Tag Archives: leeks

30/09/2026 · 3:26 pm

Cock-a-leekie

Conjure up an image of a bowl of cock-a-leekie soup; what pops into your mind? Are you thinking of an umami-rich broth of chicken, leek and beef, enriched with unctuous prunes, or a watery can of Baxter’s with soggy leeks and a suggestion of chicken? If I were asked this as a child, it would be the latter, but today I am glad to say that it is the former!

Cock-a-leekie is one of the best of the world’s chicken soups. Actually, it might be the best – made properly. It’s a cornerstone not only of Scottish cuisine but also of the rest of Britain; recipes for cockie-leekie crop up in both English and Welsh cookery books. The traditional recipe used a cockerel or boiling fowl; a tough bird with lots of flavour, lots of leeks and usually some beef or beef stock. Today, I use a well-flavoured oven-ready free-range chicken.

Recipes vary to some degree, but many include prunes – I think they are essential, not just for their sweetness but also the viscosity they give to the broth itself. Meg Dods used shin of beef and uses lots of trimmed leeks: ‘The soup must be very thick of leeks…boiled down into the soup till it becomes a green lubricous compound.’ She considered the practice of adding prunes an ‘obsolete’ one.[1] In The Scot’s Kitchen (1968), F. Marian McNeill uses beef or veal stock in place of meat. Regarding prunes, she approves: ‘I am all for the addition of prunes, to be served one in each plate.’[2]

Beef is an essential ingredient in cock-a-leekie

In England, things go a little awry. For example, in Alexis Soyer’s A Shilling Cookery for the People (1855), there is a recipe for ‘New Cock-a-Leekie’. What makes it ‘New’? Well, it contains no chicken. The reason given in the book, written in the style of two friends corresponding with each other, was that ‘I found I had all that was required, barring the bird’. It ‘deceived not only my husband, but my friend from the other side of the Tweed.’[3] The cock-a-leekie that appears in the 1883 edition of Cassell’s dictionary of cookery is very delicate: chicken and leeks poached in white (veal) stock with rice,[4] which seems more like invalid food rather than a hearty meal.

On the subject of this wonderful soup, Dorothy Hartley wrote that the Scots have kept this fine old soup unchanged through the centuries. (I don’t like to think what would happen to any foreigner who tried to tamper with Cockaleekie.)’[5] She had obviously never read Soyer or Cassell!

To find out more about Alexis Soyer and his writings, check out this episode of the podcast with Dr Lindsay Middleton on this very subject.

I have adapted my recipe from Jane Grigson’s English Food (1993). I have cooked it many times, both at home and professionally. It is very simple but requires good quality ingredients (including plenty of prunes). There are disagreements regarding how one should serve cock-a-leekie. Again, I go with Jane’s advice:

The correct way of serving cockie-leekie is to put a slice of beef, a bit of chicken, some prunes, leeks and soup into each bowl.[6]

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Recipe

This recipe makes a huge amount of soup. Any leftover soup is even more delicious heated up the next day or the day after that, and it freezes very well.

The amount of salt added may appear startling, but remember that we are adding plain water, not stock, so it really does need it. Trust me.

Served with a couple of slices of well-buttered wholemeal bread, this is a complete meal.

Ingredients

1 kg braising steak

3 litres water

4 tsp salt

1 medium-sized chicken

6 good-sized leeks, trimmed

500 g stoned prunes

Freshly ground black pepper

Place the braising steak in the bottom of a stockpot, pour in the water and add two teaspoons of the salt. Cover, set the heat to medium and allow it to come to a bare simmer. The slower you do this the better. As it reaches simmering point, some grey and unappetising scum might float to the top. It is normal for this to happen; simply skim it off with a spoon or drainer. Turn the heat down so that the meat simmers gently for one hour.

There is always a little scum to skim

Meanwhile, take the chicken out of the fridge (if you haven’t done already). Prepare the leeks by trimming away any tatty pieces of green, then split them lengthways around halfway down and rinse them under the cold tap, then leave them to drain upturned in the sink. Once they have drained for around 20 minutes take half of the leeks and tie them together with a piece of string. When the hour is up, add them, the chicken and the prunes, the rest of the salt and a good few turns of the pepper mill.

Left: the split leeks; right: the leeks and chicken adding depth to the broth

Cover, bring the water back to a simmer and cook gently for another hour. Meanwhile, slice the remaining leeks very thinly.

When the second hour is up, remove the leeks (all of their flavour will now be in the stock), taste and check the seasoning – you may need a little more salt. Add the thinly sliced leeks and simmer for 5 minutes only – you want them to remain a little crisp.

Left: thinly slicing the leeks; right: the delicious stock after cooking

Now serve the soup: gingerly fish out the chicken and carve it. It’s important to leave it for a good 15 minutes, covered, so it can cool a little bit before you attempt this. Inspect the chicken carcass for any other decent meaty bits. Then fish out the beef and cut that into good-sized pieces. You can return the prepared meat to the soup and have everyone help themselves, or arrange some pieces of carved meat at the bottom of several soup bowls and then ladle the soup over them.

Notes

[1] Dods, M. (1847) The Cook and Houswife’s Manual. 8th ed. Oliver & Boyd. Alan Davidson was of the opinion that the soup may have its origins in the Middle Ages as a soup of chicken, onions and raisins. Davidson, A. (1999) The Oxford Companion to Food. Oxford University Press.

[2] McNeill, F.M. (1968) The Scots Kitchen: Its Lore & Recipes. 2nd ed. Blackie & Son Limited.

