How-To Guides

How to Cook Jacob’s Ladder Beef Ribs

Two Jacob's ladder of beef on butchers paper.

What Are Jacob’s Ladder Beef Ribs?

How to Cook Jacob’s Ladder Beef Ribs: Jacob’s Ladder beef is a term borrowed from American butchery, named after the biblical story of a ladder to heaven. It’s an apt reference for a cut often described as heavenly by those who love its rich, beefy flavour.

This cut comes from the ribs that extend from the short rib plate and is left whole, resembling a ladder, hence the name. It offers the deep flavour of a ribeye but requires a longer, slower cook to break down its marbling and connective tissue. At Swaledale, we leave the top muscle and fat intact, particularly important with smaller native breeds, as this helps to keep the meat moist and flavourful when cooked whole. Once rested, it can be carved into generous, juicy slices.

One Jacob’s Ladder, typically made up of four bones, will generously serve two people.

Jacob’s Ladder Beef Cooking Time

After searing the Jacob’s Ladder beef ribs, a gentle braise of around 3 hours is usually enough to achieve tender, flavourful results. Braising is an excellent method for this cut, as the extended cooking time allows the connective tissue to break down and the flavours to develop fully. Smoking is another great option, though it typically takes longer than braising, often upwards of 6 hours, making it ideal for those who enjoy the process and payoff of low and slow barbecue.

Best Way to Cook Jacob’s Ladder Beef Ribs

This method focuses on braising Jacob’s Ladder beef ribs: a slow, gentle cook in liquid that transforms the meat into something deeply tender and full of flavour.

  1. Season the meat well with sea salt.
  2. Heat some oil or dripping in a heavy-based casserole pan and start searing the Jacobs ladder over high heat.
  3. Once the meat is nicely browned, remove it from the casserole pan.
  4. Roughly chop some vegetables of your choice and sweat them off in the same pan for 10-15 minutes, until soft and sweet.
  5. Return the Jacobs ladder to the pan and add some good-quality wine and beef stock. Not so much that it completely submerges the beef.
  6. Season with salt and pepper, and add some bay leaves and sprigs of thyme. A star anise is also a nice addition here.
  7. Cover with a lid, then place in a preheated oven at 140ºC for 2 ½ – 3 hours.
  8. Once cooked, remove from the oven and set to one side to rest for 1 hour.
  9. Remove the beef and vegetables from the casserole.
  10. Skim most of the excess fat, which there will be quite a lot of, from the top of the liquid. Return the braising liquid to the heat and reduce until you have the desired consistency.

Top Tips for Cooking Jacob’s Ladder Beef Ribs

  • Start by searing the beef. This not only locks in vital moisture but also triggers a chemical reaction between proteins, amino acids and natural sugars, giving the meat its deep colour and rich, savoury flavour.
  • During braising, keep the temperature low and steady at around 140°C and use a flavourful liquid such as stock, wine or fortified wine like Oloroso. If the sauce becomes too intense in flavour before it thickens, add a little flour or cornflour to adjust the consistency rather than reducing it further.
  • Use a meat thermometer to check for doneness, aiming for an internal temperature of 88 to 90°C to ensure the meat is tender and yielding.
  • Once cooked, rest the meat to allow the juices to redistribute. For extra colour and a sticky glaze, cut between the rib bones to portion the beef, spoon over some of the braising liquid and return it briefly to a hot oven to crisp up.

Jacob’s Ladder Beef Ribs Recipe

For something truly unctuous, try George Ryle’s Jacob’s Ladder Beef Ribs Recipe, where the ribs are slowly braised in Oloroso sherry until meltingly tender. The fortified wine adds depth, salinity and a subtle sweetness that complements the richness of the beef. Served with crisp, golden fried potatoes, this dish delivers bold flavour and satisfying texture in every bite. It’s a perfect choice for a weekend cook or special occasion.

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  • On many a recipe, the instruction ‘brown your mince’ is set out plainly enough. And yet, deep into January, when slow cooking is very much back on the table and recipes keep asking for the same thing, it feels worth saying that this is meant quite literally. Brown your mince. It does not say grey it.

Browning is a process, not a gesture. It takes time, heat, and a little patience, and what you are doing is building flavour, not simply warming meat through. When mince is rushed, crowded into the pan, stirred too soon, it stews. It turns grey. The moisture stays put and the flavour never quite arrives.

