The Game Chef shares the wonders of curing meats to preserve your glut of game.
I don't know about you, but I am a self-confessed hoarder. You wouldn't know it - the house is not filled from floor to ceiling with collected objects, and there is no various machinery and gadgetry that for one fleeting moment I feel "might come in useful one day". No, quite the opposite, as I am a brutal slayer of these life cluttering objects. It is my freezer, or to put it correctly, freezers (that's two 1200 litre uprights, three 500 litre chests and one 3m x 3m walk-in to be precise), that fuel my obsession. You see, I need these things for my line of work. Those 300 mallards you are trying to get rid of – I'll take them. That pestilent boar you dispatched – I'll take him. That injured stag, that muntjac, those 50 rabbits and 500 cock birds – I'll take the lot and thank you for them! But the dreadful reality is that this ability has encroached itself upon my person. This luxury of everlasting preservation has led to an unhealthy avarice for meat, an avarice that sees me hoovering up whatsoever I choose, whensoever I want it, if it appears to be suitably "special", or, to use another of my frequently used justifications, "impossible to get hold of where we live".
On the way down from Scotland last year, pulling into Tebay Services having been stuck in changeover A9 traffic, I got drunk on the hotpot fumes and bought an entire Herdwick mutton. I had to gorge on the already present haggis mountain just to get it in the boot, next to the dog, whose eyes rolled ruefully at yet another irresistible scent to keep him from sleep. Then one day when detouring from M6 traffic on the way back from Wales, I stopped at a farm shop for a cup of coffee, only to return to the car with 23kg of Dexter sirloin. Another occasion saw me strapping a not entirely svelte Mangalitza pig into my passenger seat; and let's not even mention the suitcase smuggling coming back from the Alps. And of course, it all had to came to a head one day, as all great obsessions do.
This one went by the name of Storm Eunice. Seeing my precious hoard beginning to wither and wilt in the defrosting pools of despair almost sent me over the edge. The crashing realisation of the fragility of the freezer descended upon me as if it were a hundred weight of glacier ice. And so, with my lesson learnt, I decided then and there to call an immediate moratorium of the purchase of meat for future personal consumption and ever since, slowly, surely and oh so deliciously, I have diligently worked my way through my chilly chests of treasure.
But all was not entirely well, as some of my delights had, perhaps inevitably, succumbed to freezer burn, especially some of the lean and delicate game, which for this reason is particularly susceptible. Rather than discard it or feed it to the dog, I decided to do something far more delicious. I'm sure many of us are guilty of forgetting about a few pheasants or ducks, a haunch of venison perhaps, leaving them exposed to the harsh conditions of the freezer for too long. Well, I'm pleased to say that I have the perfect foil resulting in something delicious.
Much could be said about the curing of meat, but I say only this – keep it simple. There is only one strict rule when it comes to salami making and that is to use exactly three per cent curing salt to your total meat and fat weight. Curing salt can be purchased online from companies such as Weschenfelder, who also supply a range of excellent synthetic skins. I would highly recommend these skins, not only because they are easier to use than the real intestine, but they will give you a far more uniform and reliable result in the varying humidity and temperatures, which, assuming you haven't got a specially lined curing room in the back garden, is an enormous benefit. Believe me, flying off to Italy to return a couple of weeks later to 60kg of salamis covered in a mould that looks and smells like it belongs on a gravestone, rendering them inedible, is not a pleasant occurrence! Should any suspicious mould occur however, rub the skins with kitchen roll well soaked in white wine vinegar, every couple of days, if necessary, to cease the mould growth. Do not hang them in your cellar, do not hang them in your airing cupboard. Hang them somewhere in between. A barn in the summer, a larder in the winter. If they are forming a crusty outside but still feel very soft inside, they are curing too quickly and should be moved somewhere cooler.
If they have been hanging for weeks with little change but are growing mould, they are too cool or damp, so take them somewhere drier and warmer. The easiest thing is to buy yourself a hygrometer with an added temperature control. You are looking for somewhere between 10-16°c and 60-80 per cent humidity. Find somewhere like that and you're winning. I use an old tack room in summer, then a spare bedroom in winter, into which I place a dehumidifier should there be some particularly damp weather. Finally, do not overlook the use of the culture. It will improve the flavour and texture of the finished sausage enormously, giving that delicious, fermented tang, having fed on the sugar.
Follow the recipes and my top tips below and you won't go far wrong, but should you feel the creative juices flowing, go for it – the excitement of slicing into a newly flavoured salami after weeks of anticipation takes a good bit of beating.
You will notice I am adding some pork belly and pork back fat to the mix. Due to game's lean qualities, this is necessary for texture and without it your salami would be somewhat dry. I stick to around 20 per cent pork belly and 10 per cent pure pork back fat, as I like those flecks of white in the slice – your butcher should sort this out for you. You can chop the meat by hand if you like, but a food processor will give a faster result.
Here are four simple and delicious recipes to get you started. Feel free to play around – just not with the salt level! Follow the instructions on the starter culture packet, as they are all different, but as a general rule for small quantities, a small pinch is ample. One final important note is to trim the fat from the game meat – delicious when cooked, when cured it gives an unpleasant oily texture.
MALLARD, PRUNE AND WALNUT SALAMI
The combination of dried fruit and nuts in game salamis is truly delicious, and well worth playing around with. I have had great success with pigeon, dates and pecans or pheasant, apricots and hazelnuts!
Ingredients
PHEASANT AND FENNEL SALAMI
This salami is made in the style of the famed Tuscan finocchiona – its heady aroma and sweet flavour making it the most popular of the salamis that I make.
Ingredients
PHEASANT CHORIZO
Another favourite but be sure to use the best quality smoked paprika you can find – either the sweet or the devilishly hot – the choice is yours!
Ingredients
Method
WILD BOAR OR VENISON BRESAOLA
This recipe works equally well with both of these meats. One thing to note is not to use too thin a piece of meat, you want something with at least three inches of thickness or you will end up with biltong, which, I suppose, is not altogether a bad thing, just not what we are after here.
Ingredients
Method
PHEASANT CHORIZO
Another favourite but be sure to use the best quality smoked paprika you can find – either the sweet or the devilishly hot – the choice is yours!
Ingredients
Method
TOP TIPS: