‘Net to plate’ or ‘field to fork’ - the storytelling behind our food and how our countryside and coast is managed is a fascinating narrative. Join us on our journey. We’ll be talking again at the Aldeburgh Jubilee Hall in September if you fancy joining us for a lively, entertaining and educational evening as we navigate and defuse the minefield of misinformation that consumers have to cross.

Before that though - I have some rather exciting news!

I have been shortlisted for the annual Fishing News Awards in the ‘Industry Supporter of the Year’ category, which is all very exciting and a little humbling into the bargain. As it’s now open to a public vote, then naturally, I’d love you to vote for me, if you feel inclined, and I would sincerely value your support. Being an ambassador for the fishing industry and seafood sector is a full-time and very personally invested job, so it’s recognition like this, which means so much.

You can vote here - The Fishing News Awards on this link and the voting is open until April 12th, with the Awards taking place in Aberdeen on May 6th.

Thank you !

Anyway, back to the bass……

The season opens annually on April 1st, following a two month closure, which allows for the female or ‘hen’ fish to begin their spawning season unencumbered. As the month progresses, a steady migration of mainly larger fish move South- North, fairly close inshore, hoovering up the remnants of the migrant herring shoals and proceeding toward Norfolk. Our local boats at Felixstowe and Harwich, start catching first and then gradually the other ports - Orford, Aldeburgh, Sizewell, Southwold etc get to catch them all the way up to Lowestoft.

It’s a valuable catch, the wild European bass. I’ve probably mentioned before but we only have a very limited selection of commercial species here on the East Coast and bass (not ‘sea bass’ please - we reserve that term for the farmed Mediterranean supermarket fish) are our superstars, which help keep our industry sustainable.

The trouble is they’re not just on our menu. We now have thousands of grey seals languishing along our shores from the Thames to the Wash and in very increasing numbers, which is a problem - a big problem and what you might call the ‘elephant in the room’. For many years the grey seal population in the UK has been looked upon (and understandably) as a cuddly abundance of ‘sea labradors’ which should be encouraged and protected at all costs. However, as with many uncontrolled and out of control, predator populations, the numbers have exploded to such an extent now, that their own abundance is now outstripping their food supply (fish) and of course that impacts on the viability and sustainability of our own catches.

Such is the problem now, that many fishermen are losing up to 75% or more of their bass catch to predatory seals who take the livers primarily from the fish and extract them right out of the net - be it a fixed gill net, a trawl or even off a hook. Nets themselves get smashed up and all in all its becoming a massive and costly headache for the small boats, as there’s not a lot of money in the job at the best of times - increased fuel costs, weather etc.

The other concerning thing about the seal numbers is that because they are now essentially out of balance with the environment, they are starting to turn to other species for food in the absence of fish - Harbour porpoises, dolphins, sea birds and wildfowl. They are even turning on each other, especially our smaller native common seal. Statistically, an adult grey seal needs to consume around 3-5kgs of fish/day. If you multiply that figure up across the East Coast to a potential 100,000 seals, that’s over 100,000 metric tonnes of fish/year and at the lower figure. Seals are also pushing inland to freshwater ways and threatening coarse fish stocks and other wildlife. It’s a serious sustainability issue and a growing one which threatens the whole ecological pyramid and one you should be aware of.

Anyway, despite the seals and everything else going on in the world, the first bass of the season are indeed here and available, so do head to your local fishmonger (if you have one) or off to the coast to pick up one of our seasonal ‘silver bars’ I miss having the shop at this time of year, as the bass were such an important part of the storytelling.

Glorious baked whole, they also cook over fire really well, or a pan fried fillet will be just as delicious. However, my absolute favourite dish for bass, is a simple crudo or ceviche where the raw flesh is just thinly sliced (like smoked salmon) and then lightly cured with something citrusy, some fine olive oil and then sprinkled with a little coarse sea salt. Of course you can also use fresh herbs or chilli depending on your taste, but I think as always, less is more to get that fresh sashimi hit. (Here’s a pic of a stunning bass crudo with cherries, lime, coriander and jalapeños, my friend Maria and I produced at our seasonal seafood supper last July)

Thank you once again for following and voting for me - I’ll keep you posted and in the meanwhile, do follow me on instagram for more regular updates - A Passion for Seafood

Best fishes

I’ve followed the fortunes of the Cromer fishermen for many years now and first went to sea with the Bywater family at East Runton back in 2016, when I wrote a piece for my blog entitled ‘Life’s a Beach’ where I spent a glorious morning afloat on the ‘Leeson Lady’.

Since then, I’ve got to know more of the fleet really well and learned about just how low impact, sustainable and responsibly managed their fishery is, despite it being in a Marine Conservation Zone (MCZ)

The grounds form part of the Cromer Shoal, a prehistoric chalk reef stretching some 30 miles along the North Norfolk coast between Weybourne and Happisburgh. This incredible chalk bed, carved out in its current form by glacial activity in the last Ice Age, is unique in both its habitat and ecology. Many species of sea life-both plant and animal thrive here, crabs being one of them.

