My home is not, and never has been, in the UK, but working on my latest book, The British Table, and cooking a lot of the traditional British recipes in it, I realised that the most evocative thing for me was mince and tatties. It’s something I’ve eaten, and cooked, in various ways, my whole life.

My first trip to the UK was in 1966/ 1967. I was living in LA and went to Manchester to meet my English girlfriend’s parents. That was my first taste of England. I broke up with that girlfriend, but made other friends, and kept going back. A lot of the food I encountered around that time was pretty grim, but at some point I came across mince and tatties and it appealed to me. From the time I was a kid, if you’d given me the choice between mince or steak, I’d always have gone for the former.

My mother was a terrible cook. I feel awful saying it, but it’s true. My first memory of ground beef would be her spaghetti bolognese: cooked without much flavouring – she was radically opposed to onions or garlic – a can of corn dumped in, followed by some overcooked spaghetti. It wasn’t bad; it was certainly better than other things she tried to cook. I was 15 years old when I realised that a hunk of roast beef didn’t have to be grey inside – that’s just how she’d always cooked it.

Since I started cooking for myself at 18, some version of this has gone with me from home to home. If you have a few leftover veg, you chop it up very finely and throw it in. The last time I was in London, I had a particularly good mince at the Quality Chop House. I would happily go back there exclusively for that one dish. I wish I could have it for lunch today.

Despite her limitations in the kitchen my mother had three beautiful cast-iron skillets that nested neatly into one other. I inherited them, and I use them still. They were not new when I was a child, and I’m 71 now, so they’re at least 75 years old. They’re flaking away and I wonder if I might not wear right through the bottoms of them.. I use them in the oven, on the hob, the barbecue, the grill. If I’m at home, I use one, if not all three, every day. And one of my daughters will no doubt be using them for the next 50 years. Without question, they are the one thing I would grab if there were a fire. They are perfect to make mince in.

Mince and tatties

There’s a famous poem about this definitive Scottish comfort dish by JK Annand that promises that if you: “mash and mix the tatties / Wi mince into the mashin / And sic a tasty denner / Will aye be voted ‘Smashin!’” I like a Scottish street rhyme, collected on electricscotland.com, even better: It warns “You canna shove your granny off a bus (x2) / You canna shove your granny,/ Cause she makes your mince ‘n’ tatties ...” In her book Broths to Bannocks, Catherine Brown notes that: “The best steak, cut from the rump and minced by the butcher, is how many Scottish housewives buy mince.” This is an adaptation of her recipe.

Serves 4
1 tbsp stoneground Scottish oats
2 tbsp corn or rapeseed oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
450g ground beef
1 large carrot, thinly sliced
115g black pudding, skin removed (optional)
Salt and black pepper

1 Toast the oats in a small dry frying pan over medium-high heat, shaking the pan often, until they turn golden brown – about 5 minutes. Set aside.

2 Put the oil in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring frequently, until it browns – 10‑12 minutes. Push it to one side of the pan, then add the ground beef.

3 Cook the beef, breaking it into small pieces and stirring with a wooden spoon, until it is well browned – 12-15 minutes. Mix in the onions.

4 Add the carrot and the toasted oats, stirring them in well, then add the black pudding (if using), breaking it up so that it mixes in well. Add enough water to just cover the ingredients, then season generously, reduce the heat to low, and simmer for about 15 minutes, or until the carrots are soft. The finished mince should have the consistency of a thick stew. Serve with the mashed potatoes on the side.

Tatties (mashed potatoes)

“Mash” is a common accompaniment around Great Britain for simply cooked meats, sausages (as in the iconic bangers and mash), and sometimes sauced dishes. Some cooks peel and halve or quarter their potatoes, then boil them in salted water before mashing, but in my experience, the potatoes have better flavour and are less watery if you steam them in their jackets.

Serves 4-6
900g (5 or 6 medium) russet potatoes, unpeeled, scrubbed
240ml double cream
115g butter, softened
Salt and pepper

1 Put the potatoes into a pot large enough to hold them in a single layer and fill the pot halfway with cold water. Cover the pot and bring the water to a boil over high heat. When the water begins to boil, carefully drain off all but about 1cm of it, then return the pot to the heat, cover, reduce the heat to low, and let the potatoes steam until tender, about 40 minutes. Add a little more water if the pot begins to go dry. Reserve 2 tablespoons of the cooking water, then transfer the potatoes to a bowl, cover them with a clean dish cloth, and set them aside for 15 minutes to cool slightly.

2 Meanwhile, put the cream, butter and reserved cooking water into a small pot and bring the mixture to a simmer over a medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to low and simmer until the potatoes have cooled.

3 Drain and carefully slip the peel off the potatoes, then return them to the large pot and mash them well while slowly pouring in the cream mixture. Generously season the potatoes with salt and pepper, then whisk them vigorously with a large whisk to dissolve any large lumps – the potatoes will not be completely smooth.

The British Table: A New Look at the Traditional Cooking of England, Scotland and Wales by Colman Andrews, is published by Abrams, £30