After Katie and I got married back in June, we spent the following week driving around the west coast of Scotland, meandering through mountain ranges and hopping on and off ferries as we explored Skye, Lewis and Harris. We got lucky on the wedding day itself, with glorious sunshine that burned the back of my neck and had all of the children cartwheeling in the fields. We royally paid for it on our honeymoon though, and bore the true reality of a Scottish summer. Horizontal rain was frequent, and night temperatures had me reaching out for an extra blanket. But we were full of dizzy adrenaline-fuelled happiness and nothing could have dampened our spirits.
Part of the objective for our honeymoon was exploring the food that that part of the country had to offer. It seemed as though you couldn’t talk to anyone about the islands without hearing a story about a £5 lobster, a ginormous black pudding or the best fish supper in the land. We hit jackpot on our first night, when we decided to treat ourselves with a stay at The Three Chimneys on Skye. The whole experience was sensational, and I can honestly say that the meal that we had there was the best food that I have ever eaten. Everything was so delicately and fantastically judged, and each dish was crammed full of produce grown, caught or reared a matter of miles away. I wish that I could visit again for more crab and apple parfait, Cullen skink and marmalade soufflé. All in an environment where you could walk out the door and be blasted with fresh sea air.
Obviously that meal was going to be hard to top, but the rest of the holiday was still scattered with truly memorable eating experiences. From wonderful steaming hot fish and chips overlooking Portree harbour, to frying thick wedges of steak on a campfire, whilst sea otters played yards away in the estuary. We even managed to find a remote roadside honesty box on bleak and barren Harris crammed full of the most delicious frangipane tarts. So although we’re still searching for that bargain lobster or bucketful of langoustines, I think we managed ok.
And these happy recaps lead me onto this recipe. I wanted to take inspiration from our travels, and incorporate a very Scottish ingredient into this blog. While we were away in late June, sea trout were bang in season, flooding the rivers on their journey back from the oceans. When I returned back to work I had access to some fantastic wild fish from Montrose, and having never cooked one before I jumped at the chance.
Obviously I’m a little late with this post and the season for seatrout is sadly over for another year. But now with wild salmon season in full swing, they would make a perfect substitute.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the pan-fried seatrout:
2 fillets of wild seatrout from a 2kg fish, trimmed and pin-boned
For the date puree:
1 handful of dates, stoned
1 lemon, juice only
1 tbsp caster sugar
3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2-3 tbsp boiling water
For the hot-smoked seatrout:
2 thin slices of seatrout, approx. 70g each
1 tbsp honey
1 bunch of thyme
1 handful of rice
2 tbsp of caster sugar
For the braised chicory:
3-4 heads of chicory, leaves sliced lengthways
2 tbsp caster sugar
2 tbsp white balsamic vinegar
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
3 tbsp olive oil
For the dressing:
1 tbsp white balsamic vinegar
1 tsp Dijon mustard
3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
A squeeze of lemon juice
To finish:
2 tbsp pine nuts
1 handful rocket leaves
Start by hot-smoking the seatrout. Mix the honey with 1 tablespoon of olive oil and some salt and pepper. Pour onto a plate and use to coat the seatrout slices all over. Line a heavy baking tray with foil and line the bottom with the sugar, rice and thyme sprigs. Place a rack above so that it sits an inch or two above. Seal the top with a large sheet of foil. Set onto a medium-high heat, and when it starts smoking, place the seatrout onto the rack. Replace the foil and allow to smoke for about 10 minutes, or until the fish is just cooked through. Transfer to a plate and set aside.
For the date puree, pop the dates into a bowl and cover with boiling water. Leave for 10-15 minutes to soften, then transfer to a small food processor with the lemon juice, caster sugar and some salt and pepper. Blend well, and with the motor still running, slowly drizzle in the olive oil. Thin out with a little more boiling water if needed. Transfer into a plastic bottle.
Set a large frying pan onto a medium heat. Add a good glug of olive oil, then tip in the chicory, sugar and garlic. Allow to fry and lightly caramelise for a couple of minutes, then drizzle over the balsamic vinegar. Turn the heat down and gently cook for another 5 minutes or so, until the chicory has softened and the vinegar has reduced. Season well and stir in another tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil.