So here is @grylos , taking a moment to explain the difference, and to remind you that if you want the most from good produce, you have to let it work. Give it space. Leave it alone long enough to colour properly. Let it smell right before you move on.

Because this is slow food month, after all. There is no need to hurry. Take your time, do it properly, and you will taste the difference in the finished dish.
  • Winter. It felt strange being in Yorkshire, watching the news from the south where snow lay thick and sudden, while here January had arrived quietly, cold and wet, but not yet truly winter as we know it. Up here the season has always moved at a slower pace, and there is something steadying in remembering that. The idea that we should charge straight on after Christmas is a modern one, and it sits awkwardly with bodies and minds that are still tuned to pause, to take stock, to look back at the year just gone. 

Out on the farms, there is no rush but plenty to do. Some are already lambing, others preparing for it, working with the land rather than against it as the days begin, almost imperceptibly, to lengthen. The fields are still subdued, but there are signs, if you look closely, that life is beginning to stir again.

And so, it feels right, now and then, to slow everything down and simply notice Yorkshire in January, not as something to be endured, but as a quiet and beautiful part of the year in its own right.
  • Now the depths of winter descend. The excitement of Christmas has passed, but do not let that fool you. These months are still some of the best for eating roasted meats and leaning into deeper, newer flavour profiles.

Here is a traditional, and not so traditional, approach to our pork middle. We send a lot of our pork middles out to chefs, ready for them to stuff and roast in their own way, using both the loin and the belly. You will see plenty of porchetta on the market that uses just the belly. This is different. Using both cuts gives balance, structure, and allows the flavour of the pork itself to shine.

For our website, we also offer a less traditional version, stuffed simply with our fennel sausage meat. That brings seasoning right through the joint, and a little extra fat to help keep everything moist during a long, slow roast.

It is a brilliant cut to have, either as a roast or the following day, sliced cold for sandwiches.
  • Chef George Ryle @grylos, signing off the year with us.

A delicious Christmas ham glaze.
Nothing clever. Nothing rushed, but some useful tips. 

Thank you for watching, cooking along, and sticking with us this year.

Merry Christmas.
  • We like doing things properly. Smoking is one of them.
It is not sterile or shiny. But have you ever been to a smokehouse in Arbroath? If you have, you will know what this looks like. That black tar on the walls comes from years of smoke and years of meat. That is the point.

We still smoke food properly. Many do not. Much of what you see labelled as smoked has barely seen smoke at all. For us, that matters. Food done properly matters. It will matter even more in the years ahead.

So when you buy something from us and it says smoked, you know exactly what that means.
  • Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
  • Sometimes it takes a new perspective, a fresh angle, to see the value in things. To reverse a perception that might be long held and deeply ingrained. But when we achieve that moment of clarity, the bright light of revelation, the effect can be significant. A door opened and a new future imagined. 

Too much? Well, probably. But maybe, just maybe your eyes really are being opened to a new way. A future of menu writing with the possibility of a new ‘butchers’ steak’; move over bavette, onglet and Denver and step into the spotlight the chuck eye steak. 

Traditionally, a chuck, to butchers and chefs is most likely to conjure images of pies, stews and bourguignons. Your archetypal braising cut, or so it had been assumed. We don’t believe it should be confined by these parameters and are rather taken with the idea of it becoming your new favourite secondary steak. The chuck is the muscle that extends from the ribeye into the neck, like a pork collar, meaning it has good natural marbling and a nice, open texture. Cooked pink, with a great crust and basted in brown butter, it truly is an excellent steak.

For maximum value, snaffle yourself a whole chuck, trim away some of the meat that runs around the eye, reserving for something braised and delicious, then cut yourself some choice steaks. You won’t regret it.
  • A rich, booze-laden beast of a pie. This is no ordinary mince pie. It is deep-filled, indulgent and made with real craft by @joshwhiteheadchef of @finer_pleasures.

We are down to the last few. Our mailing list heard about them yesterday, which is why they are moving quickly. If you want first sight of future specials, sign up.

Josh has been working on this recipe for three years. It is rooted in Hannah Glasse’s 1747 mince pie, where meat was once part of the mix. He has taken that idea and turned it on its head, using the clean, buttery fat from our native-breed cattle in place of suet.

