Haslet, by Caleb Botton
Haslet or Hayslet, Aslet, whatever way you pronounce it, is a dish close to my heart. My family would pronounce it Ay-slet. It’s sage and pepper taste was almost exotic; it would be a Sunday tea thing or for supper, something you stuck between thick sliced bread. My grandfather had it as part of his salad, a few tomatoes, a bowl of gem lettuce, sliced cucumbers in malt vinegar and bread and butter it would go down a treat. I would be sent out to gather the herbs for this, parsley, sage and thyme. They grew out the back of my grandparents’ or in the farmers’ gardens close by. I would knock on the door and ask if I could pick some, they knew me, so always said yes. I would proudly bring these bundles of flavour back home to be incorporated in this savoury beast of a loaf. This way I always felt I was part of what I was eating. I still think this important to this day.
This recipe is close to my heart as it is one of comfort, joy and remembrance. Haslet is a practical, no nonsense nose to tail eating that reflects all that I like about food. Simple, everyday sustenance and great in a sandwich. Recipes for this vary by place and family within my culture; and have never written down because of culture and literacy. Though there is no fixed recipe, this one is from my family and to us is considered the only recipe. Within my culture you were taught by watching, asking and listening, by standing close to the table without getting in the way (which I did all the time).
Our food and how we eat it, is part performance, part need, part pride, part the bits no one wants with survival fired into it. This is Haslet. Gypsies adopted/procured/liberated it and made it ours! Some might say this is a dish born in Lincolnshire but we inhabit, Lincolnshire/Cambridgeshire/Nottinghamshire/Derbyshire borders with impunity and took it for our own. We don’t argue over maps like some people we just go there, stay and work.
Haslet is fatty minced pork and the now forgotten parts of the animal, liver and maybe kidney and definitely pork jowl, bound by herbs and milked bread. We didn’t use heart or kidney, just liver and fatty pork cuts. Though not expensive and meant to be served as a cold cut, it is a favourite with Gypsies who travelled the Midlands and the North. It was convenient and would keep in the trailers and wagons for a time which was important when there was sometime no electricity. This with piccalilli is a thing of wonder, rich peppery and filling. You can find it in some butchers but we’d always make our own.
If nose to tail is not your thing, this isn’t for you, but if you want, fat, sage, apple, smoke and meat that was made to fuel those who worked and children who grow, this is it. Where I am from, the ground is soft with history and people who work, miners, factory workers, hawkers and those who farm the land. We moved through that land with pans blackened by a hundred fires, cooking things that made sense. Things that filled bellies and stayed good the next day and the day after that. Sliceable, sharable, that didn’t need explaining.
Haslet you ate cold, maybe standing maybe crouching, maybe at a table, a knife for slicing a pickled onion and to butter bread. The ceremony of salt, fat, herbs, and an idea that if you didn’t earn tomorrow, you’d be eating the same again. Which we didn’t mind but clever dedicates we would want something else and work the harder for it; but we always had haslet.
People think Traveller’s food is wild, exotic and secret. But really, it’s practical, local and fresh. It was formed by necessity and survival and borrows shamelessly from what’s around. What it gives back is full stomachs and comfort. We started by cooking what the butchers didn’t want and made those cuts, the ones with connective tissue, fat and flavour, better than it had any right to be. That is our food and our skill.
We worked and travelled where the beasts were raised and farmed, we knew what they ate and how they were treated. My grandfather would tell me he knew what a pig ate and where it a was raised by the smell when it hit the pan. He was a fucking tale teller but I believed him and loved him for that.
My grandmother knew exactly how much liver was needed to the fatty pork, so the taste was complex and rich and how many herbs it could take that didn’t make it bitter. The way we ate taught us many things, you don’t need to waste; and hunger sharpens respect and identity which lives in your hands and heart long before it lives in your mouth.
With this you begin to understand haslet, cause if you know something, where it’s been and how it got there, it shouldn’t put you off. The understanding is part of the taste. Making this is never nostalgia, just midweek food to eat with smoke in your clothes, and a gentle certainty that you would be well fed, that is freedom.
Tips for Haslet:
- Taste before baking, you can fry a small patty and taste to see if the seasoning needs adjusting.
- The flavour will calm down after cooking but the saltiness won’t. It should be very flavourful and if it’s not, add more herbs.
- Pepper is good in this.
- There is a shaping and baking debate about whether to use a loaf tin or make a free form boule shape. I prefer to shape it myself rather than use a bread tin as I like the shape better and it browns more.
Ingredients for Haslet
- 500 to 700 g of belly pork, pork cheek and fatty minced pork, a few pork sausages will do too.
- 100g pig's liver, finely chopped
- 1 large onion
- Some course sea salt
- Half a cup of full milk, less is better
- Four slices of wholemeal bread, slightly stale to be crumbed.
- A knob of butter
- 1 egg
- 1 tsp ground white pepper
- 1 tsp ground black pepper
- 1 to 2 tsp of smoked salt
- 2 tsp dried sage and a palm full fresh sage
- Handful of thyme
- Handful of Parsley
- Pig’s caul fat to wrap the meat
How to make Haslet
- Preheat your oven to 200 C, or gas high.
- Roughly chop the bread and parsley together and add to a bowl.
- Gently heat a knob of butter with the milk, do not boil. This will only take a few minutes as its just to melt the butter into the milk.
- Pour the milk and butter over the bread and stir and leave.
- Mince the pork and the liver, if you have bought pre-minced pork, chop the liver and add it to the mince. If you have a food processor, use this to mince the pork. Then put aside. My grandmother had some minced and some hand chopped course.
- Chop the onion in medium to small, diced pieces.
- Roll the sage into a cigar shape and finely cut and dice.
- Remove the thyme from the stalks and add to the sage and add this to the onion.
- Squeeze the excess liquid from the bread and break or chop into small chunks.
- Combine the pork mince with the liver, add the bread and onions, fresh and dry herbs and egg, with the salt, both peppers, and mix thoroughly, either with a wooden spoon or hands. Do not use all the salt and pepper at this point.
- Take a small ball of the mixture and shape into a patty or ball and fry in butter or oil until cooked through. Once cooked let it cool and taste. Add more salt, pepper, or herbs to the remaining mixture if needed.
- If using a loaf tin, grease with butter or lard and line with the caul fat. Then add the haslet mixture to the loaf tin pressing firmly so there are no air pockets or gaps.
- If using a roasting tray or large pot, shape into a boule, the top should be slightly domed and cover with the caul fat.
- Place the baking dish or loaf tin in a deep roasting tray and pour boiling water from a kettle into the tray until it comes just less than halfway up the sides. Cover with foil or parchment paper.
- Place into the oven and cook for 1 hour or until the juices run clear when a skewer is inserted.
- For the final 10 minutes take off the foil or paper and discard the tray with the water, increase the temperature to max to finish and brown.
- Remove from the oven and leave and leave for ten minutes.
- After ten or fifteen minutes pour off any juices, best to save this for gravy stock and leave to further cool for 50 minutes.
- Once cooled, place in the fridge for at least six hours to firm up.
