Spaghetti alla Bottarga

Sardinia’s opal tinted waters that lap against the island’s crinkly coast are awash with bronzed Italian bodies and most excitingly, are wriggling with grey mullet. The history of Sardinia, the Mediterranean and these wriggling mullet is so intertwined that you could write a compelling anthropological thesis about their relationship that would reveal the island’s true character.

Sardinia’s location makes the island a sponge for outside influences. Over the centuries Sardinia has been invaded by the Vandals, the Byzantines, the Ostrogoths and the maritime republics of Genoa and Pisa as well as being inundated by Arab raids. It’s this influx of external influences that makes Sardinia’s food culture so interesting. A quick look at the culinary palimpsest shows what a strong influence Arab culture has had on Sardinia with the legacy of fregola and most interestingly, bottarga.

Bottarga (AKA Sardinian Caviar) is the preserved roe sac from grey mullet and tastes deeply savoury, super salty and very grown up. Just imagine a firmer, nuttier version of an anchovy. It is made by salting a mullet roe sac and then pressing it between two pieces of wood and air-drying it. When cured it is then covered in a layer of beeswax and sold for an extortionate price in flash delis all over the world. It gets its name from the Arabic batarekh and is found in various guises across the Middle East.

Like all seafood and Italian food it is at its best at its most simple. Just grate it onto a bowl of pasta that’s been doused in garlic infused-olive-oil and lemon zest and shower it in parsley and you will be eating the very essence of Sardinia.

We had a go at cooking an improvised version of spaghetti alla bottarga in our outdoor kitchen at Casa Teulada whilst we were in Sardinia and loved it so much that I made it my mission to recreate it properly back in my kitchen in Sweden. With a recipe from Mario Batali as a guide I put my waxy block of fishy gold to good use.

Ingredients:

Top quality spaghetti
Bottarga
Italian parsley
Olive oil
2 cloves of garlic
1 lemon
Chilli flakes
Salt and pepper

Method:

Boil the pasta in salted water.

Meanwhile gently heat an indecent glug of olive oil in a cast iron pan and add the thinly sliced garlic and chilli flakes. You just want the garlic to warm through and lose its raw edge which will take no more than a few minutes. If you’ve got some bottarga powder as well as the roe, sprinkle some into the oil for a deeper flavour.

Then when the pasta is cooked use a claw and add the pasta to the garlicky oil. Flick in some of the magical pasta water and toss. Then serve in a bowl and sprinkle with finely chopped parsley, lemon zest and then triumphantly grate over a generous amount of bottarga. Make haste and serve pronto.

Washed down with an icy bottle of Vermentino, each forkful transports you back to the warm, breezy shores of Sardinia.

This post has been entered into the Grantourismo HomeAway Holiday-Rentals travel blogging competition which you can read about here and on www.homeaway.co.uk

For more information about bottarga and Sardinia have a look at these sites:

Gastroanthropology on bottarga
Granturismo themselves on the delicacies of Sardinia and even more bizarrely their account of staying in our apartment!
Practically Edible on Bottarga
One Bite on Bottarga

Salmon with Fennel Remoulade

I’ve got a confession to make. I’ve become addicted to fennel. In my defence, I am genetically pre-disposed to the stuff and I suspect that my mother has an even bigger soft spot for it. I love the texture, the sweetness and its grown up aniseed flavour. Whether it’s grilled, cured, pureed or raw, it never fails to add an elegant extra dimension to any dish. As a result there is normally a fennel bulb standing on duty in my fridge waiting to be called into action.

I opened up my trusty Flavour Thesaurus and flicked straight to the “Anise” section. In the introduction Nicki Segnit claims that anise gets on “famously with seafood” which triggered a memory of Heston Blumenthal’s salmon with liquorice gel and also of a stunning fish soup with a fennel backnote that Cowie and I had on a remote Swedish island. Nicki speculates that the sweetness and refreshing quality of fennel makes it the perfect foil for a fatty fish such as salmon. So I thawed a salmon fillet before work and played with the idea of a fennel remoulade during my lunch break (having been inspired by this and this). But the idea of a rich mayonnaise base didn’t seem right, so I switched it to crème fraiche and added some capers for a spritz of salinity.

