Fish are as seasonal in our waters as the distinct harvesting seasons for vegetables, and the traditional shooting seasons for game. Temperature and weather conditions play a big part, and the variation in catches reflects this. Late spring and summer sees wild sea trout and salmon migrating back down their spawning rivers from sea, and it is the beginning of turbot season proper. Christmastime sees peak molluscs; juicy, heavy mussels and sweet clams. The autumn is bountiful, and almost everything is in great condition as the waters finally start to cool after months of heat. The most visual sign of this is the tide of beautiful red mullet that start appearing, scale perfect and ridged as darts. In the shops we sell two different sizes of these fine fish; the small ‘fritture’, perfect for frying whole as a wonderful evening snack with a glass of dry wine. But the larger ones are worth seeking out, for crispy-skinned fillets and the soft, part-oily flesh that yields that unique shellfish flavour.
In the year and a half that I have been a fishmonger, this is the first time that I’ve managed to take advantage of this wonderful produce. My colleagues swoon as soon as they start appearing on the ice slabs, for many they are an outright favourite. Such special fish deserve a special dish, and this time around I made sure I was prepared.
A good fish stew recipe is worth its weight in gold. It can be quickly rustled up in order to create a special and crowd-pleasing meal when suddenly faced with many mouths. It is perfect when the chills start and the nights creep in, providing a deep satisfaction, and a radiator-like effect on the body. My version takes the last of the summer tomato harvest combined with soft borlotti beans and roasted radicchio leaves. I heard recently that we are losing our taste for bitter leaves and was saddened. They are an acquired taste for sure, but tempered with clever cooking and flavour pairings they are delightful.
A small packet of bottarga accompanied me back from Rome, and I’ve been grating little bits of it here and there whenever possible. I love it simply with braised greens, lemon and olive oil a la The River Café, but it also really makes clams, shellfish and in this case, red mullet really sing. It acts as a fantastic enhancer, boosting other ingredients whist imparting its own subtle and delicious flavour.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
1 red mullet, about 400g in weight. Filleted and pin-boned.
1 medium squid, cleaned, scored and cut into strips
For the stew base:
The bones from the red mullet
3 shallots, finely sliced
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 fennel bulb, finely chopped
1 tbsp sweet smoked paprika
1 tsp fennel seeds
1 tsp dried oregano
1 star anise
1 tsp dried chilli
1 good pinch of saffron
4-6 ripe tomatoes, chopped
1 glass of dry white wine
750ml good chicken stock
400g tinned or fresh borlotti beans, drained and rinsed if using the former
For the roasted radicchio:
1 small radicchio, trimmed and quartered
To finish:
A handful of basil leaves
A good glug of extra virgin olive oil
A generous grating of bottarga
First start off by making the stew. Heat a good glug of olive oil in a large, high-sided skillet or frying pan. When a medium temperature, add the mullet bones and fry until golden on all sides. Tip in the shallot, garlic and fennel along with a good pinch of seasoning, and continue to cook for 10-15 minutes, until the vegetables have softened. Stir in the dried chilli, fennel seeds, paprika, oregano, star anise and saffron and continue to fry for a further 5 minutes, until the flavours have been released. Add the tomatoes and combine well with a wooden spoon. Cook until soft and starting to dissolve and create a sauce, another 10 minutes or so. Raise the heat and pour in the wine, allowing it to boil and reduce by half. Finally pour in the chicken stock. Bring the broth to a boil, then simmer gently for about 45 minutes, until the liquid has reduced and thickened a little. Strain into a smaller saucepan, and discard the now spent flavourings.
Bring the strained stew base back to a simmer and pour in the borlotti beans. Cook until the beans have softened and absorbed some of the flavour, about 10-15 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 200⁰C.
Arrange the radicchio quarters onto a baking tray and coat with olive oil, salt and pepper. Roast in the hot oven for 10 minutes, or until the edges start to turn golden brown. Remove from the oven and slice the leaves into small, rough pieces.
Pour a generous amount of oil into a large, non-stick frying pan and bring to a high heat. When really hot, add the squid and a good pinch of seasoning. Fry quickly for 1-2 minutes on each side, until golden and crispy. Transfer to a plate lined with kitchen paper to drain. Keep warm.
Give the frying pan a quick wipe clean and replace the oil. Bring back to a medium-high heat. Season the mullet fillets well and place skin-side down in the pan. Fry for 3 minutes, and use a tablespoon to baste the flesh-sides with hot oil at the same time.
To serve, spoon a good amount of the stew and beans into shallow bowls. Scatter the radicchio and squid over the top, and pop a fillet of red mullet in the middle. Arrange basil leaves around the sides and drizzle over some good olive oil. Finish by grating over the bottarga and serve.
Two weeks ago it was my birthday; I finally turned the grand old age of 30. In an attempt to trick time and escape reality, Katie and I hot-footed to City Airport and jumped on a plane to spend a lovely long weekend in Rome. It was the perfect getaway; blue skies and temperatures approaching 30 degrees made for perfect square and balcony lounging. Sure we saw the Colosseum and the Forum, but let’s face it, this was always going to be an eating trip, and we encountered these places en-route to dinner.
