
It changes your attitude, somewhat, to the fish you're eating when you know the name of the fisherman who caught it. Joe caught my bass, out on the stormy seas while I was pottering around my warm kitchen with a cup of tea that didn't throw itself across the room every ten seconds as the house hit a wave That adds a whole new level of respect as I place the fish in the hot pan.
The crew of the day boat 'Le Belhara', owned by Chris Veasey, fish out of Eastbourne, and the catch makes its way to Veasey and Sons Fishmonger, in Forest Row, East Sussex, about 30 miles from the coast. Chris opened the shop, housed in a former butcher's, with son-in-law Dan Howes eight years ago after success at the East Grinstead Farmers' Market. 
While the day boat sails from Eastbourne, Dan and his colleagues staff the bright, yet cosy feeling shop on the narrow road that leads out of the village to Hartfield. An elderly man and lady whom I assume to be his wife by the way they argue, looks at me standing over the mussels and says "We're very fortunate to have this fishmongers in the village." I nod back and mumble something about my good luck that they are at the market every Saturday where I live.
I first discovered them when they started their crushed ice-laden fish stall at the Crystal Palace food market four years ago and finally got round to visiting them last week. They now have ten market stalls every week as well as the shop and are spreading their passion for quality fish wherever they go. 
It's a privilege to be able to buy such good fresh fish minutes from my house in London on a Saturday morning. One of my great disappointments in life is how much of our amazing seafood gets exported. But that's because The Europeans seem to respect fish more, it's more part of their daily diet than here, where we stretch mainly to cod and chips on a Friday or fish fingers for the children. Fish and chips is all very well, but the chips must be hot, salty and spiky with vinegar, the sea should be no more than 15 metres away while you eat them and the weather should be blustery. 
But it's more a state of mind than a meal. In reality that state of mind often becomes a state of disappointment, apart from the very occasional highlight at places such as Lewis' fish shop in very fishy town of Newlyn where it was so good we went a few times on our summer holidays last year. 
Sadly, the price of fish is often serious injury or lives lost at sea, Dan explains as he shows me an x-ray from one of the fishermen's hands after an accident with a winch. Bones crushed and crunched out of shape, finger joints at right-angles, like a particularly gruesome skeleton pianist from a travelling horror show. 
The cod is particularly good at the moment, Dan tells me as I eye what to buy. Bass, sitting firm on it's bed of sparkling ice crystals as if in a giant jewellery box has to come home with me, it looks too good to resist. I also take a meaty cod loin which a day later is shared with the family in a fish molee, rich with coconut sauce, onion and the hint of cinnamon, cardamon and clove. I'm generous like that. Home made fish cakes also fall into my bag, a quick supper for when we've been out all day.
And last, I also ask for a bag of mussels, which, coincidentally, was the nickname I always wanted. A few large handfuls go in, they clack and knock together as they slip into the bag, looking like shiny black pebbles on the beach as the waves ebb away.
The bass will be dusted in flour and cooked in darkening butter. A squeeze of lemon may be enough, but I'm always a fan of salsa verde or a herb-laced olive oil. One of the best things about fish is that you can have supper on the table in about ten minutes if you get yourself together. The molee I made was ready in the time it took for the rice to cook, and the mussels, which I had for lunch today were ready in less than five. You can't even get fast food that fast. Just remember where it came from as you enjoy it.
Mussels with miso and n'duja broth
Ingredients for two people
A bag of spanking fresh mussels (these keep in the fridge for up to a week if looked after)
2tbsp white miso paste
2tbsp n'duja
500ml hot water
1 shallot or small onion, very finely diced
1 clove of garlic, grated or crushed
A large splash of verjus to steam the mussels (white wine or water as an alternative; I prefer verjus which keeps better and is more interesting than the leftovers of some bad supermarket wine)
Olive oil
Salt to season
Method
Heat a heavy, lidded saucepan and add the verjus followed by the mussels. Put the lid on and steam until they have opened, this should only take a couple of minutes. Remove from the heat. 
Meanwhile, sauté the shallots and garlic in a little olive oil until soft, season well. Add the miso and n'duja and a splash of hot water and mix well to a creamy paste. Add the rest of the water, mix well and bring to just below the boil. Remove from the heat and pour into the mussel pan. Stir gently and serve straight away. Possibly with some crusty baguette if you fancy.






 
             I bought a bird feeder from the hardware superstore the other day. Along with a new huge barbecue and quite a few other things you're allowed when you graduate from Dad school.Except it seems to be badly calibrated. In this part of South east London it seems the only birds it attracts are squirrels. And three very shifty looking pigeons. And while I may proudly wear a 'For the many' lapel badge on my jacket, in this situation I am taking a hardline stance on scroungers and layabout animals wanting something for nothing. I threw a tennis ball in their general direction earlier and they retreated to a safe distance, eyeing me with beady contempt.But while the level of seeds and nuts dimishes quicker than my enthusiasm for the new season's hot weather after two days of sneezing my face off, my excitement at the garden grows daily as new things pop out here and there, seemingly overnight. Violets and forget-me-nots appeared from the garden's edge like a very slow jack-in-the-box and the tulips opened wider than I thought possible to soak up the strong, bright sunlight shining constantly on the borders.We cooked outside for the first time this year. In April. Which surely is unheard of. I over-catered in my excitement. Chicken, slender sausages, langoustines with garlic butter, burgers, lamb chops marinated in harissa, za'atar, cumin and rosemary, flatbreads, charring in parts until the edges shatter when you tap them. I roasted aubergines on the coals until soft and blackened then mashed them with olive oil, plenty of garlic and some more cumin and we sat outside stuffing our faces in the late afternoon warmth.After a weekend of overeating and behaving as if we were battery chickens busted out into the freedom of the garden, Monday night called for a calmer supper.I made this tom kha, trying to recreate the one from our local Thai restaurant. And while not quite the same as theirs -- I have a feeling they may lace it with sugar -- it was fresh tasting, spicy (but with a nice heat that sort of punched you in the face then left you alone, rather than one that slowly builds like a kind of gaslighting) and ready in about 20 minutes. Halve the amount of chillies if you like, but I do rather enjoy the rush you get from something that is almost too much.I put prawns in this one, but chicken is equally delicious. As is pigeon or squirrel. Possibly.IngredientsA thumb sized piece of galangal, finely sliced3-4 red chillies (birdseye or finger)2 sticks of lemongrass, bruised and sliced into 3cm pieces1 tin of coconut milk (400ml)6 or so kaffir lime leaves1 shallot, finely sliced2 medium-small tomatoes, choppedAbout six meaty mushrooms (I used chestnut, but would have preferred oyster)300g raw tiger prawnsJuice and zest of a limeA dash of fish sauce and a little pinch of salt to tasteA bunch of coriander, choppedMethodThrow the galangal, lemongrass, kaffir lime leaves, shallot and chillies into a saucepan with the coconut milk and slowly heat, stirring gently and occasionally.Cook for about five minutes then add the mushrooms and prawns and bring to just below the boil. Cook for another 5-10 minutes, until the prawns are cooked through then season with the lime juice and fish sauce to taste. Try to get the balance between salty, sour, sweet and sharp.Add the chopped coriander and lime zest and serve straight away with more lime wedges and chilli slices on the side.This weekWatched: Swan Lake ballet for children at the theatre. About my level really. I still found the whole thing preposterous though. I mean really...Read: The Leopard, by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa. Sicily, a prince in the 1860s. I mean, it's perfectly readable, but I had no great desire to rush home and pick it up.Eat: Neil from Eugene cooked us great steaks the other night, before he and Linda returned home. Delicious food and great company.Listened: Some new English jazz, would you believe. Ivo Neame featuring Shabaka Hutchings. Good stuff, interesting, and wide-ranging.
I bought a bird feeder from the hardware superstore the other day. Along with a new huge barbecue and quite a few other things you're allowed when you graduate from Dad school.Except it seems to be badly calibrated. In this part of South east London it seems the only birds it attracts are squirrels. And three very shifty looking pigeons. And while I may proudly wear a 'For the many' lapel badge on my jacket, in this situation I am taking a hardline stance on scroungers and layabout animals wanting something for nothing. I threw a tennis ball in their general direction earlier and they retreated to a safe distance, eyeing me with beady contempt.But while the level of seeds and nuts dimishes quicker than my enthusiasm for the new season's hot weather after two days of sneezing my face off, my excitement at the garden grows daily as new things pop out here and there, seemingly overnight. Violets and forget-me-nots appeared from the garden's edge like a very slow jack-in-the-box and the tulips opened wider than I thought possible to soak up the strong, bright sunlight shining constantly on the borders.We cooked outside for the first time this year. In April. Which surely is unheard of. I over-catered in my excitement. Chicken, slender sausages, langoustines with garlic butter, burgers, lamb chops marinated in harissa, za'atar, cumin and rosemary, flatbreads, charring in parts until the edges shatter when you tap them. I roasted aubergines on the coals until soft and blackened then mashed them with olive oil, plenty of garlic and some more cumin and we sat outside stuffing our faces in the late afternoon warmth.After a weekend of overeating and behaving as if we were battery chickens busted out into the freedom of the garden, Monday night called for a calmer supper.I made this tom kha, trying to recreate the one from our local Thai restaurant. And while not quite the same as theirs -- I have a feeling they may lace it with sugar -- it was fresh tasting, spicy (but with a nice heat that sort of punched you in the face then left you alone, rather than one that slowly builds like a kind of gaslighting) and ready in about 20 minutes. Halve the amount of chillies if you like, but I do rather enjoy the rush you get from something that is almost too much.I put prawns in this one, but chicken is equally delicious. As is pigeon or squirrel. Possibly.IngredientsA thumb sized piece of galangal, finely sliced3-4 red chillies (birdseye or finger)2 sticks of lemongrass, bruised and sliced into 3cm pieces1 tin of coconut milk (400ml)6 or so kaffir lime leaves1 shallot, finely sliced2 medium-small tomatoes, choppedAbout six meaty mushrooms (I used chestnut, but would have preferred oyster)300g raw tiger prawnsJuice and zest of a limeA dash of fish sauce and a little pinch of salt to tasteA bunch of coriander, choppedMethodThrow the galangal, lemongrass, kaffir lime leaves, shallot and chillies into a saucepan with the coconut milk and slowly heat, stirring gently and occasionally.Cook for about five minutes then add the mushrooms and prawns and bring to just below the boil. Cook for another 5-10 minutes, until the prawns are cooked through then season with the lime juice and fish sauce to taste. Try to get the balance between salty, sour, sweet and sharp.Add the chopped coriander and lime zest and serve straight away with more lime wedges and chilli slices on the side.This weekWatched: Swan Lake ballet for children at the theatre. About my level really. I still found the whole thing preposterous though. I mean really...Read: The Leopard, by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa. Sicily, a prince in the 1860s. I mean, it's perfectly readable, but I had no great desire to rush home and pick it up.Eat: Neil from Eugene cooked us great steaks the other night, before he and Linda returned home. Delicious food and great company.Listened: Some new English jazz, would you believe. Ivo Neame featuring Shabaka Hutchings. Good stuff, interesting, and wide-ranging. 
             Simplicity is beauty. I've had more pleasure from a ripe and juicy nectarine than I have from a complicated fondant.According to William Morris, things should either be useful or beautiful, and if you mix that with the idea that less is more and apply it to food, you should be OK. It's something the Italians know well with their cooking; start with good ingredients and you're pretty much all the way there. And, the Spanish as well, which is where the idea for this dish came from.Today's recipe is elegant and parsimonious in its ingredients, it uses clams which are at their best at this time of year from the cold waters around the UK. It's much more than the sum of its parts. I've used Cornish ones but this dish would be equally delicious with what the Scottish call 'spoots'. I'd call it Occam's razor clams.Ingredients12 baby potatoes, halved1 small white onionA bunch of parsley200ml garlic oil (made by grating four cloves of garlic into 500ml olive oil and heating until golden. Leave to cool then strain and keep in the fridge for up to a week)1tbsp flourA bag of clamsSherry vinegar to tasteWater for the sauceSalt and pepper to seasonMethodSoak the clams in cold water for about 20 minutes in a few changes of water then give them all a good slosh about until all the grit and sand has been cleaned away.Make the green sauce by blitzing together the parsley, a good load of garlic oil and a generous splash of sherry vinegar. Season well, taste and perhaps season a little more, not forgetting that vinegar is a seasoning and brings out flavours too, so adjust as you like. You may want it sharper, saltier or sweeter with more oil.Cook the potatoes in salted, boiling water until tender. About ten minutes. Drain them and run them under cold water to stop them cooking any more.Heat the garlic oil in a large, heavy saucepan, something like a le Creuset casserole.Finely chop the onion and gently sauté in the oil, well seasoned with salt, until soft and just starting to think about turning golden.Add the potatoes and cook them for a few minutes until they start to catch here and there and colour a little.Stir in the flour and add a splash of sherry vinegar then stir in a good splash of water until you have a thick sauce the consistency of double cream.Add the clams and cook with the lid on for about five minutes, until they've all opened. Or at least until all the ones that are going to open, open. Throw the others away.Add the green sauce to the pan, stir well, warm through and serve with some more chopped parsley and a little bread to mop up the incredible juices.
Simplicity is beauty. I've had more pleasure from a ripe and juicy nectarine than I have from a complicated fondant.According to William Morris, things should either be useful or beautiful, and if you mix that with the idea that less is more and apply it to food, you should be OK. It's something the Italians know well with their cooking; start with good ingredients and you're pretty much all the way there. And, the Spanish as well, which is where the idea for this dish came from.Today's recipe is elegant and parsimonious in its ingredients, it uses clams which are at their best at this time of year from the cold waters around the UK. It's much more than the sum of its parts. I've used Cornish ones but this dish would be equally delicious with what the Scottish call 'spoots'. I'd call it Occam's razor clams.Ingredients12 baby potatoes, halved1 small white onionA bunch of parsley200ml garlic oil (made by grating four cloves of garlic into 500ml olive oil and heating until golden. Leave to cool then strain and keep in the fridge for up to a week)1tbsp flourA bag of clamsSherry vinegar to tasteWater for the sauceSalt and pepper to seasonMethodSoak the clams in cold water for about 20 minutes in a few changes of water then give them all a good slosh about until all the grit and sand has been cleaned away.Make the green sauce by blitzing together the parsley, a good load of garlic oil and a generous splash of sherry vinegar. Season well, taste and perhaps season a little more, not forgetting that vinegar is a seasoning and brings out flavours too, so adjust as you like. You may want it sharper, saltier or sweeter with more oil.Cook the potatoes in salted, boiling water until tender. About ten minutes. Drain them and run them under cold water to stop them cooking any more.Heat the garlic oil in a large, heavy saucepan, something like a le Creuset casserole.Finely chop the onion and gently sauté in the oil, well seasoned with salt, until soft and just starting to think about turning golden.Add the potatoes and cook them for a few minutes until they start to catch here and there and colour a little.Stir in the flour and add a splash of sherry vinegar then stir in a good splash of water until you have a thick sauce the consistency of double cream.Add the clams and cook with the lid on for about five minutes, until they've all opened. Or at least until all the ones that are going to open, open. Throw the others away.Add the green sauce to the pan, stir well, warm through and serve with some more chopped parsley and a little bread to mop up the incredible juices.  
             Every time someone suggests fish pie to me, or says that's what we're having to eat, I die a little inside. And it's not that there's anything wrong with it, as such. In fact, it's a rather lovely dish. Comforting and rich, and a good way to get lots of fish into people who don't particularly like it.And yet yesterday I woke up with a burning desire, a craving for it. Perhaps Bee, who seems to have a liking of it that doesn't seem normal, has been whispering in my ear repeatedly as I sleep.It is really a very simple dish, and in its favour, you can make it ahead and heat it through for supper, as I did for the children. And, predictably, Noah liked it but tried to pick out the spinach and Maya said she hates prawns (the lunatic). Bee thought it was a bit too saucy and had too much spinach, whereas I, the least enthusiastic fish pie eater thought it delicious. But then I made it.You may squeal with delight at the thought of a fish pie and having made this, I feel a little less antipathy toward it. It's something comforting, tasty and healthy. Do as you will with it. More cod, fewer prawns, not so much spinach, extra scallops, a thicker sauce with a touch more cheese and flour. It's up to you, and that is the joy of cooking, we all like things certain ways and you can't please everyone.This recipe is a good one so I offer it to you to run with. You can even add hard boiled eggs to the mix if you like. And as far as the bonito and kombu go, that's up to you too, as is the golden, warming turmeric and citrussy coriander. But it's little things like that that can make a dish just a little above the ordinary. And actually, looking at the photo reminds me, there's a portion left in the fridge...Serves: 6Prep time: 30-40 minsCooking time: 45 minsIngredientsFor the top:4 medium potatoes such as Maris Piper, skin on, quartered100ml double cream50ml milk70g butterA grating of Parmesan for the topFor the filling:175g Queen scallops250g smoked haddock or cod, cut into chunks250g prawns100g spinachA small bunch of chives, finely slicedA grating of nutmeg1tsp ground turmeric2tsp ground corianderFor the sauce:30g butter30g flour300ml milk25g grated mild cheddarA sheet of kombu (seaweed)A pinch of bonito flakesMethodThe bonito and kombu are optional in this, it's just to give it that extra kick of the sea. But if you're going to use it, heat a little of the milk to just below the boil and pour over them both in a small bowl and leave to infuse while you make the mash.Cook the potatoes in salty, boiling water until soft, but not falling apart. Drain and leave to steam dry in the colander, otherwise, your mash will be to wet.Put the spinach in a heat-proof bowl and pour over some boiling water from the kettle. Stir a little then drain and rinse in cold water. Squeeze dry and chop well.Make the white sauce by melting the butter in a saucepan and mixing in the flour. Season well and gradually whisk in the milk, a little at a time, until you have a smooth white sauce. Add the bonito flakes and milk, leaving out the kombu and then stir in the cheese until melted.Put the fish and seafood in a bowl, add the chopped spinach, turmeric, coriander and the chives (keep back a little for the mash), season well and stir thoroughly. Pour in the white sauce and mix.Heat the butter, cream and milk in a small pan until the butter has melted then rice the potatoes into a bowl and discard the skins.  Add the butter mixture, season well and mix until smooth. Stir in the chives.Put the fish mix in an oven dish and top with the potato and any remaining chives. Give a twist of pepper and sprinkle over the parmesan and cook in a 180c oven for about 45 minutes, until the top is golden and bubbling. Garlic green beans are delicious on the side.
Every time someone suggests fish pie to me, or says that's what we're having to eat, I die a little inside. And it's not that there's anything wrong with it, as such. In fact, it's a rather lovely dish. Comforting and rich, and a good way to get lots of fish into people who don't particularly like it.And yet yesterday I woke up with a burning desire, a craving for it. Perhaps Bee, who seems to have a liking of it that doesn't seem normal, has been whispering in my ear repeatedly as I sleep.It is really a very simple dish, and in its favour, you can make it ahead and heat it through for supper, as I did for the children. And, predictably, Noah liked it but tried to pick out the spinach and Maya said she hates prawns (the lunatic). Bee thought it was a bit too saucy and had too much spinach, whereas I, the least enthusiastic fish pie eater thought it delicious. But then I made it.You may squeal with delight at the thought of a fish pie and having made this, I feel a little less antipathy toward it. It's something comforting, tasty and healthy. Do as you will with it. More cod, fewer prawns, not so much spinach, extra scallops, a thicker sauce with a touch more cheese and flour. It's up to you, and that is the joy of cooking, we all like things certain ways and you can't please everyone.This recipe is a good one so I offer it to you to run with. You can even add hard boiled eggs to the mix if you like. And as far as the bonito and kombu go, that's up to you too, as is the golden, warming turmeric and citrussy coriander. But it's little things like that that can make a dish just a little above the ordinary. And actually, looking at the photo reminds me, there's a portion left in the fridge...Serves: 6Prep time: 30-40 minsCooking time: 45 minsIngredientsFor the top:4 medium potatoes such as Maris Piper, skin on, quartered100ml double cream50ml milk70g butterA grating of Parmesan for the topFor the filling:175g Queen scallops250g smoked haddock or cod, cut into chunks250g prawns100g spinachA small bunch of chives, finely slicedA grating of nutmeg1tsp ground turmeric2tsp ground corianderFor the sauce:30g butter30g flour300ml milk25g grated mild cheddarA sheet of kombu (seaweed)A pinch of bonito flakesMethodThe bonito and kombu are optional in this, it's just to give it that extra kick of the sea. But if you're going to use it, heat a little of the milk to just below the boil and pour over them both in a small bowl and leave to infuse while you make the mash.Cook the potatoes in salty, boiling water until soft, but not falling apart. Drain and leave to steam dry in the colander, otherwise, your mash will be to wet.Put the spinach in a heat-proof bowl and pour over some boiling water from the kettle. Stir a little then drain and rinse in cold water. Squeeze dry and chop well.Make the white sauce by melting the butter in a saucepan and mixing in the flour. Season well and gradually whisk in the milk, a little at a time, until you have a smooth white sauce. Add the bonito flakes and milk, leaving out the kombu and then stir in the cheese until melted.Put the fish and seafood in a bowl, add the chopped spinach, turmeric, coriander and the chives (keep back a little for the mash), season well and stir thoroughly. Pour in the white sauce and mix.Heat the butter, cream and milk in a small pan until the butter has melted then rice the potatoes into a bowl and discard the skins.  Add the butter mixture, season well and mix until smooth. Stir in the chives.Put the fish mix in an oven dish and top with the potato and any remaining chives. Give a twist of pepper and sprinkle over the parmesan and cook in a 180c oven for about 45 minutes, until the top is golden and bubbling. Garlic green beans are delicious on the side. 