Ingredients:

1 salmon fillet
Olive oil
Butter
Salt and pepper
1 fennel bulb
2 tablespoons of crème fraiche
1 teaspoon of capers
Handful of finely chopped parsley
Juice of half a lemon
1 teaspoon of whole grain mustard
1 finely chopped shallot

Method:

Chop the fennel as finely as possible and discard the tough central spine and put in a non reactive bowl. Immediately cover in lemon juice. Add the chopped shallot, capers, and mustard and then add the crème fraiche. Stir so it is all coated and then place in the fridge whilst you cook the salmon.

You can sear, poach or grill the salmon depending on whether you trust your grill, have an issue with making the house smell of fish, like crispy skin or are on a diet. Given my love of crunchy skin and the temperamental nature of my grill I went for the frying option. It also helps that I live on my own! Sear the salmon, skin side down, in a hot pan for a few minutes until the skin is crispy. Turn the heat down and flip the salmon. Add a knob of butter and cook until its done to your preference.

Personally I like to dice with death by cooking it so the middle is only just warm and a vibrant sunset pink. But it’s up to you. You can either be brave and risk a dose of botulism or be a cowardly woos living a life punctuated by regret, greyness and never ending remorse.

Remove the fennel mixture from the fridge and add the chopped parsley and season to taste. You won’t need as much salt as you think because of the salinity of the capers.

I wolfed this down watching an old episode of Spooks with a glass of metallic Muscadet and went to bed looking forward to a second sitting for lunch at work, but with less wine! The salmon was juicy, rare and blessed with skin that was so crisp and salty that you could have persuaded a blind folded man that it was pork crackling, whilst the fennel remoulade was restrained, crunchy and healthy to boot. I imagine it would go very well with left over roast chicken, crab or would be great as part of a picnic instead of icky coleslaw.

Further reading:

The Flavour Thesaurus by Nicki Segnit
Fennel Remoulade from Nick Nairn
Fennel Remoulade from Cook Almost Anything

Planked Salmon with Fennel Two Ways and Burnt Aubergine Puree

Cowie has a long and distinguished history of buying me awesome cooking gifts, not to mention having built Cassius as well. So when she gave me a collection of cedar planks for Christmas I got giddily excited.

Planking is an old fashioned culinary technique where you cook your meat or fish on a dampened plank of wood, such as cedar, over hot coals. The wet wood emits puffs of steam and smoke that gently encourage the flesh above to yield whilst providing a smoky backdrop. (For more in depth information about planking have a look at this site or buy this book.)

The easiest, and possibly best, thing to cook on a plank is a fillet of salmon. You land up with an indecently moist piece of warm smoky fish that will make you wonder why you’ve been eating boring old poached or grilled salmon for all those years.

We cooked this with a fennel salad which we cevichified from Mark Hix’s book and some burnt aubergine puree that we bastardised from Ottolonghi. And all in a Cornish field with a small BBQ.

Ingredients:

1 cedar plank
1 salmon fillet big enough for two with the skin on
Salt
Pepper
Lemon zest
2 aubergines
2 cloves of garlic
2 tablespoons of yoghurt
Olive oil
1 fennel bulb
Mint
Juice of 2 lemons

Method:

Soak your cedar plank in water for anywhere between 2 and 12 hours. This will stop it burning.

Slice the fennel as thinly as possible. We didn’t have a mandolin on the camp site, surprisingly, so just make sure you’ve got a very sharp knife and haven’t drunk your own body weight in gin and tonic by this stage. Season with salt and pepper and then douse in the juice of 2 lemons.

Light your BBQ. When the coals have stopped flaming throw on two aubgerines and pierce with your knife. Let them burn, Ottolenghi-style, for 20 minutes or until steam is spurting out of the aubergines and the flesh is soft. Remove and leave to cool. Then scoop out the flesh, mash, and mix in the yoghurt, more salt and pepper and a squeeze of lemon. You’ll be adding some smoked garlic later…

Descale the salmon and remove any pin bones. Then rinse in cold water. Pat dry. And then season like there’s no tomorrow. Add a few curls of lemon zest.

