The new butcher of Broadway Market

A brand new butcher

Broadway Market has seen a change or two over recent weeks. Henry Tidiman’s has finally closed after a year of seeing reduced hours.

Hopefully, Henry can now enjoy a long and relaxing retirement.

But just as I was lamenting the loss of a butcher on the street – the premises will, from what I’ve heard, be turned into another eatery of some variety – something unexpected happened.

Another butcher opened, on almost the opposite side of the street.

The shop has been through various incarnations since the street started to revive, but it had, many, many years ago, been a butcher.

It’s quite possible that it had even been the shop that Henry’s father had run, giving us a rather pleasing sense of synchronicity.

Anyway, Hill & Szrok, master butcher, is now with us – and most welcome.

By day, it is a traditional butcher – very traditional, as the design reveals. Tom Richardson Hill is most certainly a butcher who combines a serious commitment to traditional butchery with an understanding of what a modern clientele in an area such as ours needs.

In the evening, an hour after closing, Alex Szrok takes over and operates it as a cookshop, taking a fresh look at that aspect of our culinary heritage.

There are a couple of important things worth noting. The shop will open to 6pm – pretty much essential these days for any new, independent food outlet that wants to catch people on their way home from work and offer a real alternative to supermarkets.

It helps to allow a Paris-style of shopping for food: being able to buy fresh, from independents, after work.

Since Broadway Market now has a fishmonger with a similar approach – Fin & Founder – and two organic greengrocers that open late (plus a range of very good Turkish general grocers) and La Bouche, which doesn’t close early, I can travel home and still shop for that evening’s meal.

The next thing to note is that Hill & Szrok is an organic butcher.

Forget the plastic

The area has changed – it doesn’t matter if some think that’s good and some think it’s bad – but it’s simply a fact that we’ve become the next stop on the eastwards-moving trendification of London’s East End.

That causes issues – not least in terms of the prices of housing in the area – but also in terms of prices on Broadway Market.

However, it’s also important to be realistic.

Broadway Market was all but dead little more than a decade ago.

The myriad shops that Henry described to me had, apart from his own, been consigned to history – in part because local people had decided that shopping at a big box Tesco was what they wanted.

Anything opening now has to ride the wave of the revival of interest in food.

However it’s characterised by some, that isn’t just ‘foodieism’, but reflects a number of trends – particularly among more middle-class people who can afford not to have to shop as cheaply as possible.

Lovely burgers

Last year’s horse meat farce is one such reason – people care increasingly about provenance for a very good reason. They’re also increasingly concerned about GM, about the use of antibiotics and hormones in their meat, about the sustainability of fish and about seasonality.

What’s happening on Broadway Market merely reflects that.

There is, as I’ve mentioned previously and touched on a few paragraphs ago, a question of money.

The UK has long seen households spend a lower percentage of their income on food than households on the Continent. And in the last few years, that gap has widened further.

While there are myriad issues with a wide cultural attitude of seeing food as fuel, and nursing a deep-seated suspicion of anyone who spends ‘too much’ time and money on it, it remains almost certainly the case that the recent further decline is down to stagnating and declining wages.

We know that incomes for everyone apart from those at the very top have fallen steadily for the last 30-odd years, while the cost of living has risen – not least in areas that are not even counted for the sake of inflation figures, such as housing and domestic fuel bills.

This is what I call a butcher

But since the 2008 crash – and even more so since 2010 – that decline has increased for many. The rise of foodbanks is an indicator of that.

And when many of our fellow citizens are having to make choices about whether to pay the gas bill or to cut back on what they spend on food, then this is not the best time to finger wag about how they should all eat better.

Mind, even with all the ‘added value’ at Hill & Szrok, it’s not as pricy as I expected.

But let’s go back to our new butcher: we’ve had a few things from there now – I admit to an almost giddy delight in being handed a package that is not bagged in plastic with a sticky red tie at the top, but wrapped carefully in proper paper, tied neatly and then handed to me in a simple paper bag.

When you walk in, there’s usually some serious butchery going on in the centre of the shop, often involving some huge pieces of meat – Tom also ages his own beef. This is the antithesis of the supermarket, with its pristinely-packed cuts sweating under plastic.

Beautiful pork

And Tom does not believe in all the nonsense about low fat being vital for continued good health either.

Oh my goodness – proper layers of creamy fat on meat, the like of which you suspected you’d never again see in a UK butcher.

