Posh-Nosh...

Special occasions spell one thing in my house. Nope, not pulling a sickie or downing cava with your morning OJ (well, maybe...) but food. I mean, what else? A birthday is just a day to remind you how old and underachieving you are without a giant, sticky chocolate cake; Christmas would be little more than a very extravagant game of pass the parcel without the equally extravagant (and most of the time, entirely ridiculous) feast that gathers the whole family around the table and renders you unable to move until at least New Years Day.

A massive plate of perfectly cooked steak and chips, or a mound of gorgeously iced cupcakes speaks a thousand words. I mean, if you can be bothered to painstakingly fry an egg into a heart shape hollowed out of a piece of toast, you clearly care just a little bit about your breakfast date. And if there is any occasion that screams heart shaped yolks, it is Valentine’s Day.  It is the one day of the year that you can get away with making no-holds-barred  demands for candle-lit dinners and boxes of homemade truffles. It is without fail, the king and queen of chocolate, ice-cream, and, of course, morning-after breakfasts in bed. If ‘ya know what I mean...

And don’t go thinking that flickering candle light means you can get away with plonking down your usual beans on toast in front of your beloved. Val-Day is all about going to the next level. Be it curls of dill-flecked smoked salmon in place of spag-bol, a chilled bottle of cava instead of a jug of Ribena, an insanely overpriced 6 course tasting menu over your Big-Mac; it is the time to go big, red and silly. Crack out the hearts and flowers, loosen your belt, and get noshing.

If you (like me) plan on avoiding the chocolate sharing plates and red rose adorned tables of the restaurant scene on the 14^th; why not have a go at this amazingly rich, luxurious chocolate and caramelised orange mousse. Bursting with orange zest, screaming indulgence with intense salted caramel and candied orange; this is a dessert that has romance rippled all the way through it.

And, as the egg-free mousse takes just minutes to prepare, this little piece of chocolate heaven is the perfect opportunity to dust off your apron and channel your inner Heston. Get fancy with some cutlery (for making quinelles, not serenading your love with an impromptu spoons performance), scatter over some roasted hazelnuts and finish with a grating of dark chocolate and you have a pud that may as well have been cooked by Cupid. It is the only way to say you care, even if your valentines date is a horror movie, a box of tissues and a giant tub of Ben & Jerry’s. Well, it would be rude not to...

Caramelised Orange Chocolate Mousse with Hazelnuts and Sea Salt (Serves 2)

Make the candied orange and salted caramel a day or so in advance and this will be the easiest dessert you will ever make. Leaving you plenty of time for gazing into each other's eyes, holding hands across the table and drinking more Cava than is truly necessary...

For the Mousse

75g mini marshmallows

25g soft butter

90g good dark chocolate (minimum 70% cocoa solids) chopped into small pieces

35g milk chocolate, chopped into small pieces

30ml water (from a recently boiled kettle)

145 ml double cream

1 teaspoon orange zest

A good splash of Cointreau

4 candied orange slices, chopped (see below)

A pinch of sea salt

1tbsp salted caramel (see below)

For the Candied orange

2 oranges, sliced as thinly as you can

Caster sugar

For the Salted Caramel

75g unsalted butter

70g soft light brown sugar

30g caster sugar

50g golden syrup

100ml double cream

1tsp sea salt

To Serve

A few candied orange slices, halved and cut into small segments

1 tbsp hazelnuts, roasted and chopped

A few square dark chocolate

First, make the candied orange slices.

Preheat the oven to 200^oc. In a bowl, toss the orange slices in the sugar until evenly coated. Arrange the slices evenly on a lined baking tray and bake for 25-30mins or until caramelised. Leave to cool

Now, make the salted caramel.

In a heavy based saucepan, melt the butter, sugars and syrup and simmer until a rich golden brown, swirling every now and then to prevent burning.

Add the cream and half the sea salt, and whisk to create a smooth sauce. Taste (being careful not to burn your tongue!) and add more salt if needed. Allow to cool.

Now, finally, for the mousse!