While the chicory is braising, make the dressing. Pour the vinegar and lemon juice into a small bowl and stir in the mustard and a bit of seasoning. Slowly incorporate the oil with a whisk until well emulsified. Taste and add more seasoning, lemon or vinegar if necessary.
Finally pan-fry the seatrout fillets. Heat a non-stick frying pan up to a medium-high temperature and add a good glug of oil. Season the fillets well and cook skin-side down for 3-4 minutes. Use a spoon to baste the tops of the fillets well with the hot oil. Turn the fillets over and take the pan off the heat; the residual heat will finish the cooking.
To plate up, spoon some of the braised chicory onto each plate and add a piece of the hot-smoked fish to one side. Dot on a few blobs of the date puree. Position a pan-fried fillet on top, and scatter around some of the rocket leaves and pine nuts. Finish with a good amount of the dressing.
After a brief break for a couple of weeks it’s great to be back with another recipe. It was fantastic to get away for a few days up to the Katie’s family farm in Scotland, where the deafening silence and surrounding plush countryside provided a stark and welcome contrast to the frantic rush of the city. I love the outdoors, but funnily enough I do find that it all links back into my love of food. Strolling through the fields we saw deer, hares, pheasants and partridges along with abundant cows and lambs. I couldn’t help thinking that they would all make a fine feast. Even walking next to the river had me eagle-eyed for wild salmon, now coming into their prime season.
Alas on this occasion, those animals remained only for our viewing pleasure. But when it came to the eating there was certainly no disappointment. Upon arrival I marched straight into town to procure a weight of the finest Stornoway black pudding, carrying it proudly like a child who had won a sporting trophy. That was breakfast sorted. Other meals included hot, vinegary fish suppers (always haddock north of the border) by the side of a wind-battered loch, and soothing barley-filled broths huddled around the fire. All humble stuff, but in a situation that will be ingrained in my memory for a long while to come. On the last evening we celebrated with the rest of the family; I rolled a pig in foraged wild garlic and forgot about it in the oven for most of a day, only raising the temperature only at the last minute to blister the fat into a crisp brittle. I won’t even detail the quality of the leftover sandwiches on the journey home…
I truly digress as per usual. But now back in London I’m eager to get cooking again. Despite running round like a busy lunatic for most of the week, on my days off I love nothing more than messing around in the kitchen creating new recipes. This monkfish dish combined the comfort of a chunky, grilled bit of fish with delicate, beautiful artichokes, earthy Italian-flavoured beans and the tangy, spring tough of the wild garlic and sorrel.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the monkfish:
2 pieces of monkish fillet, approx. 200g each. Skin and sinew removed.
For the artichokes:
2 large globe artichokes
1 lemon
1 garlic clove
1 glass of white wine
1 bay leaf
For the cannellini beans:
400g cooked cannellini beans, drained
4 slices of speck, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, grated
2 sprigs of rosemary, finely chopped
1 tsp dried oregano
1 lemon, zest only
A pinch of dried chilli flakes
200ml chicken stock
For the wild garlic and sorrel oil:
A handful of wild garlic leaves
A few sorrel leaves
200ml extra virgin olive oil
1 lemon, juice only
For the crispy speck:
2 slices of speck
To finish:
A few wild garlic and sorrel leaves
Make the wild garlic and sorrel oil in advance. Bring a large saucepan of water to the boil, and have a bowl of very cold (ideally iced) water ready. Blanche the wild garlic and sorrel leaves for 30 seconds, then immediately transfer to the cold water. When cool, drain and squeeze out as much liquid as possible. Put the leaves into a small food processor with the lemon juice and some seasoning. Turn on the motor and slowly trickle in the olive oil until the herbs are finely chopped and everything is well combined. Pour into a bowl, cover and refrigerate overnight.
Prepare the artichokes by pulling off the harder outer leaves until only the lighter, tender ones remain. Trim the bulb halfway down the leaves and use a melon-baller to scoop out the choke. Peel and trim the stalks. Slice lengthways into quarters. Fill a small saucepan with water, squeeze in the lemon and add with the garlic, wine and bay leaf. Put the trimmed artichokes straight into this liquid to stop them from discolouring. Bring everything to the boil, then simmer gently for 20 minutes, or until the artichokes are tender. Remove the artichokes from the liquid and allow to cool.
