Let’s Hear it Loud for Lard. I’m Lovin’ It.

Indulgent eating in sub zero temperatures

Life is now officially post-caravan and this moment of returning to unadulterated bread-blog-bliss feels like it’s been a long time coming. Probably because it has been a long time coming; first there was moving, then there was shocking BT broadband shenanigans and then there was THE snow. But enough about the weather already. Let’s talk indulgent bread. Let’s talk lard.

To my mind, if you’re going to eat an animal, then paying appropriate respect to the life it’s hopefully lived well entails eating it all. Therefore, for the purposes of happy, flavoursome and authentic eating, I’m entreating you to put any squeamish thoughts about pig fat aside (OK, if you’re vegetarian, I’ve probably already lost you, but you will hopefully put your hand up for the principle of respecting the animal in its entirety).

And at the risk of labouring the point, a recent trip to the Brilliant Butcher gave me a real life example which I feel duty bound to share. There was a long queue of people buying rather Tunbridge Wells-ish weekend fayre; you know, prepped wiener schnitzels, rib eye steaks, that kind of thing. The thirty something lovely infront of me asked for an organic chicken of a very precise weight; enquiring nervously as to whether or not it came with giblets. The tidal wave of relief that washed over her when she discovered it’s interior did not conceal innards was tsunami sized. I felt, in equal measure, no small amount of disappointment over the gutsy gravy or toothsome stock she was going to miss out on and childish excitement at the prospect of being able to benefit from hers – and others – giblet shy approach; their loss, my gain. But I digress, subsequently I find I keep returning to ponder this issue of squeamishness.

Is it feeling a little bit funny about pig fat that stops us cooking with lard? Or is it a lack of understanding about how and why our bodies might consistently convert the food we eat into the kind of fat that warrants the health police and /or Daily Mail war cry of `morbidly obese’? Or is it seen as something not fitting for the squeezed middles? Or (for the squeezed middles) simply not available at M&S or the local farmers’ market? Or is it because there is no pig marketing money? Because pig farming in this country has gone to the knackers, with production often below cost and only some European outfits still providing intensively produced, chemically-cured-cancerous bacon to inferior welfare standards, which A.N.Other big retailer can still get down our necks at a profit? Or is it simply too old fashioned?

Well, call me old fashioned, call me an opinion former or whatever inbetween, but hear this: we’re missing a tasty trick. I mean, have you made pastry using half butter and half lard (more of that in the next post)? Have you seen the price of it compared to butter (less than half)? Yes, it is a saturated fat, but so what. And the weather (I can’t get away from talking all matters meterological, it’s cultural) demands a bit of extra lining, a winter coat so to speak. Turn your back on the big-brand, fat-free-high-sugar yogurt in the chiller and reach for a pat of lard instead; turn the heating down a notch if you want to feel really worthy and let this little rib-sticker warm you up.

St Andrew’s Cake

St Andrew is, of course, the patron saint of Scotland and St Andrew’s day is November 30th, which remains a Bank Holiday in Scotland. So I was celebrating with the Scots when I made this, but really it’s perfect traditional tucker for any cold day.

Method

Sift the flour and salt in to a bowl. Cream the yeast with a teaspoon of sugar and blend in the water (I leave the sugar out to no ill effect, it only accelerates the yeast’s action, so just prove for slightly longer).  When the water is frothy, mix with the beaten egg (don’t be tempted to leave this out, it has real impact on how much your `cake’ rises) and add to the flour (don’t be tempted to use bread flour, the `cake’ will be too heavy). Pour in the cooled, melted lard and mix until smooth. Knead well, cover and leave to double in size.

Top Tip – Home made candied peel is utterly incomparable to shop bought, and the finished result of whatever you’re making will be too.

Knock back and knead in the currants, sugar and peel. Transfer to a greased 1 kg loaf tin and leave to rise until the dough reaches the top of the tin and then bake in a hot oven (180 to 200 degrees C dependent on oven) for 50 to 70 minutes until well risen and golden. Luscious warm with butter or, if there’s any left on subsequent days, good for toasting.

Know a producer who uses lard in their bread or `cake’? Let’s hear it loud for them. I’m nominating Metfield Bakery for their Lardy Cake.