Introduction:
Oxtail is another of those great cuts of meat that give more pound for pound than many of their more well-known and affluent cuts. Being the tail of the bovine, oxtail, like beef cheeks, spends its time working overdrive in its assigned job; the tail spending its life whipping and thrashing at the rear of the animal. Such arduous action leads to flavoursome yet inherently tough muscle. In addition each of the vertebrae of the oxtail is cushioned with cartilage, sinew and fat, and as such it needs long slow cooking to break them down. Once this cooking process is complete the cartilage breaks down into gelatine, which gives the meat it’s moist and really, really tasty character.
Suet will ring alarm bells for many – its image has changed from the Eliza Acton years where it was regarded as an essential addition to unctuous sweet steamed puddings and meaty pies. It’s probably fair to say that its high calorific value and high level of saturated fat make it one of those ingredients that the modern day culinary wizard avoids. I am in the once in a blue-moon corner, where its propensity to contribute to a melt in the mouth, yet sturdy, pastry outweighs anything perceivably bad about it.
For those unaware, suet is the protective fatty layer of a cow’s kidneys. I acquire my suet as a solid piece from a local butcher. To rid of any sinew, blood or cartilage I render the fat in a warm oven over a few hours, at which point the unrequired solids have aggregated at the bottom of the dish, set apart from the liquid suet. Once filtered the liquid sets at room temperature, the result is the pure suet. I then freeze it in disposable cups and grate it when required. Of course, if available, packeted shredded suet can be used.
This recipe is honour to a winter’s day, and something you would imaging Will Shakespeare feasting on after a long day’s inscribing of witty and dramatic tale in the environment of a harsh English December; suet pastry, succulent and slow cooked oxtail in a refreshing pilsner ale, and a splattering of fresh sweet popping garden peas. (ok, pilsner is a little after Will’s time, but I am sure you get the gist).