In a saucepan, melt together the chocolate, marshmallows, butter and water until thick, shiny and evenly mixed. Stir in the Cointreau, salt, orange zest and the chopped candied orange. Leave to cool

In a separate bowl, whip the cream until thick. Gently fold in the semi-cooled chocolate mixture and salted caramel until evenly mixed.

Now, to present! Arrange quinelles of the mousse, an artistic blob of caramel and some candied orange pieces onto your best plate. Sprinkle over the roasted hazelnuts, a grating of chocolate and present to your love. A guaranteed winner...

Thank God it's February...

Well thank goodness, the worst month of the year has finally got the juice-dieting, hot yoga dripping message and buggered off until it rears its ugly, 31-day-long head again next year. I mean really, I don’t like to moan (much), but what is it about this month that makes it so damn anti-social? Detox’s that lead to retox’s of epic proportions, everyone from Primark to Prada flashing their best neon sports bras, kale, quinoa, more kale...

Any time of year that spells a month long battle to surgically remove the pine needles somehow ingrained into the carpet in the corner of the living room that once proudly housed glistening parcels and twinkling fairy lights, has just a little too much cheek for my liking. Add the inevitable  post-Mulled Wine/Mince pie/Monopoly/General Festive comedown to the veganism, circuit training, alcohol-free ridiculousness of the other miseries that we force upon ourselves at this time, and you have a severe and unavoidable case of January Blues on your hands before Jools Holland has even kicked off the first verse of Auld Lang Syne.

Slime hued juices with the unmistakable odour of a vegetarian cafe’s compost bin, gyms so busy that the most exercise you get is squeezing your Christmas curves into your spandex leggings, and most of all, bloody resolutions. Promises that the pile of leftover Quality Street and Chocolate Orange in the corner of the lounge are sure to quash before the calendar has even been taken out of its plastic wrapping; leading not to the slender thighs or Gweneth Paltrow abs that you were imaging, but to more guilt than written on the smiling face of a Justin Beiber mug-shot.

Ah, yes, guilt; it catches up with us all. I mean, there is only so long I can live on Celebrations and Prosecco before people start to gossip...

So, while everyone else is gorging on baby spinach and pretending they don’t wish their pint of water was a pint of Gin, there is something about soup that makes me feel slightly less rebellious. And this vitamin packed beauty is so far from naughty that it’s almost frustratingly angelic; think the wondrously wholesome, knicker-knitting, wood-whittling Kisrtie Allsopp of the soup world, just slightly less irritating and not nearly as posh.

Crammed with loads of delicious veggies, bursting with just enough sunny lemon flavours to clear that miserable sky and zinging with the gentle hum of fennel and caraway; this is soup with super written all over it. Add the subtle crunch of super-trendy, mega good for you quinoa, soft lentils and the amazing, fresh aroma of Rosemary and you have a meal on your hands that will make your 2014 instantly better. Particularly if you cancel out all that goodness with a large serving of something wonderfully naughty for afters. Its all about the balance, after all...

Super-Food Soup

Olive oil

1 onion, chopped

1 clove of garlic, finely chopped

3 carrots, peeled and diced

2 sticks of celery, diced

1 tsp fennel seeds

1 tsp caraway seeds

1/2tsp garam marsala

1/2tsp tumeric

1 courgette, diced

1ltr hot chicken or vegetable stock

60g red lentils

30g quinoa

½ savoy cabbage, shredded

A good pinch of dried or fresh rosemary

1 lemon

In a large saucepan, gently fry the onion, garlic, celery and carrot in a little olive oil until the onion is translucent and everything is starting to soften

Add the spices and courgette and fry, stirring, for another 3 minutes

Add the hot stock, a couple of lemon wedges, lentils and quinoa and simmer over a low heat for 20 minutes

Stir in the cabbage and cook for another 5-10 minutes or until everything is cooked through and the soup is thick

Squeeze in the remaining lemon and season well. Serve with sourdough toast and remember to wear your halo...

Chicken and Grapes...

