Welcome back to the British Food History Podcast. In today’s episode, I am speaking with Great British Bake Off alumnus Briony May Williams about retro foods. She’s on a mission to bring back some of the foods of the 21st century that are maybe not being enjoyed as much as they should be in the 21st. I am very much in agreement with this – obvs.
We talk about how Briony became interested in retro foods and historical cooking (we all have an origin story, don’t we?), memories of Bake Off, puddings as comfort food, Waldorf salads, our shared appreciation of frozen peas and Kitchen Aids, plus the infamous banana candle salad.
Listen on your favourite podcast app, or stream the episode via this Spotify embed:
Season 10 of the podcast is sponsored by Netherton Foundry, makers of high-quality kitchen and outdoor cookware. Netherton Foundry ships to several countries outside of the UK, including the USA and Canada. Visit www.netherton-foundry.co.uk to find out more about their wonderful products – approved not just by me but by folk such as Tom Parker-Bowles, Diana Henry and Nigella Lawson.
Sam Bilton’s banana candle salad
If you can, support the podcast and blogs by becoming a £3 monthly subscriber, and unlock lots of premium content, including bonus blog posts and recipes, access to the easter eggs and the secret podcast, or treat me to a one-off virtual pint or coffee: click here.
Don’t forget, there will be postbag episodes in the future, so if you have any questions or queries about today’s episode, or indeed any episode, or have a question about the history of British food please email me at neil@britishfoodhistory.com, or leave a comment below.
The tenth season of the podcast is being sponsored by Netherton Foundry, so please do check out their website[1] and support them if you can.
Stream the episode about Netherton Foundry here (or search for it on your favourite podcast app).
Kedgeree is a classic British breakfast dish that isn’t eaten so much these days. Perhaps it’s because it’s a bit much to tuck into first thing on a Thursday morning, though it does make a great lunch. Or maybe it’s the association with the officer class of the British Raj at a time when the romance of the British Empire is fizzling out. But whatever your feelings about that, there’s no denying that kedgeree is a classic piece of Anglo-Indian cookery. I call it Phase I Anglo-Indian cookery: ‘a result of the interface between Indian cooks and British wives of British officers and officials stationed in India’, as Alan Davidson put it.[2]
It’s a simple dish of mildly spiced rice, poached fish, onions and boiled eggs. The word is derived from the Tamil word khichri, a breakfast dish made from rice and mung beans (though other leguminous vegetables are also used). When the English arrived in India in the 17th century, they happily tucked into khichri, but as they became more established in the 18th century, the beans were swapped for protein-heavy fish.[3] Although I can’t confirm this, I think that the eggs were an addition made in Britain rather than India. Recipes are common in British cookery books of the 19th century, but there’s much variation, and a fixed, official recipe for kedgeree is impossible to find. Eliza Acton’s recipe is very much a leftovers dish, with any fish being used. Her only spice is cayenne pepper. Oddly, the eggs are beaten and fried with the rice.[4] In a 1950s edition of Beeton’s Book of Household Management, the eggs are boiled, and prawns are the fish of choice. The spices are paprika, black pepper and nutmeg. Weirdly, grated cheese is involved.[5]
My fish of choice: naturally-smoked haddock and some nice, fat prawns
These days, the fish of choice is smoked haddock, but you can use any fish you like really. I like to add a few fat prawns whenever I’m feeling flush.
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Recipe
There are two ways you can make kedgeree: with freshly poached fish, as I describe below, or with leftover cooked fish, in which case, follow the method below, except for the stage where the fish gets poached in water and milk. Instead, use some fish or chicken stock instead of water and milk and follow the method as given, just letting the cooked fish warm through at the end of cooking.
I used my 10-inch Netherton Foundry Prospector Pan – the whole dish can be cooked in it, and when it is ready, it can go straight to the table to await your fellow diners.
My spices of choice are cumin seeds, garam masala and turmeric, but you can use whatever you like: curry powder works really well, as does a little smoked paprika or chilli powder. Some recipes use no spices at all, so if you are spice-averse, do not worry!
Serves 6 for breakfast, or 4 for a main meal
300 ml water
200 ml milk
2 bay leaves, crushed
One whole side of naturally-smoked haddock (around 250 g)
45 g butter
¾ tsp cumin seeds
1 medium onion or leek, sliced
3 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
¾ tsp salt
¾ tsp garam masala
½ tsp ground turmeric
Freshly ground black pepper
250 ml (200 g approximately) white basmati rice
1 handful of frozen peas (optional)
4 or 6 room-temperature medium eggs
4 or 6 whole prawns (optional)
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
1 lemon
In a saucepan heat the water and milk to scalding point with the bay leaves. Cut the haddock into two or three pieces so you can comfortably plop it into hot liquid. Allow the milk-water mix to come back up to a bare simmer, turn the heat off and leave the fish to poach for three or four minutes, until the flesh flakes easily. Remove from the liquid and set both the fish and the poaching liquid aside.
