Nigella Christmas: Food, Family, Friends, Festivities (17 page)

• If you are preparing the gravy stock ahead, make sure when you add the flour and juices and reheat that it gets piping hot; preferably fill the gravy jug with hot water for 10 minutes before draining, drying and filling it with hot, invitingly aromatic allspice gravy.

NOTE:

You can use the unused juice and pulp of one of the clementines/satsumas from the Gingerbread Stuffing, if making.

MAKE AHEAD TIP:

Simmer the gravy stock for 2 hours and stir in the honey. Cool, cover and keep in the fridge for up to 2 days. Finish the gravy with flour and turkey juices as directed.

FREEZE AHEAD TIP:

Make the stock as directed, cool and freeze for up to 1 week. Thaw overnight in the fridge, and finish as above.

REDDER THAN RED CRANBERRY SAUCE

When I was a child, I don’t think fresh cranberries were ever seen in England. For me, cranberry sauce came out of a jar – and my mother was the sort of person who made her own mayonnaise. Actually, I have nothing against shop-bought cranberry sauce (and recommend it in various recipes), but I personally don’t quite see the point: it is ridiculously easy to make, and tastes so much better homemade that it feels like the wrong thing to cut out of your cooking schedule.

Having a kitsch weakness for déclassé liqueurs, I love the cherry brandy element (not the sophisticated see-through kirsch, but the rich, red, sweet and viscous maiden-aunt’s tipple), though Cointreau, Grand Marnier, Triple sec or ruby port would be just dandy, too. But you can simply substitute some freshly squeezed orange juice (blood orange juice out of a carton would keep you tonally correct) and be prepared to up the sugar slightly – probably by an extra 100g, but don’t add it all at once – as the sweet liqueurs counter the fierce sharpness of the cranberries. If you’re squeezing an orange for juice, go that extra inch and zest it first over the cranberries in the pan.

Serves 10–16 as part of the Christmas feast, or 8–10 if not

1 × 340g pack fresh cranberries

200g caster sugar

45ml cherry brandy

75ml water

• Put everything into a pan and let it bubble away until the berries start to pop, stirring every now and again with a wooden spoon. This will take about 10 minutes.

• The one thing you should bear in mind, though, is that the pectin-rich nature of the fruit means it solidifies enormously on cooling, so although it will be cooked when the berries have burst, it will still look runnier than you think cranberry sauce should.

• At this stage, give the sauce a final, vicious, whipping stir to help crush the berries into the liquid, and taste – making sure not to burn your mouth – to check whether it needs more sugar; if you find it too sweet, which is unlikely, just spritz in some lemon juice. Transfer to a bowl to cool.

• If you cook this sauce way in advance, it will jellify a lot so thrash it through with a fork before serving.

MAKE AHEAD TIP:

Make the sauce up to 1 week ahead. Cover and keep in the fridge. Stir well before serving.

FREEZE AHEAD TIP:

Make and freeze for up to 1 month. Thaw overnight at room temperature. Stir well before serving.

MY MOTHER’S BREAD SAUCE

Proper recipes tell you to use breadcrumbs and it isn’t simply laziness that makes me cut out that step, though I suspect it played some part in my mother’s decision. I don’t mean that rudely: she was a wonderful cook, and much of that came from her impatience; stripping away unnecessary processes is an important part of real cooking, and no one should feel guilty about that.

The real truth is that bread sauce made with torn-up cubes and strips of bread has a much better texture than the almost gruel-like, uniformly smooth sauce made with semolina-sized crumbs.

I couldn’t have Christmas lunch without bread sauce: just the smell of the milk, infusing on the hob, giving off that familiar scent of onion, mace, bay and clove, lets me know it is Christmas. The idea of a bread sauce remains intensely baffling, possibly even disgusting, to any person who hasn’t been brought up with British traditions, but I have, so far, been able to convert Italians, Austrians and even (admittedly with some condescension on their part) a French contingent. I regard bread sauce as not only my legacy from my mother, but every Briton’s sacred and stodgy inheritance. I shouldn’t have to say it but, given the kind of bread our nation willingly consumes (and my children lead the way here, eschewing all proper loaves), let me warn you now: do not even consider making this with the plastic, sliced stuff.