A week ago, it was time for a piece of pork. I don’t often cook pork, because I’m terrified of that entire business of drying it out too much, but this was far too tempting.

It was a 2kg piece of boned, rolled leg – not done as a perfect tube, but, Tom explained to me, more like a bloomer in shape, because there are three types of muscle in that cut and, unless you butcher it the way he does, it will not cook evenly.

So, the oven was heated to its maximum and the meat brought out of the fridge to come to room temperature before having good salt rubbed into the scored skin.

It was given 20 minutes at the high temperature and then 20 minutes per 450g at 160˚C (fan), before being rested for 15 minutes.

Real gravy, reheating. Eat your heart out, Knorr

Gravy was made not from some pre-bought pot, but by first sweating shallot, carrot and celery, then adding dry cider and chopped apple, and simmering gently to reduce.

When the meat came out of the oven, the roasting dish was deglazed with that cidery mix, before having the fat separated off (my Lidl fat separator has proved a great bargain) and decanted into a small, copper pan, where it was reheated and then thickened carefully with beurre manié. Good enough to keep what was left over and reheat during the week.

Indeed, the pork did us a number of meals: how old-fashioned – buying a joint for the weekend and having plenty left for the days that follow.

And the pork itself was wonderful.

A wonderful leg of lamb

We’ve also had some of Tom’s burgers. Dense and lightly spiced, they produce actual blood when grilled – in other words, these are the real deal.

And a piece of boned, rolled lamb was excellent too.

This Easter weekend, being a traditionalist, it was back there for a leg of lamb. Longwood has had so little fat on its lamb in recent weeks I wanted to make sure I got some with a decent coat.

It was 2.1kg, so was started at 190˚C (fan) for half an hour, before being given a further 30 minutes per 450g. So three hours in total, give or take a minute or so, and followed with 15 minutes resting.

Served with English asparagus and the first Jersey Royals of the year – you know winter is really behind us when these appear – with a lovely jus from the meat juices, it was an absolute, melt-in-the-mouth joy.

Broadway Market has a new butcher – and it is most welcome. 

No, it's not really scampi

Not that it has any impact on my weekly habits, but it’s still worth noting that Saturday was part of Love Your Local Market Fortnight.

And as the weekly shopping does not do itself – to market I went.

Not that that should be read as suggesting that it’s a chore. Even if the weather is absolutely hideous, a Saturday morning on Broadway Market gives me pleasure.

This week, I was contemplating some fish for the weekend, but was very much in a mode where what I wanted would depend on what was available.

It’s taken me time to get to such a stage: I still use lists, but they’re a little less detailed these days, and I’m less intimidated by the idea of changing my mind or finding a planned ingredient isn’t available.

But back to the actual shopping: unusually, Vicki had monkfish. Not a lot, but a couple of nice pieces, one of which was more than adequate for two of us.

A lovely, meaty fish that can take some serious cooking, I decided to buy a piece.

It was a piece about 500g in weight. Vicki skinned it already for me – much the fiddliest bit of dealing with this specimen.

In times not long past, it was so unpopular among the UK populace that any catch was either exported to where it was appreciated or turned into ‘scampi’ – the latter of which gives a nice little sideshow to the ongoing horsemeat scandal.

Was it labeled as monkfish 'scampi' or just 'scampi', with the knowledge that everyone knew that scampi was prawns or at least assumed it was?

However, that's in the past and it is no longer the case. From Vicki’s perspective, she says that, whenever she has any these days, it sells easily.

I looked up a couple of recipes for roasting it, finding that most worked on the basis of a 15-minute cook at around 200˚C.

But I wanted to do something slower, so I decided to play it my own way.

The oven was turned to 150˚C (fan).

The fish was boned – this is really easy with monkfish, which only has a simple spine that you can cut around with a sharp knife. No pin bones – easy.

Heat some olive oil in a heavy, lidded pan and soften some sliced garlic in, before adding the fish and gently colouring it.

Add plenty of good-quality paprika, several twists of black pepper, a tin of quality chopped tomato in its own juice,  squirt of tomato purée, some green olives stuffed with anchovy and a pinch of sugar.

Let it come to a bubble and then lid and pop in the oven for 40 minutes.

At this point, turn the fish and check for seasoning: mine needed salt, before I also added a good squirt of a Balsamico ‘glaze’ that I have in that is particularly thick and ideal for plate decoration. But in something like this it gives a bit of added ‘body’ as well as flavour.

Pop it back in the oven – lidded once more – and give it a further 40 minutes.

