Pear pressure

Here's a simple version of a French apple tart - made with pears.

Wellington on a Plate, the capital’s dining festival, is finally over and I can have a rest from the gluttonous eating I’ve been indulging in. Many restaurants seized the opportunity to offer more than just great dining deals, so there were a number of fabulous events to attend. White White Baby, a dinner served in all-white surroundings with all-white food, challenged the tastebuds and the eyes once sensory perception had been removed. At Beef Wellington, a mystery dinner ended up served in the offal room of the local abattoir, a fearsomely confronting place where, we were reminded, animals become food. Although some people might find the concept repulsive, it was one of the most fascinating dinners I’ve attended, and it put me in mind of some favourite offal recipes.

Try to get free-range chicken livers if you can – they tend to be much larger. Although the food police (tinyurl.com/yfg27m9) would have us cook all livers until they’re overdone, I never cook them past the medium stage, which leaves them still pink in the middle. Otherwise, they become dry, tough and unpleasant to eat.

Chicken Livers with Bacon and Parmesan-Fried Potatoes

olive oil

salt and black pepper

Preheat the oven to 220°C. Brush the surface of a shallow baking dish with olive oil. Peel and slice the potatoes as thinly as possible, then place them in overlapping slices in the dish, making a thin cake. Brush the slices with olive oil and sprinkle with parmesan cheese. Bake in the oven for 30 minutes until tender and golden. Remove and set aside.

Finely chop the onion. Melt the butter in a shallow frying pan, then add the onion and gently cook until light golden. Slice the bacon into short lengths and add to the pan. After 3-4 minutes, when the bacon has taken on some colour, add the livers. Cook over a high heat, allowing the livers to develop a good crust but with the insides still a soft pink. Add the stock and balsamic vinegar and bring to a simmer. Coarsely chop the parsley leaves, add to the pan and season with salt and pepper. Divide the potatoes between 2 hot plates, then tip the liver and bacon over the top.

Serves 2.

If the texture and taste of tongue are unfamiliar, serving it thinly sliced and warm with a lightly pickled vege­table salad is a gentle way to start.

Cow’s Tongue with Beetroot, Turnips and Caper Salad

1 large cow’s tongue

3 tbsp olive oil

Place the tongue in a deep saucepan and cover with water. Chop the carrot, onion and celery into large chunks and add to the pan with the vinegar. Bring to the boil, cover with a tight-fitting lid and reduce the heat to a gentle simmer. Cook slowly for an hour. To test, pierce the thick end with a sharp knife. If the meat is done, the knife should slip in easily and the tough outer skin should peel away easily. Keep cooking until it reaches this stage – it could take upwards of 90 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and allow the tongue to cool in the stock. Transfer the tongue to a bowl, cover with cooled liquid and set aside.

For the salad, rinse the beetroot and trim the leaves. Trim the leaves from the turnips (these leaves may be saved for the salad). Bring 2 saucepans of water to the boil, then add 60ml of malt vinegar to each saucepan. Put the beetroots in one and the turnips in the other, then reduce the heat and simmer until tender – about 30 minutes. The skins should peel off easily when rubbed with your thumb. Drain the vegetables and leave until cool enough to handle. Remove the skins and cut into wedges from stalk to root. Place in a bowl and toss with the capers, balsamic vinegar and oil. Slice the tongue thinly lengthwise, then heat 3 cups of the cooking liquid in a medium saucepan. Add the tongue slices and when hot remove to serving plates. Spoon over some of the cooking liquid, and arrange the salad on the side. Season the meat with a little salt and pepper.

Enough for 2.

I seem to be having an affair of the heart with pears this winter, tossing them through salads with fennel and smoked fish, poaching them in red wine with a handful of basil leaves and a few black peppercorns, or thinly slicing them to cover a pastry base – a version of a French apple tart. I like the idea of a pear pie as well, and not just for the alliteration it offers. When pulled from the oven, the ripe pears, mixed with dried fruits and baked under a golden crust, have a Christmas-like smell, and when cold mascarpone hits this hot pie, something more than a little appealing happens.

Pear and Fruit Pie with Mascarpone

125g dried figs

2 tbsp mascarpone

Preheat the oven to 180°C. Soak the dried figs in water for an hour, then drain and slice them into strips. Mix all the dried fruits, including the figs, in a bowl, then stir in the sugar and juice of the orange. Leave for an hour. Peel and core the pears, chop into small chunks and toss through the fruit mixture. Meanwhile, roll out half the pastry and line a greased 22cm pie dish. Drain the fruit through a sieve, pressing down on it to force out as much liquid as possible, then spread the fruit across the pie base. Roll out the remaining pastry, then cut it into 1cm-wide strips and arrange in a lattice pattern over the fruit. Glaze the pastry with the beaten egg and sprinkle with a little extra brown sugar. Place the pie on a flat baking sheet and slide it into the oven. Bake for 30 minutes until the pastry is golden brown and the fruit is bubbling gently. Remove from the oven and cool slightly before serving with spoonfuls of mascarpone.