Beef Recipes

Steak & Kidney Pudding

By

This steak and kidney pudding is a rich, comforting stew encased in a thick layer of suet pastry, rooted in the best traditions of British braising. It remains one of the true classics of these Isles and deserves its place at the centre of the table. Resist the pull of the exotic cookbook now and then, and go British. The sense of anticipation as you cut into that bulging pudding is more than rewarded.

Serves: 6

Prep time: 40 minutes

Cook time: 7 hours

Ingredients

Stew

Suet Pastry

Method

To Make the Pastry

  1. First, make the pastry. Put the flour, suet, and a teaspoon of salt into a large mixing bowl. Mix together, then make a well in the centre. Add the water and bring the mixture together with your hands. If the dough looks too dry, add a little more water. Knead gently, taking care not to overwork it. Once the dough has come together, wrap it in cling film and leave it to rest in the fridge.

To Make the Stew

  1. Next, turn your attention to the stew. Trim the kidney, removing the tough white sinew running through the middle, and chop it into pieces about the same size as the beef shin.
  2. In a bowl, combine the flour, mustard powder, a good pinch of salt, and 6 twists of black pepper. Add the shin and kidney, tossing to coat the meat evenly.
  3. Place a large casserole pot over high heat and add the dripping. Brown the beef and kidney in small batches, aiming for a nice colour on all sides. Once browned, remove the meat from the pan and set it aside.
  4. With all the meat browned and set aside, add the carrots, onions, and bouquet garni to the pot, along with a pinch of salt. Sweat the vegetables over medium heat, stirring regularly.
  5. Return the beef and kidney to the pot, then add the stout and stock. Stir everything together and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer, cover with a lid, and let it gently cook for about 1-hour and 45-minutes. Check the seasoning and adjust if necessary.
  6. Once cooked, remove from the heat and allow it to cool.

To Make the Pudding

  1. To make the pudding, you will need a pudding basin. Generously grease the inside with any remaining dripping. Take the suet dough and cut off ¾ of it. Roll the larger piece to about ½ cm thick in a circular shape, then use it to line the inside of the pudding basin, pressing it into the bottom and up the sides. There should be some excess pastry over the rim of the basin.
  2. Roll the smaller piece of dough to the same thickness and shape – this will be the lid.
  3. Fill the lined pudding basin with the cooled stew, right to the top, reserving a little of the gravy for serving later. Place the pastry lid on top and seal by pressing the lid’s pastry to the excess pastry around the edge. Trim the excess with a knife.
  4. Cut a sheet of parchment paper large enough to cover the basin, folding a crease into the middle to allow room for expansion as the pudding steams. Secure the parchment tightly around the basin with string or butcher’s twine. Use another length of string to create a handle by tying it across the top of the basin – this will help lift the basin later when it’s hot.
  5. Take a large pan that is both wide and tall enough to hold the pudding basin. Roll a sheet of tin foil into a sausage shape, then form a ring and place it at the bottom of the pan. This will act as a nest to keep the basin from sitting directly on the bottom. Place the basin on the foil nest and fill the pan with water until it reaches ¾ of the way up the basin.
  6. Cover the pan with a lid and bring it to the boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for 4 ½ hours, topping up the water as needed.
  7. Carefully remove the basin from the pan and untie the string. Remove the parchment paper.
  8. Find a large enough plate and place it over the top of the pudding. Holding the pudding with a cloth, flip it upside down, then lift the basin off to reveal your steaming pudding – what joy!
  9. Heat the reserved gravy and pour it over the pudding to serve. Some savoy cabbage, blanched and dressed with a little butter, makes a perfect accompaniment.

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For 15 years, George worked in some of London’s most loved restaurants, including Padella and Primeur, and spent five years as Head Chef at the Garden Museum Café. He earned praise for his simple, thoughtful cooking, with dishes rooted in the classics and always respectful of the ingredients.

In 2021, George realised a long-held ambition with the release of his first cookbook, A Year in the Kitchen. It celebrates the annual cookery cycle, guiding readers through the British seasons, showcasing native produce and encouraging creativity year-round.

In 2022, George left London and returned to his native Yorkshire. His passion for seasonal cooking and respect for quality British ingredients have remained central to his work. Like his food, George is led by the seasons, open to new opportunities and always following his heart.