Place a sturdy-bottomed pan over medium heat – I used my 10-inch Prospector pan – and melt the butter. Once fizzling, add the cumin seeds and cook for a minute before tipping in the onion or leek, garlic and salt. Fry until soft, then add the garam masala and turmeric, plus a few turns of the peppermill. Fry for 30 seconds more, then stir in the rice and make sure each grain gets covered in the spices and oil.
Turn the heat down a little and pour the reserved poaching milk into the pan. Add the peas if using. Give everything a single stir to make sure nothing’s stuck and all the rice grains have separated. Do no more than one stir round, though – you’ll end up with claggy rice. Turn the heat down to a bare simmer, put on the lid and set a timer for 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, boil the eggs: get some water up to an excited simmer and gingerly sink in your eggs. Simmer for 6½ minutes, drain the water away, and refill the pan with cold water. Set aside.
When the 10 minutes are up, place the prawns on the rice and replace the lid. Now leave for two minutes. Turn the prawns, add the flaked fish, replace the lid and take off the heat. Leave everything to steam for two more minutes. As you wait, peel the eggs.
Take the pan to the table, remove the lid and fork through to mix, and serve with the boiled eggs, chopped parsley and the lemon cut into wedges.
[2] Davidson, A. (1999) The Oxford Companion to Food. Oxford University Press. Extending this idea, Phase II is when the people of the Indian subcontinent came to Britain and adapted their cuisines to British tastes.
[3] Burton, D. (1993) The Raj at the Table: A Culinary History of the British in India. Faber & Faber; Davidson (1999)
[4]Acton, E. (1845) Modern Cookery For Private Families. Quadrille.
[5] Beeton, I. and Ward & Lock (eds.) (1950) Mrs Beeton’s Household Management. Ward and Lock.
Today, we are going on an excursion to the Netherton Foundry workshop, nestled in the Shropshire countryside, to find out about spun iron cookware – something that was essentially extinct in this country until owners Neil and Sue Currie brought it back.
Neil and Sue are very kindly sponsoring season 10 of The British Food History Podcast makers of high-quality kitchen and outdoor cookware. Netherton Foundry ships to several countries outside of the UK, including the USA and Canada. Visit www.netherton-foundry.co.uk to find out more about their wonderful products – approved not just by me but by folk such as Tom Parker-Bowles, Diana Henry and Nigella Lawson.
We talk about designing the original range (and how the range increased), celebrity requests, why spun iron cookware lost out to aluminium cookware, croustade irons, and how Netherton Foundry cookware brings some extra authenticity to historical foods cooked at home, amongst many other things.
The British Food History Podcast is available on all podcast apps. If you are not a podcast sort of person, you can also watch it on my YouTube channel, or stream it via this Spotify embed:
From left to right: recording with Ryan; with Toby and the pan kindly gifted to me!; in the finishing room
Those listening to the secret podcast will hear about the pros and cons of working with copper, how Netherton Foundry go about seeking out their vintage machinery, how their stockpots came to be, their outdoor range, plus more.
Follow Netherton Foundry on social media: Insta/threads @nethertonfoundry; BlueSky @nethertonfoundry.bsky.social; Facebook https://www.facebook.com/NethertonFoundry
Neil models the flambadou, and Sue shows the bespoke frying pan I was gifted (Sam & Sam of A is for Apple will be jealous!)
If you can, support the podcast and blogs by becoming a £3 monthly subscriber, and unlock lots of premium content, including bonus blog posts and recipes, access to the easter eggs and the secret podcast, or treat me to a one-off virtual pint or coffee: click here.
Don’t forget, there will be postbag episodes in the future, so if you have any questions or queries about today’s episode, or indeed any episode, or have a question about the history of British food please email me at neil@britishfoodhistory.com, or leave a comment.
My guest on The British Food History Podcast today is Mark Dawson, a food historian specialising in the food and social history of the early modern period, but also on the regional food of the Midlands. Today we are talking about the traditional food and drink of his home county of Derbyshire.
