ENGLISH MUM

Ugly face chicken pies for bonfire night

I’m not completely sure where I first saw this recipe.  Rest assured it wasn’t my idea – I’m thinking maybe Martha Stewart or somewhere like that?

Anyhoo, if you’re entertaining on bonfire night, these little beauties are a great talking point.  If you don’t fancy chicken, just fill them with your usual minced beef recipe, or even just squeeze sausagemeat out of the casing to fill them.

The teenagers, you’ll  be delighted to know, took me to task over my original ‘scary’ description in the title, and said that it should be ‘grumpy’ or maybe ‘ugly’, so ugly it is, but if you want to make smiley ones go for it – they’re your pies, after all.

You will need:

3 chicken breasts, cut into small chunks

1 onion, finely chopped

Ham, cut into small chunks

1 tbsp flour

Chicken stock (about 200ml)

Seasoning

Making the filling:

So sauté the onions in a couple of tablespoons of rapeseed oil.  Add in the chicken and fry until it’s lightly browned.  Bung in the ham, then add in a tablespoon of flour, salt and pepper, and about 200ml chicken stock.  Stir well and cook gently for a while, just until the ‘rawness’ of the flour disappears and the sauce looks creamy.  Add in some thyme here if you like. It’s my favourite flavour with chicken.

The pastry:

If you want to make your own pastry, rub 200g of cold butter into 400g of plain flour, then add in 3 or 4 tablespoons of cold water until it just comes together.  If you’d rather buy it, that’s fine too.

Preheat your oven to gas 4/180 degrees.  Roll out your pastry and line a 6 hole yorkshire pudding tin (or individual little pie dishes) with pastry.

Baking blind:

You don’t have to blind bake these, but the bottoms will be crisper and they’ll hold together better.  Up to you.  Scrunch up some squares of greaseproof paper, then smooth out and pop on top of each pastry base – pour in baking beans (I use some old dried haricot beans that I keep especially for blind baking) and bake for about ten minutes.  Then remove the beans and give them another 5 minutes.

Making the pies:

Now roll out the rest of the pastry and cut out your scary faces (I cut round a saucer, then used a piping nozzle for the holes).  Fill generously with the chicken mixture then top with the pies.  A quick pass through the eggy wash department and your ugly faces are ready for the oven.

Bake for about 15/20 minutes until golden.  Pair with mini baked potatoes and maybe some roasted butternut squash soup and you’re good to go.  Have a great bonfire night.  Oh and be careful out there!

Lime meringue pie: In which the DWC makes me a birthday surprise

As you know, it’s one of our slightly less mental traditions at English Towers that the birthday person gets to choose whatever they like for their birthday cake.  Usually, da brevren compete with each other to find the most complicated (The Mad Professor), chocolate-filled (the Death Wish Child), or retro (English Dad) recipes they can possibly find.  And then, of course, when it’s my birthday, I just make whatever I fancy.

This year turned out to be a bit different.  ‘I’m going to make your birthday cake’, said the Death Wish Child, confidently.  ‘What would you like?’.

‘Well’, said I, ‘what I would really really like is lemon meringue pie.  No, lime meringue pie, but don’t worry, I’ll help’.

‘Nope’, said the small confident one, while imaginary fireworks and laser beams went off behind him.  ‘*I* shall make the pie’.  So sit back and enjoy, while my wonderful offspring takes you through his birthday pie:

First you need a pastry bottom (although I suspect that I might already have one):

For the pastry, you’ll need:

200g cold butter

400g plain flour

Pinch salt

1tbsp caster sugar

1 egg yolk

4 or 5 tbsp cold water

Firstly, preheat the oven to 180/gas 4.  It’s easiest to do this in the food processor (the pastry, not the preheating. That would be silly. And anyway, you’d never fit the oven in there), but you can do it by hand if you’re not as lazy as us.

Chop your cold butter into squares and add it to the flour, salt and sugar.  Process it until it looks like breadcrumbs.

Now plop in the egg yolk and pulse slowly, adding tablespoonfuls of water until it just comes together.

Flour the work surface (and your trousers, and your mother, and the floor) and squish the mixture together into a ball.  Roll it out to about 5-6mm thick, then roll it onto your rolling pin and unroll over your flan dish or baking tin  (about 24cm should do it).  When it all breaks apart, swear a bit and kind of patch it together. Nobody will notice.  Push it in to the edges and trim the top.