 If there’s one thing more embarrassing than leaving a Hansel and Gretel style trail of your very frilliest knickers in a perfectly straight path from the washing machine to your bedroom in your first week in your brand new house share; it is being caught red-handed (and very red-faced), on your secret mission to stealthily take photos of every morsel you rustle up in the shared kitchen, for the food blog your new housemates don’t even know you have...

Yup, I am of course speaking from experience. Ever since I moved in with 5 (lovely) strangers 2 months ago, achieving this mission without my unassuming co-habitants considering re-listing my room (and shelf in the fridge) on Gumtree, has become my Everest. Now, it would be OK if it was just a quick snap on my phone; it’s weirder if you don’t Instagram every crumb of food that comes in to your eye-line these days, but arranging a board, on a patterned tray, draped with a piece of fancy material and finished with an artful scattering of crumbs before a plate is even slightly in the picture, is a little more unusual.

Add to this scenario the slightly strange creations that come from my fridge-raiding, use everything before buying ANYTHING approach to budgeting, and you have what I can only describe as a very cringe-worthy Tuesday night-in.

Indeed; on the Tuesday in question, my nightly treasure hunt produced an unlikely shopping basket consisting of some red grapes (at an almost raisin stage of ripeness), bacon, some green beans, a few new potatoes and a couple of chicken thighs. To some, this might seem like the slightly ill-advised shopping list of a contestant on Junior Masterchef, but to me, this was an operation well executed.

When roasted with a splash of olive oil, some lemon wedges and a good sprinkle of tarragon; the grapes produce an almost syrupy sauce for the chicken, bursting with fruity sweetness and just enough sharpness to cut through the salty, smoky pancetta.  Add the golden skinned chicken, a good kick of garlic, crunchy potatoes and a good bottle of wine to get over the embarrassment, and this is a good’un for any night of the week. Go for it; grapes and garlic, who would’ve thought...

Chicken with Grapes and Tarragon (Serves 2)

4 chicken thighs

100g pancetta, cubed

A few handfuls of grapes (red or white)- some halved, some whole

6 or so new potatoes, halved

Half a lemon, cut into wedges

3 garlic cloves

A good glug of olive oil

Dried tarragon

A handful of green beans

Preheat the oven to 200^oc

Fry the pancetta in a small saucepan until crispy

Arrange the potatoes, garlic, lemon wedges and grapes, before drizzling with olive oil, seasoning well and sprinkling generously with tarragon. Mix to get everything involved in the delicious seasonings

Nestle the chicken thighs into the dish, drizzle the skin with olive oil and season well

Put into the oven and bake for 15 minutes, before adding the green beans into the dish and giving everything a good shake around

Pop back into the oven and cook for a further 20-25 minutes, or until the chicken is completely cooked, the potatoes tender and the sauce syrupy.

Serve with a crisp green salad and an even crisper glass of white wine...

Overcoming Pesto Paranoia- A Very Middle Class Problem...

I just don’t get Pesto Pasta. I know this is a bold statement; a bit like saying I don’t fully understand the concept of Ant and Dec, or can’t get my head around Miley Cirus and PVC hotpants (actually, that one’s true), but I just don’t see it. I know, I know; the combination is as synonymous as Simon Cowell and a pair of high-waisted stonewash jeans, but there is something about the oily gloop of slightly muddy looking green goo that means the gold-topped jar in question remains firmly at the back of the fridge.

Now, I have tried- I was a student, for goodness sake, but it’s simply not happening. Give me beans on toast any day I reckon; take your pesto and boil me an egg. But, saying all that, last night, I had a bit of a groundbreaking moment with the green stuff (no, not that green stuff, don't panic...) Yes, during my nightly staring blankly into the fridge ritual, I stumbled across a slightly limp bag of Kale stuffed in the back of the salad drawer. In need of something quick and easy-as-peas and gravy, I made this drop-dead delicious, fresh and zingy version, faced my green spaghetti based fears and discovered that, actually, it’s not all that bad.

