Fred's newsletter 4.5.21

Good morning,

I have managed to get hold of some rarities to feature on this week’s menu, both are in high demand on the continent and at home in France: one being the spider crab and the other commonly called the shore crab, or green crab. This has taken me down memory lane.

I have only ever cooked spider crab once in Scotland; not because I didn’t want to, but because it was unavailable for obscure reasons or simply because it wasn’t fashionable. I believe they are caught and sent to big markets like Rungis in Paris, or to Barcelona, where demand for all types of seafood is very high.

I have managed to get my hands on green crabs on a couple of occasions and it was hard work, using all my contacts to search for them. Once more I am guessing that there’s no demand for them here from either the restaurant sector or private customers hence the lack of availability from wholesalers. Maybe a Masterchef contestant will promote them and then it will take off?

So, the reality is that most of the seafood caught in Scotland is sent away as it’s not consumed here. Maybe the culture of seafood isn’t quite in your blood. Whilst langoustines are very popular today, this has not always been the case. Some 15 years ago it was the same story as above, and getting a supply was a real battle. Then, they were hard to sell as most customers didn’t know what to do with them. Today, many chefs still prep them so the end consumer can eat without using their fingers. As a chef and a food-lover, I find it upsetting to see these sweet creatures losing their flavour and structure because they are (over)cooked in halves and stuffed with parsley and garlic before reaching the restaurant table. Worse, the claws all return to the kitchen untouched and unconsumed; such a waste. Please guys, stop splitting the langos in half!

I believe food culture and education starts at an early age. I am young (7? or 5? or 9?) and I am on holiday at La Bernerie en Retz with Mamisson, my grand-mother. We are on the beach at low tide and she is bending down with a wooden basket in her left hand and a rake in her right. We are raking for palourde clams. They jump in the basket, and after two handfuls we move over to the rocks further down the beach. My grand-mother Mamisson is very gently lifting the seaweed in the pools of water between the rocks to reveal green crabs as they skuttle away to hide. She pops one in the basket, then another and within half an hour we have successfully picked a good two dozen; worth their weight in gold.

Then we move on. This time she has a net at the end of a wooden handle that she pushes into the water. Upon lifting, I see 6 or 7 little prawns inside. She does this again a few more times and before we know it she has caught half a kilo of these little transparent crevettes.

It’s time to go back to our rented holiday house as the tide is coming in and we need to start the dinner prep. All the crabs are crushed, almost to a purée, before being seared in a cast iron pot. An onion is added with a carrot and some garlic. I can still smell it. A spoonful of tomato purée and half a litre (or a litre) of white wine goes in with a couple of diced potatoes. Once cooked the soup is passed through a sieve into a serving soupière. We will eat it with some bread, butter and mayonnaise. Earlier, the prawns had jumped into a pot of boiling water for 2 minutes and they are already in a dish on the table.

I am taught patience, and that the palourdes will eventually open up, it can take a minute or a few minutes. Once they have slightly opened, Mamisson puts a knife blade inside the shells, so they cannot close again. She turns her knife from left to the right until the mollusk is wide open; then using her knife (or a coffee spoon) she scoops out the flesh so we can enjoy them with some bread and butter. I am tasting them for the first time. They are salty and have a funny texture in the mouth. I am not sure whether I like it or not. Mamisson seems to love them. A few years later I got familiar with the flavour and was able to enjoy it, this time accompanied with a glass of wine.

These are very early memories. I also recall going to Noirmoutier harbour for a holiday - camping at a farm, a potato farm to be exact, owned by an oyster farmer and a fisherman. There was no shower, or toilet, so we had to make use of the nearby field. More on that another time! Now I am recalling a trip to the harbour where my mum, Simone, is buying fish, crustaceans and shellfish straight from the boat. That was the occasion of my first spider crab. Was I 5, or 9? Not sure. Mum speaks with the boat owner: “this one, how much?” 5 Francs or 50 Francs? I don’t recall but whatever it was, it was cheap. We head back to the campsite (potato field ☺︎) and the spider crab is plonked into a pot of boiling water. In just 2 to 3 minutes it is ready. A few cockles are cooking in another casserole with shallots and white wine, all cooking very fast. Dinner is served. Mum is enjoying the spider crab, so is my dad, Bernard. The cockles are salty, but very enjoyable and tasty. Mayonnaise was made in a flash whilst the crab cooled down. Simone and Bernard are breaking the shell to get to the meat. Both of them suck at the legs to pull all the meat out. All is tasty and all is consumed until nothing is left on the bone, as we say.

Another year, we are on holiday at St Jean De Mont in Vendée. My parents have made friends in L’Epoids, a very small fishing village, and my grand-mother is friends with the owner of the village’s only café: Juliette, a very tall woman of a strong character who is sweet with us. The café is always full of fishermen playing cards and drinking wine, arguing and shouting. They are all over 60 years of age.