Now to bake it blind: scrunch up a bit of greaseproof paper, then smooth it over the pastry and pour in some baking beans – you can use ceramic or whatever. I’ve got some old dried beans – for about 15 minutes.

Then take it out of the oven, remove the baking beans and put it back in to cook the bottom (ooer) for about another 5 minutes, then take it out and leave to cool.  Turn the oven down to gas 2/150 degrees.

Meanwhile, make the lime curd.  We use bottled lime juice in this house, but if you want to juice several limes, be my guest:

100g butter

6 tbsp lime juice (or for lemon curd, 2 lemons, zested then juiced)

150g caster sugar

2 eggs plus 1 extra yolk (keep the white for the meringue)

Take a saucepan and bung in the butter, juice, zest and caster sugar.  Melt it all together slowly until the sugar is all dissolved.

Meanwhile, in a bowl, whisk the eggs and yolk until well combined.  Now, take your warm, limey, butter mixture and gently pour a little bit into the egg, whisking all the time, then a bit more, then a bit more, until you’ve combined about half of it with the eggs.  Now bung that lot back into the saucepan and keep whisking and simmering until the mixture thickens.  Make sure there’s someone behind you at this point shouting ‘WHISK! WHISK FASTER!’.

Turn off the heat and leave to cool.  Remember to just stir it occasionally to keep it from getting a skin on.  When it’s about room temperature, pour it into the pastry case and pop into the fridge to cool.

Finally, for the meringue:

4 egg whites

225g caster sugar

Whisk the eggs in a very clean bowl until they form firm peaks, then keep whisking while you add the sugar, spoon by spoon, until it’s all incorporated and the meringue is thick and glossy.  Pile it all on top of the lemon curd and fluff it up a bit (or you can pipe it like my man here):

Bake in the very low oven (gas 2/150 degrees) for about 40 to 50 minutes, depending on how squelchy you like your meringue.   If it’s a Special Birthday Meringue Pie, you can decorate it and add candles.

Then sit down with some pink champagne and blow your candles out, wishing with all your heart that you get to spend every birthday just like this, with the people that you love.

Thanks, Charlie xxxx

A teeny weeny creamy chicken and ham pie

So I might have mentioned that, along with one child, the only other stuff I could bring when we set sail for the fair Emerald Isle was whatever I could fit in the car (oh, and the Cat of Death – but you’ve heard that story). We squeezed in a few pots and pans, my scales, some cups and plates, but not a great deal else. All the rest of it will be arriving with the shippers some time the week after next.

Tuesday night found us watching the Great British Bakeoff on BBC2, and drooling as they made pies. In between shouting at the telly (he’s his father’s son) about how pies SHOULD have a soggy bottom and that was the best bit and what did that old fart know about pies and WHO IS HE ANYWAY?, The Mad Professor got a bit misty eyed: ‘ooh’, he said, ‘I love pie, though…’. ‘Me too’, said the Death Wish Child, ‘remember the turkey and ham pie you did the day after Christmas? Lush.’

After drifting off into a bit of a pie-induced reverie for a couple of minutes, I decided that the next day I would cobble together a pie if it killed me, utensils or no utensils.

The next day dawned and I had a look in my somewhat bare cupboards and thought that maybe my wine-induced pie decision of last night was a little optimistic. The first thing that was lacking was a pie dish, but still, I grabbed a big Denby soup bowl and sure enough it was oven proof so that was fine. I also had my digital scales, a bowl and a glass to roll out the pastry. Done.

So I set to work. You can make yours much more attractive, I’m sure:

1 tbsp rapeseed oil
1 shallot, finely sliced
2 large free-range chicken breasts (or leftover turkey, if it’s Christmas)
Couple of slices of nice ham (not oddly wet plastic crap ham purleeese)
Dash of double cream
1/2 cup chicken stock (yes I had to use a mug, but use about 200-300ml)

For the pastry:

200g plain flour
100g butter, cold
Pinch salt

So gently fry the shallot in the oil until translucent and add in your cubes of chicken breast. Fry until just coloured (remember it’ll cook properly in the oven), then add the ham (snipped into little pieces), season well (not too much salt – the ham’s salty) and then the splosh of cream.  Pour in the stock and leave to bubble away and reduce. It could do with a handful of herbs really, but all I’ve got is nettles and I didn’t want to risk it.