Place the plank on the coals and when it starts to smoke lay the salmon skin side up on the wood along with 2 cloves of garlic. Add the fennel to the grill and close the lid. Inspect after 10 minutes and turn the fennel. Judge the doneness of the salmon and continue cooking for as long as you like.

Remove from the heat and mash the smoky garlic into the aubergine. Dress the fennel ceviche with some olive oil, shredded mint leaves and check the seasoning. If you’ve got the inclination, remove the salmon skin and place on the grill to crisp up.

Serve the salmon from the plank with the two types of fennel and a saucy smacker of smokey aubergine puree.

The salmon was softer than an Andrex puppy’s downy ear and subtly smoked. Whilst the fennel was sharp and crunchy on the one hand and charred and sweet on the other.

After a scorching debut I think that planking may well be my new favourite cooking technique. We’ll have to push the boat out next time with some more adventurous recipes…

Further reading:

Epicurious on maple planked salmon
Accidental hedonist on Copper River planked salmon
Man Meat Fire
Cedar Grilling Company – they know a thing or two about planking
Cedar plank recipes from Tasty Timbers
Buy planks in the UK here
How to cut your own cedar grilling planks

Arctic Char with Roasted Fennel and Grated Tricolour Carrots

When Cowie was last over in Sweden we had a cracking dinner at a small restaurant and bar called Stearin, in Gothenburg’s trendy Linne district. My beef was delicious, but it was Cowie’s fillet of crispy skinned and soft fleshed röding that really caught our attention. We couldn’t work out what the mystery fish was. We left the restaurant convinced we had eaten trout but then found out via the magic of the interweb that röding is actually arctic char.

So when I saw a fillet of röding in the Feskekôrka I snapped it up and made it my mission to recreate the dish. I decided to make good use of an abundance of mulitcoloured carrots which seemed to be behaving like a chameleon as they changed colour to match the pink and purple speckled fish skin. And a stray fennel bulb seemed like a good idea too. As did an orange and a lemon.

Ingredients:

Fillet of Arctic Char
Half a fennel bulb
3 grated carrots
1 orange
1 lemon
1 tablespoon of honey
2 teaspoons of Dijon mustard
Some chopped parsley
Glug of olive oil
Half a red chilli
Salt and pepper

Method:

Roast the fennel in a hot oven with a wedge or two of orange for 30 minutes, or until soft and slightly coloured.

Grate your carrots. I used my MagiMix which took a mere 4 seconds and made me feel like a WI superhero! Dress the carrots with a mixture of olive oil, honey, lemon juice, Dijon mustard, orange zest and finely sliced red chilli. As well as some salt and pepper.

Season the fish and sear skin side down until the skin is crisp. Then turn over and barely cook. You want the fish to be mooing.

Arrange the plate with the fennel as the foundation and balance the fish on top with the carrots looking like an upturned birds nest on the edge of the plate.

It’s a delicious, light summer dish that would work just as well with salmon or trout. The carrots, with their citrus, honey and chilli notes and the sweet, aromatic fennel more than played their part too.

Further reading:

More information about Arctic Char on Chow
Swedish recipe for röding and an interesting Scandinavian food blog

Seared Salmon with Cauliflower Puree and Redcurrant Sauce

I came home from the market with a bag full of treats and a brain that was racing with ideas about what to do with all my lovingly purchased ingredients. Bargainous oxtail and short ribs went straight into the freezer taking with them a meaty portion of my “what to cook” conundrum. I stood looking at my haul playing a mental game of word association, but with food. Then, with a shard of crimson inspiration, things clicked into place.

Super fresh redcurrants glowed like rubies, begging to be matched with a fillet of salmon that was so fresh I imagine there’s a fish swimming around with an oblong hole in its side. And with an absence of potatoes, a cauliflower raised a hand and volunteered to fill in. Seared salmon with cauliflower mash and redcurrant sauce may sound like something Alan Partridge may pitch as the name of his new TV show, but I can assure you it is delicious.