Serves 10–16 as part of the Christmas feast, or 8–10 if not

1 × 800g good-quality white loaf, sliced thickly and left to stale overnight (see step 1 below)

1 litre full-fat milk

1 onion

4 cloves

2 bay leaves

1 teaspoon white peppercorns

2 teaspoons Maldon salt or 1 teaspoon table salt

2 blades mace (or heaped ¼ teaspoon ground mace)

30g butter

2 × 15ml tablespoons double cream (optional)

fresh nutmeg

• The day before you make this, slice the bread thickly, cut off the crusts (not with too much dedication, as a few bits of brown crust won’t matter) and lay the slices on a rack to stale. And as you don’t need the 2 end-crusts for the sauce, I’d eat these while they’re nice and fresh. I’m afraid I often end up eating the strips of discarded crusts from the slices, too (with a thick layer of butter and a thin one of Marmite).

• If you’ve forgotten to stale the bread, or don’t have time, you can speed the process by putting the slices in a very low oven until they feel dry to the touch (though not toasted) – but just don’t forget they’re there.

• On Christmas Day, though you could make this before, prepare the sauce, which is scarcely hard work. Put the milk into a pan. Peel and quarter the onion, stud each quarter with a clove, and drop them, as you do so, into the pan of milk. Add the bay leaves, peppercorns and the blades of mace (or sprinkle the ground mace over) along with the salt and bring to an almost boil, but do not let it boil.

• Remove from the heat, cover the pan and let it foggily infuse.

• Tear the slices of bread into rough cubes over a bowl, so you catch all the crumbs, too.

• When you’re not far off serving up, put the pan back on a very low heat, add the bread cubes and cook for about 15 minutes, by which time the sauce should be thick and warm and evocatively fragrant. I have to say I don’t bother with removing any of the bits – the onions, the peppercorns and so on – but you can strain the milk before adding the bread if you want to.

• Just before serving, stir in the butter and, if you happen to have a carton open, the cream (otherwise, splosh in a little more milk) and some more salt if you think it needs it. Grate over quite a bit of nutmeg, adding more once you’ve decanted it into a warmed bowl or gravy boat.

MAKE AHEAD TIP:

Make the sauce up to 2 days ahead. Remove the clove-studded onion pieces. Melt the butter and spoon over the sauce to prevent a skin forming. Cover with clingfilm and keep in the fridge. To reheat, return the sauce and butter layer to the saucepan, and stir over a gentle heat for 3–4 minutes until everything has blended together. Adjust the seasoning to taste.

FREEZE AHEAD TIP:

Make the bread sauce (without adding the butter) up to 1 month ahead. Cool and freeze. To reheat, thaw overnight in the fridge and return to the saucepan. Stir over a gentle heat for 2–3 minutes then beat in the butter, and season as above.

CHESTNUT STUFFING

This is my modest reworking of the stuffing, as made by Lidgate’s of Holland Park, which the constant reader will recognize. I’ve fiddled a little, but not in a major way – it didn’t need it – and this makes enough to fill a turkey or dish of approx. 26cm × 21cm × 5cm deep, though I often use a similar-sized foil container. Neither of these needs any more than 30 minutes’ baking time, maybe 40 if the oven is very loaded. I can’t make any aesthetic claims for this stuffing, but it is unreasonable to expect wodged-up chestnuts and chestnut purée to cast off their claggy brown looks and, besides, the taste dispels any worries about its appearance.

This is not a huge amount of stuffing, but I find a large spoonful per person is all that’s needed, though if you want to make more – say the size of the Gingerbread Stuffing – just double everything.

It is the perfect amount for fitting inside the turkey’s cavity, which is all well and good, but I have found that stuffing and trussing a bird on Christmas morning, while very satisfying Obs & Gyne work on its own account, is the one step that can tip me over the edge. And my brining method means that moisturising from within is no longer necessary.

As for breadcrumbs, I highly recommend you use stale real bread that you’ve crumbed yourself in a processor. If you need to, buy a loaf, slice it and leave it to stale overnight as for the bread sauce, above; it doesn’t have to be as dry as dust, just not still squidgy. I often make breadcrumbs as I go, throughout the year – I can never throw anything away, least of all stale bread – and stash sealable bags of them in the deep freeze.

Serves 10–16 as part of the Christmas feast, or 8–10 if not

1 large or 2 small onions

100g streaky bacon

large bunch of parsley, from which you can get a good 2 handfuls of leaves

75g butter, plus more for greasing dish and extra 15g for buttering top (if not stuffing turkey)

250g vacuum-packed whole chestnuts

250g breadcrumbs

1 × 435g can unsweetened chestnut purée

2 eggs, beaten

good grating of fresh nutmeg

salt and pepper

• Peel and roughly chop the onion and stick the pieces in the processor with the bacon and parsley. Or chop finely by hand.