I hadn’t visited Rome or the surrounding Lazio region before, and I was excited to try the local specialities. One of my favourite things about Italian food and cookery is the diversity, which changes dramatically from North to South, from state to state. In Rome, I was more than happy to discover, it is all about the pizza and the pasta. Happy days. We walked miles across the city in search of wonderful pizzas, and were rewarded with crispy, thin bases and rich tomato topping.
When it comes to pasta, Rome is renowned for rich, creamy sauces such as carbonara. But whilst there, I really fell for the carbonara’s even simpler counterparts; cacao e pepe and spaghetti alla gricia. It was amazing how just some good pecorino and freshly cracked black pepper could create something so delicious. For someone like me who likes to cook dishes with multiple complicated elements, it was a real eye-opener. I ordered these dishes nearly everywhere I sat, and it was interesting to see the subtle differences. Some restaurants would prefer a looser sauce, some would prefer more gently cooked, softer guanciale etc etc. One thing that was pretty common in all, and frankly unexpected, was that for something listed as a ‘primi’, all pasta course were MASSIVE. We got caught out a few times, thinking that we’d have a cheeky little bowl of pasta before our main. We then sat in shock as the waiter pretty much wheeled out bulging plates, before bringing out practically half of a cow for the main. It’s been a long time since I couldn’t physically finish a meal, and it pained me, beads of sweat forming, to give up.
When I returned to what seemed like freezing cold September London, I carried as much as possible back with me. Slabs of cheese, cured meat and olive oils jingle-jangled in my bag as I wheeled it through Hackney. It was so lovely to create this dish again; looking out of the window into a garden cluttered with auburn leaves and smashed conkers. Although a simple meal in principal, it’s all about getting the balance right for you. I like a lot of pepper to counter the rich cheese and pork. I cut the guanciale thickly to give some differentiation in texture. I prefer the sauce to cling to the pasta, instead of pooling at the bottom of the bowl. The ingredients below will give you scope, and allow you to create a dish to your personal liking. The trick is the ratio of cheese and pasta water, and moving the pasta as soon as it hits the pan, to release the glutens and thicken the sauce.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the spaghetti:
200g ‘00’ grade strong pasta flour
2 medium eggs
1 pinch of fine salt
1 tbsp of extra virgin olive oil
For the sauce:
200g guanciale, roughly sliced into strips about 2mm in thickness
80g Pecorino Romano cheese, finely grated
1 tbsp black peppercorns, coarsely cracked with a pestle and mortar
First make the pasta dough. Tip all of the ingredients into a bowl and mix well with a wooden spoon until a dough is formed. Transfer to a clean worktop and knead for 5-10 minutes, until soft and springy in texture. Wrap the dough well with cling film and put into the fridge to rest for at least 30 minutes.
Remove the dough from the fridge and unwrap. Roll out to roughly 1cm thick, then pass through the thickest setting of your pasta machine. Repeat 8-10 times, or until the texture of the dough is very elastic and dry. Work the dough once through each setting, until you get to number 5 (on an Imperia machine). Lightly dust the pasta sheet with flour, and cut to the required length for spaghetti. Pass each sheet through a spaghetti cutter, then set aside while the rest of the dish is prepared.
Fill a large saucepan with water, sprinkle in a generous amount of salt and bring to the boil.
Set a large, heavy frying pan or skillet to a medium heat. Pour in a little oil, then add the guanciale. Fry for 10-12 minutes, until a lot of the fat has rendered away and the meat has crisped up.
Add the fresh pasta carefully to the boiling water and cook for 1-2 minutes, until al dente. Use some tongs to transfer the cooked pasta to the frying pan, and add in 2-3 large spoonfuls of the cooking water. Sprinkle in a good pinch of the black pepper and most of the Pecorino, reserving a little for serving. Toss the pan really well to combine all of the ingredients together, the melted cheese, pork fat and water should emulsify into a glossy sauce that coats every spaghetti strand. Add more water/cheese if the sauce is looking respectively dry or wet.
Pile the pasta onto each plate, making sure that each portion contains a good amount of the crispy guanciale. Finish with more black pepper and grated Pecorino.
Last week I was lucky enough to be invited along to a ‘Meet The Producer’ evening hosted by wonderful champions of British charcuterie, Cannon and Cannon, and their producer for the night, Moons Green. Having bought and enjoyed their products a few times before, it was great to learn more about what went into the production side of things, and interesting to hear the (often highly amusing) stories gained along the way. Of course, it was also brilliant to taste a wide range of cured meats, from beer sticks to UK coppa, cured ‘buttock’ and nduja. And I was very happy to be kindly given a piece of the latter to play about with back in the kitchen.