Ingredients to serve one (sob sob):

1 salmon fillet with the skin very much still on
Handful of redcurrants
5 cardamom pods
1 onion
2 cloves of garlic
Half a head of cauliflower
250ml of milk
2 table spoons of crème fraiche
1 tablespoon of grated horseradish
1 tablespoon of honey
Salt and pepper

Method:

Start by making your cauliflower mash. Saute the onion and garlic gently until soft. Don’t let them colour. Cut the cauliflower into small pieces and simmer in the milk. Be careful not to burn the milk. When soft blitz in a blender and then add the crème fraiche. The consistency should be smooth and soft. Season with alacrity and add the grated horseradish if you fancy a bit of warmth.

Add the redcurrants and cardamom to a pan and just cover with water. Boil until the currants of soft and the liquid is red. Pass through a sieve and return to the pan. Add the honey and reduce until it is syrupy. (If you carry on reducing it and then let it cool it will become jelly).

Then season your salmon and sear skin side down to crisp up the skin. Turn it over and barely cook until it is rare. Spoon the cauliflower puree onto a plate and place the salmon on top. Dress with redcurrant sauce and serve.

I was rather pleased with how it turned out. The earthy flavour of cauliflower was a good foil for the salmon whilst the sweet, sour and aromatic redcurrant sauce added a powerful counterpoint. The blood coloured moat made it look like it had been cooked by Dexter. My favourite part of the dish was the way that everything was so soft except for the lusciously crispy salmon skin which snapped, cracked and crunched in equal measure.

Further reading:

Redcurrant sauce
Cauliflower puree
Dexter

Potato “risotto” with smoked mackerel and horseradish crème fraiche

Regular readers will know of my fondness for risottos. What’s not to love about a dish that’s more comforting than a hot water bottle? The only downside is that they have a tendency to be somewhat bad for your waistline. In essence they are the equivalent to the first year you spend at university where it is almost impossible not to put on a stone or two of not very solid fat!

Given that I am trying to eat more healthily and cook with a more Scandinavian mindset, risotto hasn’t really had much of a look in. But when I found myself with a bag full of ageing potatoes that needed cooking I felt as if a compromise might be achieved. Marcus Samuelsson soon came to the rescue with his recipe for potato risotto which I took inspiration from and tweaked with the ingredients that lay expectantly in my fridge.

Ingredients:

I bag of potatoes, peeled and finely diced
2 shallots
1 clove of garlic
½ litre of vegetable stock
100 grams of peas
100 grams of spinach
2 mackerel fillets, torn into pieces
3 tablespoons of crème fraiche
Grated horseradish
Olive oil
Salt
Pepper
Dill
Thyme
Tarragon

Method:

Peel your potatoes. Then finely dice them. This is quite laborious, but sadly, essential.

Sautee the shallot and garlic in olive oil then add the potatoes. Stir for a minute or two and then add hot stock and keep stirring. Add the thyme and tarragon. Then add more chicken stock and continue until the potatoes are tender. Be careful not to overcook. For me it took around 15 minutes.

Add the frozen peas and spinach and let them cook through. Then add 2 tablespoons of crème frache and a knob of butter and stir until the risotto is creamy. Don’t be as aggressive as you would be with rice because you don’t want to mash the potatoes.

Add the smoked mackerel and allow to rest so that the fish warms through. Season and serve with a dollop of crème fraiche on top and some grated horseradish and garnish with dill.

It was delicious. And for some reason felt healthier than a normal risotto. The combination of potatoes, dill, horseradish and smoked fish was unmistakably Scandinavian. I loved every single mouthful and went to bed dreaming of eating the leftovers for lunch!