You may remember he was on last season talking about Derbyshire Oatcakes, well, since then he has written a fantastic book called Lumpy Tums: Derbyshire’s Food & Drink published by Amberley and out in the wild from the 15th April 2026.
We talk about oat-based foods like thar cakes, which were traditionally eaten on All Souls Day, thin pudding and savoury pudding, the origins of the Bakewell pudding and Derbyshire’s very high proportion of drinking establishments per head, amongst many other things. The British Food History Podcast is available on all apps, or, if you like, you can stream it via this Spotify embed:
Those listening to the secret podcast get more than a quarter of an hour of bonus material where we talk about Derbyshire cheeses, the return of small-scale breweries to the county, wakes cakes and Ashbourne gingerbread.
Season 10 of the podcast is sponsored by Netherton Foundry, who make high-quality kitchen and outdoor cookware. Netherton Foundry ships to several countries outside of the UK, including the USA and Canada. Visit www.netherton-foundry.co.uk to find out more about their wonderful products – approved not just by me but by folk such as Tom Parker-Bowles, Diana Henry and Nigella Lawson.
If you can, support the podcast and blogs by becoming a £3 monthly subscriber, and unlock lots of premium content, including bonus blog posts and recipes, access to the easter eggs and the secret podcast, or treat me to a one-off virtual pint or coffee: click here.
Don’t forget, there will be postbag episodes in the future, so if you have any questions or queries about today’s episode, or indeed any episode, or have a question about the history of British food please email me at neil@britishfoodhistory.com, or leave a comment on the blog.
Welcome to a brand new season of The British Food History Podcast!
On the podcast today is medieval scholar Katherine Harvey, a scholar specialising in medieval and early modern history.
Kathryn’s new book The Medieval Guide to Healthy Living is out now, published by Reaktion Books.
We talk about humoral theory and health, the dangers of eating fresh fruit and fish, the importance of sauces, drinking and drunkenness, how obesity was viewed by medieval society and the importance of cleanliness amongst many other things.
The British Food History Podcast is available on all podcast apps. Alternatively, you can stream it via this Spotify embed:
Those listening to the secret podcast get bonus material where we talk about the importance of mealtimes when thinking about health, and the poorer members of society who don’t necessarily have much of a choice when it comes to healthy eating.
Follow Katherine on social media: Instagram @katherinee.harvey; X @keharvey2013; Bluesky @katherineharvey.bsky.social
Season 10 of the podcast is sponsored by Netherton Foundry, who make high-quality kitchen and outdoor cookware. Netherton Foundry ships to several countries outside of the UK, including the USA and Canada. Visit www.netherton-foundry.co.uk to find out more about their wonderful products – approved not just by me but by folk such as Tom Parker-Bowles, Diana Henry and Nigella Lawson.
If you can, support the podcast and blogs by becoming a £3 monthly subscriber, and unlock lots of premium content, including bonus blog posts and recipes, access to the easter eggs and the secret podcast, or treat me to a one-off virtual pint or coffee: click here.
Don’t forget, there will be postbag episodes in the future, so if you have any questions or queries about today’s episode, or indeed any episode, or have a question about the history of British food please email me at neil@britishfoodhistory.com, or on twitter and BlueSky @neilbuttery, or Instagram and Threads dr_neil_buttery. My DMs are open.
Just a very quick message to let you all know that the 10th season of The British Food History Podcast starts next month. Check out the trailer, via this Spotify embed.
So, there will be much podcast content to download and listen to over the next few months.
If you don’t already, please subscribe to the podcasts on your favourite podcast app.
Over and out!
Neil xx
If you can, support the podcast and blogs by becoming a £3 monthly subscriber, and unlock lots of premium content, including bonus blog posts and recipes, access to the Easter eggs, a monthly newsletter and the secret podcast, or treat me to a one-off virtual pint or coffee: click here.
I have now cooked all 16 recipes in the Lamb & Mutton section of English Food by Jane Grigson!
There were highs, there were lows. And there was lamb’s head in brain sauce. It had it all. Read my review of the section on the other blog Neil Cook Grigson.
Toad-in-the-hole is a stone-cold classic British dish, and one I make often. It occurred to me recently that I’ve never written up my recipe, so I thought I should rectify this! It is considered by other nations to be one of those ‘weird’ British foods – I’ve no idea why, it’s roasted sausages in a Yorkshire pudding. What’s not to like? Do folk think there is a real toad in there?
Find out more about Yorkshire puddings and toad-in-the-hole in this previous podcast episode.