             Clearly there is absolutely no need to salt and preserve fish here in South East London in 2017. There is also no need in many of the Mediterranean restaurants you may find yourself in as none of us travel in galleons for months on end with only a goat and a cabin boy for company any more.However, it persists, as do many dishes that were born from necessity. Preserving and fermenting is and has been a way of life for thousands of years, so I'm not going to knock it. A life without
Clearly there is absolutely no need to salt and preserve fish here in South East London in 2017. There is also no need in many of the Mediterranean restaurants you may find yourself in as none of us travel in galleons for months on end with only a goat and a cabin boy for company any more.However, it persists, as do many dishes that were born from necessity. Preserving and fermenting is and has been a way of life for thousands of years, so I'm not going to knock it. A life without  
             Two weeks into September and I think we are just about surfacing from the shock of returning to real life after a leisurely August with the children attached to our legs 24 hours a day.While it's great they are back at school with their pals, the Stockholm syndrome we've developed for our captors has left the days quieter and although we are back full steam with work, I miss having them around all the time.Still, it will be half term before we know it, then Christmas, then the summer holidays again, then all of a sudden they will have graduated from University. (Assuming of course we somehow manage to find a million dollars in a jacket pocket to pay for it).But the end of summer brings my favourite season, and while I look happily toward autumn, it has this year somehow managed to bring a fruit fly colony into the house. I suppose this is what happens if you go away having forgot to empty the bin before going away for the week, but honestly, it's ridiculous. It may be necessary to knock the whole place down and rebuild. I honestly don't know where they keep on coming from. Roll on the cold, with hope that'll do for them.I'm also now two weeks into a no carb and no sugar month. And while dutifully making the family a weekly sourdough and other loaves, filling the Saturdays with the smell of freshly baking bread, I'm coping well. The sugar part seems remarkably easy for some reason, but I do really miss the bread. And I'm not counting the bowl of pasta I had at the River Cafe. I mean, you can't go there and not have a pasta dish, but it has to be worth it as an exception, and that was most definitely worth it.So by the end of September, hopefully feeling a little lighter around the middle I will be looking forward to tucking in to a fresh crusty loaf straight from the oven. In the meantime, pearl barley and chickpeas are filling in place of rice and pasta (gram flour flatbreads are excellent with dhal).Last night's supper was this incredibly quick and simple fish with celeriac rémoulade. A fresh and flavoursome dish that just feels summery enough to complement the fading evening light but with the earthy celeriac nodding a quick acknowledgement at the gold autumn knock tapping at the window. And the fish only takes four minutes to cook, which I'm pretty sure makes this even less work than a quick bowl of pasta on a frazzled Wednesday evening.Ingredients for two2 seabass fillets, scored lightly on the skin1tsp turmeric powder1tsp seaweed flakes (such as
Two weeks into September and I think we are just about surfacing from the shock of returning to real life after a leisurely August with the children attached to our legs 24 hours a day.While it's great they are back at school with their pals, the Stockholm syndrome we've developed for our captors has left the days quieter and although we are back full steam with work, I miss having them around all the time.Still, it will be half term before we know it, then Christmas, then the summer holidays again, then all of a sudden they will have graduated from University. (Assuming of course we somehow manage to find a million dollars in a jacket pocket to pay for it).But the end of summer brings my favourite season, and while I look happily toward autumn, it has this year somehow managed to bring a fruit fly colony into the house. I suppose this is what happens if you go away having forgot to empty the bin before going away for the week, but honestly, it's ridiculous. It may be necessary to knock the whole place down and rebuild. I honestly don't know where they keep on coming from. Roll on the cold, with hope that'll do for them.I'm also now two weeks into a no carb and no sugar month. And while dutifully making the family a weekly sourdough and other loaves, filling the Saturdays with the smell of freshly baking bread, I'm coping well. The sugar part seems remarkably easy for some reason, but I do really miss the bread. And I'm not counting the bowl of pasta I had at the River Cafe. I mean, you can't go there and not have a pasta dish, but it has to be worth it as an exception, and that was most definitely worth it.So by the end of September, hopefully feeling a little lighter around the middle I will be looking forward to tucking in to a fresh crusty loaf straight from the oven. In the meantime, pearl barley and chickpeas are filling in place of rice and pasta (gram flour flatbreads are excellent with dhal).Last night's supper was this incredibly quick and simple fish with celeriac rémoulade. A fresh and flavoursome dish that just feels summery enough to complement the fading evening light but with the earthy celeriac nodding a quick acknowledgement at the gold autumn knock tapping at the window. And the fish only takes four minutes to cook, which I'm pretty sure makes this even less work than a quick bowl of pasta on a frazzled Wednesday evening.Ingredients for two2 seabass fillets, scored lightly on the skin1tsp turmeric powder1tsp seaweed flakes (such as  
            
 
            
 
