Celeriac Rémoulade with San Daniele Ham

With a hesitant spring only just plucking up the courage to politely nudge its way past a stubborn and bad-tempered winter, the veg on offer at my local farmers market in North London is still mostly limited to the root variety, alongside some handsome looking cabbages and brassicas, with some polytunnel leaves thrown in as a welcome garnish. Some promising looking purple sprouting broccoli hinted that spring really is about to arrive, and even tempted me into buying a bag to accompany the planned evening's meal of Sirloin Steak with Bearnaise Sauce and Saute Potatoes.

I’m sure the broccoli would have been lovely but, alas, due to a mishap with my bearnaise sauce, the veg became the innocent victim of an extended period in the steamer, while I repaired the bearnaise. The result was that the broccoli was a watery, over-cooked mess when it came to be served, which even the newly rejuvenated bearnaise couldn’t disguise. But that’s another story, and one which has the following lesson: unless you’re really good at making bearnaise sauce from a sabayon base, it’s a good idea to make it before starting the rest of the dish.

Also on the market veg stall were some appealingly gnarly looking celeriac which proved rather more successful than the purple sprouting broccoli. I have tried celeriac in mash, purees, and soups, but I think it really comes into its own when served raw in the classic celeriac remoulade - celeri en rémoulade - if you are of a French persuasion – especially when served alongside a cured ham such as parma, bayonne, or san daniele. It is a simple and quietly elegant dish of finely shredded celeriac root in a mustard-mayonnaise dressing, further pepped up by little flavour hand grenades of cornichons or capers, or both.

Celeri en Rémoulade is a French staple and the version below is broadly based around Rick Stein’s in his French Odyssey, a copy of which my parents in law have at their house in the Limousin, and which is where I first made the dish a few summers ago. However, as I don't own a copy of the book myself, the version below is from memory with a few additions of my own having read around the subject.

This is a simple dish and, as with all simple dishes, the quality of the ingredients are what lifts it from an average dish to a great one. If you use supermarket pre-cut ham, brined capers, jar bought mayo, and inferior anchovies, it’s not going to be the dish it could or should be.















Celeriac Rémoulade with San Daniele Ham

Serves 2
1 small head of celeriac, or half a larger one
6-8 slices of cured ham such as bayonne, san daniele or parma
1 tbsp salted capers, prepared (see note)
4-6 tbs, heaped, freshly made mayonnaise
4 anchovy fillets, finely chopped
1-1 ½ tbsp Dijon mustard
A squeeze of lemon juice
Parsley to garnish

Method
For the rémoulade sauce: spoon the mayonnaise into a mixing bowl, add the chopped anchovy fillets, lemon juice and mustard, and mix well. Check for seasoning. The sauce should be lively and rather spikey. Add more mustard, lemon, black pepper, and/or anchovy if it needs it.

Peel and finely shred the celeriac. You can either practice your knife skills and shred it by hand, or else use a food processor. At my parents-in-law I do it by hand (they don’t have a food processor) and at home with a machine (I do). Put the shredded celeriac into a bowl and mix in enough of the mustardy-mayo to dress generously (you may not need all of the dressing). Celeriac discolours quite quickly once peeled so dress without delay. The remoulade can be made in advance (even the previous day) and benefits from having some time to marinate, covered, in the fridge.

To serve. Mound the remoulade in the middle of each plate, and arrange the ham in wavy folds around the edge of each pile. I think of it as a island of celeriac in the midst of a sea of cured ham, but maybe that’s just me. Then sprinkle over the capers and a little chopped parsley to poshen things up.


Notes
- The above quantities are for two but with a big celeriac, and the other elements bumped up accordingly, a single head should feed 6 or more

- the version in Rick Stein’s French book calls for Bayonne ham but there’s no reason not to use other varieties. I have a fine local Italian deli which sells very nice San Daniele ham, so I used that instead. Parma or any other good prosciutto would be nice too. There’s no reason not to use Serrano either, although somehow the dish feels more French or Italian, than it does Spanish. Whichever ham you use, make sure it is at room temperature before serving.

- Capers: use the best salted ones you can find. Soak in cold water for 30 minutes, drain, and give them a gentle squeeze in your hand. Taste one – it should still be salty but not unpleasantly so. Soak in water for longer if necessary.

- the remoulade also goes well with cold meats, smoked fish, or as part of a spread of salads.

Spaghetti alla Carbonara

It's true to say that Spaghetti alla Carbonara is a dish of cured pork, eggs, cheese, pasta, and black pepper. Beyond that, the details become more debatable and often contentious (at least if you’re arguing with me they do). Garlic? Cream? Other things? The purist in me answers: yes; no; and not if you still want to call it Carbonara, sunshine.

Investigation into the history and origins of the dish usually throw up two scenarios, both of which seem to agree it’s a fairly recent dish and of Roman origin (as in the place, not the historical period).