Well, naysayers, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it: it’s a delicious, simple, hearty and economical pleasure, as most British food is, and I think it is a meal most Brits would rate very highly. It wasn’t always the case, as Jane Grigson points out in English Food, the ‘toads’ were pieces of leftover boiled or roasted meat or poor quality sausages which ‘gave Toad-in-the-Hole a bad name as one of the meaner English dishes.’[1] Economical should never be made equivalent to mean.
Looking into the history of toad-in-the-hole presents us with a quandary, because it is rather difficult to pin down when it first appears in print. Why? Well, it depends on your criteria. Let’s start with what is widely regarded to be the first recipe with that name (well, actually it’s called toad-in-a-hole, but let’s not split hairs), which crops up in Richard Briggs’ The English Art of Cookery, published in 1788:
Mix a pound of flour with a pint of and a half of milk and four eggs into a batter, put in a little salt, beaten ginger, and a little grated nutmeg, put it into a deep dish that you intend to send it to table in, take a veiny piece of beef, sprinkle it with salt, put it into the batter, bake it two hours, and send it up hot.[2]
So, here we have a single large toad in the form of a piece of beef. This makes sense; the dish is called toad-in-the-hole, not toads-in-the-hole. In The Tavern Cook, Marc Meltonville does make the point that it is baked,[3] which is important because the earliest mention of toad-in-the-hole actually comes the year before in Francis Grose’s Provincial Glossary, where it is described as ‘meat boiled in a crust’.[4] Are either of these really toad-in-the-hole recipes? There is a better contender in my book. It’s not a recipe, but a good description of one, and it can be found within the pages of the diary of shopkeeper Thomas Turner, dated Saturday, 9th of February 1765:
I dined on a sausage batter pudding baked (which is this: a little flour and milk beat up into a batter with an egg and some salt and a few sausages cut into pieces and put in it and baked)…[5]
This – I hope you agree – is a modern toad-in-the-hole in all but name!
Find out more about Richard Briggs and his book in this previous podcast episode.
We can go even further than this: some food historians think that the original recipe actually goes back another 20 years to Hannah Glasse’s 1747 classic The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy.[6] The recipe is for ‘Pigeons in a Hole’. Here, pigeons are buttered and seasoned, popped into a dish and a batter is poured over them and baked.[7] Is this the winner? Well it all depends what you are counting as toad-in-the-hole, of course, but I hope this gives you an overview of the dish’s evolution.
In the 19th century, various other ‘toads’ were used: Mrs Beeton gives recipes using beef steak and pieces of kidney. She also suggests adding mushrooms or oysters, and also recommends using leftover, underdone meat.[8] According to Sheila Hutchins, even whole, boned chickens have played the part of the toad.[9] I must say that this sounds most appealing!
If you can, support the podcast and blogs by becoming a £3 monthly subscriber, and unlock lots of premium content, including bonus blog posts and recipes, access to the Easter eggs, a monthly newsletter and the secret podcast, or treat me to a one-off virtual pint or coffee: click here.
Recipe
I used my 10-inch Netherton Foundry Prospector Pan throughout because it can be used on the hob and in the oven. It’s also round, which makes portioning much easier when it comes to serving time. The amounts given for the batter are the same as for my Yorkshire pudding recipe, so you could make the toad-in-the-hole in a rectangular tray or even a sturdy cake tin. Colour the sausages in a frying pan first and then transfer them to your chosen receptacle!
¾ cup/180 ml plain flour
½ tsp salt
¾ cup/180 ml eggs (around 4 medium eggs)
¾ cup milk
60 g beef dripping or lard, or 60 ml sunflower or rapeseed oil
6 good quality sausages
Mix the flour and salt together, make a well in the centre and add the eggs. Beat well until smooth, then beat in the milk. Set aside for an hour (you don’t have to do this, but you do get a slightly better rise this way).
Preheat your oven to 230°C.
Heat a little of the fat or oil in your pan and brown the sausages on two sides: you’re not looking to cook them, just to sear them, as it were. Remove the sausages and set aside.
Add the remaining fat to the pan or tray in which you’ll be baking the toad-in-the hole (along with any juices from the frying pan, if used), place in the oven and allow it to become very hot and smoking– a good 15 minutes. Gingerly remove the pan or tray and add a ladleful of batter to it, and give it a quick swirl before returning it to the oven to cook and set for 3 or 4 minutes.
Remove the pan or tray, arrange the sausages evenly and neatly and pour over the rest of the batter. Return to the oven. Do all of this as quickly – and safely – as possible.
