HUNTER-GATHERING: wild & fresh food

Fly-fishing for Mullet: O Poisson where art thou?

Since moving to SW France three weeks ago, Fishing has been at the top of the list, to the point that I said to myself, no more posts until I catch a fish to post about (that and the small matter of relocation and trying to make money from thin air…pitch pitch pitch). Now I am not a sea fisherman, I never have been. Ok, a few bass or garfish here and there, even a mackerel of two, a few dorado, trigger fish and bonefish perhaps, but when it comes to fishing I am a freshwater piscator all the way.

I like small bodies of water, tiny brooks and farm ponds. Reservoirs put me off in the same way the sea does. Throwing out your line in the ocean is a bit like planting a single seed and hoping for a bumper harvest- unlikely. Having said that I was sitting out back in the surf this morning with a vast shoal of tiddlers surrounding me, must remember to get me a throw net and stand up paddle board and put whitebait on the menu.

Big Mullet at the top of Hossegor Lac even ignoring the camera.

Although I haven’t been fishing in the sea itself, I have been hitting Capbreton port, Hossegor Lac and the main channel between the two hard, with little success. The usual paternoster rig with ragworm, squid, prawns all turn up a few nibbles and occasionally a very small gilthead bream- but never anything for the pot. Mind you I haven’t seen the local Gauls hauling out anything to write home about either, unless they make a point of waiting till I’ve gone home to hit the water and pull out the beasts. I have been beating my head against the wall trying to catch something for the table. Even my faltering conversations with local Frenchies at the water’s edge have been about as useful as a shotgun is to a vegetarian, mind you fishing banter is rarely crops up when learning a language, this prompted me to purchase my first copy of ‘Le Chasseur Francais: la vie grandeur nature’. Good mag, nice pictures too, I just haven’t a clue what all the text means. It may help me pick up some obscure words not used in everyday conversation.

When I moved out here, I had to be ruthless with my packing, stuffing my beloved VW Golf with only the bare necessities- of course all the fishing equipment had to come, including the fly rod. I had been planning on taking it up to search out some amazing rivers in the mountains (oh yes! Check these out: http://www.pyrenea-flyfishing.com/brouillon3/en/gallery.php) and I intend to this weekend. After a particularly frustrating session on the lake spent mostly staring down wistfully at large Mullet feeding lazily in the shallows and completely ignoring my offering on a hook, I decide to tap the vast encyclopedia that is the interweb. Could you fly fish for Mullet?

The answer was yes, and here are three great links which enlightened me and can help you get started:

http://www.aapgai.co.uk/articles/fish/fish_article_5.html

http://www.hartflyfishing.demon.co.uk/mullet_fishing.html

http://www.stsflyfishing.com/A2Mullet.html

The fly bait: dough for the sinking bait and crust for floating.

Mullet have always been tagged as being particularly finicky fish, spook easily, won’t take any bait and once hooked will shed the hook as they have very soft mouths (being more the case with the thin-lipped mullet rather than the thick lipped).  In some cases I have found them to be just so- not so spooky, but completely disinterested in my hookbait. About 3 days ago after frustrating session at the top of Hossegor lac and facing a rising tide, I thought I would try one place I hadn’t been before (see aerial photo below). The tide was slowly moving in and with it where plenty of Grey mullet cruising about and, by the looks of things, on the feed. Left over from my lunch was half a baguette, I ripped off a few chunks and threw them out to see if these fish would show more interest than the ones I had encountered earlier- to my surprise they were all over it like a fat kid on a cupcake. I took up the fly rod, tied on a bare hook and baited it with a small crust. First cast went out and as the tide pushed it upriver the fish moved onto the bait, in my excitement of the realization that I could be in, I struck way to early. But then it happened, I struck, the hook set and my god, the fish took off!

 

This was the first contact I had ever made with a mullet and I was shocked at its strength, the only fish I had encountered before with the same ferocity would have to be a bonefish in Cayman (to see the post on that click here)

I should have expected it as they are not all that dissimilar in terms of look, location and behaviour. The mullet put up an excellent fight, zipping off down stream at quite a pace and then winging it out to the far bank. By the time I got the fish in it was probably only about a pound but had fought with the same power as a 5lb trout.