The most frequently repeated version of the story (probably by Americans, who think they invented everything) is that it became popular in Rome during or soon after the Second World War when Allied soldiers traded bacon and egg rations on the black market (or, rather more quaintly, left it to restaurants to find a cheap and easy way of combining them). Of course, before America liberated them, Italians had little experience or knowledge of either pork charcuterie or eggs, and had certainly never thought to combine the two with pasta. God Bless America.

The second version points towards its origins being with charcoal burners in Umbria, which is where the ‘carbon’ bit of the name comes from. It’s also supposed to refer to the generous specks of black pepper that any good carbonara should have. I like this version of the story best.

Whatever the truth, it is without doubt that eggs and bacon are a world class combination to be found in countless dishes around the world. But there is only one Spaghetti alla Carbonara, and it should be celebrated. The combination of crispy porky bits, salty cheese, creamy eggs, and generous black pepper is hard to beat. It is also one of those dishes that can be on the table in 20 minutes flat from start to finish. Throughout the winter and autumn I’ll make this dish almost weekly. It is a brilliant mid-week supper when you want good food fast, are a vegetable dodger, or simply can’t be bothered to go to the shops on the way home from work. Assuming one regards eggs and pork as store cupboard essentials (as most right thinking people should), all the ingredients should be to hand.

I have tried numerous versions of carbonara and, while I don’t claim it as my own, this is the version I’ve settled on:

For 2 servings
125g Guanciale or pancetta or streaky bacon, cut into thick matchsticks
2 cloves garlic
1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 eggs
1 heaped tbs parmigiano reggiano, grated, plus more to serve
1 heaped tbs peccorino romano, grated, plus more to serve
250g spaghetti (200g if you're less greedy)
80ml Dry white wine (optional)
Plenty of black pepper

1. Crush the garlic with the flat of a large knife and throw away the skin. Heat the oil in a frying pan, and fry the garlic gently for 5 minutes to begin flavouring the oil. Be careful not to burn the garlic or it will spoil the dish. A light-mid, toasty brown is what you’re looking for, but don’t go any further.

2. Meanwhile, start the spaghetti. You probably don't need me to tell you how to cook spaghetti. Big pan. Lots of water. Al dente. You want the spaghetti to be ready once the below stages have been done.

3. Throw away the garlic (or, better still, sprinkle with salt and eat as a chef’s treat), turn up the heat a little, add the pork, and continuing cooking for another 5 minutes until the fat runs and the pork is crisp and golden. Remove from the pan and keep warm. If you time it right the pork should be ready shortly before the pasta and you won't need to keep it warm.

4. Add the wine, deglaze the pan, and reduce by half over a high heat.

5.. Prepare the sauce. Crack the eggs into a mixing bowl and whisk together with the cheese and seasoning until everything is combined. The cheese is naturally salty so go easy on adding extra salt (thou you will need some) until finishing the dish. When combined, whisk in the reduced wine mixture from the frying pan (make sure it has come off the boil before adding, bit by bit), followed by the excess oil from the pan, whisking as you go.

6. Combine the dish. Drain the spaghetti, reserving a couple of tablespoons of the cooking water into the pan as you drain it. Off the heat, tip the pasta back into the hot saucepan along with the reserved water.

This is where a little judgment comes in. You don’t want the pan to be so hot that is scrambles the eggs, nor too cool that they don’t cook and thicken a little into a light custard texture. Wait 30 seconds for the pan to cool a little, then pour the egg mixture over the pasta, tossing constantly with tongs or spoons. Keep it all moving around until the risk of scrambling has passed and you have a thickened, smooth, creamy sauce. Check seasoning and adjust if necessary. Then add the pork and toss through until evenly distributed.

7. Serve immediately with extra cheese and more black pepper.

Notes
- Guanciale (pronounced “Gwan-Char-lay”) is cured pigs cheek and is more authentic than pancetta. It is more fatty and porky than pancetta and gives a deeper, more robust flavour. A good Italian deli should stock it. Pancetta is fine if you can’t find guanciale, although more authentic if you don’t use the smoked variety (guanciale being cured, not smoked). Streaky bacon will do at a push, so long as it’s good bacon. If you don’t have good bacon, don’t bother.

- For a richer version you can add an extra egg yolk along with the whole eggs

- Carbonara should have plenty of pepper so don’t hold back

- the mix of parmesan and peccorino is most authentic but if you only have one or the other, it’s still going to be a nice dish

- the addition of the wine is non-traditional and can be skipped. I think it lifts the dish though and prevents it becoming a bit cloying and gloopy with all those eggs and cheese.

- removing the crispy pork bits from the frying pan before adding the wine means that they remain crispy and add a bit of texture to the finished dish. If you don't mind them not being crispy then it's fine to keep them in the pan when adding the wine.

- Cream. It doesn’t belong in a carbonara. Ever. End of.

- Garlic. If you use garlic then cook it whole and remove it before serving. No carbonara should have bits of chopped garlic spread through it. Some argue that it shouldn’t contain garlic fullstop. They are probably vampires.

- if you go to an Italian restaurant and they have on the menu Spaghetti alla Carbonara with cream and mushrooms, make your excuses and leave.