A french bistro in your kitchen: Beef Steak Sausages with Green Peppercorn Sauce

As you may have realised, I’ve been working with L’Authentique Charcuterie for many weeks now. They make amazing sausages, pates and parfaits, which I am proud to be able to support. They value quality, ethical farming methods and traditional French charcuterie.

Their packaging and conversations with customers reinforce the need for quality, and treating their product with care. Direct quote about their Beef Steak Sausages: “You treat our sausages as if they were a fine cut of steak”

Which got me thinking – how do I treat a fine cut of steak? Or more importantly, how would the French treat it? In 1980?

I have always been a fan of a good green peppercorn sauce. It was a must on the menus of the French restaurants I worked in during the late 1980’s and early 90’s. It is delicious and deserves a resurgence.

And it matches surprisingly well with L’Authentique’s Beef Steak Sausages.

Serves 42017-06-09 09.57.39 v1

2 Tablespoons butter
1/4 cup shallots, finely chopped
1/4 cup brandy
1 cup good quality beef stock
1/2 cup cream
2 Tablespoons green peppercorns
6-8 L’Authentique Beef Steak Sausages (allow 1-2 per person, depending on hunger)

  1. In a small saucepan, heat the butter over a medium heat.
  2. Add the shallots and cook, stirring until soft (about 5 minutes)
  3. Add the brandy and bring to the boil, cooking until all the alcohol has burnt off
  4. Pour over beef stock, return to the boil, then reduce heat and simmer until liquid has reduced by half (about 10 minutes).
  5. Pour over cream, add peppercorns, return to the boil, then simmer until sauce has thickened (about 5 minutes)
  6. While sauce is cooking, cook the sausages as per the instructions on the pack (cook to medium rare, as with a piece of steak)
  7. Serve sausages with peppercorn sauce poured over the top, with crisp fried and salad or steamed beans. Bon appetit!

L’Authentique Time: Toulouse Sausages with Red Wine and Cabbage Lentils

This is one of my favourite ways to cook sausages. Well technically, the sausages are cooked the same way they often are – fried in a pan until golden and juicy. And since I’m using L’Authentique sausages, the quality cuts of meat they use mean their sausages should never be overcooked! I’m on pain of death if I dare to leave them a minute longer than I should.

It’s the lentil braise that makes this dish. Lardons of bacon, red wine, garlic, herbs, all cooked to perfection. And the addition of half a head of cabbage means you don’t need to fuss with extra vegetables. It’s all there on the plate.

If you really felt that you need more carbs, you could make like the French and serve this with a crusty baguette to soak up the juices.

Serves: 4-6

2 Tablespoons olive oil, plus extra for cooking sausages2017-05-24 11.35.34 v1
4 rashers streaky bacon, chopped into lardons
1 onion, finely chopped
1 carrot, finely diced
2 sticks celery, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 bay leaf, a sprig of thyme and parsley, tied together with string (bouquet garni)
1 1/2 cups puy lentils
2 cups red wine
1/2 green cabbage, finely sliced
2 Tablespoons sherry vinegar (or red wine vinegar)
10g butter
Extra parsley to garnish
8 L’Authentique Toulouse Sausages

  1. In a heavy based casserole dish, heat the olive oil. Add bacon and fry until crisp
  2. Reduce heat, add onions, carrots, celery and garlic. Cook slowly, stirring, until vegetables are soft.
  3. Add puy lentils, bouquet garni and red wine. Bring to the boil so alcohol evaporates, then add cabbage and stir to combine.
  4. Reduce heat, cover and cook for 30 minutes adding extra water if the lentils start to dry out (there should be sauce).
  5. While lentils are cooking, cook the sausages as per the instructions on the pack. Remove from pan and keep warm.
  6. Check that the lentils are cooked (they should be al dente). Add vinegar and butter, stir to combine and cook for another 5 minutes.
  7. Season to taste, then serve lentils with sauce, sausages piled on top.

Luganega Sausage Orecchiette with Broccoli

This recipe was inspired by my friend Charlotte’s lovely step-father Les, who makes a version of this as his signature dish. When he heard I was planning to make this, he even provided the Oricchiette pasta! Thanks Les x

It was a perfect excuse to try L’Authentique’s latest creation – an Italian Luganega pork sausage, with parmesan, fresh garlic and white wine. I tested some of the sausages at Farro yesterday for them, and we sold out in minutes! They’re that good.