A couple of Gauls had been watching and approached after the fish was on the bank. They were slightly bewildered by my set up- why the fly rod for sea fish? At least that was what I deduced from the exchange. I wasn’t sure of wether or not to take the mullet home- did I want to disrupt my Karma having finally managed to bag a decent fish? Hmmm, I was hungry and I didn’t want to upset my onlookers who would think I was clinically insane for returning a fish fit for the table. So I donked it on the head and in the bag it went. (I should point out that Grey Mullet are extremely slow growing fish- so be selective, return larger fish, one of 6lbs could be over 10 years old).

 

So finally, the French fish had begun to talk my language. I fished on, landing a few more that were to tiddly for the table and then called it a day, best not push my luck! On the walk back down the tidal creek I came across clumps of sea spinach, obviously things that grow together go together, never being one to pass up some wild nosh, a bunch of the succulent leaves joined the mullet in the bag.

Back at home, I was faced with the dilemma of how to deal with the fish in the kitchen. As it was to be my first taste of the fish that had always seemed to elude me, I decided to stay simple and bake/steam the fish. Preparation was simple- after de-scaling and gutting I stuffed the belly with a couple of slices of lemon, butter and a good helping of salt & pepper. I was intending to serve the sea spinach on the side, but in an flurry of inspiration thought I could turn it into a one-pot wonder: the sea spinach was spread out over a sheet of foil, liberally doused with a good Bordeaux (may as well as it comes from just up the road), placed the mullet in the center and rolled it up like a fine Cuban cigar before being baked in the oven at 180C for 15 minutes.

 

With the remains of the baguette I had used as bait, I tucked into my first mullet, and it was certainly worth the wait. A fine, firm textured white meat and not a hint of the earthiness I would have expected from a fish that rifles through muddy estuaries. It would be good to catch a few more before they head out to sea for the winter, but as we don’t have a freezer out here, so for know they will just have to remain the ‘Plat du Jour’. 

As for other stuff: We are taking bookings for Hunter:Gather:Cook Courses for May-Oct 2012 so please do get in touch if you are interested. I am also looking at setting up an HGC HQ out here in SW France for next year- so will keep you posted on developments. Meanwhile I have my work cut out looking for a local who can take 'le Ros Bif' out to do a bit of this:

Eating Pike: A Forgotten Feast?

Yesterday started well. The sun was shining, the rods were stuffed into the car without breaking any tips (the usual cause for the demise of my fishing sticks) and we were heading South to a favourite spot for Pike. I first met Charlie at Newcastle University where we became firm friends through, amongst other things, a mutual love of fishing. The Northumbrian countryside provided plenty of challenging fishing mostly of the Trout & Salmon variety, the Tyne, the Couquet, the Aln, Lochs by the side of Hadrian’s wall and perhaps the favourite the small yet highly productive River Pont which provided our student house with more protein than the Tesco Metro down the road.

Being poor students, we weren’t always able to pay for fishing and there was one such incident that occurred on the River Pont involving a Game keeper, Charlie’s inability to manufacture a good bullshit story on the spot and the two of us narrowly avoiding large fines. The large Geordie Game keeper had the best line which I can still hear today: “99.9% of the time you try fishing here lad, you WILL get caught”. Well, that hadn’t happened the 25 times we had fished there before…but some things are best left unsaid.

Huitres d’Hossegor: Grilled oysters with Parmesan & Garlic.

 

It must be said the first time I tried oysters I was far from impressed. I can vividly recollect the shelled creature retracting in horror as someone squeezed a bit of lemon juice and a few drops of Tabasco before handing it to me to shoot back, have a brief chew and swallow. It very nearly came straight back up and I remember making a conscious 12 year-old decision to steer well clear of them in the future. My, how things have changed…

It was this very recipe that changed my mind. Raw oysters are something to be reckoned with for the amateur and I do wonder just how many folk truly enjoy their very first? And for those that are sitting on the bench after their first wad of oyster, how is that these mysterious shellfish make us favour them to the point of putting them on a pedestal as a luxury food item? If my memory serves me correct, they were in fact seen as peasant food in London during the Tudor times.

Ceviche.

 

 

“What’s that?”

“Ceviche…raw fish cooked in lime juice”

“How can it be cooked if it’s raw? It looks like cold fish salad…no thanks!”