• Melt the 75g butter in a large-ish, heavy-based pan and, keeping the heat fairly low, cook the processed mixture until it softens, about 10 minutes.

• Remove to a bowl and, using your hands, crumble in the chestnuts so that they are broken up slightly, then mix in the breadcrumbs and chestnut purée. This isn’t very hard to do by hand (a wooden spoon and brutal manner will help), but an electric freestanding mixer with the paddle attachment is the agreeably lazy option.

• If you are making this in advance, then let it get cold now, otherwise, beat in the eggs, season with only a little salt (remember the bacon will contain some) and a good grating of fresh nutmeg and fresh pepper.

• If you want to stuff the turkey with this on Christmas morning, be my guest; otherwise butter your dish or foil container, add the stuffing, spread the 15g butter on top, and bake, uncovered, in the oven underneath the turkey for 30–40 minutes, depending how full your oven is.

MAKE AHEAD TIP:

Make the stuffing, leave to cool completely then beat in the eggs. Cover and keep in the fridge for up to 2 days.

FREEZE AHEAD TIP:

Make the stuffing, with the eggs, and freeze for up to 2 weeks. Thaw overnight in the fridge.

GINGERBREAD STUFFING

Sometimes, it makes sense to use one’s obsessions to advantage. I know that most people don’t have trivial light-bulb moments when the notion pops into an already food-filled head to make a stuffing in which crumbled gingerbread cake replaces breadcrumbs, but that’s, unfathomably, how my mind works.

You can use dark brown, dense gingerbread, or the lighter, sandier loaves. I buy spiced bread rather than make it (though those who want to could turn to) and you will often find it sold, even still in loaf-shape, as ginger cake. It all works. Indeed any sweet, spiced bread would, and the Italianate version (next recipe) is a case in point.

Serves 10–16 as part of the Christmas feast, or 8–10 if not

500g (3 medium-sized) onions

2 eating apples, peeled and cored

45g butter

1 × 15ml tablespoon vegetable oil

750g streaky bacon

zest of 2 clementines/satsumas

2 × 400g gingerbread loaves (such as McVitie’s Jamaica ginger cake), loosely crumbled

2 eggs, beaten

approx. ½ teaspoon freshly ground pepper

• Using a food processor or by hand, finely chop the onions and apples.

• Put the butter and oil in a large, wide saucepan over a medium heat and fry the chopped onions and apples until soft, about 10–15 minutes.

• Finely chop the bacon in the processor, or by hand, and add this to the softened onion and apple mixture. Cook everything, stirring frequently, for about 5 minutes more.

• Add the zest of the clementines/satsumas, reserving the bald fruit (you can use some of their juice in the Allspice Gravy).

• Take the pan off the heat and let it cool a little before mixing in the gingerbread crumbs. You can let this get properly cold now if you want.

• Just before you want to cook the stuffing, add the beaten eggs and pepper, and use it to stuff the cavity of your turkey, or cook all of it (or what’s left after stuffing your bird) in a buttered baking dish. I don’t stuff the bird but put all of my stuffing in a very generously buttered old Le Creuset terrine, with internal dimensions of approx. 25cm × 9cm × 7cm deep.

• Bake it in a hot oven (200°C/gas mark 6) with your turkey for about the last 45 minutes. If the stuffing’s going into a full oven – which it no doubt is – there should be no need to cover the dish. If the oven is less full, and therefore hotter and less steamy, you could cover with foil for the first 30 minutes.

• Let the cooked stuffing sit in its terrine for a good 10 minutes out of the oven before turning it out and slicing it. Or just spoon from the dish if that’s less stressful. (I love a slice of this, cold, in a Christmas night or Boxing Day turkey sandwich.)

MAKE AHEAD TIP:

Make the stuffing, leave to cool completely then beat in the eggs and pepper. Cover and keep in the fridge for up to 2 days.

FREEZE AHEAD TIP:

Make the stuffing, with the eggs and pepper, and freeze for up to 2 weeks. Thaw overnight in the fridge.

PANETTONE AND ITALIAN SAUSAGE STUFFING

This is nothing more, really, than an Italian-inspired take on the gingerbread stuffing, (previous recipe). The finished product is very different, however. Whereas the Olde Englishe stuffing is rich, dark and dense, this one is light, spicy and spoonable.