Meanwhile, make the pastry. Add the cold, cubed butter to the flour…

… add in the salt, and then rub in the butter gently with just your fingertips until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs:

Now add in a couple of tablespoons of cold water and bring it together so it forms a lump. If you’re a top and bottom lover like we are here at English Towers, use about two thirds for your base, and a third for the lid, otherwise make a really big pie lid, or save some for another day.

Chill the pastry for a little while (I can’t work with it when it’s too cold, but give it 20 minutes).  Now I appreciate mine looked like a dog’s breakfast, but I did my best, pressing the pastry into the bowl and rolling a lid with a glass tumbler.

Remember to allow the chicken mixture to cool slightly before you pop it into your pastry dish and top with the lid. Once you’ve crimped it, trim round the edge with a knife – you might have enough left for some ridiculously simplistic lettering like mine.  Pass swiftly on to the eggy wash department for a brush with beaten egg (nope, didn’t have a brush either) and pop in the oven for about half an hour at 180 degrees.

Eat, with grateful children, and be really smug that you can live without the contents of your kitchen for a couple of weeks (y’hear that shippers? A couple of weeks or I’m going to HUNT YOU DOWN). What? Oh nothing.

DWXUDM8D7TZS

Mince pies. And why most things are improved with a slosh of booze.

Deep breaths, then, and enough of this doom and gloom.  Hell, it’s Christmas. 

Seeing as I’m currently obsessing about mince pies, I thought I’d share my latest ressup with you.  It’s the pastry, see?  I thought I had it perfect, but it was too short, too ‘dissolve into crumbs as soon as you pick it up’, which is perfect in some ways, but mince pies need to be handled.  The pastry needed to be crisper.  And several hundred later, by jove I think I’ve got it.  Brace yourself, then:

The perfect mince pie.  Honest.

250g cold butter

400g plain flour

1 tbsp caster sugar

Pinch salt

1 egg yolk

First, then, cut your butter into little cubes and bung it in your wondrously gorgeous food processor (I love you, Jen)with the flour, sugar and a pinch of salt:

Mix gently until it resembles breadcrumbs:

Now add your egg yolk and let it continue stirring gently until the mixture just comes together.  If it’s really not happening you can add a tablespoon of water or orange juice (or rosewater if you’re really posh), but you want a firm dough, remember, so don’t go mad.

Now, splodge the dough gently into two balls, clingfilm them and whop them into the fridge for 20 mins.  Don’t leave them too long – rock hard pastry is a sod to roll out.

Preheat the oven to 190 degrees/gas 5 and get ready to mess with your mincemeat.  Now, don’t get me wrong – normal mincemeat in a jar is fine, but let’s face it, there’s not much in life that can’t be improved with a bit of alcohol (moved country? Miss your friends?  Trust me, it’s not time that’s a great healer, it’s booze), so splosh some in: I’m loving Cherry Brandy at the moment, but anything will do: Port, Brandy, Cointreau - whatever you have to pep it up a tad.  I also add a handful of dried cranberries because I like the colour.  But don’t bother if you don’t want to.

So now, just roll the pastry out and use a cutter to make circles.  Pop the circles gently into a muffin tin and put a scant teaspoon of your boozy mincemeat in each one :

Now you can either cut out another slightly smaller circle to use as a lid, and pass the whole kit and caboodle onto the Eggy Wash Department (you’ll need a small, willing child for this – just use the leftover egg white to paint over the pies and add a sprinkle of sugar):

Or you can whip up a quick Madeira cake batter by creaming 100g butter with 100g caster sugar until light and fluffy, then beating in 2 eggs, a splash of vanilla extract and finally folding in 100g self raising flour.  Blob a small amount (about a dessert spoonful) on top of each mince pie to make pastry mincey cakey pies:

And that’s it.  Bake for about 10 – 15 minutes and serve with more booze in the shape of some warm, mulled wine.  Ah lubly.  I feel better already.

Chicken & broccoli pie with step by step easy shortcrust pastry

A funny thing happened on Friday afternoon. A chap knocked on the door and delivered an enormous wicker hamper, stuffed with every possible seasonal vegetable you can imagine. I was in the garden, and was, frankly, slightly confused when #2 came out to find me and declare that ‘some bloke just dropped off a big box of broccoli and stuff’. Anyhoo, it turned out not to be an anonymous food parcel from the locals, (bless ‘em, they’ve had to stand by, helpless, whilst witnessing my shambolic attempts at gardening), but a ‘Best in Season’ hamper from those lovely chaps at Bord Bia, the Irish Food Board. So our weekend was full of absolutely yummy produce, all available right now in an Irish field near you (or a supermarket, if you’re lazy).

