If It’s Broon, It’s Cooked…

Where do you get your ideas from? I'm often asked. Well, today the inspiration came from a pinny (that's an apron for you non Scots.)

I had a chuckle when I saw this in a shop the other day. Sound advice, probably, for the average man in the Scottish barbecue season. Note that I used the words average and Scottish. Face facts, guys, the average British man isn't that great a cook. I exclude from this generalisation those of you who are avid readers of this blog, especially the Tom Cooks! column. For some thoughts on the potential horrors of barbecues here, read an article from a couple of years back.

So why do I stress Scottish? The reason is that our barbecues, fine though they may be, generally just involve firing up some charcoal and grilling. In the USA, especially in the southern states, BBQ means something else again. Large cuts of pork and beef are coated with a wet or dry rub containing at least one top secret ingredient, then smoked for 12 - 16 hours before being finished over a flame. My point? Well, as you can see, the end result is black, and by no means buggert. That joint will be pink and succulent inside.

Texas BBQ Brisket

But the pinny got me thinking about browning. Why do we do it? In many cases it's purely for aesthetic reasons. With the exception of vanilla ice cream, we just don't like white food. Trite though it may sound, we do, to an extent, eat with our eyes. Milk puddings, steamed, unflavoured fish - the sorts of things you eat when recovering from an ulcer. Flavourless and unappetising. So a good chef will very often get a bit of colour on a fillet of halibut or turbot. If it's being left pearly white, there's a strong possibility that it's to stand out against a vibrant sauce or vegetable.

Turbot at The Ritz

With meat, it's a different kettle of fish. (You didn't care for that metaphor? Preferable, surely, to can of worms.) I remember a judge on a cookery competition berating a candidate for producing a steak that resembled boiled beef. Partly aesthetics again, but there is a more practical reason.

First, though, a digression back to thirty or so years ago, when I was being introduced to the word sear. Brown your meat for a casserole, the book said. Get your oil smoking hot, it said. Well, as I discovered, that is, of course, bollocks. By the time you get to your third batch, your oil and your pan will be black. And in this case, that certainly is buggert. Instead of having some lovely brown meaty residue to add flavour to your casserole, you have to wash it out and start again.

The second myth is that you are sealing in the juices. I have a feeling that that advice came from my saintly late Ma, who was no slouch in the kitchen. Again, just not true. Look at the chunks when you take them out of the pan. They ooze, do they not?

What we strive for in every dish is flavour. That's what the browning is all about. Difficult for the beginner to handle, but so often the difference between the good and the ordinary. People talk about caramelisation, which isn't quite right. To be technical, what is happening is known as the Maillard effect, affecting amino acids, as opposed to sugars. With the exception of duck, every time you pop a piece of meat in a pan, there ought to be a satisfying sizzle. Colour = flavour.

And remember that it's not restricted to meat. Making a beef bourgignon, after you've browned your meat, do the same with your veg. Same principle. But in these circumstances, heed the apron. Brown will not mean it's cooked, but black most certainly does mean it's buggert.