I found an old photograph of myself in chef’s whites the other day. Looking awkward, holding a huge kitchen knife (wrongly), smiling unconvincingly at the camera. My guess is it was taken when I had just realised a chef’s life was not for me. It had dawned on me that the strict schooling had little to do with the relaxed, everyday stuff I really wanted to cook. I have come to regret those years I spent making the classics, the espagnole, demi glace and mornay sauces that I would, the occasional cauliflower cheese aside, never meet again until today.
The old-school sauces of the French kitchen are about as fashionable as a vol au vent at a wedding, but I am unconvinced we should consign them all to the dustbin. Take sauce soubise, made from onions that have been cooked very slowly without colour then used to flavour a white sauce. One of the most useful and frankly delicious sauces of all time. In her fascinating and meticulously detailed handbook Lateral Cooking, Niki Segnit describes soubise as “one of the many casualties of the roux’s general unfashionability”. She is bang on there, but she has reminded me of its charms. I think of soubise as the cashmere jumper of sauces. Nothing can compete with its soft, cosseting qualities. It is just the job with roast chicken or boiled ham, but is never more perfectly matched than with lamb, when it mingles on the plate with the meat’s own roasting juices.
We can dispense with the roux. You can make an updated version with cream alone or, as I did this week, a lighter recipe with milk and aromatics, the onion itself the only thickener. I used it as a softly-softly approach to saucing a roast cauliflower. While I had the history books out I also made a brown sauce, without the red wine of tradition but with mushrooms and thyme, to accompany the double delights of a Barnsley chop. And with that I closed the photo album and stepped quietly back into 2019.
Barnsley chops, mushroom sauce
The double lamb chop, known as the Barnsley, is a cross section through the loin. You will need one per person.
Serves 4
For the sauce:
carrots 2, medium
shallots 2, large
celery 2 sticks
olive oil 3 tbsp
butter 30g
mushrooms 150g, small
tomato purée 1 tbsp
plain flour 3 tbsp
beef stock 1 litre
bay leaves 3
thyme 6 bushy sprigs
Barnsley lamb chops 4, about 250g each
thyme leaves 2 tsp
olive oil
Scrub the carrots and cut them into small dice. Peel and finely dice the shallots. Dice the celery. Warm the olive oil and butter in a deep, heavy based-saucepan then add the vegetables and cook until they are lightly browned, stirring regularly.
Cut the mushrooms into quarters. Add them to the pan, stirring every now and again, until they are soft, dark and glossy. Stir in the tomato purée and continue cooking for 5 minutes, then stir in the flour. When the flour has lightly browned, pour in the stock and bring to the boil. Add black pepper and salt, the bay and thyme and cook, turning the heat down to a simmer, for about 40 minutes.
Check the seasoning, adding salt and pepper as necessary. Season the chops on both sides with salt, pepper and thyme leaves. Warm a little oil in a shallow pan and, just as it sizzles, add the lamb. Leave the meat in place until the underside is appetisingly browned on the outside, then turn and cook the other side. Serve the chops with the mushroom sauce.
Roast cauliflower, onion sauce
To keep the sauce white, the onions will need stirring regularly, and the heat kept fairly low. The cloves, peppercorns and bay leaves are essential.
Serves 4
cauliflower 1, about 1kg
olive oil 5 tbsp
For the sauce:
white onions 2, large
olive oil 1 tbsp
butter 75g
milk 500ml
bay leaves 3
cloves 3
black peppercorns 8
spring onions 4
Set the oven at 200C/gas mark 6. Trim the cauliflower, removing any imperfect or tough leaves and keeping any small, young ones in place. Put the cauliflower stem down in a roasting tin and pour the olive oil over and season with sea salt and ground black pepper. When the oven is up to heat, roast the cauliflower for 50–60 minutes, until the florets are golden brown. Check its tenderness with a metal skewer – it should go through the thickest part of the cauliflower with ease.
While the cauliflower roasts, make the sauce. Peel and roughly chop the onion. Warm the olive oil and butter in a deep pan over a gentle heat, add the onions and let them cook, covered by a lid, until soft and translucent. Let them take their time, they will need a good 25 minutes, and stir regularly so they do not colour. A browned onion will spoil your sauce.
Pour the milk over the softened onions, add the bay, cloves and peppercorns, and bring to the boil. Remove the pan from the heat and cover with a lid, leaving it all to infuse for 40 minutes.
Remove the bay and cloves then use a stick blender (or, better I think, put the onions and milk into a liquidiser) and reduce to a smooth, creamy sauce. Season carefully then finely chop the spring onions. Return the sauce to its pan, stir in the spring onions and warm over a moderate heat, stirring almost continuously, until hot. Lift the cauliflower from the oven and transfer to a serving dish. Pour over the onion sauce and serve.
Email Nigel at nigel.slater@observer.co.uk or follow him on Twitter@NigelSlater