The filling is dried fruit soaked since July in Armagnac, aged port, Madeira and homemade ginger wine. There are ceps cooked slowly in brown sugar syrup until they turn to toffee. And yes, a little Bovril. Trust Josh, it works.

Bake at 185°C until golden, let it sit for two minutes, then eat warm. A dusting of icing sugar finishes it well. Serve with cream, custard or brandy butter.

A very special mince pie, and nearly gone.
On many a recipe, the instruction ‘brown your mince’ is set out plainly enough. And yet, deep into January, when slow cooking is very much back on the table and recipes keep asking for the same thing, it feels worth saying that this is meant quite literally. Brown your mince. It does not say grey it. Browning is a process, not a gesture. It takes time, heat, and a little patience, and what you are doing is building flavour, not simply warming meat through. When mince is rushed, crowded into the pan, stirred too soon, it stews. It turns grey. The moisture stays put and the flavour never quite arrives. So here is @grylos , taking a moment to explain the difference, and to remind you that if you want the most from good produce, you have to let it work. Give it space. Leave it alone long enough to colour properly. Let it smell right before you move on. Because this is slow food month, after all. There is no need to hurry. Take your time, do it properly, and you will taste the difference in the finished dish.
1 week ago
2627
View on Instagram |
1/8
Winter. It felt strange being in Yorkshire, watching the news from the south where snow lay thick and sudden, while here January had arrived quietly, cold and wet, but not yet truly winter as we know it. Up here the season has always moved at a slower pace, and there is something steadying in remembering that. The idea that we should charge straight on after Christmas is a modern one, and it sits awkwardly with bodies and minds that are still tuned to pause, to take stock, to look back at the year just gone. 

Out on the farms, there is no rush but plenty to do. Some are already lambing, others preparing for it, working with the land rather than against it as the days begin, almost imperceptibly, to lengthen. The fields are still subdued, but there are signs, if you look closely, that life is beginning to stir again.

And so, it feels right, now and then, to slow everything down and simply notice Yorkshire in January, not as something to be endured, but as a quiet and beautiful part of the year in its own right.
Winter. It felt strange being in Yorkshire, watching the news from the south where snow lay thick and sudden, while here January had arrived quietly, cold and wet, but not yet truly winter as we know it. Up here the season has always moved at a slower pace, and there is something steadying in remembering that. The idea that we should charge straight on after Christmas is a modern one, and it sits awkwardly with bodies and minds that are still tuned to pause, to take stock, to look back at the year just gone. 

Out on the farms, there is no rush but plenty to do. Some are already lambing, others preparing for it, working with the land rather than against it as the days begin, almost imperceptibly, to lengthen. The fields are still subdued, but there are signs, if you look closely, that life is beginning to stir again.

And so, it feels right, now and then, to slow everything down and simply notice Yorkshire in January, not as something to be endured, but as a quiet and beautiful part of the year in its own right.
Winter. It felt strange being in Yorkshire, watching the news from the south where snow lay thick and sudden, while here January had arrived quietly, cold and wet, but not yet truly winter as we know it. Up here the season has always moved at a slower pace, and there is something steadying in remembering that. The idea that we should charge straight on after Christmas is a modern one, and it sits awkwardly with bodies and minds that are still tuned to pause, to take stock, to look back at the year just gone. 

Out on the farms, there is no rush but plenty to do. Some are already lambing, others preparing for it, working with the land rather than against it as the days begin, almost imperceptibly, to lengthen. The fields are still subdued, but there are signs, if you look closely, that life is beginning to stir again.