             I'm a busy man, I don't have time to separate my free-range, organic araucana eggs for homemade mayonnaise. In the cut and thrust world I live in I barely have time to put clothes on before I leave the house and take the children to school.*Why not just buy a jar of mayonnaise I hear you ask? To be honest, it's been a quiet couple of weeks here, so I blatantly have more time usual, hence the fresh bread issuing forth from the oven and the children eating proper food on the weekends and after school.The reason I didn't separate the eggs was to see what whole egg mayonnaise was like. And it's pretty good, hardly different to the usual method. It's just a little more liquid to begin with so emulsifying the oil takes a little more time, but in a food processor it's easy. And it tastes so much better than a middle-class posh jar with French words and has the added benefit of having no stuff in it for a year on the shop shelf.I found the remains of some wild garlic, flowers and all, in a still fairly good state in a bag in the fridge. They were starting to become slightly frilly and not quite as fresh as when I picked them. They were certainly good enough, however, for a pesto, sauce or in this case accompaniment to plump and juicy prawns on hot toasted sourdough. If I'm lucky, there may still be some lurking in the garden for the risotto I'd originally planned, but for now, this is a delicious use for them.As far as the monk's beard goes, the season for that is even shorter. If you've missed it, although I suspect it's still available (
I'm a busy man, I don't have time to separate my free-range, organic araucana eggs for homemade mayonnaise. In the cut and thrust world I live in I barely have time to put clothes on before I leave the house and take the children to school.*Why not just buy a jar of mayonnaise I hear you ask? To be honest, it's been a quiet couple of weeks here, so I blatantly have more time usual, hence the fresh bread issuing forth from the oven and the children eating proper food on the weekends and after school.The reason I didn't separate the eggs was to see what whole egg mayonnaise was like. And it's pretty good, hardly different to the usual method. It's just a little more liquid to begin with so emulsifying the oil takes a little more time, but in a food processor it's easy. And it tastes so much better than a middle-class posh jar with French words and has the added benefit of having no stuff in it for a year on the shop shelf.I found the remains of some wild garlic, flowers and all, in a still fairly good state in a bag in the fridge. They were starting to become slightly frilly and not quite as fresh as when I picked them. They were certainly good enough, however, for a pesto, sauce or in this case accompaniment to plump and juicy prawns on hot toasted sourdough. If I'm lucky, there may still be some lurking in the garden for the risotto I'd originally planned, but for now, this is a delicious use for them.As far as the monk's beard goes, the season for that is even shorter. If you've missed it, although I suspect it's still available ( 
            
 
             I found a lobster in the freezer yesterday. Cooked and frozen solid. I'd forgotten about it, languishing there like an extra in Quincy. I gave it a hot bath, and a little shine up before taking it apart, post-mortem.Not having been able to establish a cause of death, and I know it was dead when it went in under some Vienetta, I'll have to leave an open verdict. Frozen lobster is obviously not a patch on fresh. And I'd far rather some plump tiger prawns anyway, unless I'm sitting on the shore watching the fishermen haul them up from their lobster pots and bring them clattering to the shore while singing sea shanties and talking of the sea as a 'capricious mistress'. Seeing as we live in London, this is not a fantasy I can often indulge in and I'm certainly not going to turn down this treasure from the deep-freeze.One of my favourite things to do with shellfish is keep their shells and bits for bisque. You can freeze them after cooking to do this at a later date, although in this case, I just used the one shell and made the soup straight away. I love the grittiness, the deep spiciness of the soup and it also makes a great sauce for pasta. The recipe is
I found a lobster in the freezer yesterday. Cooked and frozen solid. I'd forgotten about it, languishing there like an extra in Quincy. I gave it a hot bath, and a little shine up before taking it apart, post-mortem.Not having been able to establish a cause of death, and I know it was dead when it went in under some Vienetta, I'll have to leave an open verdict. Frozen lobster is obviously not a patch on fresh. And I'd far rather some plump tiger prawns anyway, unless I'm sitting on the shore watching the fishermen haul them up from their lobster pots and bring them clattering to the shore while singing sea shanties and talking of the sea as a 'capricious mistress'. Seeing as we live in London, this is not a fantasy I can often indulge in and I'm certainly not going to turn down this treasure from the deep-freeze.One of my favourite things to do with shellfish is keep their shells and bits for bisque. You can freeze them after cooking to do this at a later date, although in this case, I just used the one shell and made the soup straight away. I love the grittiness, the deep spiciness of the soup and it also makes a great sauce for pasta. The recipe is  
            
 
            

 
