Steak Recipes

Porterhouse with Peppercorn Sauce & Triple-Cooked Chips

Porterhouse steak in a peppercorn sauce sliced and cooked medium-rare. Served alongside triple-cooked chips and a side salad.

Such a mighty steak deserves a mighty garnish, and here, in peppercorn sauce and triple-cooked chips, we have two of the mightiest steak garnishes going. A combination which is both simple and pure.

I feel, throughout all my time spent in the realm of food, that I have spent the perfect amount of it extolling the virtues of a good chip — that is to say, a lot of time. It cannot be overstated. When executed with care and attention, they are an art form, something to be recognised and properly understood. Much like good mashed potatoes, a good chip, and I mean a really good chip, is a hard thing to make. Perfectly crisp and golden on the outside and fluffy and steaming inside. This glorious porterhouse steak couldn’t ask for a better companion.

Factor into that equation a lake of peppercorn sauce, which I haven’t even had the chance to mention. It must surely be in the running for the title of superior steak sauce – and you are about to enter into a sort of heaven, as designed by a Parisian restaurateur. Writing this is making me really want to eat it!

Serves: 2

Cook time: 3 hours

Ingredients

For the chips

Method

First start with the chips:

  1. Cut the potatoes into the desired shape and size. This is purely a matter of preference. I like a medium-sized chip, not too chunky. Put them into a suitably sized pan and run them under the hottest water that your tap can produce. This is to wash away some of the starch from the potato. As they wash under the running water, move them around the pan. You will notice that the water is cloudy. Keep washing them until the water runs clean, then turn the tap to as cold as it will go and let it run for a minute.
  2. Tip away some of the water, so the pan isn’t too full, then season well with salt and set over a high heat. Bring the water to a simmer and cook for 10-15 minutes, depending on the thickness of the chips. You want to find the sweet spot — cooked and offering up some fluffy edges, but not too far so that they are disintegrating.
  3. Carefully drain off the chips into a colander (too rough a touch here will smash up the chips too much) and then tip them, again with care, onto a flat tray and leave them to cool.
  4. Once cooled, place the tray in the fridge and leave for 2 hours.

Meanwhile, start the peppercorn sauce:

  1. Put the vinegar, 2 sprigs of thyme, ½ a shallot, and one teaspoon each of whole black, white, and pink peppercorns into a small pan and set over a medium heat to reduce. Once reduced by two thirds, remove from the heat and allow to cool.
  2. Take a heavy-bottomed pan and set it over a medium to low heat with a good knob of butter. Add the remaining shallots, the garlic, 1 teaspoon each of black and white peppercorns (no need for the pink at this stage), and 4 sprigs of thyme, plus a good pinch of salt. Cook with a lid on, stirring regularly for 15 minutes, until soft and sweet but without too much colour.
  3. Turn the heat up and add the brandy. As the vapour rises off the pan, show it a flame and the brandy will flambee — watch your eyebrows!
  4. Once the flames have subsided, add the wine and reduce by three quarters. Then add the stock and bring it to a simmer. Cook for 20-25 minutes or until the stock has reduced by half.
  5. Next, add the cream and cook for a further 10-12 minutes.
  6. Pass the vinegar from earlier through a sieve and add to the sauce.
  7. Tip the sauce into a food processor or blender and blitz until smooth. Then pass through a sieve back into a pan.
  8. Check for seasoning at this point and adjust as necessary.
  9. Add the green peppercorns and a further teaspoon of pink peppercorns.
  10. Try again and re-adjust the seasoning as necessary. If the consistency isn’t right, then rectify it by reducing further or letting it down with a little water or stock.

Return to the chips:

  1. Heat your fryer to 125°C, and in batches, ‘blanch’ the chips for 8 minutes. Lift out of the fryer, draining away as much excess oil as possible, and return to a tray.
  2. Once all the chips have been ‘blanched’, return them to the fridge whilst you cook your steak.
  3. Take the Porterhouse out of the fridge, remove packaging, pat dry with kitchen paper, pop on a plate and allow to reach room temperature.
  4. Preheat your oven to 170°C.
  5. Season the Porterhouse well with fine sea salt.
  6. Set a large frying pan or cast-iron skillet over a medium heat, with a tiny drizzle of oil. Take the steak and stand it up in the pan with the fat facing down to begin rendering some of the fat. You will need to use a pair of tongs to prevent it from falling over. Move the steak around, so that all of the fat spends some time rendering. Cook like this for 2-3 minutes.
  7. Turn the heat up and lay the steak on its side. Cook on a high heat without flipping for 1 minute, or until a nice golden crust has formed. Then flip the steak and repeat.
  8. Turn the heat down and add a knob of butter and baste the steak in the foaming butter. Flipping from one side to the other every 30 seconds. After 2 minutes, transfer the steak onto an oven-proof tray and place it in the oven, setting a timer for 2 minutes.
  9. Remove the tray from the oven and flip the steak. Return to the oven for a further 3-4 minutes.
  10. Remove the steak from the tray and leave it to rest on a plate, somewhere warm, for at least 15 minutes.
  11. Whilst the steak is resting, turn the fryer up to 185°C.
  12. Fry the chips in batches for about 5 minutes, or until golden, crispy, and delicious. Tip into a bowl lined with kitchen towel and season well with salt.