The PR battle for ceviche is a constant one, but one that can be easily one by offering a taste and a little education. I cant help but wonder how difficult the early Sushi entrepreneurs must have had it during those early marketing days in the west. Trying to sell anything other than fruit and veg raw is about as easy as trying to circumcise a gnat without the aid of a microscope (as if that makes it possible…?).

 

Chasing Ghosts on the flats of Little Cayman.

“Every angler is entitled to consider his own methods are best, so long as he can catch fish with them.”

G.W Maunsell, The Fisherman’s Vade Macum.

This is somewhat a delayed post considering it took place over the back end of 2008, but I came across the photos and felt it was a worthy adventure to write about: Caribbean Island, palm trees, tropical fish…in December. 

Crayfish: Noshing the American Invaders.

 

Methinks I was a bit eager this year. Traditionally, every crayfish across the country, both native and non, is tucked up in a hole in the riverbank waiting for the water to get above the 10 degree mark so they can venture out in search of a piscine massacre or scavenger fest of some sort.  In short crayfish ARE bastards of the highest degree.  These angry omnivores will devour just about anything that they come across and have the same level of aggression as a Millwall supporter after heartwarming cocktail of drink and drugs. 

Inverawe: Smoking, West Coast style.

 

It wasn’t until the age of 12 that I first set foot across the border into Scotland. It was only a matter of time, as a young lad obsessed with fishing and longing to see a salmon for real, I couldn’t believe my luck when I found myself balls deep in the swift, peaty waters of the River Carron surrounded by the vast heather draped highlands. I even managed to tuck into my first Salmon- a fine 6 pounder fresh from the sea. Somehow, after a battle of biblical proportions, I managed to get the fish in with my 8ft split cane trout rod…I was also the only person to catch that week! On the same trip I went deer stalking for the first time, which is where the antlers that adorn the front of the treehouse came from…so this time I was keen to bring something that would add more than just aesthetic value to my treehouse.

Eager for a bit of company after my first 2 months living amongst the leaves, I took a brief trip to the west coast of Scotland for a “couples” holiday-myself and my lady, Emma & Justin and Jimbo & Clare. Not too far from Oban is the Inverawe Smokery, owned by Robert & Rosie Campbell-Preston, Emma (their daughter) invited us up for a short break…like most things I find myself thrown in to these days, I had an underlying motive: what could I learn from the finest smoker’s in the Country?

 

The Treehouse diaries: In Print, Perch and outwitting Pigeons.

 

(Giving it some "blue steel" in the living room...)

This week brought the rain. It was inevitable, a good stretch of close, hazy summer days was bound to end with a bang. That bang began with the pitter-patter of raindrops on my tin roof as I sat by the stove updating my diary. A flash followed by a low rumble and the drumming began, I had felt rather cosy in my dry arboreal dwelling, the corrugated iron roof was holding up well to the downpour. Iron roof…big tree tall tree running through house…lightening! Shit!

Despite putting on the thickest rubber soled shoes I had on (reef shoes) and going to sit under the treehouse while the storm passed and count the seconds between flashing and rumbling, I was in the middle of a wood with plenty of other trees. Perhaps more desirable, isolated objects would be better targets?

The Treehouse diaries: Time for the River to Deliver…

 

A glorious thing began today…the start of a new fishing season! Time to put aside all the poorer days of angling (why is it called angling?!) by the river bank last year and dream of pulling out lunkers and battling with beasts in the year to come. Although this year, I am going to have to rely on luck by the riverbank more than ever…a man has to eat.

An important factor to keep in mind when relying on my little stretch of river to provide me with food, is to use it sparingly. Fish stocks and sustainability are tremendously important and I must not get too greedy or take more than I need-after last nights escapades, it seems the eel could be at the top of the hit list.

A New year...

 

After all that food, drink and festivities over the Christmas period, the start of a new year often begins by waking up to face the cold, harsh reality that is January. No doubt 2009 is going to be a make or break year, especially for me. There isn’t much else to look forward to apart from a single, glorious 3-letter word: May.

 

Putting the doom and gloom aside, I can hardly be less smug about my start to the New Year. I gather the weather in Britain has been bitterly cold and there has even been the odd flurry of white stuff…but then what would I know, I wasn’t here.