The crab fishery is incredibly important to Cromer and its economy. Potting here can be documented right back to the mid 1800’s, with the fishery peaking at around 200 boats with hundreds employed ashore.

Nowadays, only a fraction of the fleet remains with 30-40 boats still operating from the town beach and neighbouring villages.

It’s a true artisan heritage fishery, more of a living museum and a way of life that should be protected at all costs. Not just from a historical perspective, but because the influence of the fishery is connected and intertwined into so many parts of the local economy and community, making it truly ‘sustainable’

Some believe that the impact of the fishery is detrimental to the reef, but the scale of any harm or adverse effects, pales into insignificance in comparison to the violence and destruction unleashed on the reef in just one bad winter storm, as any of the fishermen will tell you.

So enjoy your Cromer crab with confidence, it’s delicious, seasonal and ‘bootiful’ as they say on the beach 😉

You’ll also be helping to protect an environment, where actually the fishermen are themselves both the conservationist and the vulnerable species 🦀🦀🦀

#apassionforseafood #cromercrab #cromer

It’s long been my ambition to produce a video that really dives deep beneath the surface of British seafood production and talks about sustainability, seasonality, traceability and all those incredible ingredients that make up the tapestry of our fishing communities and their wonderful produce.

On my new channel, I’ll be inviting some of the most influential and well known and influential names in British seafood, to come and join me to discuss their lives and help me cook some of perhaps, our lesser known commercial species of fish and shellfish, that inhabit our shallow seas.

Last August, on the most glorious of summer days on Aldeburgh beach, my great friend Chef Cyrus Todiwala OBE DL joined me, to cook up some just-caught local fish, landed that morning by Dean Fryer, one of the few remaining Aldeburgh fishermen left who sells his own daily catch.

We spent all day in perfect sunshine and had a real blast into the bargain.

We launch the main channel next month on YouTube, so keep an eye out on our socials. This is just a taste of things to come!

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I love Ludlow. There’s something so incredibly English about every aspect of not just the festival, but the town, the river, the castle, the surrounding Marches and of course, the inexhaustible bounty of seasonal produce that identifies the area and its unique local climate - fruits in abundance, grass-fed, slow-matured, beef and lamb, local wines, salt, bread, charcuterie, the list is extensive to put it mildly.

What they don’t have of course, is seafood and that’s what makes it so appealing for me. I can’t begin to count the number of times I’ve spoken or cooked with a coastal backdrop and don’t get me wrong, that’s idyllic and there’s nowhere on earth I’d rather be that near salt water, however, you do feel with the audiences there, more often than not, you’re preaching to the converted.

Ludlow is different, being landlocked and miles from the nearest harbour, opportunities for embracing and learning about our Great British Catch are slender to say the least and that is evident from the audience response and feedback whenever I start talking. This year was exceptional and having finished my cookery demo on the Kadai Fire Stage, in intriguing conversation and interspersed with uproarious banter, with the inimitable DJBBQ aka Christian Stevenson,

As I’m always at pains to point out, I’m not a chef, I’m a passionate home cook and storyteller. The Fire Stage gives me a wonderful platform to do both from - cooking in my own rather ‘ad hoc’ style, in a way that showcases the ingredients simply and flavourfully, but allows me to tell the story of their provenance and where a little knowledge is needed, impart a few pearls that might enthuse and inform, so listeners might go home a little less reticent about buying, prepping, cooking or even eating fish.

So in the company of fabled open fire cooking gurus, such as Murph - from The Beefy Boys, Adam Purnell - A Shropshire Lad and Matt Burgess - Mat Blak, it can be quite a daunting environment with so much culinary expertise inhabiting the same stage. However, cooking over coals with an abundance of support and help from the likes of legendary home economist Kim Somauroo and the Fire Stage team of James and Vicki Wilson, in that setting of the castle inner bailey, is just the best and most welcoming environment you could wish for - it is indeed magical and inspirational in equal measure.

Each year, I try and do something which is simple to replicate at home, uses the freshest seasonal, ingredients, but isn’t specifically an open-fire dish. I absolutely love the idea of cooking regular meals over a pit. Soups, stews, risottos, pasta dishes and curries, often in the style of the great Keith Floyd, whose inspiration I summon to this day and whose memory we always pay homage to on stage, with a customary slurp or two!

This year, I decided to visit the Portuguese Algarve coast with my take on a traditional dish Porco alla Alentajana (basically slow cooked pork with clams).

As with all my cooking, the recipe is in my head. There are no definitive measurements, just the well-sourced core ingredients, a spoonful of this, a scattering of that and a huge amount of love.

For the pork I actually brought a lovely fatty shoulder from our local farm butcher - Hall Farm and rubbed that well with a beautiful blend of aged rock salt, fennel, dulse and lemon verbena from the guys at Droitwich Salt. I then left that to slow-cook overnight in the Kadai Smoker and left a tray underneath its rack to collect the dripping.

