Several years ago I read an excellent article by one of
my favourite TV chefs, Nigel Slater. It
was about gravy with an understandable focus on the Sunday roast. He recounted tales from his childhood of his
mother making “proper” gravy, starting with the meat juices, maybe cooking off
a bit of veg in them (onion especially) then adding and cooking out some flour
before straining some cooking liquor (usually veg water). What resulted was a sauce that was a natural
accompaniment to the meat (whatever it happened to be) because the predominant
flavour of that sauce was the meat itself.
Slater described the gravy as “belonging” to the dish. Being a chef of course he also suggests a few
possible “tweaks” to add even more character – roasting a couple of garlic
cloves to squish into the sauce, a pinch of fresh herbs or even spices maybe,
and dare we suggest a slug of wine? But
the point being that, because of its origins, your sauce will still be a
natural match, be a better enhancement to the dish and provide more enjoyment. It makes sense doesn’t it!
Crucially, it is also very easy to do. The meat has to rest for a bit, and you may
have some roast potatoes to wait for so what better way to fill those spare few
minutes than preparing the prefect sauce to compliment your roast? Given this, why is there a market for gravy
granules? My bet is that most people
have everything in their store cupboards to make the perfect gravy, yet people
willingly spend money buying this superfluous culinary abomination to make a
less good sauce. Why? Surely it can’t be because all you have to do
is just add water? That’s essentially all
you need to do to make gravy properly!
What worries me is that it’s not our cooking techniques
which have become lazy as much as our tastebuds. As one well-known regional brewery says on
its advertising (as a taunt to drinkers of bland eurofizz) “Afraid you might
taste something Lagerboy?” Have decades
of carvery lunches left our culture with an unnatural desire to cover all
varieties of roast meats in a homogenised gloop because we’re frightened of
real flavour?
Some wines encourage lazy tastebuds too. I’m thinking of the mass-produced, pleasant
enough (hopefully) but entirely forgettable easy-to-drink anonymous hooch which
was probably on a “half price” deal at the local supermarket. The customer is chuffed because they think
they’ve got a deal, the producer is chuffed because, frankly, that’s the only
way they’re going to shift it, and the supermarket doesn’t care as long as they
get your money one way or another. If
the vast spectrum of wines from all over the world could be compared to the
seven colours of the rainbow then supermarket wine ranges tend to occupy about
10% of “green”. That’s the safe area right
in the middle which doesn’t ask too many questions. Wine for the masses if you like, with
flavours you won’t notice unless you’re really concentrating (which you won’t
be – it was half price after all). The
reds are bereft of any tannin to the point where UK palates now incorrectly
seek to avoid it and the whites will have had a character bypass lest any
flavour should offend anyone. These
bottles are vinous equivalent of lift music or the Morris Ital – those with low
expectations will be fine, everyone else with be either disappointed or
annoyed. Possibly both.
Of course, we would say that wouldn’t we. After all, we have a more exciting range of
wines made by people with passion and enthusiasm (as opposed to a clipboard and
calculator) many of whom fly by the seat of their pants in their constant
strivings for that extra bit of excellence.
They want to make something you’ll notice and remember. You might have had to part with a quid or two
more for the experience, but they (and we) want that extra to be worth it,
after all, if we didn’t think it was we wouldn’t be selling the stuff in the
first place would we! Generally speaking
your extra quid or two goes on flavour and you’ll enjoy it all the more. It’s a bit like making your own gravy really,
ditch the mediocre and go for something that you can have real pride in. It really isn’t that big a step you know.
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