 

I spent the start of the year chasing Bonefish on the flats of Little Cayman, and what a time we had. Scorching daytime temperatures, warm evenings, Mount Gay & Coke, bonefish, tarpon, diving the wall, great food (I didn’t get to cook for 10 days), a few Mississippians and folks from Carolina y’all, early nights, early starts, lots of reading and of course plenty of intense rod-bending action. Obviously there is lots to tell and plenty to show, all in due course…

 

 

Looking ahead at the sorts of things you can expect on “huntergathercook” in 2009, it looks like it is going to be an exciting year. Obviously Wild food will be more abundant than ever in these lean times, adventures are going to be more prolific and spread all over the British Isles. Hopefully I can take that boat trip I’ve always wanted to take, go spear fishing for salmon in a Scottish River, write a book, start my own preserves company and hit up my home brewing in a big way. So things are looking busy and that’s not even considering all the work that has to be done in various kitchens to keep the taxman at bay and the landlord happy (you know who you are!).

 

As I sit here typing, watching my tan melt off and my skin and return to it’s pasty British pigmentation, I cant help but think how much fun this year is going to be, so head down, bring on the graft and lets get January, February and March out the way!

 

Happy New Year to one and all…

 

 

 

 

Sussex, cider and a couple of fish.

I only think it fair to pay homage to three of my favourite things all in one post. These three subjects have all had their fair share of the limelight and frequently pop up in my writing. The following pictures were taken over one incredible weekend down south, from the Old smugglers village of Alfriston (fishing & cider) near the coast, up to Winnie the Pooh’s home; Ashdown Forest (shooting and mushrooms). I like to think that these photos epitomise why I love the countryside. Autumn is in full swing, the pike are back in season and the time has begun for getting cosy in crooked country pubs in front of big log fires, drinking pints of fine ale and sharing some top notch banter with friends.

This particular weekend began in the same way most Sussex breaks do, with a spot of fishing. As the winter draws in the pike start to become more active in their violent ambushes on unsuspecting baitfish, so it is the best time of year to chuck your line in the water in the hope of hauling in one of these evil looking beasts.

 

What’s wrong with Perch? The most underrated fish in the UK.

Yet again, our European counterparts are all over it like a fat kid on a cupcake. There is much talk in the UK of eating what’s fresh, local and in season. Somehow, somewhere along the line we are still consistently missing the best of it. The Perch is very rarely covered in English culinary circles, the only time I have seen them on TV was in the form of that pathetic attempt at a wild food program; ‘The Wild gourmets’. Whilst watching the equally disappointing Guy Grieve & Thomasina Miers desperately flailing a rod around for the best part of a day, they pulled out one tiny perch and put it back again. Well done! Sadly their banter was shockingly bad. I’m not quite sure what that program was trying to achieve, as far as I know (judging from its ratings and reviews) it didn’t achieve a lot! As for their book as a comprehensive wild food guide...you would be better off with a copy of the London paper, or you could buy the book just in case you ever run out of loo paper.

Enough of talking crap TV. The Perch is the star of this show; quite why we, as a country don’t eat more I cant understand.  This beautiful fish was a massive part of my early fishing days, I often used to head to a stream above Weir wood reservoir in Sussex armed with a hand line, float and pot of worms. It was an absolute joy to spend long summer days pulling out hundreds of them as well as the odd wild card of bream or trout.

 

So what the hell did I learn from Shipwrecked 2008? Probably the best Fish dish in the world!

I don’t think many people would say no to a three month break in the Cook islands…FOR FREE! The only problem was that I had to partake in Shipwrecked 2008, What!? I didn’t even apply! But I was “headhunted” to be the resident survival expert on the Third island. Fair enough, better than being on the other two, with all that screaming, arguing, overplayed emotion and bog standard week-by-week format. The third island offered some sort of adventure. Fun and games come and go, but real experience? Having your own desert island you can turn into what ever you want?  Hell yes! I wasn’t footing the £2000/week rent! I was going to make this place amazing with the help of my like-minded islanders. But enough of that crap, lets talk fish. 

 

 

Spearguns: Every boy’s must have toy!