If you can’t find Luganega, feel free to exchange for a good pork and fennel sausage instead.

Serves 6 generously

500g orecchiette pasta2017-05-19 09.12.45 v1
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 onion, chopped
500g Luganega sausage (approx 2 packs)
1 red capsicum, cut into small dice
1 cup chicken stock
1 head broccoli, cut into small florets
1/4 cup cream
1/2 cup parmesan, grated
1/2 cup fresh parsley, chopped
Salt/Pepper to taste

  1. Heat a large pot of salted water. When boiling, add the pasta and cook to the manufacturer’s instructions
  2. Meanwhile, in a large heavy based frying pan, heat the olive oil over a moderate heat. Add onion and cook, stirring, until onion is soft (about 5 minutes)
  3. Using a small sharp knife, split the sausage casing, and remove the sausage from the skins. Add the sausage meat to the pan, and cook, using a wooden spoon to break up.
  4. Add the chicken stock and capsicum, and cook for 5 minutes.
  5. Add the broccoli, stir to combine and cook for another 2 minutes
  6. Add the cream and parmesan and cook until the cheese has melted and combined
  7. Add parsley and season with salt and pepper to taste.
  8. Toss through the pasta and garnish with extra parsley and grated parmesan.

Harvest Chicken, L’Authentique Style

The first time I made a real Harvest Chicken, it was a Ray McVinnie recipe featured in Cuisine magazine I don’t even know how many years ago. The combination of flavours in my version remains the same – tomatoes, lemons, rosemary and chicken.

Although this time I’ve used L’Authentique Chicken and Bacon sausages. The flavours still work as they should, but the sausages make the process a little faster. I’ve also added potatoes to make this a one dish meal, that can go straight from oven to table.

Serves 4-6

4 potatoes, cut into 2cm chunks
½ cup olives
1 red onion, sliced
2 lemons, cut into wedges
2 sprigs fresh rosemary, leaves stripped from stem
4 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 cup chicken stock
1 punnet cherry tomatoes
12 L’Authentique chicken and bacon sausages
Salt and pepper to taste
Bunch of parsley, leaves finely chopped

  1. Heat oven to 200C
  2. In a large roasting dish, toss potatoes, olives, onion, lemons and rosemary with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Pour over chicken stock and roast in the oven for 25 minutes.
  3. Add cherry tomatoes and roast for another 10 minutes
  4. Lay sausages on top and roast for a final 7 minutes. If you want extra colour on your sausages, turn the oven to grill for the last 2-3 minutes.
  5. Remove from oven and season with salt and pepper to taste. Sprinkle over parsley and serve.

Sausage Simplicity: L’Authentique Chorizo and Prawns with Spicy Tomato Sauce

I have to fess up here: the highly talented Bunny Eats Design was the inspiration for this recipe and deserves credit. 2017-05-04 09.57.27 v1

This is a great recipe that Genie has developed, and I have messed with, as I do. It features L’Authentique Chorizo sausage, but if they don’t sell these where you live, any other good quality fresh chorizo would work equally well.

This is a super simple dinner to pull together, perfect for a week night family meal.



2017-05-04 11.00.07 v14 x L’Authentique Chorizo Sausages or 1 pack of French Grind, formed into approx. 25 small meatballs
2 Tablespoons olive oil
1 onion, diced
2 red capsicum, deseeded, chopped
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped or crushed
2 Teaspoons hot smoked paprika
440g can crushed tomatoes
20 cooked and peeled prawns
Bunch coriander or parsley, chopped
Salt/pepper to taste

  1. Heat oil in a frying pan. Cook sausages or meatballs until just cooked. Remove from pan and set aside. Slice sausages into 1cm pieces if using.
  2. Reheat pan over medium heat. Add onions and capsicum and cook for approximately 10 minutes or until onions are soft.
  3. Add garlic and paprika and cook for another minute.
  4. Pour over tomatoes and cook for another 5 minutes or until sauce has thickened slightly.
  5. Return sausages to the pan with prawns, and cook until heated through.
  6. Stir through coriander or parsley and season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve with rice or warmed crusty bread.

Silence in the face of adversity. With chorizo croquettes.

Last week I was chatting with a friend. The conversation turned to criticism of another friend of ours.

More specifically, a child of that friend.