Next morning after 10 hours at 100C, the pork was sublimely done. Nuff said.

My great friend and Portuguese aficionado Chef Cyrus Todiwala, famed for his multifarious Indian cuisine (a lot of which is based on traditional Portuguese dishes - think vindaloo), said if I were to do the dish justice, it must be served with crispy fried potatoes and so in the depths of the inner bailey on the prep table, I diced and par-boiled some Maris Piper.

I was on stage at 11.30am, the decks now cleared from the very exciting 2nd round of the GB Live Fire Cooking Championships which I’d been privileged to judge myself, on the first round, the previous evening.

Cooking with Christian is always a treat and to be honest, hilarious, (I just don’t know how he does it for the whole weekend) and so with glasses of a delicious Frome Valley Vineyard Reichensteiner raised to the Floyd Toast, we embarked on our usual culinary narrative, interspersed with plenty of audience interaction, as I softened heaps of onions and garlic before adding paprika (lots), chopped fresh tomatoes and fresh oregano, whilst Christian lovingly nurtured the potatoes over a hot fire, in the pork dripping.

To give in a little more of a seafood inflection, I’d also brought with me a 1.5kg Brixham monkfish tail, which I duly filleted for the crowd, talked about its provenance and cut into medallions for the final flourish.

Clams and chunks of the fatty pork went in next, with white wine and left to simmer for a few minutes before adding to the liquid with a bit of home made stock and finally the monkfish to quite literally, just poach through.

Even as I applied the finishing touch of more freshly chopped oregano, the tasting queue was forming next to the stage and so we displayed the Porco alla Alentajana in all its glory in the skillet, alongside the by now, perfectly crisp and salty spuds.

Like a flash, the dish seemed to rapidly disappear and as with all good cookery demos, it left me feeling absolutely euphoric and exhausted in equal measure. Seldom though have I experienced so many people just after the show and even throughout the rest of the day, stopping me to express their enjoyment - always a great endorsement and very welcome, but equally humbling and heartwarming. What a demo, what a day! It doesn’t come a lot better than Ludlow and I’m sure dear Lesley would approve.

Footnote

I would especially like to thank Hannah and the Festival organisers for their enduring hospitality and for putting us up once again at the Riverside at Aymestery. A delightful waterside pub on the River Lugg, run by local chef Andy Link and his managing partner George Parkes. I’d heartily recommend a stay if your ever in the Shropshire/Herefordshire borders.

I’m quite used to talking - especially to groups or audiences and even to camera for things like instagram reels and quick one minute ‘lives,’ but working with a ‘multi camera’ crew on location, was a whole new barrel of fish for me and one that I was glibly unaware of the complexities of.

Talk about a steep learning curve ! Rick Stein, Keith Floyd, Jamie Oliver, Hairy Bikers, I take my hat off to them all. The levels of concentration I found myself summoning up were quite literally off the chart.

I won’t give too much away about the content of the film, but suffice to say its always great fun to work with my great and hugely supportive friend Cyrus Todiwala OBE DL who, in my humble opinion, has forgotten more about food and cooking that most will ever learn. Actually that’s nonsense, he remembers everything.

Needless to say, we picked one of the hottest days in August to set up camp on the beach at Aldeburgh courtesy of our local friendly fishermen Dean Frye…

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I remember the moment well. It was 1995, a Sunday evening in early September and my wife and I were weeks away from expecting our first child. I was farm managing at the time and although harvest was probably still in full swing (it carried on a lot later back then ), I was obviously at home and had put my feet up in front of the box and was scrolling through the channels (all 4 of them and did we actually have a remote ?), when something really piqued my interest.

A man and his small dog roaming around North and West Cornwall talking about British seafood and where it comes from. Despite my harvest-weary lethargy it must have made me sit up, because I distinctly remember saying to my wife. ‘Come and look at this. Here’s a guy I can absolutely relate to.’

Of course I’d seen him once before, on another show. Deliciously and mirthfully embracing the unique and so very watchable, gastronomic capers of one Keith Floyd, my food hero to this day.

His manner, so unpretentious, engaging and enthusing just made me want to cook. Seafood and particularly native seafood, had figured so prominently in my life since my coastal upbringing and I just yearned to re-embrace those seasonal exploits I’d known as a youngster; rod and line fishing, lobstering, crabbing, shrimping and long lining and then the aftermath of the catch - prepping, cooking and savouring.

Salt-water was still flowing through my veins and although the dust of harvest provided my working backdrop at the time, I felt the stirrings of something profound - a siren call beckoning me back to what I knew before and that world of the shoreline and the shallow sea, that had made such an impression on me as a youngster.

Taste of the Sea, therefore, was for me, a talisman of something that later in life I would embrace wholeheartedly, but for now, watching Rick and his beloved Chalky as they clambered over wrack-strewn rocks and across estuarine sands gathering and eulogising over the fruits of the summer sea, was a nirvana for me and an inspiration that serves to this day.