Pour a little oil into a deep frying pan and set to a medium heat. Add the speck, garlic, oregano, chilli, rosemary and lemon zest and cook for a few minutes until softened and fragrant. Tip in the beans and chicken stock, reduce the heat and cook gently for 15-20 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 180⁰C.
Lay the 2 slices of speck onto a lined baking tray. Season with salt and pepper and brush with a little oil. When the oven is hot, bake for about 10 minutes, or until crisp and golden. Break into large shards and set aside.
Put a heavy frying pan or griddle onto a high heat. Season the monkfish fillets and cooked artichoke quarters on all sides and rub with olive oil. When the pan is hot, cook the fish for 2-3 minutes on each side, and depending on thickness about 8-10 minutes in total. Add the artichokes to the pan halfway through, allowing a couple of minutes each side until lightly charred. Once cooked, leave the monkfish to rest for a couple of minutes, then slice into thick pieces.
To plate up, spoon a generous amount of the beans onto each plate. Position the slices of monkfish to one side of the beans and arrange the green leaves, charred artichokes and crispy speck pieces around the plate. Finish with a spoonful of the wild garlic and sorrel oil and a good crack of black pepper.
Over Christmas and New Year I spent some time in Scotland with Katie’s family. They live in beautiful rolling farmland in Perthshire, where you can spend days living on nothing but endless tea and pound cake sat by a roaring fire. Going on walks you can hear yourself think, and nights are lit by blinding stars. Her family are the closest imaginable, and as cousins instantly inseparable after months or years apart. A very lucky thing.
During my stay an ambition was achieved. A shoot was organised on their land and I was asked to be involved. Katie was terrified. These things are bound with tweed-wrapped tradition, where the men and hounds leave at dawn to bloody the land while the wives whip up the perfect meringues and pies, and decant the whisky for their return. The thought of unleashing her naïve city-dwelling boy onto all of this without her protection caused a chill. But she shouldn’t have been worried. In a forest of plus-fours and tartan socks I stuck out with my old anorak and skinny jeans but they were all very kind, and a storming day was had. Although my role as one of the beaters was far from the business end of the shoot, I was thrilled to be part of it and I left with an unexpected case of gun envy. I must go shoot some clays soon…
Although in that case the pheasants were accounted for, it inspired me to try and cook some for myself before the season ends. I love the connection between the land and the table, and it wouldn’t have felt complete without making a dish out of the experience. Happily I was able to return from Borough Market with a plump and extremely reasonably priced brace under my arm.
The rest of the recipe planning was a formality, and also very traditional. Game is the perfect partner for strong, earthy flavours. Irony always has a way with these things, and like how rabbit and carrots go hand in hand, so do pheasants and grain. I’ve only really got into cooking with barley since meeting Katie, and a wonderfully versatile ingredient it is too. In this recipe it is almost made like a risotto, soaking up those deep mushroom flavours.
Baking the celeriac in salt certainly considerably lengthens this recipe, but if you have the time it is worth it. I hadn’t used this technique before, and was dubious about any dramatic changes in flavour compared to a traditional mash or puree. But the way that the salt seals the vegetable to cook in its own juices enhances the sweetness, and I love the theatre of cracking into the giant sphere. I will definitely be trying this out with other root vegetables.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the pheasant:
1 pheasant, legs removed and kept for confit, wishbone removed and all trimmings kept for sauce
50g butter
A few sprigs of thyme
Olive oil
Salt and pepper
For the sauce:
All of the trimmings and giblets from the pheasant
1 clove garlic, finely sliced
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 tsp fennel seeds
5 sprigs of thyme
100ml brandy
500ml good chicken or pheasant stock
20g butter
Olive oil
For the barley:
100g pearl barley
1 shallot, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
2 sprigs fresh thyme leaves, picked
3 tbsp dried porcini, soaked and finely chopped
Splash of white wine
Approx. 600ml good chicken stock
20g butter
For the salt-baked celeriac:
1 medium celeriac
4 egg whites
800g table salt
5 sprigs of thyme, leaves picked
A dash of double cream
10g butter
For the confit pheasant leg:
2 legs from the pheasant
3 garlic cloves
5 sprigs of thyme
6 peppercorns
4 tbsp coarse salt
500g duck fat
20g butter
For the chanterelles:
12 chanterelle mushrooms, trimmed and brushed clean
For the savoy cabbage:
A couple of big cabbage leaves, sliced thinly
1 clove of garlic, finely chopped
20g butter
Olive oil
Splash of water
Splash of white wine vinegar
Prepare and cure the pheasant legs the day before cooking. Carefully remove the thigh bones, leaving the flesh in one piece so that just the drumstick bones remain. Place in a bowl and rub with the salt, garlic, thyme and peppercorns, then cover and refrigerate overnight.
