Game Bird Recipes

Partridge with Smoked Lardons, Apples & Brandy

By
A plated dish of roast partridge with smoked lardons, caramelised apples, and a glossy brandy sauce

With autumn closing in, apples dropping from the trees, and partridges bursting from the stubble fields, it feels only right to bring bird and orchard together. I’ve always thought of French partridge as convivial creatures, busying about in coveys across the fields, their striped waistcoats and red feet lending them a rakish air. On the plate they are just as obliging, taking happily to braising with fruit and booze.

Partridge has a gentle flavour, less forthright than grouse, and all the better for pairing with smoky bacon, sweet apples, and a splash of brandy. Here, the flesh stays tender in a cider-spiked sauce, whilst lardons and apples add smoke and sweetness. It’s a dish to share with friends, the table warmed by a good fire and a glass of something equally cheering.

Alongside this dish, you’ll also find more of Valentine Warner’s partridge recipes on our journal, including his Tandoori Partridge and Partridge with Polenta and Porcini. For further inspiration, there’s also George Ryle’s Spatchcocked Partridge with Caesar Salad and Myles Donaldson’s Roast Partridge with Barley, Bacon and Cabbage.

Serves: 2

Prep time: 20 minutes

Cook time: 55 minutes

Ingredients

Method

  1. Preheat the grill.
  2. Leave the apples whole, stalks intact, and cut four long vertical incisions around each one. This will help them cook evenly.
  3. Heat a small lidded casserole dish until hot. Rub the partridges all over with a little oil, season generously with sea salt, and brown them quickly in the pan. Note: the browning should be done swiftly to avoid overcooking, as the birds will be braised afterwards. Transfer the birds to a plate.
  4. Add the onion, bay leaf, and lardons to the pan along with the butter and a good grind of black pepper. Over a low heat, gently sweat the onions until completely soft and tender. This usually takes 12 to 15 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook for a further 2 minutes.
  5. Deglaze the pan with the vinegar and reduce it completely. Add the brandy, allowing it to mostly evaporate but leaving a little moisture with the onions, then pour in the cider.
  6. Return the partridges to the pot along with the apples and carrots. Bring the liquid to a gentle simmer, cover with the lid, and regulate the heat so that the simmer remains low and steady. Cook on the hob for 40 minutes.
  7. Meanwhile, toss the bread cubes in a little oil and grill until golden on all sides. Keep warm until ready to serve.
  8. When the partridges are cooked, remove them from the pan and increase the heat. Reduce the sauce by two-thirds, until rich and glossy.
  9. To serve, place the partridges on two plates with an apple and carrot alongside each. Spoon over the sauce, scatter the croutons, and enjoy with a good cider or red wine.

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Valentine Warner is a chef, food writer, broadcaster and business owner with a deep-rooted interest in nature, travel and provincial food. He describes his cooking style as “International Grandmother,” blending a strong sense of storytelling with an infectious love of cookery.

Val has a deep respect for ingredients, both wild and cultivated, and an instinctive ability to turn whatever’s available into something hearty, wholesome and satisfying. A firm advocate of native food sources, he shares common ground with Swaledale in championing meat that is flavourful, ethical and high welfare.

Originally trained as a portrait painter, Val has authored five cookbooks, run his own catering company, and is co-owner of Taqueria, a well-loved Mexican café in West London. He is also a partner in Hepple Distillery in Northumberland and Holmen Lofoten, a hotel on Arctic Norway’s Lofoten islands.

Instagram

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@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
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Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton. It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits. Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat. That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton. There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton. It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits. Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat. That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton. There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton. It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits. Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat. That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton. There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton. It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits. Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat. That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton. There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
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@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
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@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
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Ask yourself this. When did you last have a really good pork chop? This is why we keep coming back to it. Native, rare breed pork. Dry aged on the bone. Proper depth of flavour. Nothing like the pale, wet stuff you see elsewhere. These are our Pork Chops with Rosemary and Anchovy Butter. Two thick, rindless chops. Two discs of handmade compound butter. Anchovy, rosemary, lemon zest, a little shallot. Old friends. It works.
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
Ask yourself this. When did you last have a really good pork chop? This is why we keep coming back to it. Native, rare breed pork. Dry aged on the bone. Proper depth of flavour. Nothing like the pale, wet stuff you see elsewhere. These are our Pork Chops with Rosemary and Anchovy Butter. Two thick, rindless chops. Two discs of handmade compound butter. Anchovy, rosemary, lemon zest, a little shallot. Old friends. It works.
3 weeks ago
472
View on Instagram |
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@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
Fancy a bit of a butcher’s tip? Or a hack, if you will. Well look no further. Here, @grylos, gets creative with a joint of boned and rolled beef rump, creating three, totally different meals, from the one piece of meat. A great example of some leftfield thinking and the perfect way to add a little variety into your weekly meal planning. Along the spectrum from raw to medium, your week could go a little something like this; tartare and toast lightly rubbed with garlic for lunch on Wednesday; steak night on Friday night, with chips, good red wine and a bowl of bearnaise; a roast dinner on Sunday. Bob’s your uncle, Fanny’s your aunt and a carnivorous and hugely satisfying week of eating is complete. All that from a single rolled rump of beef! A life hack if I ever saw one… Did you know that our rumps won 3 stars at the Great Taste Awards? 3-star rump, you can’t argue with that!
3 weeks ago
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View on Instagram |
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@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
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4 weeks ago
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View on Instagram |
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Burns Night, 25 January. Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns. Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures. A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork. A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice. Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January. Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns. Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures. A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork. A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice. Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January. Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns. Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures. A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork. A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice. Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January. Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns. Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures. A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork. A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice. Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January. Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns. Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures. A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork. A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice. Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January. Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns. Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures. A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork. A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice. Food for a cold night.
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
Burns Night, 25 January. Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns. Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures. A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork. A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice. Food for a cold night.
4 weeks ago
1166
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