Roast rib if beef was the order of the day at the weekend. After the exploits of Antony’s we thought we’d not eaten enough so we invited a crowd of folk across for a proper, home cooked sunday roast.
The rib of beef came from local butcher’s Bentley’s of Pudsey. It had been properly hung for 4 weeks and had an impressive dark colour on the outside but was beautifully red and well marbled, ensuring succulence and flavour. The fat should be waxy and yellow too, not white.
I always religiously follow HFW’s Meat Book – it always helps to deliver perfectly cooked meat every time. Salt, pepper, olive oil then into the oven for the half hour full heat ‘sizzle’ then turn it down and cook for 15 mins per kilo, or usually about an hour and a half. This rib deserved a lot of TLC and I wanted to get it perfect.
Meanwhile, Julie got busy with the home made Yorkshire puddings. we were cooking on a fairly big scale, so she cooked a mountain of them. Secret here: get the fat smoking hot and get the batter in sharpish and straight in to the oven. Perfection (and I actually like them when they don’t rise too).
Next up was the veggies and the most interesting was the baked beetroot with thyme and garlic. Wrapped up in foil parcels and baked in the oven, they were lovely. And this comes from a non beetroot fan.
Beef out, wrapped in foil and covered in a tea towel to rest for an hour (essential) somewhere warm, but not the oven. Final task was gravy and roasties. The gravy went a bit wrong and I ended up putting tabasco jelly in there as a bit of an experiment – but chilli-esque gravy didn’t really go with everything else! Roasties needed some extra TLC and were cooked in goose fat. Suffice it to say, I had to ration these and guests were not entirely truthful in admitting to what they had eaten in order to snaffle more of them.
So – the humble Sunday lunch. I don’t think there’s a finer home cooked meal when done properly with love and attention. And there’s nothing better spending the afternoon pottering around in the kitchen and then sitting down with family and friends to enjoy the fruits of your labours.
And there’s always the leftovers…