    Carve the rested steak, warm up the sauce and get stuck in!

Order meat online

Instagram

  • British Pie Week, apparently.

We do not usually pay much attention to themed food weeks. We prefer to make and sell things when they feel right.

This year is different, thanks to our growing friendship with Yorkshire chef and pie obsessive Josh Whitehead, and his excellent pie project, Finer Pleasures.

Josh started @finer_pleasures in 2023 to make pies the way they should be made. Proper fillings, local meat and traditional methods.

So we thought we would join in.

The pie is a classic. Chicken, ham, leek and mushroom.

Brined chicken, smoked ham hock and a rich velouté finished with herbs, mustard and chestnut mushrooms or leeks.

A proper pie.

Available this week while they last.
  • It’s easy to become disconnected with the restaurants and kitchens where our meat ends up being prepped, cooked and served. Whilst Instagram can give us a certain understanding of how the food looks; we all know that there is no substitute for experiencing it first-hand. And that is what we had the pleasure of doing this week at the Canton Arms. One of London’s great pubs and one of our oldest, most significant customers. We have been suppling them with exceptional meat since nearly the very beginning of the Swaledale journey. 

Last night was a moment to celebrate that relationship in all its glory; our meat and their cooking and outstanding hospitality coming together for what was a grand evening. We ate, we drank, we chatted in a room that was alive. Long may dining rooms like this thrive and continue to provide people with a space to consume food, booze and hospitality in such a joyous way. 

It was a special night for us, and we hope for everyone who was there. 

Thanks to @chargieb , @cantontrish, @petea25 and the @cantonarms team for being total legends xx

Ps sorry for not getting any decent pics of the food! Was having too much fun.
  • We have all seen the videos. A chicken arrives. Five neat strokes of a knife. It falls apart as if by magic. That comes from thirty years at the block. Most of us do not have that.

So here is a slightly more Radio 4 approach.

A calm, sensible way to take a good chicken and break it down at home. Nothing flashy. Just understanding the joints, working with the bone, and giving each part the respect it deserves. When you do that, you open up a week (almost) of meals. Breasts cooked one way. Legs another. A carcass that becomes stock rather than waste. More on that to follow.

The only things you truly need are a great chicken and a proper knife. Ours is a beautiful honsuki knife kindly supplied by @kitchenprovisions and it does the job expertly. Sharp. Balanced. Delightful.

Watch along as @grylos talks it through.
  • 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.
  • Kindred spirits. Hot pans. Spiced mutton.
Swaledale x Canton Arms supper.
Wednesday 25 February.
To book email Thecantonarms@gmail.com

@cantonarms
  • Winter and its cold hands have us fully in a tight embrace right now. And so we find ourselves cooking more often than not, to warm our souls.

A ham at the weekend is one such thing that does the job. It can be used for all kinds of dishes and provide your weekdays with a plethora of fine sandwiches. But this fine cut also produces something else. An excellent, warming stock that should not be thrown away.

In fact, it should be used to make something just as special. A deep, hearty split pea and ham soup. And here is @grylos showing you how to do it. Like most things, if you cook with time and consideration, the by-product is often just as good as the main event.
  • 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.
  • 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!
British Pie Week, apparently.

We do not usually pay much attention to themed food weeks. We prefer to make and sell things when they feel right.

This year is different, thanks to our growing friendship with Yorkshire chef and pie obsessive Josh Whitehead, and his excellent pie project, Finer Pleasures.

Josh started @finer_pleasures in 2023 to make pies the way they should be made. Proper fillings, local meat and traditional methods.

So we thought we would join in.

The pie is a classic. Chicken, ham, leek and mushroom.

Brined chicken, smoked ham hock and a rich velouté finished with herbs, mustard and chestnut mushrooms or leeks.

A proper pie.

Available this week while they last.
British Pie Week, apparently.

We do not usually pay much attention to themed food weeks. We prefer to make and sell things when they feel right.

This year is different, thanks to our growing friendship with Yorkshire chef and pie obsessive Josh Whitehead, and his excellent pie project, Finer Pleasures.

Josh started @finer_pleasures in 2023 to make pies the way they should be made. Proper fillings, local meat and traditional methods.

So we thought we would join in.

The pie is a classic. Chicken, ham, leek and mushroom.

Brined chicken, smoked ham hock and a rich velouté finished with herbs, mustard and chestnut mushrooms or leeks.

A proper pie.

Available this week while they last.
British Pie Week, apparently.

We do not usually pay much attention to themed food weeks. We prefer to make and sell things when they feel right.