Bake for 30 minutes until well risen and a deep-golden brown. If the pudding and sausages are going a bit too brown for your liking, turn the heat down to 180°C.
Serve with plenty of onion gravy, steamed vegetables and a blob of mustard.
Notes
[1] Grigson, J. (1992). English Food (Third Edit). Penguin.
[2] This is Marc Meltonville’s transcription from his 2023 book The Tavern Cook: Eighteenth Century Dining through the Recipes of Richard Briggs published by Prospect Books
[4] Grose, F. (1790). A provincial glossary: with a collection of local proverbs, and popular superstitions (2nd ed.). S. Hooper.
[5] Turner, T. (1994). The diary of Thomas Turner, 1754-1765 (D. Vaisey, Ed.). CTR Publishing.
[6] One of the food historians in question is Alan Davidson, in The Oxford Companion to Food. Oxford University Press (1999).
[7] Glasse, H. (1747). The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy. Prospect Books.
[8] Beeton, I. (1861). The Book of Household Management. Lightning Source.
[9] Hutchins, S. (1967). English Recipes, and others from Scotland, Wales and Ireland as they appeared in eighteenth and nineteenth century cookery books and now devised for modern use. Cookery Book Club.
Welcome to the second of a two-part podcast special all about Burns Night.
Burns Night, celebrated on Robert Burns’ birthday, 25th January, is a worldwide phenomenon and I wanted to make a couple of episodes focussing upon the night, the haggis, but also the other foods links regarding Scotland’s national poet, Robert Burns.
So, if you’re readying yourself for a Burns supper, I hope this episode gets you even more into the celebratory spirit. If you’re not marking Burns Night? Well, hopefully after listening to this, you will be inspired to get yourself some haggis, neeps, tatties and a dram of whisky.
A tour of Dumfries (L-R): Burns’s statue; the Burns mausoleum (with Yours Truly); the exterior of Burns’s house; the fireplace within.
Today’s episode is a jam-packed one where I speak with three guests all about Robert Burns and his links with Dumfriesshire, Southwest Scotland. First of all, I speak with Jane Brown, Honorary President of the Robert Burns World Federation, and ex-manager of The Globe, Robert Burns’s favourite haunt when he lived in Dumfries during the last eight years of his life. Jane has attended and spoken at many Burns Nights all over the world, so there’s no one better to talk about with Burns’s life, which had several links with food and drink: there’s Burns Night and the Address to a Haggis, his time as an exciseman and as a farmer, and his time at the Globe. Then there’s the Globe itself and all of the precious artefacts contained within it that have been painstakingly conserved by owners Teresa Church and David Thomson.
The British Food History Podcast is available on all podcast apps and now YouTube. You can also stream it via this Spotify embed below:
1610 at The Globe Inn. Top row (L-R): The sign of the Globe Inn; the old kitchen; the chair from which I read out a Burns poem. Bottom row (L-R): A selection of the treasures in the old bar; the interior of 1610 at The Globe Inn; Jane Brown immortalised in the mural at the back of the restaurant
David and Teresa also own the Annandale Distillery, which produces a delicious and unique single malt whisky. It’s available unpeated and called Man O’Words, after Robert Burns, and the other is peated and called Man O’Sword, after the other local historical figure associated with Dumfries, Robert the Bruce. Like the Globe, the old distillery was saved, beautifully conserved and brought back to life by David and Teresa.
In today’s episode, we talk about Burns’s before and after graces, Burns’s penchant for scratching poetry on inn windows, the importance of cask size on the flavour of whisky, and just what exactly possessed David and Teresa to buy the Globe and a falling-down distillery in the first place – amongst many other things.
Don’t forget, there will be postbag episodes in the future, so if you have any questions or queries about today’s episode, or indeed any episode, or have a question about the history of British food, please email me at neil@britishfoodhistory.com, or leave a comment below.
Annandale Distillery (L-R): the beautiful, imposing main chimney; the fermentation and distillery room; David & Teresa stood in front of their many casks; Man O’Swords & Man O’Words single malt whiskies
If you can, support the podcast and blogs by becoming a £3 monthly subscriber, and unlock lots of premium content, including bonus blog posts and recipes, access to the Easter eggs and the secret podcast, or treat me to a one-off virtual pint or coffee: click here.
Chicken Balmoral is a modern British classic: a chicken breast stuffed with haggis, wrapped in bacon and then either oven-roasted or pan-fried. It’s served with a rich whisky cream sauce. You can’t stuff a great deal of haggis into a chicken breast, so I find it a great way of using up leftover haggis after a Burns supper. It’s also a great dish to serve up to those uninitiated in the pleasures of the Chieftain of the Pudding Race.