As we kept talking, I found myself becoming more and more uncomfortable with the direction we were going in. I’m deliberately being light on detail, because what was being said was the kind of judgement you shouldn’t be passing on an adult, let alone a child. My discomfort was in a combination of the judgement, the age of the judgee, the lack of sympathy for and understanding of our mutual friend.

And that I didn’t push back.

Worse that that, I found myself retelling a couple of extra examples to support the outrageous accusations.

I kept quiet because I was afraid of losing a friend and I didn’t want to invite conflict.

This isn’t the only time this has happened, and this situation is most certainly not exclusive to me. I’ve watched many similar situations with friends and family where highly prejudicial or discriminatory stories are told, and no one says anything, because our reluctance to rock the boat outstrips our sense of outrage. We all sit quietly, seething on the inside, or looking around in embarrassment, hoping to God that no one else is listening in.

I wondered whether this is a cultural flaw. New Zealanders are inclined to say nothing in uncomfortable situations. We can make ill advised friendships last a lifetime, rather than standing up for what we believe in. And yet we’ve stood on the world stage in defiance of super powers. We protest against injustice. So I’m not sure it’s that.

I have no issue with pushing back on older members of my family when they come out with enormously inflammatory comments. I’ll vociferously castigate them for their outdated views on race, class and gender (or a combination of all three). Apparently I’m only tolerant of my friends’ prejudice.

It feels like a throwback to the school yard. To the days when you remained friends no matter what. I remember one friend who mercilessly picked on my younger sister. She was redirecting her own frustrations with being the youngest child on someone who was younger than her. I loved (and still love) my sister almost more than anyone else (now my children have taken that place), yet I could let someone who proved to be a short-term friend terrorise my only sibling. I’m not going to be too hard on myself here – I think I was about 9 or 10, but the example works for the narrative.

The only solution I think, is to honestly assess the state of the person you’re friends with. To question whether this was a one off, badly judged comment, or part of a long term pattern of opinions and behaviour. After all, we all have our moments when we speak without thinking. There’s a vast divide between a single foot-in-mouth incident, and a lifetime of bigotry.

If the gap between your standards and theirs is getting too wide, maybe it’s time to look for a new friend.

Makes 12

These croquettes were my favourite things to eat in Spain. They can be filled with 2017-04-13 10.38.15 v1.jpgserrano ham, salt cod or cheese, or chorizo sausage, as per my recipe below.

I made these for my family as a light dinner, served with a green salad. You could also serve these as a tapas plate, or as an entree.

1 pack L’Authentique chorizo sausages, casings removed
100ml olive oil
1/2 cup flour
600ml milk
1/4 cup chopped parsley
1 tsp salt
Pepper to taste
1/2 cup flour, for coating
2 eggs, beaten with 2 Tbsp water
1/2 cup breadcrumbs
Additional olive oil for frying

  1. Heat a non-stick frying pan. Cook chorizo, breaking up with a spoon, until browned and cooked through. Set aside.
  2. Heat a saucepan over a medium heat. Add olive oil. When heated, add flour and cook for approximately 2 minutes, stirring to combine.
  3. Gradually add milk, stirring briskly with a wooden spoon to avoid lumps. The sauce should be very thick and shiny.
  4. Stir in chorizo, parsley, salt and pepper.
  5. Refrigerate for an hour to set, or if you’re in a hurry, place in a freezer for 15 minutes.
  6. Prepare coating by placing flour, eggs and water, and breadcrumbs into separate bowls.
  7. With floured hands, form spoonfuls of the chorizo mix into small sausage shapes, about 6cm long and 3cm thick. Dredge in the flour, then egg, then breadcrumbs. Set aside on a large plate in a single layer.
  8. Heat extra olive oil, about 1cm deep, in a heavy based pan. Fry the croquettes until golden brown all over. If they are started to colour too quickly, reduce the heat. Set aside on kitchen towel to drain. Serve hot with home made mayonnaise if desired.

Don’t believe the hype. And spaghetti with a sausage, mushroom and cream sauce.

A few weeks ago some friends and I were having a discussion about why I’d left my job in advertising. Amongst the many positive reasons (stress reduction, life balance, a love of food), I explained that I was a “people pleaser”. My desire to please people meant that criticism of my work, justified or not, left me feeling devastated, made me feel that I was letting my employers and clients down. That I wasn’t good enough.