We meet Joseph. He has a boat, a fishing boat called La Patricia and we are planning to set off early in the morning. We are late. My parents with 5 kids, and their friends with 2 kids, so it’s not so easy to be on time. “Hurry up!” we are told “ the sea has started to walk away”, or rather that the tide is going out so we must make our journey now. Some hours later, we are at sea but with no water. The boat sits on the sand where the water used to be, and the fishing day starts. Joseph warns everyone and gives precise instructions: “wherever you go, whatever you do, make sure to keep an eye on the boat as the tide comes back very fast.” We are not alone as there are many other grounded boats around. I have a net and I run after eels. My sister Virginie picks crab, and my brother Richard is with my grand-mother picking up cockles and clams.

Constand, an old fisherman, has a tool made from a broomstick with a blade at the end. He pursues the lemon soles that lay hiding in the sand with only their eyes popping out. He throws the makeshift harpoon and catches them. Joseph stays on his own. He walks fast, as he is there to pick as many fruits from the seabed as possible to pay for his time, and the fuel for the boat. A few hours go by. Joseph warns everyone to get back on the boat as the tide is coming in. He wants to ensure everyone is back safely on La Patricia. So we sit in the boat, waiting for the rising water to set us afloat so we can head back to port. The bottle of wine that was hanging in the cold water attached by string is opened, and as the wine is pouring, a few shellfish are cracked open, with wild oysters leading the way. We eat bread and butter. All are happy and tired.

I forgot to mention the whelks, the winkles, the clams and the mussels, so much to remember.

Back to the present day. All being well with the delivery of our spider crabs, they will be cooked on Thursday morning and dressed accordingly with a mayonnaise. It can be enjoyed as a starter or shared as a nibble along with a bottle of Touraine sauvignon blanc from our wine list. The other nibble this week is a whole St-Marcelin cheese, topped with crème fraîche and gomasio cereals; Pinot Noir will suit it perfectly as a nibble, or as a cheese course.

The green shore crabs will be cooked and served as a bisque, thickened with potatoes (meaning it’s gluten free) like Mamie used to do, to perfect it. Our classic boudin noir is also on the menu this week with caramelised apples, flambéed with Calvados. The smoked and unsmoked haddock brandade will be a treat with olive oil and fresh parsley; and the pork terrine de campagne à l’ancienne is being made with Herb Majesty pig.

We ran out of North Ronaldsay pie fairly quickly last week, and some of you were disappointed, so you will be pleased to see that it is back on the menu this week as a Navarin-style casserole with rosemary and thyme, served with a Merguez sausage. You will agree that the flavour is unique to the breed; a noticeably deep flavour with an extremely long length in the mouth. I love it myself and it’s a shame we can’t get it more often. The closest taste I can think of is of the Hebridean hogget we get from Jack at Ardoch Farm. Also a very distinctive flavour, and we have some coming our way in the next two weeks.

We are also making a pâté en croute as a main, using both shortcrust and puff pastries to surround chicken, rabbit and pork. Gratin Dauphinois, green salad and a sauce brune will accompany the dish.

The Aberdeen Angus brisket will be cooked very, very slowly overnight in a rich dark tomato sauce with tomato and olives until confit. And finally, the roe deer haunches that have been marinating in red wine since last Friday will be cooked twice until tender, then finished with redcurrants, blueberries, and garniture grand-mère.

The fish will most probably be hake as it is beautiful just now and will be served with a Dieppoise sauce made of mussel stock, and mushrooms.

Desserts are plenty for you to choose from. There’s duck egg crème caramel with vanilla, pear and almond tartelette, brioche and praline butter pudding, 70% chocolate petit pot with biscuits, and chocolate gluten-free nemesis with crème anglaise. You can now order extra crème anglaise if you wish, as many of you are asking on a regular basis.

We re-opened l’escargot bleu last Friday evening, the first time since December 2020, and there is something quite nice about it. The restaurant received a professional clean, and the full team were in two nights in a row to dust, brush, polish and wipe. The final touches of flowers and shiny cutlery make it a very welcoming and warm place, filled again with sparkle and happiness. A lovely change after being used as a prep room for our at home offer. We have moved all the prep areas to the downstairs shop.

I hope you still have eyes for reading, or perhaps you can come back to this email, because we have a fabulous guest writer this week in the form of Richard Bath, who many of you will know as the editor of Scottish Field and former restaurant critic for Scotland on Sunday. His amusing tale of a teenage French exchange trip is well worth the reading. Thank you Richard.

Voila mes amis, c’est tout for this week.

Thank you for reading and à bientôt,

Fred