Saturday morning, we had a lovely big fry up, along with a huge stir-fry of big, fat tomatoes, lovely fresh mushrooms and some sliced red and yellow peppers.  Saturday evening, we had a big pot of leek and potato soup, with some home made cheese bread, and today I set to work making the mother of all pies.  So start with the filling then.  You’ll need:

1 carrot, diced

1 onion, finely chopped

1 stick celery, diced

4 chicken breasts

1 head of broccoli, split into florets (or 1 leek, which are also fabulous at the moment, sliced)

1 tbsp flour

300ml chicken stock

Slug of double cream

Grab a heavy-based casserole or frying pan, pour in a couple of tablespoons of oil, then throw in the carrot, onion and celery.  Fry gently until the vegetables soften, then add in the cubed chicken breasts.  A sprinkle of thyme would be lovely here, unfortunately I managed to kill mine.  Season well and continue to fry until the chicken starts to go opaque (it doesn’t need to be cooked through), then sprinkle over the tablespoon of flour.  Carry on stirring while you pour in the chicken stock and add in a big slug of double cream:

Now leave the chicken on a low heat to bubble gently and reduce a tiny bit while you quickly blanch some broccoli  in some boiling salted water and make the pastry.

A Pastry Pep-talk

Now, I feel a little word about pastry is called for here.  Let’s face it, pastry’s a pain in the arse.  Frankly, EVERYONE is crap at pastry.  It falls apart, or it’s too dry, or it sticks to the board…  but that’s kind of the point: it’s supposed to look homemade, so if it’s a bit wonky, or you have to patch it or whatever, who cares?  It’ll still be a pie that you made with your own fair hands, and infinitely the better for it.  There.  I’ll get off my soap box now.

There’s no big ‘secret’ to pastry making, although keeping everything cool and using a light touch definitely helps.  For a basic shortcrust pastry ‘pie lid’, you’ll need:

 115g plain flour

Pinch of salt

60g cold butter, cubed

Couple tbsp cold water

So weigh out the flour, add in a pinch of salt, then throw in the butter. 

Now lightly, with just the very tips of your fingers, start to break up the lumps of butter, rubbing them gently into the flour until you get a mixture that resembles breadcrumbs:

Now, sprinkle over a couple of tablespoons of very cold water, and with a knife, start to bring the mixture together:

If it’s a little dry, sprinkle on a tiny bit more, until you can gently bring it together into a ball with your hands:

If you’re doing the pastry in advance, wrap it in clingfilm and leave it somewhere cool (I find it gets too hard in the fridge, but it’s up to you).  Otherwise, sprinkle with a little more flour and roll out, turning 1/4 turn with each roll and making sure it’s not sticking, until it’s slightly bigger than your pie dish or casserole. 

Back to the chicken, then.  Now just drain the broccoli  and add in to the chicken.  Don’t worry if there seems to be a bit of excess liquid as some will disappear during cooking.  Now just roll your pastry lid over your rolling pin and unroll it over the top of your pie.  Because I’m lazy, and let’s face it, this is just home cooking, I just leave it in the casserole and fling the pastry lid on top, tucking over the edges, but if you’re entertaining or whatever, you can put the contents into a pie dish and neatly crimp the edges, brushing with a little milk to glaze the top.

And that’s it.  Bung the pie in the oven at gas 4/180 for 20 – 30 minutes until it’s golden brown, and serve with more seasonal vegetables (we had honey roasted parsnips, carrots, peas and creamy mashed potato), then just sit back and bask in the glory especially reserved for people who make their own pies. 

Go on, you deserve it.

PS: Big, huge thanks to Bord Bia for all my lovely fresh goodies.  If you want to know what’s in season now, check out Best in Season for ideas, recipes, stuff for kids, and links to some rather fantastic food blogs *cough*.

Apple pies: Northern Ireland’s finest.