Instagram

  • We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on. It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year. As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later. Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
  • A while back we had the pleasure of visiting @petea25 at the @cantonarms Arms, where we spoke about their ever evolving menu, a place that is not afraid to cook things until they are gone and then move on to something new. We saw how they treated the Swaledale pork chop, and it told you everything you needed to know. Cooked with care, handled properly, and full of flavour. It was, simply, delicious.
  • Here’s our Trevor, stood in front of an expertly butchered sirloin section. Porterhouse, T bone, Wing rib, New York strip, fillet, sirloin. All cut from the same part of the animal, each one offering something slightly different. Key question is; which one are you taking?
  • The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same. It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months. Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move. Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
  • The fallacy of Spring lamb! When we eat lamb in early April, we aren’t eating the lovely little fluffy things people see hopping about in the fields. In fact, you’re actually eating – or at least you are if you are buying from us – old season lamb. The animals that were born the previous springtime. They are age wise, on the verge of morphing into hogget and, in our opinion, it is lamb at its very best. More flavourful as the meat has developed with age, but still with the tenderness one expects with lamb. One thing that is not in doubt is that it pairs perfectly with a lot of the seasonal ingredients of this time of year, the peas, broad beans and courgettes from the continent, plus Jersey royals, asparagus and wild garlic from these shores. We have plenty of these wonderful carcasses ageing in our fridges, so embrace the idea of eating last years spring lamb!
  • A classic of French cooking, built on combinations that have stood their ground for good reason, and long may they do so. Chicken breast roasted in brown butter, creamy mash worked with plenty of butter and dairy, and a mustard sauce brought together with cream. It reads rich, but it eats with balance. The Dijon and tarragon cut through, lifting the dish and keeping it in check.
  • A classic of French cooking, built on combinations that have stood their ground for good reason, and long may they do so. Chicken breast roasted in brown butter, creamy mash worked with plenty of butter and dairy, and a mustard sauce brought together with cream. It reads rich, but it eats with balance. The Dijon and tarragon cut through, lifting the dish and keeping it in check. This is food that does not chase anything. It knows exactly what it is.
  • Filmed on a blustery day at the Harewood House estate, Ellen talks us through the Highland cattle and the wider farming approach shaping the land here. These short films look at how the estate is guiding the land back towards what it once was, using the right livestock for the right terrain and allowing systems to work with the landscape rather than against it. Hardy cattle, able to outwinter on pasture alone, reduce the need for inputs and bring a different kind of balance to the farm. For chefs, this is where the story begins. The flavour comes later, but it is built here, in the fields, through decisions made over time rather than in a single season. It is a strong example of thoughtful farming, where lower inputs and careful management can support both the land and a sustainable margin, all driven by a clear intention to make the estate work for nature as much as it does for people.
We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on. It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year. As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later. Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on. It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year. As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later. Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on. It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year. As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later. Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on. It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year. As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later. Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
1 day ago
52
View on Instagram |
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@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
A while back we had the pleasure of visiting @petea25 at the @cantonarms Arms, where we spoke about their ever evolving menu, a place that is not afraid to cook things until they are gone and then move on to something new. We saw how they treated the Swaledale pork chop, and it told you everything you needed to know. Cooked with care, handled properly, and full of flavour. It was, simply, delicious.
3 days ago
3419
View on Instagram |
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Here’s our Trevor, stood in front of an expertly butchered sirloin section. Porterhouse, T bone, Wing rib, New York strip, fillet, sirloin. All cut from the same part of the animal, each one offering something slightly different. Key question is; which one are you taking?
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
Here’s our Trevor, stood in front of an expertly butchered sirloin section. Porterhouse, T bone, Wing rib, New York strip, fillet, sirloin. All cut from the same part of the animal, each one offering something slightly different. Key question is; which one are you taking?
5 days ago
571
View on Instagram |
3/8
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same. It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months. Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move. Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same. It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months. Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move. Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same. It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months. Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move. Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same. It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months. Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move. Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same. It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months. Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move. Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same. It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months. Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move. Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
1 week ago
471
View on Instagram |
4/8
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
The fallacy of Spring lamb! When we eat lamb in early April, we aren’t eating the lovely little fluffy things people see hopping about in the fields. In fact, you’re actually eating – or at least you are if you are buying from us – old season lamb. The animals that were born the previous springtime. They are age wise, on the verge of morphing into hogget and, in our opinion, it is lamb at its very best. More flavourful as the meat has developed with age, but still with the tenderness one expects with lamb. One thing that is not in doubt is that it pairs perfectly with a lot of the seasonal ingredients of this time of year, the peas, broad beans and courgettes from the continent, plus Jersey royals, asparagus and wild garlic from these shores. We have plenty of these wonderful carcasses ageing in our fridges, so embrace the idea of eating last years spring lamb!
2 weeks ago
632
View on Instagram |
5/8
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
A classic of French cooking, built on combinations that have stood their ground for good reason, and long may they do so. Chicken breast roasted in brown butter, creamy mash worked with plenty of butter and dairy, and a mustard sauce brought together with cream. It reads rich, but it eats with balance. The Dijon and tarragon cut through, lifting the dish and keeping it in check.
4 weeks ago
7
View on Instagram |
6/8
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
A classic of French cooking, built on combinations that have stood their ground for good reason, and long may they do so. Chicken breast roasted in brown butter, creamy mash worked with plenty of butter and dairy, and a mustard sauce brought together with cream. It reads rich, but it eats with balance. The Dijon and tarragon cut through, lifting the dish and keeping it in check. This is food that does not chase anything. It knows exactly what it is.
4 weeks ago
535
View on Instagram |
7/8
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
Filmed on a blustery day at the Harewood House estate, Ellen talks us through the Highland cattle and the wider farming approach shaping the land here. These short films look at how the estate is guiding the land back towards what it once was, using the right livestock for the right terrain and allowing systems to work with the landscape rather than against it. Hardy cattle, able to outwinter on pasture alone, reduce the need for inputs and bring a different kind of balance to the farm. For chefs, this is where the story begins. The flavour comes later, but it is built here, in the fields, through decisions made over time rather than in a single season. It is a strong example of thoughtful farming, where lower inputs and careful management can support both the land and a sustainable margin, all driven by a clear intention to make the estate work for nature as much as it does for people.
1 month ago
64
View on Instagram |
8/8