FISH ON THE HOOF

Sitting in the train to London, having eaten my ‘not just any’ salmon salad, I’m struck how after a while all M&S food tastes the same. A familiar emulsive film of uniform tastelessness pervades. But I don’t complain. It beats train food, which has never got any better despite Pru Leith or whoever. And I had no time to make my own sandwich. It’s not always possible to be prepared and it is always by taking risks that we discover new things, particuarly where eating is concerned. And doing it rough is often the best way.

The freshest fish lends itself perfectly, despite having to look hard to get a decent fish supper anywhere. For me, the best Fish and Chips experience in the world is Olley’s in Herne Hill. After a day bathing and baking at Brockwell Lido, crawling home with this fatty indulgence is craven bliss.

In Portugal a few years ago, we happened upon a little town overlooking the salt flats near the Algarve, called Cacela Velha. There were huge forest fires blazing on the horizon, like war waging in Mordor. Black smoke filling the sky, the sun setting on land and sea. In the town square there’s a no frills seafood tavern called the Casa Velha. The rough benches and tables outside are almost always occupied. You’ll have to wait patiently. But be pushy. Sleek mercs full of affluent Portuguese park up and assume precedence. When you get a table, the owner just throws a tablecloth over it and loads it up with the catch of the day. Shrimp, lobster, razor clams, oysters, squid and whatever else crawled or jumped out of the sea. There’s something just heavenly about chowing down on a sea feast and coming up with greasy, fishy fingers, pungent with lemon. Without taking the risk and stopping, as our mate Bill says, ‘to smell the roses’, you miss these places.

Another unlikely candidate is The Company Shed in Mersea, near Colchester; the only place in Britain where I have eaten fish really rough. Local Colchester oysters, lobster, crab and cockles dished up on a formica surface washed down with vinegar. Something about the bland domesticity of the surroundings tempts the sea flavours from the food. It's not Rick Stein but a feast nonetheless.

The Belgian and I once stayed on the Greek island of Hydra. Our first romantic getaway at the Hotel Bratsera. It’s an old sponge factory scrubbed to hip chic. Laconic, white, cool and restrained. A haven where you never want to much move beyond poolside, room and restaurant, doing little more than alternating between linens and speedos. Hydra is an island refuge for rich Athenians. So there are some great restaurants. But there’s one, run by an old couple from their home at the top of the town. We were instructed to ring them in the morning. He asks you what you’d like to eat nd when you’ll come. So we turned up in the evening to find this old man, serving dinner in his front room. Fifty years ago, this was the main store and post office for the town. The fittings are all still there. His wife is next door in the kitchen, cooking on what looks like one ring. Octopus hang drying over the window, sea bass grilled with oregano and olive oil, stifado, salad, bread and wine from a barrel. There are signed photos of movie stars and royalty on the walls. Onassis, Jackie, Diana, Tom. Funny how simplicity with style is so often the preserve of the rich. Where the aspirational of us are faced with fuss and flourish everywhere we go.

When all you want to focus on is food, functional fish eating, with minimal embellishment, the urbane Kiosk Universal in the Boqueria market in Barcelona is sensational. A hard morning pounding the streets, laden down with elegantly wrapped shopping, feeling a million euros. Then fish and wine perched on a stool as the market bustles around you. As near perfection as I can imagine: razor clams, white wine, holiday treat.

I’ve always thought it an odd thing that despite having some of the best fish and seafood in the world, you have to really hunt to get it fresh from the quay in Scotland. With so much of it ferried off to the capitals of Europe, I’ve yet to find somewhere the fish is as fresh as any of these. As a child, we used to visit an old man who sold fish straight from the boats in a tiny cave in the ancient walls of Dunbar Castle. Long since gone. But a discussion like this wouldn’t be complete without a shameless plug for Clark Brothers in Musselburgh, just outside Edinburgh. It’s run by my old primary school friend Jeannie. When I was a kid it used to be a fish shed, full of the smell of smoking kippers. Now it’s simply the best for fish. But you’ll have to take it home to eat it.

TENDER WORDS

Tender (2009) tells the story of Nigel Slater's love affair with his garden in Islington and the many seedlings he has raised in his box-hedged vegetable patches. It’s a magnificent volume, like a medieval knightly treatise with pictures of his Eden, its produce and many of the recipes he has created from them.

23 May, 2010

FOOD FROM THE HEART

Cooking is a basic human instinct. We’ve been eating, chopping, shaping, flavouring, enticing ingredients into something delicious since time began. But as the way many of us live has changed, the basic skills we require to cook, are no longer valued and it’s often easier to let others take control of what we eat.

21 April, 2010

IN A RIGHT FISH STEW

This week we had sustainable fish stew. It’s a quick and easy way to feed a gang of hungries on a Friday night and doesn’t need much else but some good bread and wine. Like all stews, you need balance, rich liquid and a range of potent flavours steaming from your pot.

15 March, 2010