David Beckham and Tom Parker Bowles whip up one of the guest editor's favourite childhood meals

'There’s something so nostalgic about mashed potato, liver, bacon and lots of gravy,’ notes Sir David Beckham, between bites of his favourite recipe. ‘It’s one of those British comfort classics that my mum used to make for me and was also my granddad’s favourite dish. It’s not to all tastes,’ he smiles. ‘Two of my kids love liver, the other two hate it. But for me, there’s something very special about it.’

Cooking is in David’s blood. ‘My mum, Sandra, is a great cook and this is her recipe,’ he reveals, as he piles buttery mashed potato onto a delicate sliver of pink liver. ‘She taught me how to cook and my love of cooking comes from her. My gran was also a great cook, and it was always a treat going down to the pie and mash shop in Chapel Market.’ He adds, eyes agleam: ‘If I had to choose my last meal, it would be pie, mash, liquor and jellied eels.’

At home, David does all the cooking. He may be one of the most famous people alive, but he’s warm, eloquent and refreshingly down to earth. He’s also completely obsessed with food, a man who really knows his Roscoffs. Over lunch, conversation ranges from the joys of ex-dairy Galician beef (‘that fat and depth of flavour’), via his love of his vegetable garden and bees (‘out of everything we’ve created in the country, honey is the most rewarding’) to his passionate support for British farming. ‘I’ve always championed British food and products, wherever I’ve been in the world,’ he attests. ‘When you spend a certain amount of time in the country, you see the struggle of the local farmers, of farmers in general.’

We talk about his time at Manchester United, when ‘diet was really not important. Every day we had steak and chips, followed by either jam roly-poly or chocolate sponge’. Things are rather different these days, which is, he admits, ‘good for the game’. His first dates with Victoria took place at The French, in Manchester, ‘the poshest place I’d ever been to’. At that point, he admits he had ‘no idea’ about food or wine, save that ‘I liked good food and wine’. They always ordered a bottle of Champagne and a bottle of red. ‘I bought the most expensive bottle of wine simply because I assumed that’s what was best.’ He grins. He’s now a serious collector of serious claret and knows his Petrus from his Palmer. ‘I buy wine I like to drink, not sell,’ he says firmly.

The Sunday roast is a Beckham family institution. ‘Wherever we are in the world, we have a Sunday roast. It was a big thing as a kid and with my kids — the time where we sit down and eat together. They all laugh at me, because I pile my plate so high.’ He’s equally obsessed with his barbecue. ‘I’m in charge, although there’s a bit of competition now from my sons, as they all love to barbecue. Especially Cruz. He barbecues in sun and rain alike. The problem is, he’s bloody good.’

In Oxfordshire, the Beckhams spend ‘a lot of time’ in their tented outdoor barbecue WildKitchen, which was designed by his friend Guy Ritchie. ‘Victoria will say: “Do we have to go to the tent again?” She knows, once we’re in the tent, we don’t leave the tent.’ He has ‘a few beers, then the wine comes out and the kids come over and we end up spending the whole day there. That’s what we love doing as a family’. Family and food are the two non-negotiables in his life. In London, the Beckhams don’t eat out much — ‘I rarely go to places I’ve never been’ — although he cites Dorian and Core as two favourites in Notting Hill. ‘We cook at home most of the time.’

David, as you might imagine, travels a lot, but, as ever, family and food come first. ‘Work trips are built around the restaurants I want to go to. It’s really important for me to have the evenings where I can go and have a nice meal with my family or my team.’ His tastes are certainly adventurous. ‘My career has opened up my eyes to different cultures and foods.’ Including percebes (goose-neck barnacles) and angulas (elvers) in Spain, and something that resembled ‘a grilled marshmallow’, prepared by his favourite chef in Japan. ‘It was puffer-fish sperm,’ he says, casually. ‘And tasted amazing. I try everything.’

Everything, save parsnips. ‘I’m not too keen on parsnips.’ On that bombshell, Sir David, after thanking everyone profusely, leaves the room. Not only a football icon, but also a gardener, griller, gastro-geek and cook. And a brand new British food hero, too

Ingredients

Serves 2–3
For the potatoes

• 600g mashing potatoes, peeled and halved
• 250ml whole milk
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 sprig thyme
• 2 garlic cloves, lightly crushed
• 1 shallot, halved
• 10 peppercorns
• 75g cold butter, cubed (or more for extra richness)
• Salt

For the liver

• 400–500g calf’s liver, sliced about 1cm thick
• 8 rashers streaky bacon, cut into strips
• 1tbsp olive oil
• 6–8 fresh sage leaves
• 2tbsp butter (plus extra knobs for finishing)
• 1 shallot, finely sliced
• 60ml white wine, or Marsala for a richer sauce
• 100ml chicken stock (or Bisto granules, as Sandra would do)
• 1tbsp wholegrain mustard
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• Lemon zest and juice, to finish

Method

1. To make the creamy herb mashed potatoes, place the peeled, halved potatoes in a pot of cold, lightly salted water. Bring to the boil and simmer until tender.
2. Meanwhile, heat the milk in a small saucepan with the bay leaf, thyme, garlic cloves, shallot and peppercorns. Bring just to the boil, then remove from the heat, cover and allow flavours to infuse.
3. Drain the cooked potatoes and pass them through a sieve or ricer for a silky texture. Strain the infused milk and gradually beat it into the potatoes until smooth. Stir in the cubed cold butter until fully incorporated. Keep warm until serving.

4. Preheat a large frying pan over high heat. Season the liver slices with salt and pepper, and dip in flour.
5. Cook the bacon until crisp and set aside.
6. Add the olive oil and sear the liver for 1½ minutes on the first side until golden.
7. Flip the liver and, a few seconds later, add the sage leaves. Cook the second side for no longer than 1½ minutes to maintain a pink, tender centre.
8. Reduce the heat slightly, add a knob of butter and baste the liver for the final 20 seconds. Remove the liver to a warm plate, add the cooked bacon and pour over the pan juices.

9. Return the pan to medium heat and add the finely sliced shallot with a little more butter. Cook gently for 1–2 minutes until softened.
10. Increase the heat, deglaze the pan with white wine, and reduce slightly. Add the chicken stock and reduce again to a sauce consistency.
11. Whisk in a few extra knobs of butter and the tablespoon of wholegrain mustard. Taste and adjust seasoning — the bacon adds saltiness, so balance with a squeeze of lemon juice or a dash of white-wine vinegar if desired.
12. To serve, spoon the mash onto warm plates. Carve the liver into slices and arrange on top, then scatter the crispy bacon and sage. Spoon the mustard sauce around and over the liver. Finish with a light zesting of lemon and a touch of juice.

This article originally appeared in the October 22 issue of Country Life. For more information on how to subscribe, click here