This year is different, thanks to our growing friendship with Yorkshire chef and pie obsessive Josh Whitehead, and his excellent pie project, Finer Pleasures.

Josh started @finer_pleasures in 2023 to make pies the way they should be made. Proper fillings, local meat and traditional methods.

So we thought we would join in.

The pie is a classic. Chicken, ham, leek and mushroom.

Brined chicken, smoked ham hock and a rich velouté finished with herbs, mustard and chestnut mushrooms or leeks.

A proper pie.

Available this week while they last.
British Pie Week, apparently. We do not usually pay much attention to themed food weeks. We prefer to make and sell things when they feel right. This year is different, thanks to our growing friendship with Yorkshire chef and pie obsessive Josh Whitehead, and his excellent pie project, Finer Pleasures. Josh started @finer_pleasures in 2023 to make pies the way they should be made. Proper fillings, local meat and traditional methods. So we thought we would join in. The pie is a classic. Chicken, ham, leek and mushroom. Brined chicken, smoked ham hock and a rich velouté finished with herbs, mustard and chestnut mushrooms or leeks. A proper pie. Available this week while they last.
16 hours ago
26
View on Instagram |
1/8
It’s easy to become disconnected with the restaurants and kitchens where our meat ends up being prepped, cooked and served. Whilst Instagram can give us a certain understanding of how the food looks; we all know that there is no substitute for experiencing it first-hand. And that is what we had the pleasure of doing this week at the Canton Arms. One of London’s great pubs and one of our oldest, most significant customers. We have been suppling them with exceptional meat since nearly the very beginning of the Swaledale journey. 

Last night was a moment to celebrate that relationship in all its glory; our meat and their cooking and outstanding hospitality coming together for what was a grand evening. We ate, we drank, we chatted in a room that was alive. Long may dining rooms like this thrive and continue to provide people with a space to consume food, booze and hospitality in such a joyous way. 

It was a special night for us, and we hope for everyone who was there. 

Thanks to @chargieb , @cantontrish, @petea25 and the @cantonarms team for being total legends xx

Ps sorry for not getting any decent pics of the food! Was having too much fun.
It’s easy to become disconnected with the restaurants and kitchens where our meat ends up being prepped, cooked and served. Whilst Instagram can give us a certain understanding of how the food looks; we all know that there is no substitute for experiencing it first-hand. And that is what we had the pleasure of doing this week at the Canton Arms. One of London’s great pubs and one of our oldest, most significant customers. We have been suppling them with exceptional meat since nearly the very beginning of the Swaledale journey. Last night was a moment to celebrate that relationship in all its glory; our meat and their cooking and outstanding hospitality coming together for what was a grand evening. We ate, we drank, we chatted in a room that was alive. Long may dining rooms like this thrive and continue to provide people with a space to consume food, booze and hospitality in such a joyous way. It was a special night for us, and we hope for everyone who was there. Thanks to @chargieb , @cantontrish, @petea25 and the @cantonarms team for being total legends xx Ps sorry for not getting any decent pics of the food! Was having too much fun.
7 days ago
1464
View on Instagram |
2/8
We have all seen the videos. A chicken arrives. Five neat strokes of a knife. It falls apart as if by magic. That comes from thirty years at the block. Most of us do not have that. So here is a slightly more Radio 4 approach. A calm, sensible way to take a good chicken and break it down at home. Nothing flashy. Just understanding the joints, working with the bone, and giving each part the respect it deserves. When you do that, you open up a week (almost) of meals. Breasts cooked one way. Legs another. A carcass that becomes stock rather than waste. More on that to follow. The only things you truly need are a great chicken and a proper knife. Ours is a beautiful honsuki knife kindly supplied by @kitchenprovisions and it does the job expertly. Sharp. Balanced. Delightful. Watch along as @grylos talks it through.
2 weeks ago
611
View on Instagram |
3/8
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.
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.
3 weeks ago
501
View on Instagram |
4/8
Kindred spirits. Hot pans. Spiced mutton. Swaledale x Canton Arms supper. Wednesday 25 February. To book email Thecantonarms@gmail.com @cantonarms
3 weeks ago
1526
View on Instagram |
5/8
Winter and its cold hands have us fully in a tight embrace right now. And so we find ourselves cooking more often than not, to warm our souls. A ham at the weekend is one such thing that does the job. It can be used for all kinds of dishes and provide your weekdays with a plethora of fine sandwiches. But this fine cut also produces something else. An excellent, warming stock that should not be thrown away. In fact, it should be used to make something just as special. A deep, hearty split pea and ham soup. And here is @grylos showing you how to do it. Like most things, if you cook with time and consideration, the by-product is often just as good as the main event.
4 weeks ago
14516
View on Instagram |
6/8
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.
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.
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.
1 month ago
472
View on Instagram |
7/8
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!
1 month ago
2585
View on Instagram |
8/8