I love the idea of devilled kidneys, so redolent of country house breakfasts and silver chafing dishes, and the kind of gentleman’s clubs where, according to Thackeray, they breakfasted on them, washed down with pale ale, at three o’clock. Historically, however, I’ve never been quite so fond of the reality – what James Joyce termed the “fine tang of faintly scented urine” does not exactly whet my appetite first thing in the morning. And that’s putting it politely.
As Seb Emina observes in his Breakfast Bible, the hot and spicy devilling process“goes some way to hiding” this. But, as I’ve discovered this week, disguise shouldn’t be necessary – a good fresh kidney should have an earthy sweetness similar to liver or heart, and a soft bouncy texture that’s a world away from the chewy chunks we struggled through at school. Indeed, I’m almost with Fergus Henderson, who believes devilled kidneys are “the perfect breakfast on your birthday, with a glass of black velvet”. Maybe next year.
The kidneys
Lambs’ kidneys are the most popular choice, but Tamasin Day-Lewis prefers “the more delicate flavour of the calves’ kidneys whenever I can get them”. I see what she means; it takes two butchers three days to procure me the goods, and when I do, I’m stupidly surprised at how much larger they are than the ovine variety. The taste is not as different as I expect, however – perhaps slightly less overtly offaly, but not a million miles away.
Whichever variety you use, careful preparation is necessary if you aren’t to be left chewing until well past lunchtime. If you’re lucky enough to get them still in their suet jackets, this must be removed, along with the organ’s outer membrane (never have I typed a less appetising sentence). Gary Rhodes simply cuts them in half and cooks them at this point, but I’d recommend snipping out the fatty core too, which tends to be very tough. I wouldn’t bother scoring them to speed up cooking, as the 1867 recipe from Tendring Hall, Suffolk included in Florence White’s Good Things in England suggests, because it’s rather nice to keep them pink in the middle; nor indeed cutting them into chunks as the Hairy Bikers do – the curvy shape of a kidney is one of the things I like most about them.
Marinade
Some recipes simply pat the kidneys dry and fry them au naturel, while Tendring Hall massages mustard into the scored surface, and Rhodes brushes them with melted butter, salt and cayenne pepper. I prefer those, like Henderson’s and the Bikers, that are rolled in seasoned flour, which helps to give the exterior a slight crispness.
Fat
Most recipes cook the kidneys in butter, though Clarissa Dickson Wright goes one step further in her book Clarissa’s Comfort Food, and flavours them with mustard, Worcestershire sauce and anchovy essence (although she also gives the option of replacing the last with Harvey’s sauce – which appears to be no longer available – or mustard ketchup, which is). As the butter, mingled with the juices from the kidney, makes up the sauce in most versions of this dish, this approach is a very clever one – because who doesn’t love toast drenched in salty, piquant fat?
Jennifer McLagan’s book Odd Bits, meanwhile, first fries some bacon in the pan to use as a garnish, and then sautes the kidneys in the fat, along with some extra butter. Bacon is, of course, rarely an unwelcome addition, but unless you’re set on having two types of meat before you’ve even hit lunchtime, it’s not an entirely necessary one.
Extras and sauces
Bacon, then, works well, as do McLagan’s portobello mushrooms, making the dish an easier sell for the squeamish: as she suggests in her introduction, it’s easy to “increase the amount of mushrooms and reduce the amount of kidneys”. Both, however, make this begin to feel more like a starter or supper dish than the simple breakfast I’m after, and the same goes for her rich sauce, which, like Day-Lewis’s, involves cream and sherry. Not a bad way to start the day, perhaps, if you’re planning to do little more than sit on the sofa for the rest of it.
The Bikers make a thin tomato-and-onion-based sauce, which puts testers in mind of a kidney stew rather than a breakfast item – one suggests it would be better on rice than toast. If you do want extra juices, than Henderson’s splash of chicken stock isn’t a bad way to lubricate the dish, but personally, I’d just add more butter.
Flavourings
Devilled dishes ought to be fiery, like hell itself – but fiery in the traditional British sense, hot with mustard and cayenne pepper, rather than doused in Sriracha sauce. English mustard, as used by almost everyone, is a must – Day-Lewis’s grain variety, though it looks attractive, lacks punch. The universally popular Worcestershire sauce supplies a sweet-and-sour note, which Rhodes enhances with white wine vinegar, and McLagan with sherry vinegar and redcurrant jelly, while Dickson Wright and Day-Lewis choose to enhance its umami notes with extra anchovies.
Although a little acidity is welcome to cut through the richness of the butter and meat, there should be enough in the Worcestershire sauce for most tastes, while the fruitiness of the jelly feels, again, rather too sophisticated for a breakfast dish. The same goes for the shallots many recipes use – not something I necessarily want on toast, although I might have said the same about anchovies, and they prove very popular – “deeply savoury”, according to one tester. Don’t even get me started on the ridiculousness of a parsley garnish at breakfast time.
Cooking
Sadly, I am unable to try out Tendring Hall’s preferred cooking method: on a “greased grid iron over a clear fire”, but I do give Rhodes’ grilled suggestion a go, which I find a bit fiddly since they need basting with butter every few minutes. Safer to fry them if possible, and preferably in a very hot pan, as Henderson recommends, so that they build up a nice caramelised exterior. Frying them gently, as in Dickson Wright’s recipe, seems a wasted opportunity; and stewing them for 20 minutes in sauce, like the Bikers do, seems to miss the point entirely. Hot and fast, leaving them still blushing gently in the middle, should be the order of the day.
Devilled kidneys
(Serves 2)
4 very fresh lambs’ kidneys
2 tbsp flour mixed with a good pinch of salt and black pepper
25g soft butter
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp mustard powder
1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp anchovy sauce or puree, or 2 anchovies, mashed
2 thick pieces of bread
Remove the suet from around the kidneys if necessary, along with the thin membrane that might still encase them. Slice in half laterally, so they retain their kidney shape, and use a good pair of scissors or a sharp knife to snip away the membranes that attach the white fatty core to the meat, and remove. Dust in the seasoned flour.
Mash the butter with the other ingredients, and adjust to taste.
Get a small frying pan hot, then add the butter and turn down the heat to medium. Shake off the excess flour, then cook the kidneys for two and a half minutes on each side. Meanwhile, toast the bread.
Scoop the kidneys on to the toast, along with the butter from the pan, and serve.
Devilled kidneys: heaven on earth, or work of Beelzebub? Are you an offal fan, or is it all just awful? And, if you’re the former, what other classic dishes would you like to see me tackle?
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