A Long and Messy Business. Rowley Leigh
Fay Maschler, aided and abetted by
her sister Beth, cooked some delicious lentils. Jonathan
Meades, assisted by Alan Crompton Batt,** cooked a huge
pot of ‘la Sauce’, an Elizabeth David recipe calling for
rabbits, pig’s trotters, chunks of beef and several bottles of
Medoc. Henrietta Green, then about to publish the first
of a series of directories of British food producers, brought
smoked haddock.
I liked the haddock dish so much that I copied it and
put it on the menu. It was a simple but brilliant idea. The
finnan haddock was not cooked, but sliced thinly like
smoked salmon and marinated in lemon juice, olive oil and
herbs. Henrietta had her fishmonger do the slicing and
simply applied the marinade at the appropriate moment.
Despite it being a rather clean, light and healthy dish to
put before such a rackety crowd, Henrietta stole the show.
It was a long lunch, characterised by the lavish
generosity of our hosts coupled with a certain louche and
reckless abandon on the part of both guests and hosts
alike. One critic fell asleep under a sofa, two chefs very
nearly came to blows, Anthony nearly got off with a
certain restaurateur, and I think the party was pretty much
wrapped up by midnight. When I was in Sri Lanka later
that year, people still spoke of the Blonds – who had lived
in Galle, on and off, in the 1980s – with a degree of awe that
was unsullied by the passage of time. Others have revived
the idea of critics cooking for chefs, often proving the old
adage that ‘those who do, do and those who can’t, teach’
but none of those occasions quite matched the brio of that
inaugural event.
52
SMOKED HADDOCK TARTARE
Large, pale fillets of natural haddock are best for this
recipe. In the 1980s, undyed haddock was a rarity, but it is
now commonplace in supermarkets. The herbs are deployed
with some abandon: when I specify a bunch, I mean enough
to produce a good couple of tablespoons of chopped herb.
Remove the skin from the haddock. This is best done with
a long, sharp carving knife: lay the fillet down flat on a
board with the tail on the left (if you are right-handed) and,
holding the knife firmly at a very slight angle against the
skin, pull the tail away from the flesh. Pull out the few pin
bones with tweezers or pliers, then rinse the fillet briefly
in cold water. Now carve the fillet in very thin, long slices,
cutting towards the tail. Lay these slices on a large platter,
or individual plates, close together without overlapping.
Pick the herbs, discarding the larger, coarser stalks and
chop them – the chives very finely but the others not so
fine as to bruise them and destroy the aromatics. Mix the
herbs, pepper, lemon juice and oil together in a bowl. Coat
the fish fillets with this marinade, making sure they are
completely covered. Although I rather like it as it is, the
fish will be still be raw: after 30 minutes the lemon juice
will have ‘cooked’ the fish, and this will probably be more
acceptable to most diners.
Serve with thin toast or bread.
Serves six to eight.
3 large undyed smoked
haddock fillets, about
600g (1lb 5oz)
1 bunch of chervil
1 bunch of chives
1 bunch of dill
a few sprigs of tarragon
2 teaspoons coarsely ground
black pepper
juice of 3 lemons
3 tablespoons sunflower oil
WINE: This has to be Riesling: delicate and smoky, the
racy pleasures of a Mosel Kabinett are perfectly suited.
A little residual sugar will soften the lemon juice. If you
really cannot bear this sweetness, you’ll have to head over
to Alsace or down to the Clare valley.
53
February
The Joy of Steam
Steamed Beetroots and Turnips with Beluga Lentils, Pickled Garlic and Lemon
I bought my steamer in a junk shop a few months ago. In
almost burnished aluminium, it is an old-fashioned, double
compartment, fish kettle sort of affair. Espying it among
the usual detritus to be found in a West London flea
market, it was love at first sight. Since that day when I beat
the dealer down to £9 for this splendid apparatus, the love
has blossomed.
Previously I steamed when I had to. The odd beetroot,
a chicken or duck prior to roasting and a bit of fish would
be committed to a wire rack suspended across a wok with
a steel bowl inverted over the top, a procedure that just
about did the job, but I needed something more. I have
always been excited by the process. Thirty years ago I
went to a restaurant in Paris (Le Dodin Bouffant, long
since gone) and loved the food: as I used to in those days,
I bought the chef’s cookbook, despite its laborious title, Le
Grand Livre de la Cuisine à la Vapeur. The chef, Jacques
Manière, aimed to prove not only that steaming was the
new healthy cuisine of the future, but also – not entirely
successfully – that there was nothing in the kitchen that
could not be achieved by steam.
Sadly, Manière died quite young and would be
disappointed that his enthusiasm for steam has borne
such little fruit. I am surprised that it has not taken hold in
the public imagination. In restaurants, chefs tend to either
pan-fry protein in a great deal of butter or they put it in
a