Of course I bought the book straight away. It still features in my culinary assemblage, kitchen splashed and dog-eared, a symbol of a thoroughly used and celebrated utensil. What I loved most was that the book was laid out just as I would have wanted it, in enticing, but thoroughly informative chapters that were to become a Stein hallmark - the basics covered so comprehensively, stocks, sauces, butters and dressings and then the fish and shellfish species broken down into groupings according to their shape, provenance and nutrition. How to source, how to prepare.

However, the first chapter, entitled ‘Why We Should Eat More Fish’ really summed up everything that I believed, so succinctly. Why was fish often so inaccessible to us? Why did we, as a nation (and a seafaring and island one at that) exhibit a reluctance to embrace the diversity of seafood that our relatively shallow seas had to offer? They were questions that I all too often asked myself and Rick provided not only answers that I could endorse, but solutions too.

If you study that first chapter, it says everything you need to know about the state of British seafood consumption and why such reticence exists to experiment and indulge in our marine resources that are the envy of so many societies and cultures around the world and to whom much of our catch is exported.

‘Ignorance,’ quoted Rick, and the lack of handed-down information across the generations, had meant that over time, what had been once considered ‘protein staples’ - herring, oysters, whiting, pilchards and a myriad of other abundant species, no longer featured on household menus. Fish had very much taken a backseat since the industrial revolution and although our fleets around the UK were harvesting increasingly sustainable volumes of fish and shellfish, three quarters of the landings were still destined for export.

What ‘Taste of the Sea’ represented for me though was the sheer simplicity of what could be achieved with a little knowledge. That reconnection to the sea and the excitement generated by discovering what lay beyond the horizon and the sheer diversity of what was being landed seasonally, at our ports and harbours shone for me like a beacon and lured me, mermaid-like, to uncover more about how this incredible and hard-won national catch, could easily get from the boat to our own plates.

I loved the way Rick was so at ease with seafood and especially British seafood. Of course, a good smattering of international recipes found their way in and rightly so, considering his early student travels and the increasing amount international cuisine that he was exploring.

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Whether it was a simple classic, such as Cod in Parsley Sauce, or a resplendent Bourride with red mullet and brill, to the more exotic (but still achievable) Thai seafood salad or char-grilled Tiger prawns with chilli, lemon grass and coriander, every page held a tantalising selection of delights, which just urged me to experiment with, although not always turning out for the best.

The photography too made a huge impact. Wonderful imagery of the prepared dishes, but also of the whole raw product and of course beautiful shots of locations such as Padstow Harbour and the Cornish coastline by Graham Kirk which conjured up salt, ozone, and all those feelings that a trip to a fishing harbour invokes.

The series though, left me feeling immensely happy and with a lingering satisfaction, which brought back many wonderful memories of my own upbringing. Wave after wave of nostalgia, which resonated time and time again with Rick’s exploits in Padstow and the surrounding coast. The production success of the six incredible first episodes though, wholeheartedly resting with skill and flair of the late David Pritchard, who’d already transformed Keith Floyd into a household name.

Of course, ‘Taste of the Sea’ was just a teaser of the sheer volume of writing and dedication to promoting seafood that was to come. ‘Fruits of’ came soon after in 1997, Rick having quipped ‘these are the fifty recipes I had to cut out of Taste’ - needless to say, he still had another fifty he couldn’t use in ‘Fruits’!

So having watched that enigmatic first series again on play back it truly felt like stepping back to some very happy and comfortable times, when the dawning realisation that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way for me to convert my passion for seafood into something more tangible lying ahead.

The series was a landmark (or daymark). It propelled Rick and his fishy entourage into a quintessentially Cornish limelight and onto a path to greater things. Of course the old boy has come in for a bit of stick over the years, but show me someone as successful who hasn't ? Padstow in my humble opinion is definitely the better for his influence and other businesses have undoubtedly shared in the trappings of local fame.

I always enjoy visiting this lovely old Cornish fishing port and although not as familiar to me as Newlyn (my second ‘spiritual’ home), a visit to the ‘Seafood Restaurant’ is always an absolute pleasure. I’ve never had a bad experience there (apart from the time my wife decided to eat the seaweed decoration off my ‘Fruits de Mer’ years ago) and I shall look forward to my next visit with equal eager anticipation, because for me, that experience is always reflected, whenever I open ‘Taste of the Sea’

Good friends have been made there too, over time and during the uncertain days of lockdowns in 2020, I even found myself supplying the Seafood Restaurant and my good mate, the ever-passionate Breton Stephane Delourme, who for 21 years presided over some of the finest seafood cuisine ever to grace their tables.

So how relevant is Taste Of The Sea today? I would wager, remarkably so and incredibly important too when it comes to addressing the variety of species we have landed in the South West on a seasonal basis.