Restaurang Brygghuset, Fiskebäckskil

After a fantastic lunch at Peterson’s Krug on the idyllic island of Käringön our Midsummer’s extravaganza adventured north to the charming seaside village of Fiskebäckskil. Our odyssey was punctuated by jaw dropping bridges, brief ferry hoppings and avenues of silver birch trees with the ubiquitous backdrop of a sky so blue that a Manchester United fan would have gone red in the face with fury. Fox gloves set the shady woods ablaze with soft pink petals amid the impossibly green grass.

We stayed at the Gullmarsstrand Hotel which looks out across the sea to Lysekil’s towering church spire. We sat back in our sun loungers and basked in the Scandinavian sunshine languidly sucking up gin and tonics and building up our appetite.

Restaurang Brygghuset is a fish restaurant floating in Fiskebäckskil’s picturesque marina that specialises in seafood and warm hospitality. We sunk into our comfortable seats and gorged immediately on a basket of sensational bread.

Dad had a starter that was bizarrely brilliant. The sound of herring cured in pomegranate and rhubarb and a horseradish cheesecake was almost scary. But the flavours worked wonderfully.

Mum’s perfectly cooked scallops with marinated beetroot and a log of goats cheese sprinkled with bacon dust was a sensational. It’s the sort of thing Heston Blumenthal might be tempted to knock up if he was exploring Swedish cuisine. The tangy goats cheese, salty bacon and sweet earthy beetroot combined to become far more than the sum of their parts.

My prawns on rye bread was more simple. But none the worse for it. A smoked prawn and a peripheral ring of caviar helped to elevate this prawn sandwich above the run of the mill.

Mum’s baked cod sat on top of a pond of rich shellfish sauce. The skin was as crisp as ryvita but with the thinness of paper and the flesh flaked perfectly in glorious contrast to my halibut at lunch time.

But the real star was a rich fish stew bejeweled with mammoth mussels, dinky prawns, moist scallops, crispy skinned salmon and cod so good that it might well be the best piece of fish I’ve ever eaten. My fears about the fish being overdone because they all cook at different speeds were swept aside. And the sauce brought it all together with a luxurious injection of lobster and crab based bisque. It’s just a shame I had to share it with Dad! The glossy boiled potatoes it was served with would turn even the most die hard Atkins fan into a greedy carb guzzler.

We thought our lunch at Peterson’s Krug had been good. But our dinner at Brygghuset, overlooking the marina, was flawless and deeply memorable for all the right reasons. We rolled out of the restaurant into the twilight glow of the temporarily shy sun and forceful moon that lit the inlet up like a scene from a spooky film. It’s a moment in time that is now imprinted onto my mind and causes my mouth to twitch into a smile just by thinking about it. All it was missing was John Nettles and a few comically complicated murders.

Peterson’s Krug on Käringön

My parents came over to visit me in Sweden for the Midsummer celebrations. The whole of the country goes crazy for the weekend and dances around maypoles shaped like giant cocks whilst imitating frogs and getting hammered in the depths of the Swedish countryside. I didn’t think this was particularly suitable so we hired a car and explored the West Coast. Armed with some fantastic recommendations from my new friends at work we went in search of seafood, sunshine, stunning scenery and serenity. And I’m pleased to say that we found it.

We drove to Hallevikstrand where we caught the ferry to a tiny island called Käringön which has become a playground for wealthy Norwegians and the yacht-set from Stockholm and Gothenburg. The journey there was idyllic with the blue sky unraveling to infinity. Yyves Klein would have probably tried to sue the sky. You’ll get the vibe from these photos…

Peterson’s Krug is renowned for it’s super fresh seafood and relaxed atmosphere. As we settled down for lunch we found ourselves comparing it to the other seafood restaurants we’d all eaten at. In terms of setting it knocks the socks off anywhere we’d been in the UK with its 270’ views out to sea.

For those of you who can read Swedish (Manne that’s probably just you!!!) here is the menu. For the rest of you, the menu is heavy on fish with oysters (ostron), mussels (musslor), sill (herring), salmon (lax) and halibut (halleflundra) making it hard to resist simply asking for the whole menu.

Dad, being the brave soul that he is, dived in with both feet for the pickled herring platter.

