Come muse and sing of mash and of dark green cabbage. Tell of their their divine union, tossed together by man’s blind hand, stirred by fate and burnished gold by the terrible heat of the Pan. Sing dear muse of this sweet ambrosia: sing dear muse of bubble-and-squeak!
Cheap, quick, versatile and unutterably delicious; how can anyone not love bubble-and-squeak? Even if you had never tasted it, you would know that nothing so beguilingly named could be anything less than divine. My first encounter with The Squeak was in The Wind in the Willows where Mr Toad (to this day my template for manhood) was brought a steaming plateful by the jailor’s charitable daughter, keen to see him snap out of the black depression he had fallen into.
Mr Toad, the rascal, loved a bit of bubble and squeak.
"It was bubble-and-squeak, between two plates, and its fragrance filled the narrow cell. The penetrating smell of cabbage reached the nose of Toad as he lay prostrate in his misery on the floor, and gave him the idea, for a moment, that perhaps life was not such a blank and desperate thing as he had imagined".
What was this mysterious preparation? Whatever it was I knew it was for me, and, after a week of pestering, I found myself tucking into a piping hot plateful of buttery goodness. A love affair had begun.
At its simplest and most frugal bubble-and-squeak is nothing more than roughly equal quantities of leftover cooked cabbage and potato fried together in some good fat. This basic squeak can then be elaborated upon in myriad ways. A little onion, cooked till golden and sweet, can (and should, in my opinion) be added to the mix, as can fresh or dried herbs or some crisp lardons. Other leftover veg can be added, though I would never bother unless they were otherwise going to go to waste. Carrots, leeks, roasted parsnips and spinach have all made enjoyable, but by no means essential, appearances in my squeaks. How much or little you add to your squeak should be determined by what you want to serve it with.
For two people start by sweating a thinly sliced onion till totally soft and lightly coloured. In a mixing bowl loosely combine equal quantities of chopped cooked green cabbage (or kale, broccoli etc) from which you have squeezed all the excess water and whatever cooked potatoes you happen to have. There’s no reason you can’t cook the veg fresh, but if you do, allow them to cool slightly before mixing. If the potato isn’t mashed then break it up a little with your fingers, but don’t feel the need to mash it – lumpier spuds seem more at home in a squeak than smooth pureed ones. Season the veg generously with freshly ground salt and pepper and mix in your golden onions.
Melt a generous amount of butter, dripping or olive oil in a non-stick pan and allow it to get good and hot. The choice of fat is up to you – each will lend a slightly different character to the dish, none is without its merits. Keeping the heat fairly high, dump the veg mixture into the hot fat and press it down so it forms an even layer.
Now the heart of a truly splendid squeak is its golden crust. If you crave the crust you need to leave well alone once it goes in the pan. Don’t go prodding and teasing it like some ant-in-his-pants wok master; leave it alone, trust it, it knows what its doing. But beware! Whilst an impatient squeak chef will be punished for their haste with a limp and anemic offering, the overly laid back will soon discover the singular unpaletteability of burnt brassicas. Patience and vigilance should be the watchwords of any pupil of the squeak.
A wok master at work - Not the way to make a good squeak
After about 3 minutes tentatively lift an edge of the squeak with a spatula and take a peek at the underside. Is it crisp and golden, with patches of honeyed chestnut brown? If so, then turn it over as best you can. If not, then wait another minute or two before turning. Once turned, cook for a couple more minutes until piping hot right through. Your squeak is ready to devour!
If you’re lucky enough to have some gravy kicking about you can comfortably make a meal of just the squeak. Otherwise, you will almost certainly want an accompanying egg or two, poached or fried, the choice is yours. Tomato ketchup is, in the absence of gravy, also an essential (though roasted or tinned tomatoes are just as good). What? You demand a little meat? Then throw some crisp bacon or glossy sossies into the equation, or, better still, some left over baked or boiled ham. Now that’s good eatin’!
One last thing. If you really fancy something utterly savoury, then add some little cubes of cheese (any variety) to the original mixture. This tasty treat makes a truly memorable dinner when accompanied by some cooked tomatoes (roasted/grilled/tinned) that have had a brief flirtation with some crumbled dried chilli.
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