Just leaf through the book and you’ll find reference to conger, ling, wrasse, weever and even the likes of shore crab, with Rick going to pains to explain how important (and delicious) some of these underrated, forgotten about and seldom appreciated ‘bycatch’ species are. It’s exactly my philosophy today - we are constantly guided by the media and conservation bodies to focus on ‘sustainable’ seafood, but generally that doesn’t involve acquiring a lot of knowledge, just following a template that doesn’t reference the nuances of geography or seasonality. Yes, that storyline has a place, but its not everything and does very little for the sustainability of our fishing communities, which Rick points out are the very reason he is where he is and why he does what he does. In my book, if it’s landed and on the market, it should be used.

‘A Passion for Seafood’ and ‘Seafood with Storytelling’ are phrases I have coined over the years, but be in no doubt, their origin took root and began to flourish around 30 years ago that September afternoon in Suffolk.

Recipe

Crab Newburg

It would entirely remiss of me not to pick out and recreate one of Rick’s iconic moments from that book. There are obviously so many to choose from, but one which really stood out, purely for the joyous way it’s described, is ‘Crab Newburg’.

This recipe appears in the first episode as well and it’s worth re-watching just for the poetry of the description, read out by Rick, from the Faber Book of Food by Colin Spencer and Clare Clifton.

Apart from the innate simplicity, what I particularly love about this recipe, is the absence of defined measurements. It’s just how I love (and prefer) to cook, doing things by eye or judgement, not worrying too much about a standardised outcome each time, but prefering instead, to think of each iteration as its own unique masterpiece. Although, is that me just me trying to be more forgiving of myself and my lack of finesse? It’s actually glorious though.

Anyway, here’s my take on Crab Newburg, using fresh picked Brixham crab meat, our own sublime local Bungay Butter from Fen Farm Dairy, Rodda’s clotted cream and served with my wife’s homemade sourdough toast. And forget the parsley! I used our fresh homegrown tarragon, but only a smidgin.

I think possibly, along with Omelette ‘Arnold Bennett’ this has to rate as one of my all time favourite hot seafood dishes.

To quote from the Faber Book of Food and Taste of the Sea :

‘When we have more crab to spare, I make a Crab Newburg so superlative that I myself taste it in wonder, thinking. ‘Can it be I who has brought this noble thing into the world?’

It is impossible to give proportions, for I never twice have the same amount of crab meat to work with and here indeed I have no mother, but only instinct to guide me.

In an iron skillet over a low fire I place a certain amount of Dora’s butter. As it melts I stir in the flaked crab meat, lightly, tenderly. The flakes must not become disintegrated; they must not brown. I add lemon juice, possibly a tablespoon for each cup of crab meat. I add salt and pepper frugally, paprika more generously and a dash of powdered clove, so temporal that the flavour in the finished Newburg is only as though the mixture had been whisked through a spice grove.

I add Dora’s golden cream. I do not know the exact quantity. It must be generous but the delicate crab must never become deluged with any other element. The mixture bubbles for a few moments. I stir in dry sherry, again the amount unestimable. Something must be left to genius. I stir in well beaten eggs, perhaps an egg, perhaps two for every cup of flakes.

The mixture must now be no more than turned over on itself and removed in a great sweep from the fire. I stir in a tablespoon or two of the finest brandy and turn the Newburg into a piping hot serving dish. I serve on toast points and garnish superfluously with parsley and a Chablis or a white Rhine wine is recommended as an accompaniment.

Angels sing in the distance.

How lovely is that? It just sums up everything for me about Taste of The Sea and indeed Rick Stein - passion, people and poetry atop the finest fish and shellfish available.

This is a conversation space exclusively for subscribers—kind of like a group chat or live hangout. If you love your seafood and have burning questions you’d like to ask me about how our fish and shellfish get from ‘net to plate’ then just drop me a line and I’ll be glad to help. Or if just want to share your seafood experiences or recipes then that’s fine too. I really look forward to hearing from you.

A Passion for Seafood - for the discerning seafood lover. Chat soon…

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I usually start to get that happy feeling crossing the Pennines, around Brough and from there on the excitement grows at each milestone - Dumfriesshire, The Bawbag Wood, The Erskine Bridge, Loch Lomond, and then finally and majestically, making the long 60 mile sweep westwards to Kintyre, tracing the margins of Loch Fyne and along the way, indenting at breathtaking locations such as Inverary, Lochgilphead, Ardrishaig and finally dropping into Tarbert.

I’ve been visiting the Kintyre Peninsular now for several years - primarily to appreciate the quality of the shellfish harvested from both Loch Fyne and around the Western Isles, but also as I’ve made good friends there and have learnt an awful lot from them, about their fisheries and their communities.

So it was with great excitement that we made the mighty schlep once again, this time to experience and be part of the Tarbert Seafood Festival, not just at the invitation of the fishermen and their committee, but also funded by Seafood Scotland as part of their drive to promote Scottish Seafood to a wider audience.