My friend rolled her eyes – “Stop believing your own narrative”, she said.

When I asked what she meant, she talked about how we create a narrative for ourselves that gives us an excuse to explain away difficult situations in our lives. How this narrative becomes our “get out of jail free card”. How it allows us to level the blame at anyone but ourselves.

Of course, I resented what she was saying enormously. How dare she! Doesn’t she know how tough it was for me? Doesn’t she know that my former employer was an industry renowned bully? That my clients were some of the most difficult in town? That I’m just a really nice person who doesn’t deserve to be treated like that….

So many excuses. And she was right. The reality is that the only person making me feel the way I did was me. No one else can be held responsible for my feelings. I’m the one who feels them. I’m the one who creates the way I respond. The narrative is the story we tell ourselves to justify our responses, to give ourselves a reason to never change the way we respond.

That’s not to say that there aren’t situations beyond our control. We can’t predict the future, we can’t control the way others will act, we can only control the way we react.

I have a friend who is continually busy. So busy. So overworked. So unappreciated. So overloaded. For many years, I listened to her many tales of hours worked, pressure applied, late nights and early mornings in the office, too many deadlines, impossible to meet. It was odd though – she moved to different companies and the pressure and long hours remained. No matter where she worked, she told the same story of unappreciative employers, pushing her to work to breaking.

The reality is that my friend is the common denominator. I have no doubt that her job was intense, that the role was demanding. But she has never tried to change it. She’s accepted this situation as her narrative. It gives her a story to tell, makes her a sympathetic figure, means that she never has to take responsibility for the place she finds herself in. There are other people performing the same role across her industry, without these issues. This is not a professional problem, this is her problem.

Conversely, I have a friend who is in a very demanding role, at an extremely senior level in the corporate world. I’ve never been brave enough to ask what she earns (a lot!). I know roughly the value of her role, the vast sums of money and people she’s responsible for. She transacts with governments and heads of industry all over the world. On any given day, she can be flying in or out of New York, Shanghai, London, Tokyo, Auckland or Sydney. On top of that, she has a husband and two very active children. And friends and family who like to see her when she’s able.

It would be easy for her to cry busy. To complain that her work is crushing down on her, to tell everyone she doesn’t have time to spend. To prioritise her work above all else. But she doesn’t. She sets boundaries. She works so hard, but she also accepts that she chose this life, she chose this work, she chose a family. She doesn’t let busy become her narrative. She defines her life, rather than letting life define her. It’s part of what has made her so successful in so many aspects of her life.

It’s not just work. We apply our narrative to our romantic lives, our financial situations, our children, our friendships. There are so many stories of people who have overcome extreme hardship, while so many others retreat into themselves, looking for someone else to blame. Their parents, their ex-husbands, the government, a religious minority, a different ethnicity.

Two similar situations, two different responses. Another friend has now filled the role I previously held. Where I found the criticism crippling, she takes on board constructive criticism and makes the appropriate changes. She lets unjustified criticism fall off her, or fights to dispel it, if it’s important enough. While there are aspects of the role she doesn’t like (no role is perfect), she is thriving, where I was withered by my own narrative.

Our success in life is not the situations we find ourselves in. It’s how we react to those situations.

I am trying hard not to take every piece of criticism leveled at me as a personal attack. I’m trying less hard to please others, and am pushing back where I think it’s justified. I’m changing my narrative from being the woman who worked for a mean boss and a tough client, to being the woman who’s learnt a lot from her years in advertising and had some good times and some bad. And who’s really happy with the way her new life is going.


Serves 4

250g spaghetti, cooked to manufacturer’s instructions
2 Tbsp olive oil
450g L’Authentique Pork and Fennel or Toulouse Sausages (casings removed) or French Grind
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 Tbsp fresh rosemary, finely chopped
1/4 cup white wine
1 cup cream
200g mushrooms, sliced
3 handfuls fresh spinach leaves
1/4 cup fresh parsley leaves, roughly chopped
salt/pepper to season

  1. Heat olive oil in a deep sided frying pan.
  2. Add sausage and cook, breaking up with a spoon until lightly browned. Remove from pan and set aside.
  3. Reheat pan, and add garlic and rosemary. Cook until garlic is soft and fragrant. Be careful not to brown.
  4. Pour over white wine and allow to bubble up.
  5. Add cream and mushrooms, and cook until sauce is reduced by a third and starting to thicken.
  6. Return sausage to the pan, and stir through spinach and parsley.
  7. Season to taste with salt and pepper and serve with hot spaghetti. Garnish with extra chopped parsley if desired.