             Kevin, our plumber, has buggered off to France on the proceeds of our unfinished boiler. This has, however, led to the discovery of an unopened tin of ghee beneath the fuse box in the cupboard. It may not be quite the same as finding a Rembrant in the attic but still, it's a nice surprise.For many years I've been bored senseless by potted shrimp. And recently in Devon I swore that if I were to ever have another crab sandwich it would be under circumstances of extreme duress. And as for fish and chips, there is only one acceptable situation to eat them, and that is in winter on a cold and blowy beach. There, and only there, can you eat hot, salty, vinegar laced chips and pearly, soft white flaking fish. Even then it's still rubbish.However, I believe most things can be improved by the judicious application of spice. I'd add spices to anything, possibly even my toothpaste to pep it up and excite me. Wars and empires have been fought and forged over them, so the least I feel I can do is use them. And this recipe is proof why. I've swapped prawns for crayfish, clarified butter for curry leaf infused ghee and replaced nutmeg, Cayenne pepper and mace with garam masala. (The nutmeg, Cayenne and mace have, in a nod to the original, gone into the bread).It's a pretty quick dish and a real flavour hit. Serve with the butter still slightly soft but deep yellow and translucent.Ingredients160g crayfish tailsA small handful of curry leaves, ideally fresh, the dried ones are a load of rubbish1tbsp garam masalaA pinch of salt and pepper2 spring onions2 green finger chillies, slicedA load of ghee (about 250g)2tbsp coconut oilA few coriander leavesFor the bread2tbsp chickpea (gram) flour2tbsp wholemeal flour150ml waterA good grating of nutmeg1tsp Cayenne pepper1tsp powdered maceA pinch of saltA few twists of pepperMethodMelt the ghee and coconut oil and add the curry leaves, garam masala and season well with salt and pepper. Leave to cool a little and skim the surface of any impurities.Divide the crayfish between two pots and add the spring onions and chilli.Pour the butter over the crayfish and leave to chill in the fridge until fairly set, but still spoonable, a bit like a melting mango sorbet. If serving later, you'll need to remove them about half an hour in advance to soften unless you want to practice your spoon bending.Make the bread (although it's more like a sort of pancake-type affair) by mixing the ingredients together to form a fairly thick, spreadable batter.Heat a cast iron pan until very hot then spoon on half the mixture and start to spread it around the pan, almost as if you were painting it on. As it cooks, this will become easier and you should be able to form a circle, but don't worry, make it whatever shape you like, as long as it is an even thickness.Leave it to cook until golden on one side, then flip over and finish it off. Repeat with the remaining mix.Serve the bread with the pots of crayfish, a sprinkle of coriander leaves and some Bombay mix, which I suggest you buy. If you think I'm making my own, you can think again.
Kevin, our plumber, has buggered off to France on the proceeds of our unfinished boiler. This has, however, led to the discovery of an unopened tin of ghee beneath the fuse box in the cupboard. It may not be quite the same as finding a Rembrant in the attic but still, it's a nice surprise.For many years I've been bored senseless by potted shrimp. And recently in Devon I swore that if I were to ever have another crab sandwich it would be under circumstances of extreme duress. And as for fish and chips, there is only one acceptable situation to eat them, and that is in winter on a cold and blowy beach. There, and only there, can you eat hot, salty, vinegar laced chips and pearly, soft white flaking fish. Even then it's still rubbish.However, I believe most things can be improved by the judicious application of spice. I'd add spices to anything, possibly even my toothpaste to pep it up and excite me. Wars and empires have been fought and forged over them, so the least I feel I can do is use them. And this recipe is proof why. I've swapped prawns for crayfish, clarified butter for curry leaf infused ghee and replaced nutmeg, Cayenne pepper and mace with garam masala. (The nutmeg, Cayenne and mace have, in a nod to the original, gone into the bread).It's a pretty quick dish and a real flavour hit. Serve with the butter still slightly soft but deep yellow and translucent.Ingredients160g crayfish tailsA small handful of curry leaves, ideally fresh, the dried ones are a load of rubbish1tbsp garam masalaA pinch of salt and pepper2 spring onions2 green finger chillies, slicedA load of ghee (about 250g)2tbsp coconut oilA few coriander leavesFor the bread2tbsp chickpea (gram) flour2tbsp wholemeal flour150ml waterA good grating of nutmeg1tsp Cayenne pepper1tsp powdered maceA pinch of saltA few twists of pepperMethodMelt the ghee and coconut oil and add the curry leaves, garam masala and season well with salt and pepper. Leave to cool a little and skim the surface of any impurities.Divide the crayfish between two pots and add the spring onions and chilli.Pour the butter over the crayfish and leave to chill in the fridge until fairly set, but still spoonable, a bit like a melting mango sorbet. If serving later, you'll need to remove them about half an hour in advance to soften unless you want to practice your spoon bending.Make the bread (although it's more like a sort of pancake-type affair) by mixing the ingredients together to form a fairly thick, spreadable batter.Heat a cast iron pan until very hot then spoon on half the mixture and start to spread it around the pan, almost as if you were painting it on. As it cooks, this will become easier and you should be able to form a circle, but don't worry, make it whatever shape you like, as long as it is an even thickness.Leave it to cook until golden on one side, then flip over and finish it off. Repeat with the remaining mix.Serve the bread with the pots of crayfish, a sprinkle of coriander leaves and some Bombay mix, which I suggest you buy. If you think I'm making my own, you can think again. 
            
 
            
 
             My freezer is sometimes an Aladdin's cave, sometimes a forgotten morgue. I've found pigs trotters, prawn and lobster shells, strange soups and chicken bones bagged and labeled under Thai broths, strange soup experiments and well intentioned litre upon litre of stock.
My freezer is sometimes an Aladdin's cave, sometimes a forgotten morgue. I've found pigs trotters, prawn and lobster shells, strange soups and chicken bones bagged and labeled under Thai broths, strange soup experiments and well intentioned litre upon litre of stock. 
            
 
            