My great friend and collaborator CJ Jackson met me there - she'd taken the wise decision to fly to Glasgow (but I still love driving) and between us we’d drawn up a plan to cook with some of the local fruits of the sea, whilst talking sustainability and as always, trying to forge that most important of connections between producer and consumer.

The day of the Festival was typically ‘dreich’ a swirling, enveloping, probing and penetrating cloud of fine precipitation, that drenched and investigated every gap and vulnerable piece of clothing. However, having set out our stall in the Fish Market, (thankfully covered) by the time of our first demo, a large crowd had gathered to escape the weather and were sitting, dripping in eager anticipation.

We were eager too. I’d tentatively asked for a section of local produce - expecting certainly, scallops and langoustine, but stood amazed as the incredibly generous fishermen brought box after box into the market. A spectacular range of live species, that I excitedly arranged in front of the stage on ice and framed with a few creels borrowed from the harbour.

Our live selection:-

Brown crab

Velvet crab

Langoustine (creeled and trawled)

Squat lobster

Mussels

King Scallops

Queen Scallops

And then if that wasn’t enough, sides of local farmed, fresh and smoked salmon, smoked haddock, whiting and even a bass (not sure where he came from, but not the loch I fancy) appeared, giving us way more seafood than we needed.

CJ and I have worked a lot together over the years. We’ve done food festivals and demos the length and breadth of the country, but never the Scottish West Coast and as CJ prepared her tantalising seafood curry and marinaded her salmon, I kicked off by talking about how important our UK seafood business is to us as a nation and how sustainability, not only refers to our fish stocks, but equally the communities and businesses engaged in their harvest, either via wild capture or aquaculture.

The audience were very aware that we had an important message to deliver and although these festivals are a huge amount of fun and lighthearted, there are some serious points to get across and having this sort of platform is instrumental in introducing consumers to the realities of what we do in the industry, whilst displacing some of the media conjecture and misinformation and delivering some significant home truths straight from the coalface.

You can always gauge if you’re getting that message across by (a) the quality of the questions and (b) how long people linger to talk after the event. The first demo lasted an hour and after the lengthy tasting queue had dwindled, we only had just enough time to clean down and prepare for the second sitting.

By the time 2pm came round and the Seafood Festival Queen had been crowned and ceremoniously piped across the harbour, we were ready with a bubbling pot of homemade shellfish stock for my squat lobster risotto and in which we also cooked up one of several large 1kg local brown crabs that had been donated.

Although it’s nice to have a plan, often spontaneity is instrumental in adding to the theatre of the event and CJ’s perfect and dextrous masterclass in dressing the crab was a sight to behold. Then, as I started to construct my Loch Fyne fish stew, using as many species as would fit into the pan, I felt it was time to add yet another ingredient to the proceedings.

This came in the earnest and authoritarian narrative, delivered by one of Tarbert’s own - lifelong local fishermen and Chairman of the Clyde Fishermen’s Association, Kenny Macnab, who eloquently told us of growing up in Tarbert and how he was ‘away at the fishing’ from a young boy, going to sea and gaining experience aboard the herring ring netters, in their seasonal quest for the ‘silver darlings.’

Bringing an authority like Kenny in to help explain the realities of the fishing - past and present, I always feel is the icing on the proverbial cake. We can glean so much from fishermen who know their seas and grounds so intimately and can talk not just with passion, but incredible expertise and wisdom about the vagaries and nuances of their marine environment.

Effortlessly and with passion, he delivered his accurate and authentic view on many topical issues, such as coastal depopulation, Marine Protected Areas, the abundance (and absence) of certain species and the need to provide for fleet succession, by encouraging the younger generation of fishermen and inspiring them to pursue a career ‘at the fishing.’

There are a whole host of factors and variables affecting fishermen’s ability to operate sustainably and profitably on this coast, but Kenny eloquently highlighted three areas where either progress was being made or more dialogue was needed with other stakeholders and interested parties.

Crew recruitment and retention is probably one of the most important factors affecting their operations and closely following that, the huge amount of lobbying pressure placed on government and associated bodies, by non-stakeholder and non-participant environmental NGO’S (non governmental organisations) whose ideology often sets hypothetical precedents which are in themselves, often ill-thought through, and ultimately unsustainable if you take into account the balance of the environmental, economic and social elements. Lastly Kenny talked about fish stocks, their abundance and the real time knowledge.

So, all in all, a highly successful trip to the Kintyre Peninsula, marred only slightly by the weather, but made all the better for the incredibly warm welcome and generosity of folk who need their story telling. I can’t wait to get back to the highlands and islands, although I feel another trip South Westwards soon coming on.

You can find out more about these stories, where I go into much more detail on the policy and politics of the fishing industry, if you upgrade to paid and click on the subscribe box below. For paid subscribers, you’ll also be able to access recipes, extra video content and further fishing industry insights.

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It’s twelve years since I embarked on what was to become my own personal seafood odyssey, exploring the fisheries and seafood production industry of the UK, writing about what I found and how that related to the UK consumer and our domestic seafood consumption

Over that time the narrative has often changed, ebbing and flowing with the years and seasons (and the economy), but essentially the story and my remit remain - the promotion of the incredible resources of our native seas and the advocacy of an industry so often misunderstood.

