OK, I know. This is a bit of a cheat in that this is cooked on the hob and not over what one might strictly term live fire. In my head it can be argued that all fire is live to some extent and just because I’m using gas and not charcoal doesn’t make this delicious veg dish any less valid. It goes with pretty much any fish but is just as happy accompanying the Sunday lamb leg or chicken. My personal favourite is as a side with slow-smoked rosemary, garlic and anchovy marinated lamb shoulder.
The great thing about this recipe is that it scales up and is limited only by the number of fennel bulbs you have and the size of your pan – your pan will ideally have a lid, but you can use a baking parchment cartouche that will work just as well. For this cook I used the following:
- 3 fennel bulbs
- About 200ml Vegetable or chicken stock
- A good knob of butter
- A glug of pastis
Trim the stems off the tops of the fennel, keep hold of them for the time being. Slice the fennel into wedges through the root as this will help to hold them all together as they cook.
Heat your pan over a medium flame and add oil. Once up to temperature add the fennel wedges with the cut sides down. The aim here is to get a bit of caramelisation on the edges, but not too much. Think Werthers original rather than bonfire night toffee when you are turning them to do the other side. Don’t crowd the pan; you can do this stage in batches if you need to. Keep a close eye as the wedges can colour quite quickly.
Now I am fully aware that pastis is not everyone’s cup of tea and some hold the view that it should only be touched by elderly French chaps in berets and neckerchiefs as a warm up for an intense game of pétanque. However I love it and adding a good slosh to deglaze the pan definitely improves the dish in my view. Maybe not enough to shell out about £20 on a bottle that will then be doomed to lurk, unloved and untouched in a dark corner of your drinks cabinet in perpetuity but if you have a sticky bottle of impulse buy duty-free Pernod or Ricard floating about, now is it’s time to shine.
Once the alcohol has burned off, add enough stock to the pan so it comes about a third of the way up the fennel. I usually use Swiss Bouillon powder to make about 200ml for this which is great but can be a bit salty to my palate so be careful with seasoning at the end. Now add a couple of big knobs of butter. As the fennel cooks the butter will combine with the stock and, as it reduces, you will be left with a lovely, glossy, aniseedy, sauce. Put the lid on at a jaunty angle to let the steam escape more readily, or carefully place your cartouche over the veg. Adjust the flame so the stock is just simmering and let it bubble away for anywhere between 20 and 30 minutes
Meanwhile, back to the fennel tops. If you are lucky, your fennel will have vivid green feathery fronds growing out of the periscope-like stems which you can strip and finely shred. It’s a bit of a faff but like the pastis, adding these raw just as you serve does improve the flavour and gives a bit of added colour. If you don’t have fennel with these extra bits don’t worry. The thick stems are great in a stock, particularly a fish one.
The fennel will be cooked when the tip of a knife will slide easily into the root. The beauty of this dish is it’s just as delicious whether you leave the wedges with a slight bite or let them go to a softer stage. Season to taste – pepper is good, just be wary of the saltiness of the reduced stock.
Live Fire Journal 