In fact, it was bloody good. With kicks of chilli, fresh lemon and chunks of walnut, this super-healthy creation is well worth digging out the blender for. Swirled into fresh pasta with a spoonful of ricotta, the result was a creamy, gorgeous revelation (and, coincidentally, a dinner of the exact shade I would like to paint my bedroom walls- Not sure how Dulux would feel about colour matching a string of spaghetti, though...)

But the crowning glory of this 15 minute dinner was not only the realisation that I have another running-out-the-door dinner in the bag, but the crunchy pancetta, rosemary and walnut combo that I (very generously) scattered over its top. Crunchy breadcrumbs and walnuts provide just the right amount of crunch to contrast with the soft, creamy pasta; add some smokiness from the bacon, fragrance from the rosemary and freshness from a scattering of lemon zest and you have an absolute winner in the bag. Or, should I say, in the bowl. Well, it changed my mind, anyway...

Kale Pesto Pasta with Pancetta and Walnut Crunch
Serves 4

So easy, and quick enough to make even scrambled eggs look like hard work. Leave out the nuts, add more chilli; just make sure you keep the delicious crunchy topping...

For the Pesto-

150g kale, chopped

1 clove garlic, crushed

½ red chilli

Small handful of walnuts

3 tbsp Olive oil

50g parmesan cheese, grated

Juice 1 lemon

For the Crunch-

Olive oil

100g breadcrumbs

50g pancetta, chopped

Sprig of rosemary, leaves chopped

Small handful crumbled walnuts

Zest 1 lemon

To serve-

400g cooked pasta

3 tbsp ricotta

To make the pesto; blend all of the ingredients in a food processor, adding enough oil to make a thick but loose paste and season well.

To make the crunch; fry the pancetta in a glug of olive oil until crisp. Add the breadcrumbs (and a little more oil, if needed), coat in the delicious bacon oil and fry until lightly golden and crisp.

Add the crumbled walnuts, rosemary and lemon zest and cook for a minute or so more, being careful not to let the mixture burn. Season well with salt and pepper.

To serve, stir the pesto and ricotta into the cooked pasta, adding a spoon or two of the cooking water to loosen.

Pile into bowls and top with the crunch pancetta mixture. Enjoy!

The 99p Store-Cupboard...

Well, doesn’t time fly? It is now 2014 and looking at this sorry, neglected blog; I have not posted since the middle of LAST YEAR?! Seriously, how on earth did that happen? I feel like I have just popped out to the shops and suddenly half a year has gone; leaving you all with taunting reminders of sun-drenched Barbeques and balmy sips of ice-cold rosé, as you look out of the rain-splattered window and wonder if it is even worth drying your hair before it gets the all too familiar, slap in the face drowned rat treatment, and you throw yet another totally ruined umbrella into the overflowing bin...

But I do have some kind of measly excuse- As I have threatened to do since I left University 3 whole years ago (again, whaaaat?!), I have finally left the bike rides, car boot sales and endless fields of Suffolk behind and moved to the Big Smoke. Swapping tractors for the tube, the general luxury of Mum’s cooking and my own bed for what feels like a lifelong subscription to Tesco Value and a budget that makes a self-styled haircut with my nail scissors look like a very attractive option; I am actually threatening myself with the prospect of being a grown up. I have an actual real-life job, a house (well a room in one, good enough for me...) and, most importantly at this point, a colour coded, frighteningly in depth chart to track my increasingly depressing budget.

Yes; I have gone back to the endless tins of value chopped tomatoes, the toast, the shampoo-rationing and the sorry-looking cupboards stuffed with lentils and all other things dried and tasteless of my Student days. I freeze everything that sits still long enough, eat leftover like there is no tomorrow and currently spend so much of my time doing high-speed laps of the 99p Store that I am genuinely tempted to cancel my gym membership. Nobody would mind me bicep curling out of date baked bean tins in the cut-price Tuppaware section, surely?