Ah, Northern Ireland.  How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways.  I have several equally random reasons; one: we’re only about an hour away and it’s rather nice to be able to pop to the shops in a different country.  Two: the shopping’s much cheaper than here – and it’s an extra thrill to shop in my native sterling too (and until Southern Irish shops stop ripping off their customers I’ll feel no shame in doing so).  Three, there’s the fact that whenever we go up there, the people are really nice, ooh, and four: the shopping is fab, oh and five: our lovely friend Tom happens to hark from that neck of the woods, and six: their accent is just lovely to listen to…  I could ramble on, but another fantastically good reason is that their Bramley apples are just amazing.  And here’s a completely useless fact: did you know that annually, Northern Ireland produces over 35000 tonnes of the big, fat, gorgeous beauties?  Most of these go to make cider (why doesn’t that surprise you?) but a few of them make it back to English Towers, where their lovely, fluffy tartness make for rather nice pies.  First you need to make some ridiculously fattening, buttery pastry:

200g plain flour

pinch of salt

150g cold butter

2 tbsp caster sugar

So add the pinch of salt into the flour, then cut the cold butter into little squares and gently rub them in until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.  Stir in the sugar and then add about 2 tbsp cold water.  Just enough to make the pastry come together.  It will seem dry, but crumbly dough will make for lighter pastry.  Trust your Aunty EM here.  Wrap up your pastry and leave it to rest somewhere cool while you tackle your Bramleys.

2 large Bramley apples

2 tbsp caster sugar

1 egg (or just some milk)

1 tsp cinnamon/extra sugar

Preheat the oven to 180/gas 4 before you forget, then take a couple of large apples, peel, core and dice them and pop them into a saucepan.  Add a couple of tbsp of caster sugar (depending on how tart you like your filling) and a whoosh of water from the tap.  Gently cook the apples until they’re just tender, but not complete mush, and set aside to cool slightly.

Now, retrieve the pastry, roll it out and cut out 12 large circles and 12 smaller ones with a pastry cutter.   Don’t worry if you’re as cack handed as I am with pastry – they’re supposed to look home-made.  Gently pop the larger circles into the holes of a 12-hole muffin tin.  Next, bung a tbsp of your lovely apple purée into each case:

…and top with a smaller circle.  Beat the egg with a fork and brush a little onto each pie (or just use a dab of milk), then sprinkle with a little extra sugar and perhaps some cinnamon (to add a pleasing smell to your kitchen, if nothing else). 

Now it would do you well to remember here that pie filling fresh from the oven  is possibly the hottest substance known to man so try to prevent your offspring getting third degree mouth burns until the molten apple lava has calmed down a bit, then serve immediately with a big blob of mascarpone, or some lovely vanilla ice cream.  Yum yum pig’s bum, as Auntie L would say.

Step by step: lemon meringue pie

 I’m still struggling with this photography lark, y’know.  It’s not easy trying to take classy pictures when you’re up to your elbows in egg whites.  I’m going to wreck my camera at this rate.  Still, here we go with another step by step: this time a classic lemon meringue pie.

For the pastry, you’ll need:

115g butter, melted

100g caster sugar

175g plain flour

Pinch of salt

Firstly, preheat the oven to 180/gas 4.  Pour the melted butter into the sugar and stir.  Then add the flour and teeny pinch of salt and mix it around until it becomes a thick paste.  Press the mixture into your flan dish or baking tin  (about 24cm should do it), then bake it blind (scrunch up a bit of greaseproof paper, then smooth it over the pastry and pour in the baking beans) for about 15 minutes.  Then take it out of the oven, remove the baking beans and put it back in to cook the bottom (ooer) for about another 5 minutes, then take it out and leave to cool.  Turn the oven down to gas 2/150 degrees.

Meanwhile, make the lemon curd:

100g butter

2 lemons, zested then juiced

150g caster sugar

2 eggs plus 1 extra yolk (keep the white for the meringue)

Take a saucepan and bung in the butter, lemon juice and zest and caster sugar.  Melt it all together slowly until the sugar is all dissolved.  In a bowl, whisk the eggs and yolk until well combined.  Now, take your warm, lemony, butter mixture and gently pour a little bit into the egg, whisking all the time, then a bit more, then a bit more, until you’ve combined about half of it with the eggs.  Now bung that lot back into the saucepan and keep whisking and simmering until the mixture thickens.  Turn off the heat and leave to cool.  Remember to just stir it occasionally to keep it from getting a skin on.  When it’s about room temperature, pour it into the pastry case.

