Whereas we love the offal of lambs and young calves, the stronger flavours – and tougher tissues – of that of their parents finds less favour. It was probably ever thus. These umbles kept their Anglo-Saxon nomenclature – “ox” liver, heart or kidney remains in parlance today – while all the prime cuts quickly adopted the Norman “beef”, since the invading upper class had no interest in them. Even now, only a few enterprising chefs (notably my pal Jeremy Lee at Quo Vadis) attempt to cook ox liver in favour of the perennially popular calf’s liver.
The exception to the rule is, of course, when ox kidney is braised with stewing beef, whether in a pudding or a pie. The use of the word “steak” in this context is somewhat anachronistic as these days we tend to use robust braising beef, whereas historic recipes often prescribe rump steak. In deference to popular squeamishness, pies are often made with steak but with the kidney replaced by mushrooms or other less challenging ingredients. This is a terrible mistake in my view: all the very savoury character of the singular marriage of the lean meat and the offal is completely lost. Happily, those who embark on the more interesting route of making a proper suet pudding are not so easily daunted.
Traditionally, the meat in a suet pudding was cooked in the pudding and not before, and would take a good few hours. I am too much of a coward to trust to nature and I certainly would not attempt the exercise with a meat as unyielding but flavoursome as shin of beef. I also take the view that the kidney does not benefit from too long a cooking time. Either way, a good steak and kidney pudding is a thing of joy and a very British response to a wet and dismal February.