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The cut: tripe
The dish Tripe and onions
As we at Time Out have learned over the past few months’ worth of beef recipes, there are two things that a cow’s carcass provides in abundance: stewing steak, and puns. The name of this column was just one example of an entire book’s worth of bovine wordplay, many so contrived they would make Denis Norden groan. So it really shouldn’t surprise you if we say that you’ll really need the stomach for this next recipe.

You’ll need a hefty lump of white honeycomb tripe, ripped from the second stomach (or reticulum) of an ox. Now, even as a confirmed meat eater, and having previously enthusiastically hacked up our cow’s heart and made it into kebabs, I find tripe is not a pleasant ingredient to handle. It’s greyish with a hint of brown, it smells and in general it looks like the kind of thing a special-effects artist might have to hand
in the days before CGI. Feature continues

You’ll need to find a quality butcher and order it in advance – although, like all offal, this is a traditional, cheap off-cut from the animal, you won’t find tripe in Lidl next to the barbecue-ready burgers. It needs to be clean before you can use it – thankfully, the Ginger Pig does this meticulously. If you’re still nervous, you can put it in boiling water for a few minutes and then rinse it.

There are many different ways to cook this type of offal – in Bulgaria and Romania you’ll find tripe stew, the Philippines has crispy fried tripe, and the Catalans (predictably) managed to get it into a sausage. The British way, however, is tripe and onions – a wholesome dish that, if you can get past your squeamishness, definitely qualifies as comfort food.

We used a simple Fergus Henderson recipe (always a good source if you’re working with these kinds of ingredients), cooking the tripe in milk with a scattering of blade mace for added pep.

Take a deep breath, and tuck in. It’s surprisingly mild (we added plenty of seasoning at the end), with a soft texture that takes some getting used to, but ultimately feels indulgent.

It’s unlikely that ox reticulum will become one of your dinner party standards, but it’s well worth trying it at least once. Alan Rutter

How to cook it
Place three chopped onions, a litre of milk and a pinch of blade mace into a large pot, bring to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for 20 minutes. Add the tripe (cut into 4cm x 11cm strips) and lightly season (you can add more later). Bring back to a gentle boil, then reduce again to a simmer for 45 minutes to an hour. Be careful not to cook it for too long – it melts, so prod it occasionally with a knife to check it still retains a bit of resistance. In another pan, melt 150g of unsalted butter and stir in 200g of plain flour to make a roux. Heat until it smells biscuity, then add a bit of cooking liquor from the tripe pan, and stir again vigorously until well mixed and smooth. Stir the mixture into the pan with the tripe, then simmer for 15 minutes, season again, then pile on to a plate and serve with mash.