Finally, for the meringue:

4 egg whites

225g caster sugar

Whisk the eggs in a very clean bowl until they form stiff peaks, then keep whisking while you add the sugar, spoon by spoon, until it’s all incorporated and the meringue is thick and glossy.  At this point, it’s best to keep passing children from all trying to nab fingerfulls of the meringue mixture.  I find something pointy helps here.  Pile it all on top of the lemon curd and fluff it up a bit.  Bake in the very low oven (gas 2/150 degrees) for about 40 to 50 minutes, depending on how squelchy you like your meringue.  Guard the pie with your pointy implement until it’s at room temperature, then quickly take it into the bathroom, lock the door, and stuff into face.

Nanny Annie’s ‘Pastry Mincemeat Cakey Thing’ Muffins

Every year, Hubby gets all demanding about mince pies, requiring a constant supply, especially of these little beauties which are an adaptation of his favourite childhood treat, his Ma’s Pastry Jammy Cakey Things.  Obviously because these ones contain mincemeat rather than jam they had to be renamed, but still, I think it’s quite a catchy title don’t you?  Now I know I’ve done these before, but I’ve twiddled the recipe (as usual) and I thought I’d do you a little festive step by step.  On your marks, then:

First, for the pastry.  I’m always messing with my pastry recipe, but I really think this one is the best so far, and the Mince Pie Monster agrees, so it must be okay.

200g plain flour

pinch salt

150g cold butter

2 tbsp caster sugar

About 2 tbsp cold water

So pop the pinch of salt into the flour, then cut the butter into teeny squares, and gently rub the butter into the flour until it’s breadcrumby.  Stir in the sugar, then add in the cold water until it just comes together.  Hubby’s Ma taught me that the best way with pastry is to keep it as dry as humanly possible.  You’ll think it’s too dry, but actually when you squish it, it’ll stay together.  Preheat your oven to 180/gas 4 while you remember.

Roll it out and cut out 12 circles with a pastry cutter.  Gently pop the circles into the bottoms of 12 muffin cases:

Next blob a teaspoon or so of mincemeat into each little pastry case:

Leave them somewhere cool while you whip up a quick sponge mix (if you’re making lots, make it 170g/3 eggs):

115g butter

115g caster sugar

115g self raising flour

1tsp vanilla extract

2 eggs

Cream the butter and sugar until really light and fluffy, then add in the vanilla extract, then the eggs, beating after each one.  Now gently fold in the flour.  If the mixture’s a bit stiff (this’ll depend on the size of your eggs), add a splash or two of milk.  So now blob a spoonful of your cake mix on top of each mince pie:

Mix a teaspoon of sugar with half a teaspoon of cinnamon and sprinkle a little pinch on each cake, for added festiveness, and to fill your house with the gorgeous seasonal scent of cinnamon.  Then just whack them in the oven for about 20 to 25 minutes and you’ll be delighted to discover a light muffin with a pastry base and a little mincemeat surprise in the middle.

Nice one, Nanny.

Chicken and Thyme Pie

I love baking.  Especially a nice pie.  Okay, so it’s a bit of a faff, but give it a try; it’s worth it for the wow factor when you cut it at the table.  And you know what Oscar Wilde said: ‘one should try everything once.  With the possible exceptions of incest and morris dancing’.

4 chicken breasts

500ml good chicken stock

Couple of stems of fresh thyme

2-3 peppercorns

1 carrot, diced

1 onion, sliced

Handful frozen peas

1 tsp butter and 1 tbs plain flour to thicken

Seasoning

For the pastry:

250g plain flour

125g butter

1 egg

Pinch salt

So start with the chicken – get the stock bubbling away on the stove, snip the chicken into bite-sized cubes, and pop it into the stock along with the thyme, peppercorns, carrot and onion (I always leave onion in quite big pieces as #2 likes to irritate me by picking it out).  I know you’d probably normally chuck thyme on top of roasting stuff, but trust me, it really adds a little something here.  So leave the chicken to simmer away and get on with the pastry.  You know my view on pastry – don’t ponce about, if you don’t like making it, just buy it, but if you’ve got a food processor, whizz the flour and butter together until breadcrumby, then just whizz in the egg and generous pinch of salt.  When it starts to come together, squish it into a ball, then wrap it in clingfilm and pop it in the fridge.

