1