But, I have to say, that I am strangely enjoying the never-ending treasure hunt of eating on a budget. There is something satisfying about creating a dinner that uses every last cherry tomato, leaf of spinach and grating of cheese that is left in the fridge. Every night is like a low-budget episode of Ready Steady Cook; without the shimmying of Ainsley and, usually, entirely consisting of the same, slightly withered ingredients as every single night of the week before. I mean, honestly, the excitement of finding a half-price pack of chicken in Sainsburys? Totally off the scale. I don’t even need to go out with thrills like that in my life...

It was on one of these fridge-raiding sessions that I created this absolute gem of a dinner. Making full use of my purse-friendly friends chorizo, tinned beans and a jar of roasted peppers from my new partner in cash-saving, the afore-mentioned 99p store; this was an absolute winner. Akin to my very favourite breakfast of Huevos rancheros; this Eastern inspired spicy bean and new potato hash, bursting with the paprika smokiness of chorizo, crowned with glistening eggs and scattered with salty feta and fragrant coriander, was a creation that would have had me voting Red Tomatoes without a second thought. Bursting with ridiculously fresh, vibrant flavours; delicately spiked with a punch of Harissa and fragranced with fennel seeds, this is a budget dinner with bells on.

Leftovers Harissa Hash, with Eggs, Feta and Coriander.

Eat for breakfast, lunch, dinner and everything in between; this delicious one pan creation just shows that eating on a budget doesn’t just mean beans on toast...

Splash of olive oil

1 onion, sliced

1 clove garlic, finely chopped

½ red chilli, finely chopped (use more if you like it hot!)

1tsp Harrisa paste

1tsp sweet paprika

1tsp fennel seeds

50g chorizo, diced

100g roasted peppers (from a jar)

1 tin chopped tomatoes

1 tin butter beans, drained

100g cooked new potatoes, thickly sliced

Splash of balsamic vinegar

1tsp sugar

1tbsp tomato puree

4 eggs

Feta cheese and coriander, to serve

Heat the oil in a large frying pan. Fry the onion over a medium heat until slightly softened, before adding the garlic, chilli, peppers, potatoes and spices. Cook for a few more minutes, stirring occasionally.

Add the tomatoes, butter beans, tomato puree, vinegar and sugar. Season and cook for 15-20 minutes, or until reduced to a thick sauce

Using the back of a spoon or ladle, make indents in the sauce and crack in the eggs. Season again, cover and cook for 4 or so minutes, until the eggs are set.

To serve, scatter the hash with crumbled feta, and some coriander leaves. Serve with pitta bread, steamed kale, or just as it is...Enjoy!

X

Sunshine and Sausages...

Suddenly it hit me; as I sat in the garden, drinking elderflower cordial, nearly falling off my chair as I attempted to evade a wasp and still wearing sunglasses as I ate my dinner- This has been a pretty bloody good summer. Like, seriously, I have tan-lines kind of good...

Yup, as I fanned my bronzed (and now slightly peeling) shoulders with the latest, tropical fruit adorned copy of Jamie magazine (suitably sunny as well as being my absolute favourite) it dawned on me like a slap in the face with the tennis ball my sister was throwing around the garden (or maybe that actually was the ball...) that I have spent more days in shorts this year than I can remember in a long, long time. And I am talking of short-wearing in England; the land of endlessly waiting for the Indian Summer that never appears, where grey August afternoons are the norm and summer wardrobes seem to spend much of their lives getting dusty under the bed...

Now, even after that slight moan, I can’t grumble about previous dodgy summers too much. It would be hypocritical for me to whinge about the rain ruining the Queen’s Jubilee last year, or the lack of Rosé that was consumed on the patio during, what I am assured was, the rainy summer of 2012. Yeah, I can’t really complain can I- For me, last year was more mountain biking in Bolivia and sipping Mojitos on Miami Beach than digging out my anorak and debating the socks with sandals look after getting caught in a surprise shower.

But I am still absolutely loving it- Eating strawberries like a possessed five year old hidden in the bushes on the Pick your Own field (juice smeared, stupidly sticky face to match, of course), discovering a very hidden enthusiasm for Frisbee (and, unfortunately, a little bit of an ugly competitive streak...) spending more time in tents than I ever dared to imagine; this summer has indeed been downright delicious.