My first experience of spear fishing was in Fiji, and I took to it like a duck to water, I sometimes had to pay some of the local Fijian dudes some cash to let me borrow their spear guns…I use spear gun in the loosest possible term, the typical Fijian spear gun consists of a 3 foot steel rod sharp at one end and an indentation much like the end of an arrow at the other. The firing mechanism was equally Stone Age; a thick piece of rubber with a thumb loop on one end and a smaller loop on the other into which the end of the spear fitted. The method of firing this was very much like a bow and arrow without the bow and surprisingly efficient. Of course being an enthusiastic amateur I was often out hunting in all types of weather and nailing whatever poor unsuspecting fish crossed my path, I even shot a moray eel through the neck which went berserk and shook off my arrow fairly quickly, I honestly couldn’t work out who was more scared and I made a mental note not to shoot at them again. The other type of spear gun was a proper aluminium spear with 4 sharp prongs at the end and a loop of elastic at the other, you sort of held the shaft, put the elastic loop around your hand and pulled it back holding tight to the shaft, to fire you release your grip when the target is in sight.
It wasn’t until a couple of years later when Clare and I went surfing in Fuerteventura that I got the fever again, looking at some of the spear guns in a fishing shop priced at around 120 euros I looked at Clare with a “mummy…I want one!” look which was met with a “don’t be so ridiculous” frown.

Mallorca was a different story and one in which I triumphed, I take a fishing rod everywhere I go on holiday and even though I had had people inform me that there where no fish in the Mediterranean I was not deterred. As it was they were right, there are no fish in the med, none to be caught on rod and line anyhow.
I managed to pick up a good spear gun for about £32 which I was very happy with, now it was time to see if I still retained any of my skills from foraging in Fiji…as I had suspected it was a bit like riding a bicycle and after a few excursions I had speared a few grey mullet. There were actually a fair few fish around; I did not bother with the smaller fish other than a bit of target practice and learning to reload such a stubborn weapon whilst underwater. This probably being the hardest part of spear fishing you must have fairly tough stomach muscles on which to rest the butt so you can you both hands to pull back the elastic.

Hunting the fish can be quite tiring but altogether thoroughly exciting! Creeping though shallow water brushing aside weeds you may suddenly happen upon a shoal of sizeable fish, everything should be done in slow motion and once you have picked your target make sure to have a slight lead on the fish in the same way you would when shooting pigeons or pheasants. Once you have pulled the trigger and hopefully nailed your fish the spear is attached to a cord, which is tied to the end of the gun, this way your fish though badly wounded is unlikely to escape. I have to admit I did miss a few larger fish but I think that was more due to their unwillingness to come within range…if that will pass as an excuse!

I must urge you to a least try this spectacular sport and even buy a gun yourself if it is not too big it is quite alright to travel by air with as long as it goes in your luggage for the hold. If you don’t feel up to fishing with a rod then spear fishing takes you beyond that and into a new world where you feel part of the life that surrounds you and helps you to understand the fishes habits and even to select the fish you want! Hot weather, clear, warm water and a spear gun can keep you happy all day and even feed you…who said their where no fish in the med?!

There’s no smoke without fire.

Fishing is a massive part of my life, especially fly fishing, trout mostly although the occasional salmon has passed through. Other fish crop up but the amount of trout that end up in my kitchen is ridiculous. On the whole I have never considered the trout a great eating fish, don’t get me wrong a small brownie fresh from the stream and straight in the pan is one of the sweetest breakfasts you could ask for, I mean your bog standard, run-of-the-mill rainbow trout.

Many of the places I go fly fishing stock rainbow trout, the fishery rules stipulate that what you catch you must kill and you have a limit (2-3 fish per person). The fish are often a good size, much bigger than the feeble offerings you may see in a supermarket or your local fishmongers. The big difference is when the fish reach my kitchen they are a couple of hours out of the water and in prime eating condition.

After years of baking and frying trout, the novelty has worn off and I needed a new way to prepare these fish, my father used to smoke his trout all the time and they were extremely tasty. So that was that, a few days before the next fishing trip I went and bought a brand new Abu Garcia Smoker, a couple of bags of oak sawdust and a small bottle of methelated spirits.

After a grand day of thrashing the water down at chalk springs in Arundel, my brother and I returned home victorious, the ever proud hunters delivering fine fish to our respective ladies. We all sat in the garden back up in London and had a few drinks while the fish were gutted and trimmed, by me of course (I always get the rubbish jobs!).
The concept of the smoker is a wonderful thing, we’re not talking proper smoked salmon smoking, but a simple 15 minute hot smoking which renders the fish full of flavour and gives it a wonderful texture.