[3] Soyer, A. (1855) A Shilling Cookery for the People: Embracing an Entirely New System of Plain Cookery and Domestic Economy. Geo. Routl. Geo. Routledge & Co.

[4] Cassell (1883) Cassell’s dictionary of cookery. Cassell, Petter, Galpin & Co.

[5] Hartley, D. (1954) Food in England. Little, Brown & Company.

[6] Grigson, J. (1992) English Food. Third Edit. Penguin.

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09/03/2022 · 4:29 pm

Cheese and Leek (or Onion) Pie

Hello! I’m back after two-month hiatus. Did you miss me?

It’s British Pie Week this week so I thought I’d post a recipe for a favourite of mine. The trouble is, I have many favourites, so I came up with a list of four and let Twitter decide. I was very glad to see my favourite won.

Later, I saw the cheese and leek/onion pie was tenth in the top ten favourite UK pies, receiving just 1% of the vote!* Shocking. I think there may be a north-south divide effect at work there; back in the days of my market stall and restaurant, cheese and leek pie was by far the favourite.

The cheese and onion pie or pasty used to be a very important food for the working classes of Northern England, especially Yorkshire and Lancashire: it’s easy to make and the ingredients are cheap compared to meaty fillings. It’s the pie equivalent of the Welsh Rabbit/Rarebit.

The simplest of fillings were made of cooked onion, thinly-sliced raw potato, or cold mashed potato, and grated cheese. On the fancier side, a thick white sauce is used instead of mash. For my recipe I am going somewhere in between to hopefully enjoy the best of both worlds. I use onion and leek interchangeably because either (or both) can be used: I make leek pies as I’m intolerant to onion.

As for the cheese, use a mature kind that melts easily: Cheddar, Lancashire, Double Gloucester etc. The pastry should be a simple shortcrust made with half butter, half lard, but all butter is good too.

Serve the pie with mashed potatoes or chips, with peas and gravy as is traditional, but this pie eats very well just warm with a dressed green salad and some good old salad cream.

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Makes one large pie to serve 6 people (or 4 greedy ones who always have seconds)

For the filling:

50 g butter

1 leek, trimmed and sliced, but with the green left on; or 2 medium onions, peeled and sliced

350 g (approx.) potatoes, peeled and diced (about 2 medium-sized ones)

Salt and pepper

1 tbs plain flour

1 tsp English mustard powder

275 ml hot milk

150 g grated cheese

Pinch Cayenne pepper (optional)

2 tbs double cream

For the pastry:

400 g plain flour

200g salted butter, or 100 g each butter and lard (or shortening)

120 ml water or milk

Egg wash

Start with the filling. Melt the butter in a saucepan and add the leek or onion and potatoes, season with half a teaspoon of salt and a good grind of pepper. Cook over a medium heat until the leek or onion melts right down. Do this slowly, turning down the heat if necessary – you don’t want to fry them, though a pale golden brown colour is fine.

Stir in the flour and mustard and cook for a minute before mixing half of the milk. When the milk combines with the flour to make a smooth sauce, add the remainder of the milk and combine again.

Simmer gently for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Then remove from the heat and stir in the cheese. Mix in the Cayenne pepper. Check the seasoning and add more salt and pepper. It’s a good idea to slightly over season the filling to make up for the comparatively bland shortcrust pastry. Finally stir in the cream and allow to cool completely. I usually make my cooked fillings a day or two ahead of time.

Now make the pastry. Rub the fat(s) into the flour. If you are using unsalted butter, add half a teaspoon of salt. If you are making pastry by hand, unless you have forearms like Popeye, use fats that are at room temperature. If using a mixer, use the flat beater and use cold fats straight from the fridge. Either way, once it resembles breadcrumbs add the water a couple of tablespoons at a time until you have a soft but not sticky dough. Knead very briefly, wrap in cling film and leave it rest in the fridge for 30 minutes.

After resting, take around a third of the dough and roll out on a lightly floured worktop. I used an 18 cm cake tin because I like deep-filled pies, but a shallow pie dish or flan ring of around 25 cm would work too. Roll out a third of the pastry into a circle. Leave the pastry to rest again for a minute or so before laying it in the tin. Be careful to press the pastry into the corners without stretching it: lift it in carefully. If using a deep dish as I have it’s helpful to fold the pastry into quarters, placing it in the dish or tin and then unfolding it.

Roll out the remainder of the pastry to make a lid. Cut a steam hole in the centre and set aside.

Spoon in the pie filling, but don’t fill it too much – it does expand as it cooks. Now brush the edges with egg wash (I use an egg, or egg yolk, beaten with half a teaspoon of salt). Glue the lid in place, pressing the lid down well.

Trim the excess pastry with a sharp knife and then crimp the edges or use a fork to seal the lid. Paint with more egg wash, and if you like add a bit more black pepper. Place in the fridge to set the pastry.

Preheat your oven to 220°C and pop a baking tray on the centre shelf.

(If you have any left-over pastry and filling, make a pasty with it (see here for my Cornish pasty recipe) and bake it with the pie, or freeze it. Both pastry and filling freeze well separately.)

Take the pie out of the fridge and place in the oven on the hot baking tray (this prevents a soggy bottom from developing) and bake for 45 minutes, turning down the heat to 180°C when the pastry is a nice golden brown.

*The poll appeared in the Metro back in 2017: https://metro.co.uk/2017/03/09/the-most-loved-pies-around-the-uk-may-divide-the-nation-6498584/

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