But, most of all, and speaking of delicious; I absolutely adore the way that the warmth brings out the pop-art colours in the fruit and vegetable aisles, how the sun-drenched garden encourages heady herb fragrances and fresh tomatoes in every meal. Basically, I just can’t get enough of the al-fresco magic that seems to make every single thing created in the kitchen shine as brightly as the swimming-pool blue sky.

It is at this time of year that makes me want to raid the vegetable box, grabbing colours like a crazed circus costume designer, throwing all that goodness in a dish, giving it a shake, bunging it in the oven and just letting all those fresh, amazing flavours do their thing. For me, that is all there is to it when the sun is shining; leaving more time for eating ice cream and getting hit in the face with tennis balls...

And this neon-bright, ridiculously tasty sausage, cannellini bean and butternut traybake is hard to beat. Nestled between the sunny slices of squash, ruby-red cherry tomatoes, slices of red onion and creamy beans; the sausages add just enough richness and spice (and an added bit of summer naughtiness) to this fresh, amazingly tasty dinnertime delight. Speckled with a bounty of fresh herbs from the garden (I grabbed everything in sight, only just managing to leave the grass intact if I’m honest...) doused in olive oil and a splash of red wine vinegar to add just the right amount of bite; all that needs to be done is throw it in the oven and bake until the sausages are browned and sticky and their bean and butternut bed has reduced to a chunky sauce.

This is sausage and beans with fancy bells on. Simply serve with crushed new potatoes spiked with a squeeze of lemon and hey presto; now get out in that sunshine and work on your vitamin D intake- You know you want to...

Sausage, Butternut and Canellini Bean Bake, Serves 4

I red onion, sliced

2 large cloves garlic, skins on and slightly squashed

1 red chilli, sliced

½ Butternut squash, peeled and thinly sliced

Handful of cherry tomatoes, halved

1 tin cannellini beans, drained

Olive oil

Red wine vinegar

Fresh herbs (Any you fancy- Think Bay leaves, rosemary, oregano, basil, thyme...)

12 good-quality sausages

-

Preheat the oven to 190^oc

In a large baking dish, combine the beans, squash, onion, garlic, chilli and herbs. Add a large glug of olive oil, a good splash of vinegar and season well

Prick the sausages and place on top of the bean mixture. Give all of those lovely flavours one last shake up (get your hands in there!) and bake in the preheated oven for 1 hour, or until the sausages are browned and the squash cooked

Serve with crushed new potatoes and some sautéed spinach, YUM

Something a Little Bit Fishy...

In my last post, I mentioned a distraction that had been keeping my fingers away from the keyboard and the blog uncharacteristically quiet. Now the time has come to admit to the cause of my recent period of silence- Yes, brace yourself, the rumours are true; I have indeed, through absolutely no fault of my own, accidentally become a Fish Monger.

Not entirely what you imagined, hey? Well me neither. I think it is pretty fair to say that if you had asked a snotty-nosed, metal-mouthed, bespectacled young me (yup, I was an attractive child) what I wanted to be when I was a grown up; Fishmonger would not have exactly been top of my list.

But, as destiny would have it, I have somehow, sort-of become exactly that. Yes, the young me would have stuck her tongue out at 5am starts (who am I kidding, I still have to restrain myself), rolled her eyes at the white overalls and green, floor length, oilcloth apron. She would have probably stamped her feet at the constantly freezing temperatures, ice and sharp fish bones, and, I don’t blame her, almost definitely have had a major temper tantrum in the bread aisle of Tesco’s over the uncanny way that fish makes the sleeves of all jumpers smell, bizarrely, of wet dog.

But, it has happened. So, in the words that I never imagined I would utter (particularly not to my hairdresser, as I was forced to last week), but that have become a sort of mantra to my present existence- “If you smell fish, it is probably me...”