Fishing and seafood production are both incredibly complex and diverse subjects. Added to that, the disparate nature of our fishing communities and the idiosyncrasies of the numerous fishery sectors, it all makes for a fascinating, but easy-to -misunderstand process. Therein lies the problem really, myth and misinformation is rife - as I’ve found out many times through countless days spent at sea, on fish markets, on quaysides, in factories, fishmongers, restaurants and pubs, engaging with the truth from those who work at the coalface. It IS indeed, a highly complex industry, but over the years, I’ve found a way to navigate through the complexity and disseminate the nuances which can often be difficult to appreciate.

It’s a case of building trust and acquiring knowledge. Not just a rudimentary appreciation of our fisheries, but a detailed working knowledge, backed up by integrity, authenticity and notably the endorsement of its proponents - the fishermen and learned from them, right at the cutting edge of the industry, in real time and with passion.

Writing and increasingly broadcasting, play a huge part in my narrative and so I have decided to diversify and introduce a paid subscription element, which will allow my followers a more regular, topical and current snapshot of what's happening in the world of British seafood. My other website newsletter ‘Fish Tales’ will still be produced, and although free, on a less frequent and more seasonal basis, for those who don’t wish to subscribe.

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Think of it as one of your favourite magazines, something you can turn to and browse over and over again, but always remains up to date and on point. Enthuse, inform, educate and entertain, have always been my watch words and this will be no different.

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Very best fishes

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Newlyn holds a very special affection for me, as I’ve spent so much time there over the years, either at sea, on the fish market, on the quayside talking to fishermen, or enjoying a pint or two in the Swordfish or the Star with my many friends down there, (the choice of watering hole depending on where their allegiance lies).

Summer in Newlyn is blissful. It’s very much a commercial working port and town, so you don’t have quite the hoards of tourists invading the streets and with its bustling and hard working atmosphere, it’s difficult not to fall completely in love with the place, especially when you’re there writing, as it just oozes inspiration.

It’s easy for me to get carried away eulogising about the place, as there’s so much going on this time of year - hake, squid, lemon soles, haddock, red mullet, John Dory, lobster, crab and crawfish are all landed in abundance, but from mid July, one particular species dominates the scene and a whole fleet of vessels hunt it, with a competitive and eager zest, which when the weather allows, sees the nocturnal Mounts Bay alight with their twinkling work lamps, as they track and pursue their glittering prize - the Cornish Sardine.

For those of you of a certain era, you may have known them just as ‘Pilchards’, but back in the latter part of the last century, a whole new meaning was brought to the fishery, with a complete rebrand, which has been incredibly successful.

Of course sardines are one of nature’s ultimate health foods, boasting fish oil, calcium, iodine, magnesium, low cholesterol and vitamins B12 and D within their highly nutritious flesh.

Landed by the thousands of tonnes over the season, which stretches right into the autumn, these ubiquitous cousins of herring and sprats are perfect for simple summer cookery and pack so much flavour.

Long gone are the days when the Huers’ cry of ‘Hevva hevva’ resounded from the cliff tops on the Cornish Coast as the pilchard shoals loomed dark, but glittering, beneath the surface. The wooden boats, thus directed, would find the shoals from the Huers’ signals all round the Cornish coast from Looe and Polperro to St Ives and Port Isaac.

Now it’s a wholly different operation, as I found out a few years back, when I accompanied Newlyn skipper Will Treneer and his crew for a night’s ring netting, aboard ‘Lyonesse’ PZ81, in Mounts Bay, all within plain sight of the Harbour and the the sleeping town.

Packed with technology and the latest designs in fishing gear, the modern sardine operation can be a relentless pursuit for several months of the year between July and quite often Christmas. The boats have their ‘quota’ to fulfil, set every year by the Cornish Fish Producer’s Organisation in consultation with the local Sardine Group and the Marine Stewardship Council (MSC) the latter setting the accreditation for the fishery.

About 12 netters currently operate out of the port and when the sardines are there on the grounds and running, you could be forgiven for thinking that it’s an incredibly industrialised operation with little room for conservation. However that night, I was witness to events that very much mean commercial fishing is still the preserve of the ‘Last of the Wild Hunters’.

Theres’s a lot of excitement on any of the fishing trips I’ve made over the years, but with a young crew and the season in full swing, the fervour was palpable. As we left through the harbour gaps and headed out into the gently, dimming dusk of the bay, attentions turned to the sonar screen to try and identify the often elusive ‘marks’ or images that show the signal emitted from the boat has met with hopefully a wall of fish.

After patrolling the brooding waters of the bay for an hour or so with little luck, Will shifted position further to the Southeast and soon had picked up on a decent mark that was worthy of investigation. Following the mark and observing its movements is critical as anticipation is the name of the game, along with the consummate skill and experience becoming of a commercial skipper.