I’m a real lover of foreign charcuterie, and any trip back from Europe sees me cramming my suitcase full of regional specialities to devour once back at home. But it was hugely enlightening to see the sheer range and quality of cured meats being produced in this country. In the UK we rear some amazing quality livestock, and it is crazy that we aren’t renowned for preserving it. Cannon and Cannon are rightly hugely enthusiastic about their products, and hopefully soon we will see a well-deserved charcuterie renaissance, one to rival the current resurgence with cheese.
Nduja is fantastic, and something that has recently achieved trend status in London and beyond. And rightly so; it is such a versatile ingredient. It can hold its own as a dominant flavour when used in something like a sauce with tomatoes, or balanced and tempered to add depth to other dishes. I recently saw a Gizzi Erskine recipe where she crumbled it into a vongole-style spaghetti and it looked fabulous.
Now that we’re full-swing into autumn, I thought that the fiery heat of the nduja would contrast brilliantly with the sweet fruit and vegetables that are now coming through. It also works a treat with greens and brassicas, in this case, some of the lovely chard that seems to be springing up out of the ground everywhere at present. At the centre of the dish is a hunk of pork belly, brittle and crunchy on top and succulent underneath. I wanted to showcase the quality of British pork, and here it is evident both cured and fresh. Ignore the pale, anaemic slabs you see lining supermarket aisles; independent butchers and suppliers is where the real quality (and flavour!) is at.
Serves 4
Ingredients:
For the pork belly:
1 x 1.5kg piece of on the bone pork belly, ribs removed and saved for stock
1 tbsp fennel seeds
1 tbsp dried oregano
1 lemon, zest only
10 sprigs of thyme
1 pinch of dried chilli flakes
1 carrot
2 shallots
3 cloves of garlic
For the sauce:
The ribs and trim from the pork belly, excess fat removed
1 tsp fennel seeds
2 shallots, finely sliced
1 carrot, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, sliced
5 sprigs of thyme
1 bay leaf
1 large glass of white wine
750ml chicken stock
1 large knob of butter
For the burnt apple puree:
4 braeburn apples
2 tbsp caster sugar
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
For the roasted squash:
1 large or 2 medium harlequin squash, peeled and seeded
1 garlic clove, grated
1 tbsp dried oregano
1 tbsp sweet smoked paprika
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp fennel seeds
1 lemon, zest only
For the chard:
1 inch-thick slice of spicy nduja
1 large bunch of chard, tough stalks removed. Leaves roughly sliced.
1 lemon, juice only
Preheat the oven to 240⁰C. Put the apples for the puree into an oven dish and roast for about an hour, until dark in colour all over and very soft. Transfer to a food processor with the caster sugar and blend until smooth. With the engine still running, drizzle in the olive oil until emulsified. Pass through a fine sieve if necessary, then spoon into a squeezy bottle.
While the apples are cooking make the sauce. Bring a large frying pan or skillet to a high heat. Season the ribs and trimmings from the pork belly and brown in a little olive oil until all sides are well caramelised. Tip in the shallots, carrot, garlic and herbs and continue to fry for a couple of minutes. Pour in the wine and reduce by two-thirds, then top up with the stock. Bring back to the boil, then gently reduce until only a thick, concentrated sauce remains. Pour through a fine sieve into a small saucepan, discarding the bones and vegetables. Whisk the butter into the sauce, then cover and set aside.
Lower the oven temperature to 130⁰C. Put the fennel seeds, lemon zest, dried oregano, chilli flakes and half of the thyme for the pork belly into a pestle and mortar with a generous amount of salt and pepper and crush well. Slice the root vegetables in half lengthways and scatter onto the bottom of a roasting dish, along with the garlic and remaining half of the thyme. Use a sharp knife to carefully score the skin of the pork, then position the meat on top of the vegetables. Rub the spice mix into the skin of the pork, making sure that it gets right into the grooves. Roast in the oven for 3-4 hours, until very tender. Raise the oven temperature to 240⁰C, and continue to cook the meat for 10-15 minutes, until the crackling has bubbled and crisped. Remove from the oven to somewhere warm, and allow to rest before carving.
Lower the oven temperature back down to 200⁰C. Slice the squash into thick wedges and scatter into a roasting dish. Sprinkle over the spices and spoon in a good glug of olive oil. Toss well to combine, then roast for 30-40 minutes, until tender in the middle and caramelised on the outside. Set aside 4 pieces of roasted squash, and transfer the rest into a food processor. Blitz well into a smooth puree, adding the butter and a good sprinkle of seasoning.
Bring a frying pan to a medium heat. Pour in 1 tbsp of oil, then add the nduja. Fry for a couple of minutes, until it starts to release its oil, using a spoon to break it up into small pieces. Add the chard leaves and the lemon juice, and combine well with the nduja. Cook for another minute or so, until the chard leaves have just wilted.
Reheat the sauce and roasted squash if necessary.
To serve, postion a piece of pork belly onto each plate. Squeeze on a good blob of apple puree, add a piece of roasted squash and spoon on a dollop of squash puree. Add some of the chard and nduja, before finishing with a couple of spoonfuls of the sauce.