And so, it feels right, now and then, to slow everything down and simply notice Yorkshire in January, not as something to be endured, but as a quiet and beautiful part of the year in its own right.
Winter. It felt strange being in Yorkshire, watching the news from the south where snow lay thick and sudden, while here January had arrived quietly, cold and wet, but not yet truly winter as we know it. Up here the season has always moved at a slower pace, and there is something steadying in remembering that. The idea that we should charge straight on after Christmas is a modern one, and it sits awkwardly with bodies and minds that are still tuned to pause, to take stock, to look back at the year just gone. Out on the farms, there is no rush but plenty to do. Some are already lambing, others preparing for it, working with the land rather than against it as the days begin, almost imperceptibly, to lengthen. The fields are still subdued, but there are signs, if you look closely, that life is beginning to stir again. And so, it feels right, now and then, to slow everything down and simply notice Yorkshire in January, not as something to be endured, but as a quiet and beautiful part of the year in its own right.
2 weeks ago
672
View on Instagram |
2/8
Now the depths of winter descend. The excitement of Christmas has passed, but do not let that fool you. These months are still some of the best for eating roasted meats and leaning into deeper, newer flavour profiles. Here is a traditional, and not so traditional, approach to our pork middle. We send a lot of our pork middles out to chefs, ready for them to stuff and roast in their own way, using both the loin and the belly. You will see plenty of porchetta on the market that uses just the belly. This is different. Using both cuts gives balance, structure, and allows the flavour of the pork itself to shine. For our website, we also offer a less traditional version, stuffed simply with our fennel sausage meat. That brings seasoning right through the joint, and a little extra fat to help keep everything moist during a long, slow roast. It is a brilliant cut to have, either as a roast or the following day, sliced cold for sandwiches.
2 weeks ago
1341
View on Instagram |
3/8
Chef George Ryle @grylos, signing off the year with us. A delicious Christmas ham glaze. Nothing clever. Nothing rushed, but some useful tips. Thank you for watching, cooking along, and sticking with us this year. Merry Christmas.
1 month ago
1,30429
View on Instagram |
4/8
We like doing things properly. Smoking is one of them. It is not sterile or shiny. But have you ever been to a smokehouse in Arbroath? If you have, you will know what this looks like. That black tar on the walls comes from years of smoke and years of meat. That is the point. We still smoke food properly. Many do not. Much of what you see labelled as smoked has barely seen smoke at all. For us, that matters. Food done properly matters. It will matter even more in the years ahead. So when you buy something from us and it says smoked, you know exactly what that means.
1 month ago
36716
View on Instagram |
5/8
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle. They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land. We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season. This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year. As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
1 month ago
1081
View on Instagram |
6/8
Sometimes it takes a new perspective, a fresh angle, to see the value in things. To reverse a perception that might be long held and deeply ingrained. But when we achieve that moment of clarity, the bright light of revelation, the effect can be significant. A door opened and a new future imagined. Too much? Well, probably. But maybe, just maybe your eyes really are being opened to a new way. A future of menu writing with the possibility of a new ‘butchers’ steak’; move over bavette, onglet and Denver and step into the spotlight the chuck eye steak. Traditionally, a chuck, to butchers and chefs is most likely to conjure images of pies, stews and bourguignons. Your archetypal braising cut, or so it had been assumed. We don’t believe it should be confined by these parameters and are rather taken with the idea of it becoming your new favourite secondary steak. The chuck is the muscle that extends from the ribeye into the neck, like a pork collar, meaning it has good natural marbling and a nice, open texture. Cooked pink, with a great crust and basted in brown butter, it truly is an excellent steak. For maximum value, snaffle yourself a whole chuck, trim away some of the meat that runs around the eye, reserving for something braised and delicious, then cut yourself some choice steaks. You won’t regret it.
1 month ago
8210
View on Instagram |
7/8
A rich, booze-laden beast of a pie. This is no ordinary mince pie. It is deep-filled, indulgent and made with real craft by @joshwhiteheadchef of @finer_pleasures.

We are down to the last few. Our mailing list heard about them yesterday, which is why they are moving quickly. If you want first sight of future specials, sign up.

Josh has been working on this recipe for three years. It is rooted in Hannah Glasse’s 1747 mince pie, where meat was once part of the mix. He has taken that idea and turned it on its head, using the clean, buttery fat from our native-breed cattle in place of suet.

The filling is dried fruit soaked since July in Armagnac, aged port, Madeira and homemade ginger wine. There are ceps cooked slowly in brown sugar syrup until they turn to toffee. And yes, a little Bovril. Trust Josh, it works.

Bake at 185°C until golden, let it sit for two minutes, then eat warm. A dusting of icing sugar finishes it well. Serve with cream, custard or brandy butter.

A very special mince pie, and nearly gone.
A rich, booze-laden beast of a pie. This is no ordinary mince pie. It is deep-filled, indulgent and made with real craft by @joshwhiteheadchef of @finer_pleasures.

We are down to the last few. Our mailing list heard about them yesterday, which is why they are moving quickly. If you want first sight of future specials, sign up.

Josh has been working on this recipe for three years. It is rooted in Hannah Glasse’s 1747 mince pie, where meat was once part of the mix. He has taken that idea and turned it on its head, using the clean, buttery fat from our native-breed cattle in place of suet.