Once the fish is ready top and tail it, all that is required is to put a thin layer of sawdust on the bottom of the smoking tin and add a few dried herbs, in this case a couple of crushed, dried bay leaves and some dried garlic granules. Then put the grill with the fish on over the sawdust place on the lid and light the meth’s burner underneath. Smoking time is about 15 minutes, whether its meat or fish, you just wait for the burner to go out.

The smell of the smoke is so, so good. Infused with the bay and garlic and the slowly cooking fish, it was one of those smells that took me right back to when my father used to do his trout. The taste of the fish is something quite special too both the fish were stripped to bones within minutes. Smoking allows for serious experimentation from meat to vegetables and even fruit. You can also play around with flavours and add different herbs and spices onto the sawdust tray. Different types of wood also make for interesting finfusions, hickory, oak, apple, birch or beech are all superb (they must be seasoned non-resinous woods). For such a great flavour and simple cooking smoking is a great addition to any al fresco frolics, I can tell you something for free; I know exactly where my future trout are going before they end up on my plate.

Most smokers are available from fishing, shooting or camping shops and the internet. I purchased mine from Farlows, they cost around £30-£40 and your sawdust about £2.99.

Grayling- tastiest lady of the stream.

It was that time of year again…duffers fortnight! For those of you who are unaware of this seasonal fishing bonanza and maybe curious, duffer’s fortnight is a short period (usually the end of May and start of June) when the mayfly hatches on southern chalk streams are at their most vigorous. The surface of many of these gin-clear rivers are alive with Trout and Grayling supping large mayflies off the surface and adding on those extra few ounces so they can make a great meal for you and I, the so named period is called duffer’s because only a duffer could fail to catch a fish.

This year my brother and I were to take on the River Lambourne, just outside of Newbury. The river itself was not much larger than a country lane and full of trout and grayling of all sizes. Thick bunches of duckweed spring up from the chalk bed of the river and the trout lie up against it occasionally popping out to take a mayfly off the surface. The sides of the river were overgrown with a whole host of plants, most notably wild watercress. The best way to get at these hungry fish was with waders, which we donned and crept up on the unsuspecting targets from downstream. It was mid afternoon when the fish began going berserk and with the constant influx of mayfly, and our imitations on the end of the line, the fish came thick and fast, each putting up a hearty fight. The grayling were out in force and by the end of the day we had caught a fair few. I myself had never had the pleasure of tasting this fish, so what I considered to be the best of the day (see above) was promptly bonked over the head and taken home.

The grayling is a member of the salmon family and this is evident from its adipose fin on its back above the tail. It is regarded as a fine eating fish and has a spectacular dorsal fin, which is a mixture of orange, red, grey and slight tinge of violet, it is most likely due to this and there large eyes that they aptly named ‘the lady of the stream’.

Anyway, on with the cooking! The grayling’s Latin name is thymallus thymallus, which I believe is a reference to the fish having a unique smell…of thyme. I am not sure if I can say it is thyme, but it is different. The preparation for the fish was a case of scaling it and filleting the fish, followed by cutting it into bite size chunks.

The ingredients are as follows:

• Grayling 1-2lbs
• Handful of fresh sorrel
• Juice of 1 lemon
• 200g of plain flour
• Salt & pepper

Firstly, soak the grayling chunks in the lemon juice for 15 minutes, this effectively ‘cooks’ the fish, the citric acid will cause the proteins in the flesh to become denatured (ceviche). Chop up the sorrel leaves finely and mix in with the flour and salt & pepper.
The next step is to heat up about 5cm of cooking oil in a small saucepan, heat it up until a small piece of bread, when dropped in, will brown within a few seconds. Once the desired heat has been achieved, take out the chunks of fish and roll them in the flour until well coated, then lower them into the oil and cook until they are golden. Then carefully remove and set on a paper towel to remove any excess oil.

I love to do a lot of the trout I catch in this way, it is quick and easy and tastes amazing, I like to serve it with asparagus and and/or a light salad. You are now ready to eat your grayling. Enjoy!

Bass, beach and no beer!