If you want to know more about Robert Burns, the first Burns suppers and the history of this haggis, listen to the first part of my two-part Burns Night specials on The British Food History Podcast:
Despite its name, chicken Balmoral isn’t particularly old; it sounds like it should be Victorian, it being named after Queen Victoria’s beloved Balmoral Castle, nestled in the beautiful Cairngorms. But, no, it is most definitely a 20th-century invention – the earliest mention I could find of a dish called chicken Balmoral is in the 1928 publication A Book of Empire Dinners (published by the Empire Marketing Board of Great Britain), but it is only a mention, not a description.1 It is also conspicuous by its absence from F. Marion McNeill’s The Scot’s Kitchen, which certainly tells us something about its position in traditional Scottish cuisine.2 As Ben Mervis put it in The British Cook Book ‘[it] seems a little too cute – a little too on the nose – to be a truly traditional Scottish dish.’3
Ben came on the podcast to talk about The British Cook Book. Stream it via this embed.
It seems to me that it is a dish created for restaurant service; the use of a prime cut, the fact that most of the prep can be done well ahead of time, and that there is next to no waste, all certainly point to the fact. It does, however, make chicken Balmoral an excellent dish for a dinner party. You won’t be slaving over a hot stove making this meal, that’s for sure.
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Recipe
Chicken Balmoral is “traditionally” served with seasonal vegetables; however, for my version, I chose to eat it with the classic Burns Night supper companions of mashed neeps and tatties – i.e. mashed swede and potatoes.
Serves four, but it can be very easily proportioned for more or fewer folk.
For the chicken
3 tbs flavourless cooking oil, lard or bacon fat (or a mixture)
Around 160 g leftover haggis
4 chicken breasts
16 rashers of dry-cured streaky bacon
For the whisky sauce
30g butter
½ onion or the white part of a leek, thinly sliced
3 to 4 tbs whisky
150ml very hot chicken stock
100ml double cream
Salt and pepper
Preheat your oven to 200°C. Add the fats and/or oil to a roasting tin and place on the middle shelf to get really nice and hot.
Lay the chicken breasts smooth side down on a chopping board. Move the tender out of the way (it’s sometimes partially attached and can get in the way). Press a breast down firmly with the palm of your hand, and, using a small, sharp, pointed knife, cut into the thick end of the breast as far as you can without puncturing the breast as it tapers toward the end. Widen the hole slightly – it needs to be about 2 centimetres wide at the mouth. Repeat with the other three breasts.
Divide the haggis into four equal pieces and roll each piece into a sausage shape, thin enough to insert into the chicken. Some haggises are quite crumbly, but don’t worry if they are not pliable enough. Use your forefinger to force the haggis into the cuts in the breasts. You might find it easier to break the haggis into smaller pieces.
Prepping the chicken breasts
Take four rashers of bacon and lay them across your chopping board lengthways, so that they overlap just slightly. Lay the chicken breast perpendicular to the bacon rashers and roll it up so that the join is underneath the chicken breast. Trim away excess bacon. Repeat with the remaining chicken breasts.
By now, the fat or oil will have become very hot indeed. Take the tin out of the oven (careful!) and sit the breasts in the hot fat, thin ends pointing inwards (this ensures they don’t overcook). Place in the oven for the oven for 30 – 35 minutes, turning it down to 180°C after 15 minutes. Baste at least twice whilst they cook. Remove and allow to rest on a plate.
The cooked chicken straight out of the oven (notice the nice burnt bits in the tin); making the sauce
Meanwhile, make the sauce: melt the butter in a saucepan and fry the onion or leek until soft, but not browned (this will take around 8 minutes) before adding three tablespoons of the whisky. Pour the excess fat from the roasting tin and deglaze it with the chicken stock. Scrape all of the nice salty burnt bits with a wooden spoon and cast them into the saucepan. Simmer for a further five minutes before passing through a sieve into a clean saucepan. Add the cream, heat to simmering point and season to taste with salt, pepper and more whisky (if needed).
Serve the chicken with mashed neeps and tatties and pour the sauce into a warm gravy boat.
References
1. A Book of Empire Dinners. (Empire Marketing Board, 1928).
2. McNeill, F. M. The Scots Kitchen: Its Lore & Recipes. (Blackie & Son Limited, 1968).
3. Mervis, B. The British Cook Book. (Phaidon, 2022).
British Food: A History 