Pickled herring is one of my favourite discoveries since moving to Sweden. Like many people I had a natural prejudice against what I thought were vinegary bottom feeding scum. But how wrong I was. Sill as they are called in Sweden is served in a seemingly endless range of cures. This platter featured from left to right, honey, mustard and dill; soured cream and chive; dill; and a medley of all spice, bay and onions. It’s almost a meal in itself and had Dad purring like a Siamese cat who has just nudged the dog out of the prime spot in front of the fire. As ever the brown bread was stunning.

Mum’s prawns on toast held together with soured cream and anointed with bleak roe and chives was delicious. Nothing fancy. But given the surroundings it was perfect.

My four oysters from the island were some of the best I’ve ever had. They were so rich in minerals I half expected Rio Tinto to turn up after lunch with a permit to mine my stomach. It makes you want to give up eating oysters simply to cherish the memory of them being so special.

Mum and Dad both fell for the fish soup which was large enough to keep us picking at it all week. Packed with mussels, prawns and flakes of cod it was as rich as a Norwegian oil magnate and intriguingly flavoured with all spice and dill. It was a great choice and an interesting diversion from the classic French version.

My halibut was almost brilliant. Sadly it was fractionally overcooked so rather than flaking it tore. Given halibut’s leanness it needs to be cooked with as much care as you’d take putting your contact lenses in for the first time. But leaving this issue to one side the combination of asparagus, golden butter, silky potatoes and a topping of grated horseradish was inspired. It seems this is a classic Swedish combination and I am delighted to have discovered it. I’m going to try it myself soon, so keep your eye out for it.

Dad went a bit Oscar Wilde and gave into temptation, once again, with a trio of raspberry desserts which matched his very seasonal shirt. The sorbet and cheese cake were both exceptionally good.

We lingered over coffee almost horizontally enjoying the view and wondering whether this is the best setting we’d ever encountered for a restaurant. In England this would have been packed, snooty and rushed. Here it was completely the opposite. I think we could have stayed all week if we wanted!

I’m told that when the lobster and crayfish seasons come around, this place turns things up an extra gear and goes crustacean crazy. Like the Pensionat on Styrso, Peterson’s Krug on Käringön is worth the mission. In fact, in many ways the journey is what makes the meal so special. For those of you living in along the North Sea in England, why not hop on your sailing boat and head here for lunch. You won’t be disappointed. Alternatively catch the Ryan Air flight to Gothenburg, hire a car and you can here in time for a stunning dinner.

Heavenly Lunch at Pensionat on Styrsö

Gothenburg as a city is great. But I have learnt recently that it’s real trump card is the string of islands that slip out into the North Sea like a double helix. The Southern Archipelago is reachable by a hop out of the front door, a skip on the number 11 tram to Saltholmen and a jump on the ferry. Seeing as the last time Cowie came over to Sweden the whole place was bound by ice, we thought we’d explore the real DNA of what makes Gothenburg so special.

We headed off to Styrsö, which is the most populated island on the Southern Archipelago where we’d heard we’d find a good restaurant called Pensionat Styrsö Skäret. The journey itself was idyllic. The sea was calm and the sky was marbled with deep blue and fluffy white clouds – just like the opening credits in The Simpsons. We watched impressive yachts tootle around with not the slightest care in the world and supercharged ribs go flying past like Jeremy Clarkson on an trying to show off to a German cop on an Autobahn. We arrived on Styrsö with our appetites whetted by the sea air and in such a good mood that a micro-waved chicken kiev and a lukewarm banoffee pie would have been enough to send us packing with glee.

As we stepped off the boat we were greeted by a couple of “flakmopeds” which buzz around the island instead of cars, transporting luggage and supplies. It was our first glimpse of island life and we fell in love with Styrsö immediately.

We soon found our restaurant sporting the almost mandatory Swedish flag, pale yellow wooden exterior, terrace and red roof.

