of omega-3 fatty acids, mackerel is the near-perfect food.
The only drawback is that it must be eaten when very
fresh: look for bright, prominent eyes, a moist shiny skin
and a glistening demeanour, then fillet at will.
61
February
GRIDDLED MACKEREL FILLETS WITH RHUBARB
The astringent note from rhubarb makes a brilliant adjunct
to any oily fish, fulfilling the same role as lemon or that of
gooseberries in a few months’ time.
Serves two.
2 large mackerel, weighing
about 300g (10½oz) each
1 tablespoon golden caster
sugar
3 star anise
6 cloves
6 thin slices of peeled root
ginger
½ teaspoon chilli flakes, plus
extra for sprinkling
(optional)
1 large rhubarb stalk
12 mint or basil leaves
olive oil, for drizzling
salt
Fillet the mackerel as described on page 61. Dip the fillets
in very cold water and pat dry on kitchen paper.
Refrigerate until ready to use, lightly salting the flesh side
20 minutes before cooking.
Combine the sugar and spices in a very small saucepan
and add 100ml (31⁄2fl oz) cold water. Bring the mixture to a
simmer and cook for 10 minutes. Cut the rhubarb into
finger lengths and then cut each piece into four batons.
Drop these into the syrup and poach them for 2 minutes,
or until they just begin to soften. Remove from the heat.
Heat a non-stick frying pan. Place the mackerel fillets,
skin-side down, in the dry pan and place a wire rack or
plate on top to prevent the fillets from curling and to
ensure all the skin is in contact with the hot pan. Leave the
fillets to cook for a good 3 minutes – they will release some
of their oil as they do so – or until you can see the heat
penetrating up through two-thirds of the fillet. Turn them
to seal the flesh side very briefly – 30 seconds at most –
then lift out of the pan.
Quickly bring the rhubarb back to a simmer. Scatter
the mint leaves – torn in half, if large – over the fish, then
arrange the rhubarb on top of the fish, spooning over some
of the syrup, omitting the star anise, cloves and ginger but
including the chilli. Sprinkle a few more chilli flakes over
if liked. Drizzle a little olive oil over the fish and serve.
Plain pilaff rice is the best accompaniment.
WINE: The racy acidity of a Sauvignon Blanc is a perfect
partner for this fish. The upper Loire, from Sancerre and
Pouilly up to Quincy, Reuilly and Menetou-Salon, provides
ideal examples.
63
February
I Saw Myself as Leopold Bloom
Veal Kidneys in Mustard Sauce
*In James Joyce’s Ulysses,
‘Leopold Bloom ate with
relish the inner organs of
beasts and fowls.’
During my sojourn in Hong Kong, I am constantly being
warned about what Chinese people will or will not eat or
drink. Some things are true: shellfish is very popular,
especially served raw. Red wine, despite the climate (or
perhaps because of it, since every room is air conditioned
to Arctic temperatures) is favoured over white. Can it be
true that the Asian palate is averse to salt, when everything
is served with soy sauce? Will they not eat anchovies,
when fermented fish is so popular? And how can they not
like kidneys in this, the home of nose-to-tail eating?
I do understand why people dislike the idea of eating
kidneys. After all, their function hardly adds to the
attraction. Although the function of the brain is much more
agreeable, I have a vivid enough imagination to not really
enjoy eating them, however savoury some of my friends
aver they are. It may just be that the habit of kidney eating
was instilled in me before I had much idea what they did.
In those days we ate not veal kidneys, but rather coarse old
‘ox’ kidneys in a steak (a euphemism for a ragged old piece
of stewing beef) and kidney pie, or rich, dark organs
attached to a pork chop, or lamb kidneys in a mixed grill.
Because of those early initiations, I never had any
problem with the kidney. I saw myself as Leopold Bloom,*
padding the streets of Dublin with a precious kidney
bought from the ‘ferreteyed pork butcher’ to take home for
his breakfast. Yet it wasn’t until I worked at Le Gavroche
that I came across French veal kidneys (from animals kept
with their mother, rather than in a crate), which were given
the luscious trois moutardes treatment that I reprise below,
albeit minus the slightly superfluous tarragon mustard.
If that remains my default kidney dish and one that
always appeals, it is not the only one. I cannot resist the
grilled kidneys with chips and Béarnaise sauce on my rare
visits to Chez Georges in Paris. A kidney roast in its own
fat is exquisite, but even I find the mess and the grease
tiresome. I have been known to sauté them as below but
with a red wine sauce and the addition of bacon and
button onions, or slice them very thinly and sauté them
quickly with wild mushrooms and a trickle of white wine.
The only abiding premise is that the kidneys must be
lightly cooked, as they quickly become tough and rubbery.
Incidentally, it