Recipes, Steak Recipes

Outside Skirt Steak with Shallot Purée & Onion Rings

Sliced outside skirt steak served over shallot purée with crispy onion rings and a side salad

Outside Skirt Steak Recipe: This underrated cut gets the warm and familiar embrace of onions, in two forms. And I dare say, it’s rather delicious.

“Steak and onions, you say?” “Sounds risky.” “Do those flavours even go together?” Well, buckle up — your mind’s about to be changed.

I’m being facetious, of course. This pairing is as old as time, and these shallots really do sing. Don’t be put off by the idea of making a purée. Yes, it’s a little chef-y, but all you need is a blender and a bit of confidence. Give it a go.

Serves: 2

Prep time: 25 minutes

Cook time: 1 hour

Ingredients

*Unsalted butter is ideal for basting, giving you more control over seasoning and allowing the natural flavour of the steak to shine.

For the Purée

For the Onion Rings

Method

For the Shallot Purée

  1. Melt the butter in a pan over a medium heat, then add the sliced shallots and three sprigs of thyme. Season with a little salt and reduce the heat to low.
  2. Cover with a lid and cook gently, stirring occasionally, for 30–40 minutes until the shallots are completely softened and sweet.
  3. Remove the lid, increase the heat to medium, and continue to cook, stirring more frequently. Allow the liquid to evaporate and let the shallots begin to caramelise on the base of the pan. Be bold — a deep, dark caramelisation adds a pleasant bitterness that balances the sweetness. Just take care not to let them burn.
  4. Once well caramelised, stir in the cream and cook for a further 5 minutes. Add a splash of sherry vinegar, then remove from the heat.
  5. Let cool slightly, then discard the thyme sprigs. Transfer the mixture to a blender or food processor and blitz until silky smooth. Taste and adjust the seasoning if needed.

For the Onion Rings

  1. Slice the shallot into rings about the thickness of a 20p piece. Season lightly with sea salt and leave to sit for 5 minutes.
  2. In a bowl, combine the flour, bicarbonate of soda and a pinch of salt. Gradually whisk in the sparkling water until the batter reaches the consistency of double cream. Stop whisking as soon as the consistency is right — a few lumps are fine and help keep the batter light.
  3. Preheat a deep fryer or a pan of vegetable oil to 180°C.
  4. Drop the shallot rings into the batter, ensuring they’re well coated, then lift them out and let any excess drip off.
  5. Fry in batches for around 2 minutes, or until golden and crisp. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on kitchen paper. Season with sea salt while hot.

For the Steaks

  1. Remove the steaks from the fridge and their packaging about an hour before cooking to allow them to come to room temperature.
    Season well with sea salt.
  2. Heat a pan or cast-iron skillet over high heat with a tablespoon of oil. Once the oil starts to smoke, add the steaks. Cook on one side for 90 seconds, moving them around the pan for even colouring.
  3. Flip and cook the other side for another 90 seconds. Then add a knob of butter and a couple of sprigs of thyme.
  4. Continue flipping the steaks every 30 seconds, basting with the foaming butter, for a further 2–3 minutes. Regulate the heat to keep the butter foaming and brown — not burnt.
  5. Remove the steaks from the pan, place them on a plate and pour the butter over. Leave to rest for 10 minutes before slicing and serving.

To Serve

To serve, spoon the shallot purée onto the plate, layer the sliced steak over the top, and finish with a handful of crisp onion rings. A simple side salad makes a fresh, welcome addition.

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Instagram

  • Do you love bacon?

Here’s our in house science and history teacher, @grylos, talking osmosis, salt, and the slow work of dry curing bacon.
  • 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.
  • 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.
Do you love bacon? Here’s our in house science and history teacher, @grylos, talking osmosis, salt, and the slow work of dry curing bacon.
6 days ago
3358
View on Instagram |
1/8
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.
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.
7 days ago
1056
View on Instagram |
2/8
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.
2 weeks ago
2717
View on Instagram |
3/8
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.
3 weeks ago
672
View on Instagram |
4/8
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.
3 weeks ago
1391
View on Instagram |
5/8
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
1,30830
View on Instagram |
6/8
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
36917
View on Instagram |
7/8
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
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