At last the day finally came. After many a fruitless pilgrimage to the coast in search of a nice fresh sea bass to cook over a fire on the beach, finally, it’s happened! Its not that I haven’t caught a sea bass before, I just haven’t had the chance to cook it half an hour after its come out of the water, a stones throw from where it came from.
Anyway, this weekend has been a corker in terms of weather, warm and sunny? Maybe the British summer is finally here, I must say my garden has certainly benefited from the recent downpours, but it has dampened one or two spirits amongst my fellow city dwellers I’m sure (no pun intended!). Yesterday I got a phone call I wasn’t expecting, it was from a friend of mine Charlie who had just spent a week in Cornwall and managed to land a few bass off the rocks around Polzeath (due to my personal guidance of course…) I had been planning a BBQ cook off that night at my place, but during the conversation a few details struck a chord, Cuckmere haven, low tide, 6pm. I was sold. So it was a few hours later I stepped off the trai, deep in the Sussex countryside a few miles from the coast. Fresh air, everything green, sun and four hours off plugging away with a spinner for some bass, surely this is what the great British summer is all about?

Location & equipment.

Cuckmere haven, or the Seven sisters as it is more commonly known, is notorious for its stunning views and sea bass shoals and I’ve caught a fair few there before. That said I felt fairly confident about a catch. Fishing for bass is pretty straightforward and involves a basic setup of a 8ft spinning rod, a reel with 8-10lb line and a bunch of silver spinners preferably Toby spoons. Sea bass tend to feed of small fry close to rocks and it is quite common to catch them almost under your feet. The best way to locate a shoal is to watch the surface of the water for any disturbance, which is usually the bass chasing small fish, also keep an eye out for seagulls diving down into the water as they always get involved. Be aware that the bass shoals tend to feature smaller fish and if they are less than 10 inches you must put them back. The larger bass are more solitary but hang on the edges of the shoals, or roam freely.

After an hour and no action I began wandering further along the chalk platform we were fishing off in hope off finding some action, Charlie stayed put and continued casting despite the lack of movement. All of a sudden I heard a muffled “MATE! Mate, mate I got one!” I set off at pace eager to see if the bend in his rod was really a fish. Running along seaweed covered chalk gullies is not the easiest thing to do and I almost wiped out a few times, like being in a room full of ladies in strappy sandals, just watch where the feet go…

Attached to the end of the line was not just a bass, it was a superb sized solid bar of seafood silver. I have a bad habit of saying “Don’t lose it” when someone has a fish on which is the ultimate quarry for the day, which is stupid as I feel Charlie was even more eager to keep it on than myself. After all, this was supper and it was almost in the bag. Five minutes later we were heading back towards the beach with a 3lb sea bass and a very smug Charlie. On the way back we saw the surface disturbance we had been waiting for earlier and couldn’t resist a cast or two, it would have been rude not to. After a small bass and much eager anticipation later, it was time to head to the beach and do this amazing fish the justice it deserved.

I was cunning enough to bring with me a grill, a lime, a few cloves of garlic, some ginger, butter, salt & pepper and a small punchy, red chilli. The next task was to call upon all my Ray Mears skills to muster up a furnace on which to cook our fish. After a bit of beachcombing we had gathered plenty of driftwood, which would be piled high and left to burn down to a nice bed of hot embers.

Beach Bass with Lime, Ginger and Chilli:

Once you have gutted and scaled the fish, cut six vertical lines across the side of the fish. Next, finely chop the ginger and chilli and mix up with lime juice, zest and butter. Sprinkle salt and pepper across the fish and coat with the butter mix. Next, rub it along the flanks to get the butter mix and seasoning into the slits. With the remaining bits of lime and garlic cloves stuff them into the cavity of the fish, this creates a nice infusion into the meat as it slow cooks on the fire.

The next step is easy, flatten the embers down and stick the grill over some carefully selected stones (not flint as these will crack and splinter) then chuck the fish on and grill it for 10 minutes on each side. If you plan your trip better than us, take the fish off and distribute onto plates, otherwise for a truly gleeful caveman experience tear the flesh off the bones with your hands and eat with the crackled skin, like us! Those of you who have eaten bass before are well aware of its reputation as one of the best eating fish available to us in Britain and maybe the world…but when its this fresh, its probably the best fish I have ever had. To buy a bass from the supermarket can cost you anything between 6-12 quid depending on its size, so it was with some consolation we had paid nothing at all for our meal. The only thing that it cost was a couple of pints of Harveys best in the nearest pub as it was 11pm by the time we left. Oh well…