As you can imagine from the photo above, the White Guide plaque and the fact that this is on a fairly remote island the prices aren’t cheap, so we kept things simple and only had one course each. I also didn’t want to spoil the mood so didn’t take any photos. I’ll let the scenic photos do the job of giving you a flavour and hope that my words can do the meal the justice it deserves.

We were treated to the typical array of Swedish breads. Rich, toffee nosed, soft rye bread should be served with a note from the Surgeon General suggesting you eat it in moderation. It is sooo good you’ll seriously consider giving up all other brads and just eating this one. It was flecked with apricot and walnut and was as close to Soreen as you can get without it becoming a malt loaf! I’d be raving about their crisp bread studded with caraway and white sourdough if the brown stuff hadn’t stolen their thunder.

Our glasses of Australian Riesling arrived with a complimentary shot of glossy potato and mussel soup that was so good that we almost asked for seconds and for them to cancel our main courses. The mussel flavour was subtle, but fishy and the texture could have been weaved by a silk worm.

I’ve had many a good fish soup in my short time in Sweden. But this version is very special indeed. Rather than the dusty brick red version you get in France this one was the colour of richly churned butter melting under an amber sunset. Lemon aioli rather than rouille also distinguished this from its French cousin. If French fish soup is male, this was its virginal bride.

Amongst the saffron flecked creamy fish broth swam mussels, enormous prawns, barely cooked scallops and hunks of cod that flaked like strung out film-stars. Dabs of lemon aioli made me purr and Cowie lost count of the times I decried it as being the best I had tasted.

Cowie’s scallop and tuna salad with vermicelli was like a helium balloon. Super light, attention grabbing and not something that will ever make you appear masculine. The scallops were so well cooked they should be sent off as examples to all the gastro pub chefs across the UK who regularly ruin them and the tuna was immaculately rare.

We retired outside to the garden to drink coffee and play Scrabble whilst overlooking the sea and a croquet lawn and basked in the Swedish sunshine wondering whether life could be any better.

The Pensionat on Styrsö is idyllic. And it was no surprise to find a box as we left the island belonging to God. There can be few more heavenly places to spend a sunny Saturday than Styrsö.

Smoked Mackerel and Grapefruit Salad

I dreamt this recipe up whilst on a run around suburban Gothenburg. I set off in a quandary about what to have for supper, knowing that after a run I would be hungry but not want anything too heavy. I knew I had a grapefruit in the fridge along with a bag of salad and some smoked mackerel. And somehow I landed up with the dish you can see above. And to make matters even better it not only tasted fantastic and was healthy but has also go the thumbs up from my Swedish colleagues!

Ingredients:

I smoked mackerel
½ a grapefruit
6 dessert spoons of crème fraiche
1 avocado
Half a bag of salad
4 teaspoons of caviar
Balsamic vinegar
Olive oil
A dozen mussels (optional)
Scandinavian crisp bread

Method:

Remove the flesh from inside the grapefruit and cut the fruit into segments. Squeeze the juice that is left inside the skin into a bowl but don’t mangle the skin.

Shred the mackerel fillet. Roughly chop your mussels and add. Then mix with the crème fraiche and the grapefruit juice. Stir through 2 teaspoons of caviar. Season with pepper and a touch of salt. Then spoon the mixture into the grapefruit half and top with another teaspoon of caviar.

To make the salad empty the leaves into a salad bowl and dress with olive oil and balsamic vinegar (or you could use the juice from the other half of the grapefruit). Then add the individual grapefruit segments and sliced avocado. Then add another teaspoon of caviar and mix together.

Serve with some crispy Scandinavian bread.

It was just what I wanted. And tasted even better for not only using everything in the fridge but also being healthy. To make it even better you could add some horseradish to the crème fraiche and make the salad a lot more interesting. The combination of acid from the grapefruit and smoky, creaminess of the mackerel turned out to be a great match. It makes for a fun change from the normal squirt of lemon and parsley with smoked mackerel pate. And I felt very intelligent the next day thanks to all the fish oils. Apart from when I sent an email to a client and called them the wrong name!

When I told Cowie what I’d made, I realised that I am cooking for her even though she’s not here.