I’ve volunteered to cook Christmas dinner, but I’ve only ever made one roast before. Help, please!
Ellen, Darlington, County Durham
“All the TV chefs tell us to stay calm,” says Heath Ball, landlord of award-winning pub The Red Lion & Sun in Highgate, north London, “but the reality is, Ellen will be feeling like an England rugby fullback with the entire South Africa pack bearing down on her, so a bit of panic is kind of inevitable.”
Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing, Ball adds, because it keeps you on your toes. Even though this is, in essence, only a glorified roast dinner, it’s by far the most important one of the year. “So take it easy on Christmas Eve, and don’t dive into the champagne too early on Christmas morning. There’ll be plenty of time for that once the food’s on the table. In fact, once your job is done, I’d rather hope people will start to bring the drinks to you.”
Get organised, too, says James Rix, chef/owner of The Fox & Hounds in Hunsdon, Hertfordshire, a perennial runner-up in Observer Food Monthly’s best Sunday lunch award. “First things first, make a to-do list, starting with the time you want to serve and working back from there. There’s a reason many chefs write lists: it gives you control. I still do one for the next day every night after service, and then rewrite it the next morning.”
And don’t overcomplicate things, adds Rix, who in a former life was head chef at Alastair Little in Soho. “Don’t be daft and try to make 20 vegetable sides. Stick to the traditional basics – roast potatoes, roast carrots and parsnips, sprouts, cabbage. No one will judge you for it.” Both Rix and Ball say you’d be surprised quite how much you can get done the day before: parboil the spuds for roasting, prep the root veg, blanch and refresh any green veg – all you have to do to those on the day is dunk them in boiling water at the last minute, to heat through, though being a la-di-da chef type, Rix sautees his greens in excessive amounts of butter afterwards.
Rix’s main tip, though, is: “Don’t buy a whole turkey; it’ll take up the whole oven, and even experienced cooks find it hard to get the breast and legs to cook evenly.” Instead, get a crown or a boned and rolled breast and, if brown meat’s your thing, a stuffed leg or two, too. “You’ll save yourself a world of pain, and it takes an hour and a half to cook, rather than four or more.” The joint will then happily rest for an hour, giving you plenty of time to finish the veg and gravy. (Speaking of gravy, Rix says there’s no sin in buying it in, provided it’s decent quality – “Marks & Sparks do a particularly good chicken one,” he says, “though there are other brands out there. Deglaze the roasting tin with white wine, as usual, stir in the gravy and you’re in business.”)
Stosie Madi, who rules the roasts at The Parker’s Arms in Newton-in-Bowland, near cl*theroe, Lancashire, meanwhile, says novice roast dinner cook Ellen should abandon the troublesome turkey entirely and make something a lot more manageable instead. “Slow-roast beef is very forgiving,” she says, “because the oven does all the work for you.” Opt for a topside or brisket joint with a good layer of fat tied on. “Any butcher will sort that for you; if they’re any cop, they’ll also give you advice on how to cook it.”
The trick, Madi says, is in the marinade and the browning. Get those right, and you’ll be in for a relatively stress-free day, secure in the knowledge that there’s nothing going awry inside that oven. “Leave the joint overnight in a dry marinade of flavours you like: garlic, thyme, parsley, bay, peppercorns are especially good with beef. And don’t add any salt until you’re about to roast it.” In the morning, brown it all over in butter and oil (the oil stops the butter burning). “Don’t be shy: this is where a lot of the flavour comes from.”
Pop it in a thick-based pot, ring with your veg of choice – shallots or red onions, carrots and a little celery are classic good companions – add stock and/or red wine or stout to cover by half, and cook in the middle of a 160C (140C fan)/ gas 2½ oven for three to four hours, until it’s fork tender, then move to the top of the oven, where it’s hotter, to crisp up the fat. “So long as there’s always enough stock to keep the beef moist, you can’t go wrong.” The bonus, of course, is that this guarantees you bucketloads of that all-important gravy, too.