The filling is dried fruit soaked since July in Armagnac, aged port, Madeira and homemade ginger wine. There are ceps cooked slowly in brown sugar syrup until they turn to toffee. And yes, a little Bovril. Trust Josh, it works.

Bake at 185°C until golden, let it sit for two minutes, then eat warm. A dusting of icing sugar finishes it well. Serve with cream, custard or brandy butter.

A very special mince pie, and nearly gone.
A rich, booze-laden beast of a pie. This is no ordinary mince pie. It is deep-filled, indulgent and made with real craft by @joshwhiteheadchef of @finer_pleasures.

We are down to the last few. Our mailing list heard about them yesterday, which is why they are moving quickly. If you want first sight of future specials, sign up.

Josh has been working on this recipe for three years. It is rooted in Hannah Glasse’s 1747 mince pie, where meat was once part of the mix. He has taken that idea and turned it on its head, using the clean, buttery fat from our native-breed cattle in place of suet.

The filling is dried fruit soaked since July in Armagnac, aged port, Madeira and homemade ginger wine. There are ceps cooked slowly in brown sugar syrup until they turn to toffee. And yes, a little Bovril. Trust Josh, it works.

Bake at 185°C until golden, let it sit for two minutes, then eat warm. A dusting of icing sugar finishes it well. Serve with cream, custard or brandy butter.

A very special mince pie, and nearly gone.
A rich, booze-laden beast of a pie. This is no ordinary mince pie. It is deep-filled, indulgent and made with real craft by @joshwhiteheadchef of @finer_pleasures.

We are down to the last few. Our mailing list heard about them yesterday, which is why they are moving quickly. If you want first sight of future specials, sign up.

Josh has been working on this recipe for three years. It is rooted in Hannah Glasse’s 1747 mince pie, where meat was once part of the mix. He has taken that idea and turned it on its head, using the clean, buttery fat from our native-breed cattle in place of suet.

The filling is dried fruit soaked since July in Armagnac, aged port, Madeira and homemade ginger wine. There are ceps cooked slowly in brown sugar syrup until they turn to toffee. And yes, a little Bovril. Trust Josh, it works.

Bake at 185°C until golden, let it sit for two minutes, then eat warm. A dusting of icing sugar finishes it well. Serve with cream, custard or brandy butter.

A very special mince pie, and nearly gone.
A rich, booze-laden beast of a pie. This is no ordinary mince pie. It is deep-filled, indulgent and made with real craft by @joshwhiteheadchef of @finer_pleasures.

We are down to the last few. Our mailing list heard about them yesterday, which is why they are moving quickly. If you want first sight of future specials, sign up.

Josh has been working on this recipe for three years. It is rooted in Hannah Glasse’s 1747 mince pie, where meat was once part of the mix. He has taken that idea and turned it on its head, using the clean, buttery fat from our native-breed cattle in place of suet.

The filling is dried fruit soaked since July in Armagnac, aged port, Madeira and homemade ginger wine. There are ceps cooked slowly in brown sugar syrup until they turn to toffee. And yes, a little Bovril. Trust Josh, it works.

Bake at 185°C until golden, let it sit for two minutes, then eat warm. A dusting of icing sugar finishes it well. Serve with cream, custard or brandy butter.

A very special mince pie, and nearly gone.
A rich, booze-laden beast of a pie. This is no ordinary mince pie. It is deep-filled, indulgent and made with real craft by @joshwhiteheadchef of @finer_pleasures. We are down to the last few. Our mailing list heard about them yesterday, which is why they are moving quickly. If you want first sight of future specials, sign up. Josh has been working on this recipe for three years. It is rooted in Hannah Glasse’s 1747 mince pie, where meat was once part of the mix. He has taken that idea and turned it on its head, using the clean, buttery fat from our native-breed cattle in place of suet. The filling is dried fruit soaked since July in Armagnac, aged port, Madeira and homemade ginger wine. There are ceps cooked slowly in brown sugar syrup until they turn to toffee. And yes, a little Bovril. Trust Josh, it works. Bake at 185°C until golden, let it sit for two minutes, then eat warm. A dusting of icing sugar finishes it well. Serve with cream, custard or brandy butter. A very special mince pie, and nearly gone.
1 month ago
1869
View on Instagram |
8/8