Sausage wrapped in pastry. What’s not to love?

Sausage rolls are a New Zealand culinary icon. Kind of. Maybe a dodgy bakery icon, when you’re really hungry (or hung over) and that’s the only thing left in the pie warmer. Often a bit greasy, packed with fillers and non-descript meat, then smothered in red sauce.

I know. I’m really selling this concept.

Sausage rolls don’t have to be like that. If you don’t want to make them yourself, you could give I Love Pies sausage rolls a go. They come ready to cook from frozen, in three flavours, beef, lamb and rosemary, and feta and spinach. They’re made from quality meat, fresh herbs and no nasties. And they’re really good.

However, sausage rolls are ridiculously straightforward to make. Worst case scenario, you buy some of your favourite sausages, the best quality you can afford, take them out of their cases, wrap them in pastry and bake. This is a great option, as there are some wonderful sausages available these days, filler free, with all the herbs and spices you need, ready to go.

But if you’re really keen, you can make the mince filling to your own taste. This can be a bit of a challenge. It’s not like you’ll be trying raw mince meat to make sure the flavours are right, so you’ll have to wait until the rolls are cooked. Which can mean a lot of work for little return. Luckily for you, I’ve already been through this palava, so I can pass a couple of recipes on.

I’ve given you both options – the easy, and the not so much. Either way, they’re delicious, quick to make, and a country mile better than the dodgy bakery down the road.


2016-08-18 18.10.02.jpgOption 1: Using pre-made sausages

8 pre-made quality sausages of your choice (I used L’Authentique Toulouse)
2 sheets of pre-rolled puff pastry
1 egg beaten

  1. Pre-heat the oven to 200°C
  2. Line a large baking tray with tin-foil
  3. Remove skins from the sausages (try and maintain their shape – it’s easier than reshaping)
  4. Cut each pastry sheet in half
  5. Lay two sausages end to end lengthwise across the pastry sheet
  6. Roll pastry around sausage meat and brush edge with beaten egg to seal
  7. Slice to the size you like (I cut mine into quarters), score the pastry diagonally with a knife, and brush the tops with beaten egg.
  8. Bake in the oven for 20 minutes or until pastry is puffed and golden


Option 2: Make your own sausage mince

There’s a couple of options here:

  1. Asian chicken sausage rolls
  2. Pork and fennel sausage rolls

The Asian chicken sausage rolls are inspired by Al Brown‘s Japanese Chicken Burger recipe, from his book Stoked. But I’ve messed with them somewhat for this purpose.


500g chicken mince
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1 teaspoon minced ginger
1 spring onion, finely chopped
1 tablespoon pickled ginger (pink) finely chopped
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon sesame oil
2 teaspoons sea salt
1/2 cup panko breadcrumbs
2 x sheets ready rolled flakey pastry (each sheet makes two large rolls)
1 x egg, lightly beaten
Sesame seeds to garnish

  1. Mix together all ingredients, except pastry, egg and sesame seeds
  2. Place 1 quarter of the mixture along one edge of the pastry and roll
  3. Seal by brushing with egg, cut unused half of pastry off and repeat
  4. Cut each large roll into halves.
  5. Brush tops with beaten egg and sprinkle with sesame seeds
  6. Bake at 200°C for 20 minutes



2 tablespoons olive oil
1 x onion finely diced
500g free range pork mince
1 Tbsp fennel seeds, toasted and ground in a mortar and pestle
2 x tablespoons fresh rosemary leaves, finely chopped
1/4 cup breadcrumbs
2 x sheets ready rolled flakey pastry (each sheet makes two large rolls)
1 x egg, lightly beaten

  1. Heat oil and cook onion and rosemary until soft. Cool
  2. Mix together onion mixture, sausage, fennel seeds and breadcrumbs. Season with salt and pepper
  3. Roll into sausage shape and lay out onto pastry
  4. Roll into tube and seal with beaten egg (Each sheet of pastry should make two large rolls)
  5. Cut each roll into halves
  6. Brush top with beaten egg
  7. Bake at 200°C for 20 minutes or until pastry is puffed and golden