Serve the fish on pillows of plain or basmati rice, surrounded with the sauce.

So, great flavours, reminiscent of Spain, and fish perfectly cooked.

And it really doesn’t come much easier.

How much horse would you like with that, Sir?

They didn't really do that, did they?

If it seems as though the horsemeat farce has been shunted onto the back boiler in recent days, don’t worry – this really is a gift horse that keeps on giving.

The latest presents come in the form of two quite extraordinary developments involving the Food Standards Agency (FSA), and seem to have largely slipped under the radar.

I attempt to correct that here – a bit at least.

If we examine these gifts, they appear to suggest that we should not expect very high standards in the food industry.

Let's have a look.

First, public service trade union UNISON (which organises in the meat hygiene sector) spotted that the FSA was involved in a presentation to explore ways to ‘tackle the burden’ of EU legislation.

Because the problem is regulatory legislation. Obviously.

February’s presentation, on ‘how to get what you want in EU negotiations’, from the Better Regulation Executive Europe Team, was set up to address the FSA on ‘how departments can influence EU legislation’, and discuss how they can ‘support the FSA to minimise the burdens of EU legislation’.

As UNISON national officer Ben Priestley put it: “Regulation is not a burden – it is there to protect the consumer, and to keep the public safe.”

A few months ago, while spending a day with trading standards officers in Northampton, a local businessman (who is also a local Conservative councillor) told me in completely uncertain terms that trading standards is a valuable service in protecting both customer and business.

In other words, regulation is beneficial – not a 'burden'.

However, as UNISON points out, in terms of the food industry, light-touch regulation has persisted since the mid-2000s and is a substantial part of the problem.

The union wants to see:

• the reintroduction of daily official inspections of all licensed meat cutting plants and cold storage;

• the testing of horses killed in the UK for the drug Bute, and for the parasite Trichinella Spiralis, which can cause problems for humans;

• a permanent move away from ‘light-touch regulation’, including the inspection of food manufacturing premises.

The next gem from the FSA was revealed in the Telegraph, which noted that the agency is preparing to ask consumers how much horse is acceptable in their spag bol.

FSA chief executive Catherine Brown reported that the agency had found 20 UK food products that were affected by “gross contamination” with horse.

However, she also told the Telegraph that there were lots of other examples of “trace contamination”, where very small amounts of horse or pork have been found in beef products.

She went on to say that such contaminations can occur in a processing plant dealing with more than one species, even if there is “thorough cleaning and good hygiene practice”.

On the surface, this is a classic facepalm moment. The answer surely has to be that 0% horse (or any other meat) is acceptable in a product that is supposed to be, for instance, 100% beef.

It seems batty to even consider asking such a question.

But what it’s actually admitting is that because big food has been caught out with the horsemeat scandal, it's now having to 'fess up to the fact that contamination at a low level is unavoidable simply because of the processes and scale involved in the industrial production of food products.

How many times have you seen, on packaging, warnings along the lines that ‘this product may contain traces of nuts’?

Now, let's say it’s a ham sandwich with some spread and a sprig or two of rocket, all jammed between two slices of white bread. Where would the nut feature?

The cross contamination occurs because foods like this are made in such vast factories, which make such a large range of products, with such a large range of ingredients, that it is impossible to ensure that there is no contamination.

And that is what the FSA is acknowledging.

Now in the case of contamination by nuts (or a variety of other items) the package declares, this both as a warning to anyone with a nut allergy – and also, therefore, as cover for the manufacturer.

Yet it’s taken until now for it to become so clear that even if you thoroughly read the list of ingredients on a packet, that doesn’t mean that you can consider that you know everything that is in that product.

And the fact that this involves horse (and pork in beef products) gives it the added dimension of offending cultural sensibilities – horses as pets – and also religious ones.

What the FSA is now doing, though, is fighting not for the consumer, but for Big Food: on the one hand, creating space for a dialogue about how regulation can be mitigated and, on the other, trying to convince the public – in a massively cack-handed manner – that it cannot expect to buy processed food where it is 100% sure of the content.

It’s the same in other areas of life too (see the pharmaceutical industry), but this is just one more illustration of how we need regulation that, when it says it is 100% independent doesn't turn out to be contaminated by even 1% of conflicting interests.

And it's also yet another illustration – were one actually necessary – of why, if you can, shopping from proper, local, independent shops or from farmers, gives you a far greater chance of not getting some unexpected extra ingredients in your food.