Now, let me explain- I haven’t been involved in a swashbuckling kidnap to become the bride of a fish-loving pirate, nor have I tripped and become trapped in a net at Billingsgate Market; the corner of which my professional path has turned of late, is purely coincidental. Having been obsessed with food (you would never have guessed right?) since I was the afore-mentioned, incredibly good-looking child; I have been in search of a career in the industry that I love for more time that I could care to mention. I have done all sorts; baked cakes in cafes, decorated 200 tarts with basil leaves, butchered a whole pig, written blog, upon blog, upon blog...But I honestly think that my recent days playing Fish-wife have been the strangest (and definitely the smelliest) to date.

It all stemmed from a very innocent sounding internship at a luxury food wholesale company. I was imagining, you know, maybe some sales experience, possibly some buying, maybe even some product development- Strange as it may seem, gutting sardines at 6 o’clock in the morning never really crossed my mind. But, as luck would have it (glass half-full and all that); the well-timed camping trip of the official Fishmonger (keeping positive), and lack of anyone to hold down the ship (as it were...) led to an aprehensive and totally inexperienced me being overalled, aproned and reeled straight in. Maybe for a couple of days, the old, un-fishy me thought? Nope, no such luck there, and after the fourth week of squeezing on my pair of very own personal wellies, setting my alarm for 4am, and considering bottles of Detol body wash in Boots, I realised that things had got pretty serious...

However, and this is a surprise to me too; it’s not all so bad. Regardless of the way that the aroma of wet fish seems to linger everywhere exactly like the bad smell it is (on the car, my clothes, even my carefully scrubbed forearms as my boyfriend not-so gleefully informed me last week..) the experience has not been entirely negative. It may not be entirely what I imagined would be making me proud 3 years after leaving university, but a perfectly filleted Bream, or a damn fabulous Monkfish loin makes me feel unnervingly happy.

And imagine my joy when I stumbled across a rainbow bounty of glistening, super fresh fishes crowning a market stall on my recent holiday in Brittany. I could not contain myself- a good ten minutes was spent confusing the stall owner and embarrassing my boyfriend by naming everything in sight, describing the filleting process and declaring quite emotionally that Hake is my absolute favourite; before the possibilities for a pretty fancy fish barbeque started to make me very very happy of my shiny new set of skills.

After getting over the excitement of a new way to gut sardines (I won’t go in to that here, there is simply not time for those kind of revelations...) I chose my victims (sardines and trout), grabbed some tin foil, the essential bottle of Rosé and started planning. Scrabbling together my limited camping ingredients, which were somewhat boosted by my boyfriend’s ingenious Tic-Tac box spice dispensers, I marinated, stuffed and seasoned to my heart’s content.

The trout, stuffed with flaked almonds, zingy lemon zest, olives and fresh basil was wrapped in tin foil, doused with white wine and crowned with lemon slices. Nestled in with the super-hot coals, it emerged fragrant and almost steamed, the delicious stuffing ramping up the flavour and adding a little bit of crunch to the soft, blush pink flesh.

The gutted sardines were marinated in lemon, garlic, dried chilli flakes (slightly Tic-Tac scented), rosemary and olive oil and barbequed for a few just a few magical, flavour boosting minutes. The punch these little beauties packed after so little effort was quite ridiculous; fragrant with rosemary, sharp with lemon and hot with chilli, they were the perfect end to a day of getting insanely sunburnt on the beach. Or maybe that was the wine?

So, you see, there was a silver lining to all that slicing, scaling and shivering- and not just as the perfect opportunity for my friends to make fish-based puns (if in doubt, Plaice is always a good fall-back option here...) And I did get to do all the good, non-fishy stuff I expected during my internship before I was handed the dreaded green apron.

However, there is only so long I can get away with telling people that I am an ‘Aquatic Surgeon’, let alone using as much washing powder as I seem to have been lately. So almost as abruptly as they began, my days spent elbow deep in fish pie mix are almost at an end. If my mind was not made up from the way that sitting in my car has become nauseating even when I am not wearing fish soaked jumpers, I very nearly completed a full back flip this morning after skidding on some Monkfish membrane. Yup, I think it is about time to move on...