After a while, the decision is made to shoot the gear and suddenly it’s literally all hands on deck, as the nets and dahns (buoys) are readied, whilst Will moves closer to the mark.

On his command the end dahn is shot over the side, its beacon winking solemnly against the western back drop of the rapidly disappearing day, the purse-like net paying out over the stern, whilst the boat accelerates in a wide but encompassing arc around the unseen shoal. The trick is, admits Will, ‘to outsmart the fish’

As the net closes around a potentially ‘decent’ catch of an estimated 12 tonnes of sardines, it’s almost in the bag, but our silvery quarry have a trump card to play. The evening sky is moonless and partially cloudy and there’s phosphorescence in the water - a myriad of sparkling green bioluminescence, that shimmers and frolics with every splash of the bow wave and every tug on the net, as the headline floats dance and bob in the now dark water.

The net gathers, concentrating the area that the fish have to move in, and we prepare for a bumper haul, but things aren’t unfolding, quite as they should be. With the bag alongside the boat having been hauled in double quick time, it’s evident we are far short of the expected tonnage. As the ‘brail’ or landing net is lowered into the flashing and writhing hoard, it becomes apparent we only have approximately three tonnes of fish.

The annoyance on Will’s face is clearly visible and I enquire as to what has happened.

He explains that with all the phosphorescence in the water and the subsequent visibility of the gear, the fish can spook really easily. In this instance, the bulk of the shoal were able to dive vertically down and out underneath, before the purse could be fully drawn in and closed.

‘You can have all the technology,’ he admits wrily, ‘but at the end of the day you’re still hunting them and trying to outsmart your quarry.’

So it’s literally still man v fish……

With the net alongside, the work of landing the catch continues apace, with the brailing a constant operation until all the fish are safely iced in the bins. With that done and the gear stowed, it’s time to call it a night and we steam the relatively short distance back to the harbour, now under cover of darkness. Once alongside the quay, everyone again springs into action, keen to land the sardines and get them in the chiller quickly so the catch can be collected later for onwards transport to the buyers.

It’s a slick, mechanised operation with the skipper working the onboard crane which delivers the loaded bins of sardines onto the quayside, it doesn’t take long to clear the decks, a forklift busily ferrying the catch into the massive drive-in chiller on Newlyn Market.

The sardines will be with customers literally within hours, some destined for restaurant and pub menus countrywide, but with many equally gracing fishmongers slabs. However, historically and most importantly, the origins of the Newlyn pilchard lie firmly in the midst of this endearing fish town, where in their millions, the yearly seasonal catches were sold for canning .

Sadly, the Newlyn Old Pilchard Works which, for years, processed the fish in their iconic tins, no longer operates, with the old building converted to flats. Canning of the fish still occurs though but ironically now in Brittany, with the fish being hand sorted and filleted before filling the tins, accompanied by extra virgin olive oil or tomato sauce.

So, in the early hours of the morning, and enlightened by my experience and clutching a bag of fresh, banana-stiff sardines, I returned to my cottage for a few hours sleep before returning to the market later that morning to see what the rest of the fleet had landed and was on offer. At the forefront of my mind, though, were the pilchards and just how much their capture had so shaped the fishing community, not just here in Newlyn, but in many of the tiny coves and harbours all along the coast here, where so many men, over time, have put to sea, in the pursuit of wild food.

Grilled sardines with Sauce Vierge

Serves 2-4

I always advocate cooking fish in as simple a manner as possible and none more so than sardines. The charring of the flesh, producing that delightful caramelisation, with the oil, the sweetness and the sheer fragrancy of it all needs little addition. However, an acidic balance to the fatty flesh of the fish is often the perfect accompaniment, to cut through the oil and if anything enhance the experience.

I love sauce vierge with fish. Its simplicity and garden-fresh aromas just offset the fish beautifully and with little effort. Also as long as the basics are there, good olive oil, tomato, shallot, the herbs can be whatever you have available locally or from your garden - basil, mint, tarragon, oregano…whatever! Seasonal seafood at its finest.

Ingredients

8 MSC Cornish sardines - butterflied or filleted

Coarse sea salt

Black pepper

Good extra virgin olive oil about 100ml

1 large shallot (chopped)

1 clove garlic (chopped)

2 large tomatoes (chopped)

4 anchovy fillets (chopped - optional)

A few capers

Bunch of flat leafed parsley

Bunch of fresh chervil

Juice of 1 lemon.

Ground black pepper

Method

Pat the sardines dry with kitchen roll and lightly oil. Turn you grill or plancha to a high heat (180C) and cook skin side down for a couple of minutes and then turn and repeat. Mix the oil, anchovies, capers and shallots and garlic and warm through over a low heat. Once nicely mixed and warm, add the tomatoes and chopped herbs, lemon juice and a good grinding of black pepper.

Serve the sardines with the sauce verge spooned over and some torn fresh herbs to garnish. Open a bottle of something suitably chilled.