When the chicken’s completely cooked through (probably 20 minutes, depending on your chunk sizes), fish it out and reserve it while you reduce the stock (make sure you fish out the thyme and peppercorns at this stage too).  It would benefit from a splash of cream here (ooh, lovely with some sliced mushrooms…yum), but Hubby’s not a fan of creamy sauces so I left it out.  If you like a thicker sauce, mush together a teaspoon of flour with the same amount of butter and whisk it in.  Season to taste.  Add back your chicken, along with the frozen peas, then turn it off while you roll out about 2/3 of your pastry and line your pie dish.

If you can be arsed, it really helps to blind bake the lined pie dish to stop your pie having a soggy bottom(altogether now ‘and nobody likes a soggy bottom’).  Put some greaseproof paper loosely in the dish, then pour in some baking beans (or just any old dry beans) and bake it for about 15 minutes.  Remove the beans and greaseproof paper, and brush with beaten egg to seal, returning to the oven for 5 minutes.  But if you don’t want to, don’t bother; I won’t tell.

Now roll out the pastry lid, place it on top of the pie and crimp it artistically.  Brush with beaten egg, then put the whole thing back in the oven until the top is golden brown.  Remember you’re only cooking the lid really so 20 minutes should be fine.

It’s a standing joke in our house that #1 (aka A A Gill) will always find something not quite to his taste at the table.  The roast potatoes are never quite as good as Auntie Jen’s (curse you, Jennifer, what the hell did you do to them?), the sauce will be a tad salty, the rhubarb a little too tart.  All this will be commented upon whilst enormous quantities of the slightly sub-standard food are whooshed into his mouth, along with seconds, and often thirds.  Still, nothing’s ever completely up to scratch.  This one, though, actually shut him up.  Yup, we all waited with baited breath, but no, not a single comment.  Things must be looking up.

Pear and vanilla tart

So pastry, then.  Well it’s a bit of a sod, frankly and I try not to bother if at all possible.  I always get it all stuck to the rolling pin (not being the dantiest of bakers) but hey, my family don’t mind my rustic baking.  I was telling me Ma, then, about Bill Granger’s fantastically easy pastry made with melted butter.  He pinched it off Patricia Wells so I, in turn, pinched it off him, then twiddled it a bit (I know, I just can’t help it).  It makes beautiful, shortbready pastry which is perfect for any kind of pie, but specifically for fruit pies as it absorbs a bit of excess liquid and still remains yummy.

It’s dead easy, too:

4oz butter

4 oz caster sugar

6 oz plain flour

So just melt the butter, stir it in to the sugar and then add in the flour, stirring until it makes a nice soft dough, then press it into a loose bottomed tart tin (ooer) with your fingers, pushing it up the edges.  And that’s it – you’re a pastry goddess (or god, natch).  Bung it in a moderate oven (180/gas 4) for about 15 minutes (keep an eye on it, the baking time will depend on the size of tin/thickness of pastry), no baking beans required.

Now to the filling – basically the world’s your oyster: got fresh cherries?  Perfect.  Strawberries?  Yep, those too.  Only got a tin of pears?  They’ll do fine.  Just make sure you drain whatever you use quite well (especially if the fruit was frozen).  Don’t put any extra juice in as, let’s face it, nobody likes a soggy tart, do they.  I sliced a couple of over-ripe pears from the fruit bowl and arranged them not very artfully in the tart base.  Mr Hyper-critical said I should have peeled them first but he still managed to force down about four slices.

Next make your custardy stuff.  If you’re feeling flash, use cream.  Otherwise milk will do just fine too:

2 tbsp plain flour

3 tbsp caster sugar

1/4 pint cream or milk

2 eggs

2 tsp vanilla extract (not essence!)*

Mix the sugar and flour in a bowl, then whisk the eggs, cream and vanilla in a jug, pour into the sugar and flour and mix it all together.  Pour this over your fruit and bake the whole lot (on a baking tray in case of accidents, people!).  It’ll probably take at least 40 minutes to set, but again, this depends on your filling.  It might need a bit longer.

Leave it to cool slightly then slice and serve with cream.  It’s rather yummy cold too.  Can I say here that I didn’t have a wide enough tart tin so my pastry got a little too brown before the centre was cooked.  Hey, at least I’m honest. 

*NOTE: For the poncy amongst us, yes you can put your cream or milk on the hob, split a fresh vanilla pod, scrape out the seeds then warm the whole lot gently, reserving the pod before cooling and adding the rest of the ingredients .  But frankly, it’s just as easy to add a couple of teaspoons of good vanilla extract.  I’ll leave that for you to decide.