TARTARE FOR NOW

You know me, it doesn’t take much to get me salivating over venison, and there had been a loin of venison lurking in the freezer for a couple of weeks.

 

This photo and the majority of the others by Caroline Gannon.

And then when I was in London, back at the Coal Hole in the Strand, venison croquettes were on the menu, so how could I not order them.

Actually they were described as Venison Pancetta and Red Wine Croquettes which were pretty decent in themselves.  The liquid round the edge is ‘brown sauce mayonnaise’ which sounds like it might be a mix of mayo and HP, and for good or ill, that’s pretty much what it tasted like. And that is a watercress and pickled onion salad on the side, should you be interested.

 

And then last Saturday morning I was listening to Jay Rayner’s The Kitchen Cabinet, and there was much discussion of, and enthusiasm for, eating venison, not least because there are apparently more deer in England than there have even been, perhaps because not enough people eat them.

 

So in order to even up the score, the inamorata and I thawed out the venison loin and made a tartare.  It was way better than the croquettes, if we say so ourselves.

GRACE AND FAVOUR, AND TARTARE

I don’t know Grace Dent and she doesn’t know me.  

We were once co-judges of a food and film competition but we didn't judge in the same place at the same time, so we never met.

 

Nevertheless I think she’s a good thing.  And as I continue my steak tartare research and experimentation, I wondered if she might have something interesting to say on the subject.  Well of course she does.

 

Her Guardian review of Six by Nico was illustrated with this image

 

I'd have thought that caption 'little more than a "meaningful glimpse of a dish"' was quite a put down, and I'd feel pretty well cheated if a waiter delivered that to my table, in in the review Grace sounds quite approving.

 

Less so with Tom’s Kitchen, reviewed in the Evening Standard, describing ‘the drab, under-seasoned steak tartare which arrived with a colossal mountain of rocket’

 

And even worse was the Bistrotheque at Cultureplex, Manchester reviewed in the Guardian, ‘A chunky steak tartare with a neatly placed,wobbly yolk looked pretty, but was jam-packed with capers that quashed any subtlety of flavour in the meat.’

 

Well I don’t suppose Grace Dent will be eating my tartare any time soon, which may be a blessing for both of us, but on I go.  I decided to try a venison version, in part because venison is so hard to cook - leave it in the oven a couple of minutes too long and it goes dry as a coir doormat – that raw seemed a reasonable method.  This was my venison tartare.

 

It thought it hit the spot but the eagle-eyed among you will have noticed the absence of raw egg yolk.  I think this may partly because of an Oedipal issue – my dad, when he was feeling under the weather, started the day with a raw egg in sherry.  I was appalled in the way only a teenage boy can be by his father.

 

The idea still gives me the willies, but I thought maybe I could handle the yolk of a quail’s egg.  That's it at the top of this post.  It looked fine at least it did until the moment I poured it into little well (or dent, if you will) that I’d made in the top of the the steak at which point it burst – but the overall effect, and the taste, was surely much the same. 

 

Did I need the raw egg yolk?  Not really. Did I think I was making and eating something more authentic?  Yes.

 

And since you ask, those chive sprigs are local, artisanal and grown by me.  Yes, I have been self-sufficient in chives since at least 2019.