Why throw away the best bit? Slow heat and time do the work.
Veal cheeks are muscle that works hard—packed with collagen that breaks down into silken gelatin. Spring morels and wild garlic from the edges of London's parks turn a humble braise into something that tastes like the season itself. I learned this from a French cook in Brixton who treated offal like it owed her money. It doesn't.
Pat the veal cheeks dry with paper towel—they'll sear better. Trim any sinew or ragged fat. Season both sides well with salt and pepper. Let them sit for 10 minutes while the pan heats.
Heat 30ml oil in a heavy pot over medium-high heat until it shimmers. Working in batches so you don't crowd the pan, sear each cheek for 3–4 minutes per side until they've got a deep golden crust. Don't move them—let the heat do the work. Set aside on a plate.
In the same pot, sauté the morels (cleaned, halved if large) with a pinch of salt for 4 minutes until they release their moisture and start to colour. Add half the wild garlic (chopped roughly) and cook for another minute. Return the cheeks to the pot, nestling them among the mushrooms, and pour in the stock. Bring to a gentle simmer, then cover and slide into a 160°C oven for 2.5 hours. The meat should be tender enough to cut with a spoon.
While the braise goes, boil the potatoes in salted water until they fall apart—about 20 minutes. Drain, then pass through a fine sieve into a warm bowl. Fold in the butter and a splash of the cooking water until you've got a silky purée. Taste, season. If you like, fold through a handful of the raw, finely sliced wild garlic for a fresh edge.
Lift the veal cheeks onto a warm plate. Strain the braising liquor through a fine sieve, pressing the morels gently to extract their goodness. Skim any excess fat, then pour the liquor back into the pot and simmer for 5 minutes to concentrate the flavour. Taste, season. Stir through the remaining raw wild garlic at the last second—it'll perfume everything without cooking into submission.
“Spoon a generous dollop of warm purée into the centre of a wide bowl. Lay one veal cheek on top, lean it slightly so you see the grain. Scatter the morels around, then pour the glossy braise liquor over and around. A few shards of fresh wild garlic on top, a crack of pepper. It should look abundant, not fussy. This is a plate that says 'we're eating properly.'”
First bite: the veal's rich umami, almost sweet, giving way to the velvety paste of the purée. The morels bring a mineral earthiness—real funk. The wild garlic's musky heat cuts through the richness like a bell going off. By the last spoonful, you're chasing the sauce with your spoon. Proper cooking.
Swap the veal cheeks for 800g of king oyster mushrooms, halved lengthwise, treated the same: seared hard until golden, then braised in vegetable stock with the morels and wild garlic for 90 minutes. The oyster mushroom's meaty texture and umami-rich caramelisation mimic the veal's depth without pretending to be something it's not. Everything else—morels, wild garlic, the potato purée, the glossy sauce—stays exactly the same. You'll end up with a dish that's different but equally honest.
Low tannin, bright acidity, earthy undertones—it won't fight the offal or the morels; it'll fold right in.
Sharper, fresher—cuts the richness, echoes the wild garlic's brightness.
Roasted notes play with the seared meat; enough body to stand up to the braise without bullying it.
The tannins and slight bitterness mirror wine's grip. Pour it proper, no milk.
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