Soak the dried porcini mushrooms in boiling water for at least fifteen minutes. Drain, reserving the liquid; use this to boost the chicken stock for the sauce and pearl barley. Finely chop the mushrooms and set aside until you make the barley.
Pre-heat the oven to 200⁰C (fan).
To confit the pheasant legs, rinse the salt off and pat dry. Melt the duck fat in a small saucepan to 85⁰C then add the legs, garlic and thyme. Cook at that temperature for 1 ½ hours, making sure that the oil doesn’t boil. When cooked, drain and set aside for crisping up.
To make the salt crust for the celeriac, thoroughly mix the salt, egg whites and thyme leaves in a bowl until they form a dry paste. Place the celeriac on a baking dish and coat with a thick layer of the salt paste, making sure there are no gaps. Bake in the oven for 2 1/2 hours.
To make the pearl barley, heat half of the butter in a saucepan. Gently fry the shallot, garlic and thyme on a low heat until soft, then add the chopped porcini and continue to cook for another couple of minutes. Turn the heat up slightly and pour in the barley, stirring until the grains are coated. Add the wine and allow it to be absorbed before adding the first half ladle of stock. Stir frequently and only add more liquid when needed. Cook for about 20 minutes, or until the barley has increased in size and is just al dente. The liquid should be reduced and sticking to the grains. Set aside for finishing later.
For the sauce, heat up some oil in a frying pan or skillet to a high heat. Season the pheasant trimmings and giblets and fry quickly until well browned on all sides. Add the garlic, shallots, fennel seeds and thyme and colour. Add the brandy and carefully flambé until all of the alcohol has burned off. Pour in the stock and continue to cook until only about 150ml of thick liquid remains. Strain into a small saucepan and set aside.
When the celeriac has been in the oven for 2 1/2 hours remove from the oven. Keep warm while you prepare the pheasant.
Heat a non-stick frying pan to a high heat and add a little olive oil. Season the pheasant crown well all over and cook for 2 minutes on each breast, until well browned. Transfer to a small oven dish and smother with the butter and thyme sprigs. Put in the oven for 15-17 minutes, so that the meat still remains a little pink. Baste the meat with the butter every 4-5 minutes. Remove from the oven and allow to rest for 10 minutes.
While the pheasant is in the oven prepare the celeriac. Crack open the salt crust and slice the top off. Pass the soft inside through a sieve into a bowl, then season and mix with the cream and butter. Keep warm until you plate up.
When the pheasant is resting, finish off the other elements of the dish:
Sautee the garlic for the cabbage in the butter over a medium heat until tender, then add the cabbage, seasoning and water and cook for 3-4 minutes. Stir in the white wine vinegar.
Re-heat the pan used to sear the pheasant and add the butter. Fry the confit legs over a high heat, basting frequently with the butter until crisp and golden. When the legs are nearly cooked add the chanterelle mushrooms and cook for a further minute.
Reheat the sauce and pearl barley, stirring a small knob of butter into each until emulsified.
Using a sharp knife, carefully cut the rested pheasant breasts from the bone and slice each one into three pieces.
To plate up, spoon a mound of the celeriac onto each plate and some of the pearl barley next to it. Position the pheasant leg and breast pieces on top. Arrange small piles of the cabbage and some chanterelles around the meat, then spoon over some of the sauce.
