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How to make perfect cottage pie

It's an improvised dish, but worthy of care and attention. How do you make cottage pie?
Felicity perfect pie
Felicity's perfect cottage pie. Photograph: Felicity Cloake
Felicity's perfect cottage pie. Photograph: Felicity Cloake

This is neither the time nor the place to get into an argument about the semantics of shepherd's versus cottage pie. I think we can all agree that it makes sense, logically speaking, for the first to refer a dish made with lamb, and that by long custom, the second has come to suggest beef, whatever the original relationship between the two. (Shepherd's pie appears to have been quite the young pretender in this relationship, making its print debut in the late 19th century, while that great chronicler of the inconsequential, Parson Woodforde makes reference to a Cottage Pye in his diary of 1791. With beef.)

The truth is, although you may choose to vary the herbs, the two meats are largely interchangeable in this context, as most recipes acknowledge. Once lubricated by a rich, savoury gravy and entombed beneath a blanket of crisp-topped mash, few hungry souls would notice the difference in any case. The important thing, as Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall observes, is to realise that, although it is "by its nature an improvised dish, nevertheless it is one to approach with a certain amount of care and respect – because when you make a good one it's one of the most delicious things on the planet". Few people who've come home on a cold evening to the smell of a cottage pie in the oven would disagree.

Fresh meat?

Hugh roast beef pie
Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's roast beef pie. Photograph: Felicity Cloake

Originally, cottage pie was a way of eking out a Sunday roast: after the cold cuts, and the ragout, the bones would go into a broth, and the trimmings would be cut up, moistened with gravy, and baked again. Hugh's recipe is faithful to this thrifty, and eminently sensible tradition, but if you're not in the habit of creating leftovers, is it really worth roasting a small joint of meat to make it? After all, Simon Hopkinson, who has done easily as much as Hugh to put British food on the map in the last couple of decades, dismisses roast meat in this context – it gives the finished pie an unpleasant "pasty" texture apparently.

Fortunately, I've got some cold beef left over from Gravy Week, so I use that in Hugh's recipe, chopping it, as he instructs, fairly coarsely: "this makes the finished pie robust and satisfying". I add the pea-sized pieces of meat to a chopped onion, garlic clove and carrot which have been gently softening in a large pan with a dash of oil, and fry them until "nicely browned". As they're pretty brown to start off with, having been roasted for an hour and a half a few days before, this doesn't take long. I then pour in a small cup of leftover gravy, half a glass of red wine, 1 tbsp tomato ketchup and 2 tsp Worcestershire sauce, and simmer the whole thing for half an hour until the meat is tender, adding a little water at the end to eke out the gravy. Topped with mash, it then goes into the oven for 40 minutes, until browned on top, and slightly bubbling. As a way of using up leftovers, its only rival is the mighty roast beef and horseradish sandwich, but there's no denying that the meat is slightly dry and chewy.

Minced?

Roast, ground, chopped beef
Roast, ground and chopped beef. Photograph: Felicity Cloake

In Jane Grigson's opinion, the invention of the mincing machine was the beginning of the end for the cottage pie. "Originally," she explains in English Cookery, "mincing meant chopping something with a knife. With meat, it helped to make the less noble parts edible without prolonged cooking. Fair enough. But with the first mincing-machines, prison, school and seaside boarding house cooks acquired a new weapon to depress their victims, with watery mince, shepherd's pie with rubbery granules of left-over meat, rissoles capable of being fired with a gun."

It's no surprise, then, that she is in favour of mincing or chopping the meat at home instead, suggesting chuck or shin of beef, or a lean cut of lamb. I choose shin, which is gratifyingly good value, chop it up into Hugh's pea-sized pieces, and pit it against some top quality butcher's mince, as specified in Nigel Slater's recipe. I'm startled to find I much prefer the texture of the shin, which, even after 10 minutes simmering and nearly an hour in the oven, retains a slight solidity which works nicely with the soft, fluffy mash. The mince is less assertive, and thus less satisfying to eat – it feels like invalid food by comparison.

Flavourings

Nigel cottage pie
Nigel Slater's pie with minced beef. Photograph: Felicity Cloake

I've picked recipes that eschew the tinned tomato – a surprisingly common addition, despite the inescapable fact that, as Hugh points out, this is not Bolognese – but both he and Simon Hopkinson are keen on using ketchup to add a piquancy to their dish. Maybe I'm oversensitive to the flavour (ketchup, for me, is a burger-only condiment) but I find I can taste even this small amount, and it seems out of place, somehow. Jane Grigson adds 1 tbsp tomato concentrate, as well as 150ml white wine and 3 cloves of garlic, which gives things an unnecessarily Mediterranean feel – the cottage pie is not a dish to scoff on the front at Cannes, and it doesn't need tarting up to make it into one.

Good old Nigel gets my vote, with his simple sauce of stock, Worcestershire sauce and thyme, the condiment giving the meat depth and a hint of spice without overpowering it – and yes, I know it originated in India, but go down that road and you may as well sacrifice the New World potato while you're at it. One thing I do take from Jane Grigson's recipe, however, is a touch of cornflour to thicken the gravy, which is entirely in keeping with the hearty character of the dish.

Mash

Jane Grigson cottage pie
Jane Grigson's cottage pie with shin beef. Photograph: Felicity Cloake

I try one pie with unpeeled potatoes, as also recommended by Jane Grigson, but conclude that, sadly, a smooth mash partners better with the lumps of meat beneath. It's important that your mash isn't too sloppy, or rich, or it will melt into the gravy beneath – I like Nigel Slater's tip about dotting the top with butter before baking, to add an extra touch of richness without spoiling the texture. Grated cheese is also a popular addition but, I think, overkill in this context.

The perfect cottage pie requires robust ingredients: juicy slow-cooked meat, good quality gravy, and crisp, well seasoned mash. Any further additions are at your own risk.

Perfect cottage pie

Felicity perfect cottage pie
Felicity's perfect cottage pie. Photograph: Felicity Cloake

1kg floury potatoes, such as Maris Piper, peeled
150g butter
Knob of beef dripping (optional)
2 onions, chopped
2 carrots, diced
2 sticks celery, diced
1 tsp dried thyme
600g shin of beef, chopped into small pieces
350ml good quality beef stock
1 tsp cornflour
Worcestershire sauce

1. Pre-heat the oven to 180C. Cut your potatoes into evenly sized chunks, and put in a large pan of cold, salted water. Bring to the boil and simmer until tender.

2. Meanwhile, heat the dripping, if you have any left over from your last roast, or butter in a pan over a moderate heat, then add the vegetables. Soften, but do not brown.

3. Add the thyme, and then the beef. Brown it all over, and then add half the stock. Whisk the other half with the cornflour, and then stir into the meat mixture. Add a generous dash of Worcestershire sauce and allow to simmer on a low heat for 15 minutes.

4. Drain the potatoes and mash with a generous slab of butter. Season to taste.

5. Taste and season the meat, adding more Worcestershire sauce if necessary. If it looks dry, pour in a little water.

6. Put the meat into a large baking dish and top with the potato. For a nice crispy top, I like to add it in lumps, or you can run a fork over the top if you prefer. Dot with small pieces of butter.

7. Put into the oven for about 40 minutes, until the potato is crisp and slightly brown, then serve.

Is cottage pie better than shepherd's pie – and can they really, as Nigella suggests, be made with the leftovers of any old roast, duck included? How do you make yours, and what do you serve it with?